Part 2 (1/2)

'I remember him being talented, yes,' Etta James said of Michael, 'but polite and very interested too. I was working my show, doing my thing on stage, and as I'm singing ”Tell Mama”, I see this little black kid watching me from the wings. And I'm thinking, Who is this kid? He's distracting me. So I go over to him in between songs, while the people are clapping, and I whisper, ”Scat, kid! Get lost. You're buggin' me. Go watch from the audience.” I scared the h.e.l.l out of him. He had these big ol' brown eyes, and he opened them real wide and ran away.

'About ten minutes later, there's this kid again. Now he's standing in front of the stage, off to the side. And he's watching me as I work.'

After the show, when Etta was in her dressing room taking off her makeup, there was a knock on the door.

'Who is it?' she asked.

'It's me.'

'Who's me?'

'Michael,' the young voice said. 'Michael Jackson.'

'I don't know no Michael Jackson,' Etta said.

'Yes, you do. I'm that little kid you told to scat.'

Etta, a robust black woman with dyed blond hair and a big, booming voice, cracked the door open and looked down to find a nine-year-old gazing up at her with large, wondering eyes. 'Whatchu want, boy?' she asked.

In a manner that wasn't the least bit timid, Michael said, 'Miss James, my father told me to come on back here and 'pologize to you. I'm sorry, ma'am, but I was just watchin' you 'cause you're so good. You're just so good. good. How do you do that? I never seen people clap like that.' How do you do that? I never seen people clap like that.'

Etta, now flattered, smiled and patted the boy on the head. 'Come on in here and sit with me,' she said. 'I can teach you a few tricks.'

'I don't remember what I told him,' Etta recalled, 'but I remember thinking as he was leaving, Now, there's a boy who wants to learn from the best, so one day he's gonna be be the best.' the best.'

While Joseph was at the American Federation of Musicians' hall in New York filling out certain forms for the Apollo engagement, he met a young, white lawyer by the name of Richard Arons. After talking to him for just a few moments, Joseph asked Arons to help him manage his sons. Joseph relished the idea of having white a.s.sistance a preference that would cause problems for him in years to come. Arons, as a co-manager, began seeking concert bookings for the group while Joseph tried to interest the record industry in them. At one point, he tried to contact Berry Gordy, president of Motown, by sending him an audiotape of some of the Jacksons' songs; there was no reaction from Gordy, or from anyone else at Motown.

In 1968, when The Jackson Five played The Regal Theater in Chicago, Motown recording artist Gladys Knight arranged for some of Motown's executives but not Berry to attend the show. There was some interest in the group at that time; word got back to Berry that the Jacksons were an up-and-coming act, but still, there was no interest from him in terms of signing them to the label.

In July 1968 when Jackie was seventeen; t.i.to, fourteen; Jermaine, thirteen; Marlon, ten; and Michael, nine the group performed at Chicago's High Chaparral Club as an opening act for a group called Bobby Taylor and the Vancouvers. After he saw the Jackson boys in action, Taylor telephoned Ralph Seltzer, head of Motown's creative department and also head of the company's legal division, to suggest that the group be allowed to audition for Motown.

'I had some doubts,' Ralph Seltzer would recall. 'Creative considerations aside, I had concerns about their age and the way they would change when they grew older, in terms of their appearance and their voices. But there was so much excitement about them from Bobby, I finally told him to bring them onto Detroit.'

Though the Jacksons were scheduled to leave Chicago for a local television programme in New York, Bobby Taylor convinced Joseph that he should, instead, take the boys to Detroit for an audition. Taylor arranged to film their performance. If the boys were impressive, he said, Ralph Seltzer would then forward the film to Berry Gordy, who was in Los Angeles, for his approval.

Later that day, Katherine called the High Chaparral Club to talk to her husband. She was told that he and the boys had gone to the Motor City. 'Detroit?' she asked, puzzled. 'You mean to tell me they gave up that television show to go to Detroit? What in the world for?'

'Motown,' said the voice on the other end. 'They've gone to Motown.'

The Jacksons Sign with Motown.

