“Why?” I asked, rather perplexed.

They wanted to show their kids the man

who took Michael Jackson’s picture.

“My 24-year-old will get a kick out of

this,” shouted the more rotund of the

two, her voice coated in a Southern

accent as thick as beef stew. “They

think he’s cool,” said the taller one,

who was sporting a beehive hairdo and

was buzzing about with nervous energy.

What manner of man is able to elicit such

excitement from this woman’s kid who

wasn’t even born when Thriller hijacked

popular culture, revolutionized MTV and

altered music making forever?

Yet a similar scene unfolded in

Beverly Hills less than 24 hours earlier.

Actually it was worse, because it involved

reporters who are ostensibly accustomed

to covering celebrities. Jackson was the

star guest of another famous Jackson,

Reverend Jesse Jackson, who celebrated

his 66th birthday at the Beverly Hilton

on trendy Wilshire Boulevard. A

pregnant silence of excitement choked

off all conversation on the red carpet when it was fi nally

announced that the reclusive, eccentric legend was en

route. For most on the overfl owing red carpet, it would be

the fi rst close-up visual of the man whose Thriller album

sold more than 100 million copies worldwide (including

54 million in the U.S. alone), according to the Guiness

Book of World Records, and spawned seven Top Ten

hits, two No. 1 songs (“Beat It” and “Billie Jean”), and

won a record eight Grammy Awards. It is an arresting

sight to view the current incarnation of Michael Jackson.

Michael Joseph Jackson Sr., 49, scarcely resembled

the 24-year-old architect of the music revolution that

began in December 1982. And he certainly looked

nothing whatsoever like the Afro-headed kid who, at 14

years old, told his family that he would one day produce

the biggest album the world had ever seen. Rev. Jackson

gently took his hand and escorted a hesitant Michael,

who nervously peered over at the awaiting media frenzy.

The man who has sold more of one album than most

do in an entire career, looked frail, almost brittle, as he

traipsed along the red carpet. His skin was bright like a

lantern, as if it could glow in the dark. Michael surveyed

the mushrooming madness from behind large, black

shades that were perched precariously on the ski slope of

a fi nely sculpted nose. His reconstructed ivory face was

younger than the ages indicated by their birth certifi cates.

But the media and circling onlookers couldn’t have

cared less. It’s as if the snapshot of the Michael Jackson

from his Thriller days is encased in their subconscious,

and they refuse to let it go. It didn’t take long for the

order to quickly dissolve into pandemonium. Reporters

and photographers were machine-gunning questions

into Michael’s face. Camera crews were elbowing and

jockeying like they were clearing out for a rebound.

Toward the end, after Michael led the birthday rendition

for Rev. Jackson, the red carpet became a swirling mob

of humanity toward the door to the auditorium.

Michael Jackson was fl anked by black music royalty:

Berry Gordy, the Motown music mogul who was already

spearheading a mammoth, history-making empire when

he reluctantly signed Michael and the Jackson 5 to the

label in 1969. To Michael’s right was the equally beloved

Don Cornelius, whose booming bass baritone fueled the

seminal “Soul Train” weekly dance program. Talk show

titan Larry King also strode down the carpet with them.

Jackson did not utter so much as a vowel during his

time at Rev. Jackson’s party. But the star power fl ew off

Jackson like sparks, providing indisputable confi rmation

that the residuals of that unforgettable era still resonate

with his fans.

Gordy, 78, long ago predicted Jackson’s phenomenal

success. But even this musical prophet could not have

fathomed just how big that 10-year-old kid from Gary,

Ind., would become. “I just love him,” Gordy said, before

recalling the 25th anniversary of the Emmy-winning and

ratings blockbuster, “Motown 25” that helped Jackson

moonwalk into intergalactic and uncharted realms. “I

remember everything about that night. It was wonderful,

wonderful, wonderful. It was one of the greatest

performances I’ve ever seen.”

And that’s the point. Today marks the silver anniversary

of the time when it seemed that Michael Jackson could

actually change the weather. Michael-mania was so

Thriller25 Years

Later

cover story

BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. – The story you’re about to read is true. You may

want to sit down for this. This writer was standing outside the Los Angeles

Hilton when two middle-aged white women from rural Texas, clamoring

like nervous teenage groupies, asked me a very peculiar question. They

wanted to know if they could take a picture with me.

Story by Terry Shropshire

Images by Hiltron Bailey for Steed Media Service

december 06, 2007/www.rollingout.com22