Moonwalk Read online

  Copyright © 1988 by The Estate of Michael Joseph Jackson

  Introduction copyright © 2009 by Berry Gordy

  Afterword copyright © 2009 by Shaye Areheart

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Harmony Books, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group,a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  www.crownpublishing.com

  Harmony Books is a registered trademark

  and the Harmony Books colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

  Originally published in slightly different form in the United States by Doubleday,

  a division of Random House, Inc., New York, in 1988.

  “Billie Jean” written and composed by Michael Jackson. © Mijac Music (BMI). Administered by Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp. “Human Nature” written and composed by Steve Porcaro and John Bettis. © 1982 Porcaro Music (ASCAP) and John Bettis Music (ASCAP). John Bettis Music administered by WB Music Corp. “Bad” written and composed by Michael Jackson. © 1987 Mijac Music (BMI). Administered by Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp. “I’ll Be There” written and composed by Bob West, Harold Davis, Willie Hutch, and Berry Gordy, Jr. © 1970 Jobete Music Co., Inc. “Living Together” written and composed by Dexter Wansel. © 1976 Mighty Three Music (BMI). “ABC” written and composed by The Corporation (Freddie Perren, Fonce Mizell, Deke Richards, and Berry Gordy, Jr.). © 1970 Jobete Music Co., Inc. “Sugar Daddy” written and composed by The Corporation (Freddie Perren, Fonce Mizell, Deke Richards, and Berry Gordy, Jr.). © 1971 Jobete Music Co., Inc. “Can I Go On?” written and composed by Quincy Jones, Nickolas Ashford, and Valerie Simpson. © 1978 Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Jackson, Michael, 1958-2009

  Moonwalk.

  1. Jackson, Michael, 1958–2009. 2. Rock musicians—United States—Biography.

  I. Title.

  ML420.J175A3 1988 784.5’400924[B] 88-384

  eISBN: 978-0-307-77442-2

  v3.1

  This book is dedicated to

  FRED ASTAIRE

  NEW INTRODUCTION TO THE 2009 RE-ISSUED EDITION

  Michael Jackson was not an artist who comes along once in a decade, a generation, or a lifetime. He was an artist who comes along only once, period. I had the good fortune of meeting him when he was nine years old. Even then there was something so compelling about him that, frankly, I did not know what to make of it. How could this kid have that effect on me? It was an effect so potent that I would immediately discard my misgivings about being in business with “kid acts,” and rush to create an environment for Michael and his brothers that would nurture and expand their talent.

  Even then he had a knowingness about him. He knew he was special. He could dance and sing and act like anybody—he just wanted to do it better.

  He was driven by his hunger to learn, to constantly top himself, to be the best. He was the consummate student. He studied the greats and became greater. He raised the bar and then BROKE the bar. His talent and creativity thrust him AND entertainment into the stratosphere.

  Moonwalk was the first time he told his story in his own words, reflecting on his life, how he thought, how he felt about things. This book is a unique opportunity to get to know the real genius of Michael and how this young kid from Gary, Indiana, propelled himself to become the biggest star in the world.

  Moonwalk reveals so much of Michael’s true self, but you have to read between the lines to really understand what he was all about. I must say, though, that he did have two personalities. Offstage he was shy, soft-spoken, and childlike. But when he took that stage in front of his screaming fans, he turned into another personality; a master, a “take no prisoners” showman. For him it was kill or be killed.

  Besides being a creative master of writing, singing, producing, acting, and staging, he was also a thinker. And in order to protect himself, sometimes he created mental mechanisms—personalities—onstage, offstage, in boardrooms, in his deal making, business plans, and self-promotion. Brilliant? Right! Genius? Damn right. He made it all happen. His personality may have been contradictory, but his core was always pure, beautiful, and loving.

  When Michael and his brothers Jackie, Jermaine, Tito, and Marlon auditioned for me at Motown in Detroit that July day in 1968, they blew us all away with their incredible talent. Little Michael’s performance was way beyond his years. After singing and dancing like James Brown and Jackie Wilson, he sang a Smokey Robinson song called “Who’s Loving You” with the sadness and passion of a man who had been living with the blues and heartbreak his whole life. I couldn’t believe it. As great as Smokey sang it, Michael was better. I told Smokey, “Hey, man, I think he gotcha on that one.” Smokey said, “Me too.” When Michael and his brothers performed it on the Ed Sullivan Show, there was no doubt that the rest of the world agreed.

  I moved them out to California and they became part of the Gordy and Motown families. Those were great times—we swam, we joked, we played games, we rehearsed. I put together a songwriting team, and we came up with four hit records for them: “I Want You Back,” “ABC,” “The Love You Save,” and “I’ll Be There.” The Jackson 5 was the only group in history to ever have their first four singles go to number one. We were thrilled—especially Michael. We had broken through a major barrier. For Michael, it was the inspiration to break all the rest. And he did.

  We cast Michael with Diana Ross in a movie we produced called The Wiz and there he met legendary producer Quincy Jones. That collaboration yielded the greatest-selling album of all time, Thriller, along with Off the Wall and Bad.

