The Soundtrack Of My Youth: How I Remember Michael Jackson
One of the greatest joys of my early teenage years (1984-1988) was waking up on a Saturday morning with $20 in my pocket and nothing to do.
I'd get dressed, grab my Walkman, and pop in a favorite cassette. Then, I'd walk down to the bus stop at the corner of State & Vogel in East St. Louis, and catch the 560 eastbound to Union Station in downtown St. Louis.
I'd spend the day window-shopping, maybe buying a few small things here and there. Then I'd get a meal at McDonald's, and walk around some more. I could explore the downtown area at my leisure. I would go to the library, Kiener Plaza, Busch Stadium, St. Louis Centre, the Eagleton Building, the Old Courthouse, the Cathedral Basilica, and the Arch. I always made a point of doubling back to Union Station to catch the ongoing show at the Fudge Factory.
I'd finish this excellent day by going to the Wehrenberg Theatre back at Union Station, and watching a couple of movies, munching on freshly made vanilla fudge. Then, I'd have exactly enough money to catch the 560 back home around 10pm. (The same day now, of course, would cost me around $80 - and it's hard to imagine allowing a pre-teen to have that kind of unsupervised trip in today's world.)
The only constant on these trips would be my Walkman. And, no matter whether I was listening to the radio or my cassette, there was an excellent chance that Michael Jackson was in heavy rotation.
Growing up then, there was no substitute for Michael. He WAS popular music. Of course, there were other top-selling artists at the time (Phil Collins, Lionel Richie, etc.). But Michael Jackson simply towered over his industry - and his culture.
His face was on everything - t-shirts, lunchboxes, school folders, album covers, posters, TV screens. That bus I would ride to St. Louis? Chances were, there was at least one unoccupied window seat - right next to a window with a one-foot-diameter splotch of Jheri curl juice from some Jackson fan leaning his or her head against the glass.
He signed nine-figure contracts, won awards by the busload, and released albums with multiple #1 hits. Four of his albums DEBUTED at Billboard's #1 spot.
How much oxygen did Michael suck up? In 1983, Lionel Richie released "Can't Slow Down", which was a monster album that had a number of top singles and reached #1 on Billboard's Top 100 Albums. The next year, Richie was basically shut out of the AMA and Grammy awards. You see, he'd had the misfortune of releasing "Can't Slow Down" the same year that Michael Jackson unleashed "Thriller". In any other year, Richie would likely have won a half-dozen Grammys for his work.
Michael's videos were groundbreaking. The "Billie Jean" and "Thriller" videos, in particular, inspired a generation of young artists and helped launch the music video to a position of entertainment pre-eminence.
If you ever got to go to a Michael Jackson concert, you could see firsthand why he was the top entertainer of his generation. He had a natural showman's flair, and could captivate an audience for hours on end.
His concert styling not only spilled over to his own clothing, but into haute couture as well. Red leather jackets with dozens of zippers did more than their share of damage to parents' car paint. A single sequined glove with matching sequined socks (and, natch, the flooding black pants designed to show off said socks) could be seen on many a teenager. And many of my friends (I'm not copping to any this!) rocked the gold-rimmed aviator sunglasses as well.
And the dancing! More than one kid in my school turned an ankle trying desperately to moonwalk. He was a blend of precision and panache that left other musicians in the dust.
Michael gave freely of his money AND his time. "We Are The World" (which he co-wrote with Richie) started the wave of celebrity collaborations and concerts aimed at promoting charitable causes. He was honored by two different Presidents (Reagan and Bush 41) for his charitable work.
Later, of course, I would find out more about his past - and shake my head in disappointment at his latest antics. I would wonder how much the abuse he suffered from his father affected his later life. And I would long ponder the idea that, perhaps, he was too successful - and just couldn't handle being the world's biggest celebrity.
His death basically took over the news. He was a headline item even on *sports* websites. I know that many people have been critical of the amount of coverage his death and other "fluff" news items have received. But what you have to keep in mind about Michael is that his personality and creative genius always hogged the spotlight. Though there may be more "important" stories, the relative youth and the unexpected demise of this musical Colossus make it front-page news.
It's been estimated that the song catalog he still owns is worth billions, and he was estimated to be worth close to a billion dollars at his peak (and this was in late '80s dollars). Yet, he's thought to be as much as $400 million in the red, and his last days were spent in a rented house. (Granted, the rent was a cool $100,000 per month, but still.)
But, when I think of Michael Jackson, I don't think of the money, the lawsuits, the jokes, the weird news stories (many of which were not only false, but also planted by Jackson himself) or the crushing fame he had for virtually his entire life. I also don't think of the unfulfilled promise, and just how much more he could have contributed musically if his personal life hadn't imploded.
I think instead of the musical genius that he was. I think of the songs that defined my generation and inspired people of all races the world over. I think of his dancing and style that were embraced by kids of all cultures. I think of the self-assured voice on that Walkman, singing away. If any one person could truly be said to be my generation's Elvis, it would have to be his former son-in-law, hands down.
Michael Jackson was more than the background noise on those Saturday trips. He was, in many ways, the soundtrack of my youth. So, as I sang along with him then, I sing of him now.
God speed, Michael.











