Eugene Robinson: Tragic End For A "Golden Child".
Tragic end for a 'golden child'
By Eugene Robinson
Many performers can impress or delight, but only a few can astonish. Michael Jackson did it twice. The first time was October 1969, when the hit single "I Want You Back" introduced a cherubic 11-year-old boy who sang with unbelievable maturity, soulfulness and swing. The second was March 1983, when the prodigy — now grown tall, thin and angular — moonwalked through an electrifying "Billie Jean," leaving a national television audience slack-jawed at how effortlessly he defied the laws of physics.
Jackson's personal trajectory, though, was excruciating to watch. I've never put much stock in the idea that genius always devours those whom it favors. Jackson had flaws and weaknesses, to put it mildly, but so do we all. Money and celebrity make it possible for the rich and famous to succumb to their worst instincts. The blood-sucking parasites who surrounded Jackson all his life made that surrender not just possible but inevitable.
From the beginning — from the moment when Joe and Katherine Jackson decided to mold their children not into a family but into an act — Michael was the meal ticket. No offense to Jackie, Marlon, Tito and Jermaine, but if they had auditioned for Motown's Berry Gordy Jr. as the "Jackson 4," he'd have sent them back to Gary, Ind., on the next bus. Michael was the star.
Jackson has said his father used to beat him, perhaps because he was the "golden child." Joe Jackson has always denied being physically abusive, but in a sense it doesn't matter. It seems to me that attaching oneself to one's young son like a leech and denying that boy any semblance of childhood qualifies as abuse.
Jackson once spoke in an interview of working late into the night in a studio across the street from a playground — and crying because he wanted to be playing on the swings and the slide, not singing the same song into a microphone again and again.
On the road, Michael didn't spend time with boys his own age. He bunked with his older brothers, who were past puberty — and who, quite naturally, had a keen interest in the groupies who would accost them backstage and ask to come up to the room. It's not a stretch to imagine that Michael might emerge with some confused ideas and feelings about human sexuality.
By Eugene Robinson
Many performers can impress or delight, but only a few can astonish. Michael Jackson did it twice. The first time was October 1969, when the hit single "I Want You Back" introduced a cherubic 11-year-old boy who sang with unbelievable maturity, soulfulness and swing. The second was March 1983, when the prodigy — now grown tall, thin and angular — moonwalked through an electrifying "Billie Jean," leaving a national television audience slack-jawed at how effortlessly he defied the laws of physics.
Jackson's personal trajectory, though, was excruciating to watch. I've never put much stock in the idea that genius always devours those whom it favors. Jackson had flaws and weaknesses, to put it mildly, but so do we all. Money and celebrity make it possible for the rich and famous to succumb to their worst instincts. The blood-sucking parasites who surrounded Jackson all his life made that surrender not just possible but inevitable.
From the beginning — from the moment when Joe and Katherine Jackson decided to mold their children not into a family but into an act — Michael was the meal ticket. No offense to Jackie, Marlon, Tito and Jermaine, but if they had auditioned for Motown's Berry Gordy Jr. as the "Jackson 4," he'd have sent them back to Gary, Ind., on the next bus. Michael was the star.
Jackson has said his father used to beat him, perhaps because he was the "golden child." Joe Jackson has always denied being physically abusive, but in a sense it doesn't matter. It seems to me that attaching oneself to one's young son like a leech and denying that boy any semblance of childhood qualifies as abuse.
Jackson once spoke in an interview of working late into the night in a studio across the street from a playground — and crying because he wanted to be playing on the swings and the slide, not singing the same song into a microphone again and again.
On the road, Michael didn't spend time with boys his own age. He bunked with his older brothers, who were past puberty — and who, quite naturally, had a keen interest in the groupies who would accost them backstage and ask to come up to the room. It's not a stretch to imagine that Michael might emerge with some confused ideas and feelings about human sexuality.
Labels: Entertainment, Fitting tribute, Passing away
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