  By 1983 the Jacksons were no longer at Motown. However, the brothers reunited to perform on the television special Motown 25: Yesterday, Today, Forever. After a high-powered, dazzling medley of their songs, Michael took the stage alone and proceeded to make pop history. From the first beat of “Billie Jean” and the toss of his hat, I was mesmerized. But when he did his iconic moonwalk, I was shocked. It was magic. He soared into orbit … and never came down.

  Though it ended way too soon, Michael’s life was beautiful. Sure there were some sad times and maybe some questionable decisions on his part, but Michael Jackson accomplished everything he dreamed of. Even at nine years old, his passion was to be the greatest entertainer in the world. He was willing to work hard and do whatever it took to become what he indeed was—the undisputed “King of Pop” the world over.

  What kid wouldn’t give his right arm to fulfill his wildest childhood dreams? Michael loved it all—every moment onstage, every moment in rehearsal. He loved creating what had never been done before. He loved giving all he had to his music and all he had to his fans.

  I mean, Michael was awesome!Totally in charge. In fact the more I think and talk about Michael Jackson, the more I feel the “King of Pop” was not big enough for him. I think he was simply “The Greatest Entertainer That Ever Lived.”

  Berry Gordy

  Founder of Motown

  2009

  What can one say about Michael Jackson? He is one of the world’s most acclaimed entertainers, an innovative and exciting songwriter whose dancing seems to defy gravity and has been heralded by the likes of Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly.

  His public is perhaps unaware of the extent of his dedication to his craft. Restless, seldom satisfied, he is a perfectionist who is constantly challenging himself

  To many people Michael Jackson seems an elusive personality, but to those who work with him, he is not. This talented artist is a sensitive man, warm, funny, and full of insight. Michael’s book, Moonwalk, provides a startling glimpse of the artist at work and the artist in reflection.

  —Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis

  When I want to discover s
omething, I begin by reading up everything that has been done along that line in the past—that’s what all the books in the library are for. I see what has been accomplished at great labor and expense in the past. I gather the data of many thousands of experiments as a starting point and then I make thousands more. The three essentials to achieve anything worthwhile are, first, hard work; second, stick-to-it-iveness; third, common sense.

  —Thomas Edison

  When the real music comes to me—the music of the spheres, the music that surpasseth understanding—that has nothing to do with me ’cause I’m just the channel. The only joy for me is for it to be given to me and transcribe it. Like a medium. Those moments are what I live for.

  —John Lennon

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Introduction

  Chapter One: Just Kids With a Dream

  Chapter Two: The Promised Land

  Chapter Three: Dancing Machine

  Chapter Four: Me and Q

  Chapter Five: The Moonwalk

  Chapter Six: All You Need Is Love

  Afterword

  Photo Insert

  CHAPTER

  ONE

  JUST KIDS WITH A DREAM

  I’ve always wanted to be able to tell stories, you know, stories that came from my soul. I’d like to sit by a fire and tell people stories—make them see pictures, make them cry and laugh, take them anywhere emotionally with something as deceptively simple as words. I’d like to tell tales to move their souls and transform them. I’ve always wanted to be able to do that. Imagine how the great writers must feel, knowing they have that power. I sometimes feel I could do it. It’s something I’d like to develop. In a way, songwriting uses the same skills, creates the emotional highs and lows, but the story is a sketch. It’s quicksilver. There are very few books written on the art of storytelling, how to grip listeners, how to get a group of people together and amuse them. No costumes, no makeup, no nothing, just you and your voice, and your powerful ability to take them anywhere, to transform their lives, if only for minutes.

  As I begin to tell my story, I want to repeat what I usually say to people when they ask me about my earliest days with the Jackson 5: I was so little when we began to work on our music that I really don’t remember much about it. Most people have the luxury of careers that start when they’re old enough to know exactly what they’re doing and why, but, of course, that wasn’t true of me. They remember everything that happened to them, but I was only five years old. When you’re a show business child, you really don’t have the maturity to understand a great deal of what is going on around you. People make a lot of decisions concerning your life when you’re out of the room. So here’s what I remember. I remember singing at the top of my voice and dancing with real joy and working too hard for a child. Of course, there are many details I don’t remember at all. I do remember the Jackson 5 really taking off when I was only eight or nine.

  I was born in Gary, Indiana, on a late summer night in 1958, the seventh of my parents’ nine children. My father, Joe Jackson, was born in Arkansas, and in 1949 he married my mother, Katherine Scruse, whose people came from Alabama. My sister Maureen was born the following year and had the tough job of being the oldest. Jackie, Tito, Jermaine, LaToya, and Marlon were all next in line. Randy and Janet came after me.

  Imagine singing and dancing at this age.

  A part of my earliest memories is my father’s job working in the steel mill. It was tough, mind-numbing work and he played music for escape. At the same time, my mother was working in a department store. Because of my father, and because of my mother’s own love of music, we heard it all the time at home. My father and his brother had a group called the Falcons who were the local R&B band. My father played the guitar, as did his brother. They would do some of the great early rock ’n’ roll and blues songs by Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Otis Redding, you name it. All those styles were amazing and each had an influence on Joe and on us, although we were too young to know it at the time. The Falcons practiced in the living room of our house in Gary, so I was raised on R&B. Since we were nine kids and my father’s brother had eight of his own, our combined numbers made for a huge family. Music was what we did for entertainment and those times helped keep us together and kind of encouraged my father to be a family-oriented man. The Jackson 5 were born out of this tradition—we later became the Jacksons—and because of this training and musical tradition, I moved out on my own and established a sound that is mine.

  I remember my childhood as mostly work, even though I loved to sing. I wasn’t forced into this business by stage parents the way Judy Garland was. I did it because I enjoyed it and because it was as natural to me as drawing a breath and exhaling it. I did it because I was compelled to do it, not by parents or family, but by my own inner life in the world of music.

  There were times, let me make that clear, when I’d come home from school and I’d only have time to put my books down and get ready for the studio. Once there, I’d sing until late at night, until it was past my bedtime, really. There was a park across the street from the Motown studio, and I can remember looking at those kids playing games. I’d just stare at them in wonder—I couldn’t imagine such freedom, such a carefree life—and wish more than anything that I had that kind of freedom, that I could walk away and be like them. So there were sad moments in my childhood. It’s true for any child star. Elizabeth Taylor told me she felt the same way. When you’re young and you’re working, the world can seem awfully unfair. I wasn’t forced to be little Michael the lead singer—I did it and I loved it—but it was hard work. If we were doing an album, for example, we’d go off to the studio after school and I might or might not get a snack. Sometimes there just wasn’t time. I’d come home, exhausted, and it’d be eleven or twelve and past time to go to bed.

  My father and my mother.

  So I very much identify with anyone who worked as a child. I know how they struggled, I know what they sacrificed. I also know what they learned. I’ve learned that it becomes more of a challenge as one gets older. I feel old for some reason. I really feel like an old soul, someone who’s seen a lot and experienced a lot. Because of all the years I’ve clocked in, it’s hard for me to accept that I am only twenty-nine. I’ve been in the business for twenty-four years. Sometimes I feel like I should be near the end of my life, turning eighty, with people patting me on the back. That’s what comes from starting so young.

  When I first performed with my brothers, we were known as the Jacksons. We would later become the Jackson 5. Still later, after we left Motown, we would reclaim the Jacksons name again.

  Every one of my albums or the group’s albums has been dedicated to our mother, Katherine Jackson, since we took over our own careers and began to produce our own music. My first memories are of her holding me and singing songs like “You Are My Sunshine” and “Cotton Fields.” She sang to me and to my brothers and sisters often. Even though she had lived in Indiana for some time, my mother grew up in Alabama, and in that part of the country it was just as common for black people to be raised with country and western music on the radio as it was for them to hear spirituals in church. She likes Willie Nelson to this day. She has always had a beautiful voice and I suppose I got my singing ability from my mother and, of course, from God.

  Mom played the clarinet and the piano, which she taught my oldest sister, Maureen, whom we call Rebbie, to play, just as she’d teach my other older sister, LaToya. My mother knew, from an early age, that she would never perform the music she loved in front of others, not because she didn’t have the talent and the ability, but because she was crippled by polio as a child. She got over the disease, but not without a permanent limp in her walk. She had to miss a great deal of school as a child, but she told us that she was lucky to recover at a time when many died from the disease. I remember how important it was to her that we got the sugar-cube vaccine. She
even made us miss a youth club show one Saturday afternoon—that’s how important it was in our family.

  My mother knew her polio was not a curse but a test that God gave her to triumph over, and she instilled in me a love of Him that I will always have. She taught me that my talent for singing and dancing was as much God’s work as a beautiful sunset or a storm that left snow for children to play in. Despite all the time we spent rehearsing and traveling, Mom would find time to take me to the Kingdom Hall of the Jehovah’s Witnesses, usually with Rebbie and LaToya.

  Years later, after we had left Gary, we performed on “The Ed Sullivan Show,” the live Sunday night variety show where America first saw the Beatles, Elvis, and Sly and the Family Stone. After the show, Mr. Sullivan complimented and thanked each of us; but I was thinking about what he had said to me before the show. I had been wandering around backstage, like the kid in the Pepsi commercial, and ran into Mr. Sullivan. He seemed glad to see me and shook my hand, but before he let it go he had a special message for me. It was 1970, a year when some of the best people in rock were losing their lives to drugs and alcohol. An older, wiser generation in show business was unprepared to lose its very young. Some people had already said that I reminded them of Frankie Lymon, a great young singer of the 1950s who lost his life that way. Ed Sullivan may have been thinking of all this when he told me, “Never forget where your talent came from, that your talent is a gift from God.”

  I was grateful for his kindness, but I could have told him that my mother had never let me forget. I never had polio, which is a frightening thing for a dancer to think about, but I knew God had tested me and my brothers and sisters in other ways—our large family, our tiny house, the small amount of money we had to make ends meet, even the jealous kids in the neighborhood who threw rocks at our windows while we rehearsed, yelling that we’d never make it. When I think of my mother and our early years, I can tell you there are rewards that go far beyond money and public acclaim and awards.