It was quarter to ten in the morning on 23 July 1968 when the Jackson family's Volkswagen minibus eased into a parking s.p.a.ce in front of a cl.u.s.ter of small white bungalows at 2648 West Grand Boulevard, Detroit. The sign above one of the structures said it all: Hitsville U.S.A. This was Motown Records, the place from which had sprung forth so many memorable, chart-topping hit records. By 1968, Berry Gordy, Jr., had made an indelible impression on the entertainment world with this company. Gordy was a maverick in the record business in every way, a visionary who had plucked young, black hopefuls from urban street corners to then transform them into international superstars, with names such as The Supremes, The Temptations, The Miracles, The Vandellas and The Marvelettes. His success with those kinds of groups and solo artists, like Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell, was largely the result of his brilliance at surrounding the singers with the most talented writers, producers and arrangers Detroit had to offer: Smokey Robinson, Brian Holland, Lamont Dozier and Eddie Holland, Norman Whitfield, and Barrett Strong, to name just a few. Using the notion of team work as their foundation, they and the artists formulated an original, contagious style of music that sold millions of records. It was called the Motown Sound.

A muscular rhythm section, engaging hook lines and choruses, and witty lyrics were all standard elements of songs like 'Where Did Our Love Go?' and 'I Can't Help Myself'. 'Dancing in the Streets', 'Please Mr Postman', 'Stop! In the Name of Love', 'The Tracks of My Tears' and seemingly countless others became not only anthems of an entire generation, but also emblems of the period in American history in which they were recorded.

Berry Gordy was a tough taskmaster who encouraged intense compet.i.tion among his groups, writers and producers. The biggest criticism levelled at Gordy by outsiders at first and then, later, by the artists themselves had to do with the complete control he exercised over his dominion. Practically none of the artists had a clue as to how much money they generated for the company, and they were usually discouraged from asking questions about it. They sang and performed, and that was all that was expected of them. 'I never saw a tax return until 1979,' Diana Ross, who signed with Gordy in 1960, once said. 'Berry was such a mentor and strong personality, you found yourself relying on that. You didn't grow.'

Joseph had heard some rumours about Motown nonsense about it being linked to the mob, for instance and had also heard that some artists had trouble being paid for their work. However, none of that was on his mind when he took his boys there that day in 1968 for their audition.

Joseph and Jack Richardson, a close family friend who travelled with them and acted as a road manager, were in the front seat of the van as they drove up to Hitsville. Crammed in the back were the Jackson boys with a plethora of instruments, amplifiers and microphones.

'Get out and in line for inspection,' Joseph ordered.

The youngsters clambered out on to the already-warm Detroit street, where, as if a military troop, they lined up according to age: seventeen-year-old Jackie; fourteen-year-old t.i.to; thirteen-year-old Jermaine; ten-year-old Marlon, and nine-year-old Michael. Seventeen-year-old Johnny Jackson joined the group. Though they were not related, Joseph treated him just like he treated his own sons, and Johnny obeyed just as quickly. 'All right,' Joseph growled. 'It's ten o'clock. Let's go. Remember everything I taught you and, except when you're singing or being spoken to, keep your mouths shut. And remember what I always say...' He looked at Jermaine.

'Either you're a winner in this life, or a loser,' Jermaine said. 'And none of my kids are losers.'

'Thata' boy,' Joseph said, patting him on the back.

Inside the main building, the first person to greet the gang was a sharply dressed, black man. When he asked how he could a.s.sist them, Joseph explained that they were the Jackson family from Gary and that they had an appointment for an audition. The man said that he'd been expecting them. 'You must be Michael,' he said, looking at the smallest. Then, pointing to the boys in turn, he correctly called each one by his name. 'And you, sir, you must be Joseph,' he announced as he and the family patriarch shook hands. The boys looked at each other, amazed.

The family was then led into a small studio. As they walked in, they noticed a person setting up a film camera on a tripod. There were ten folding chairs in front of the small, elevated wooden platform which would serve as a stage.

Suzanne dePa.s.se, creative a.s.sistant to president Berry Gordy, entered the studio wearing a blue miniskirt and a yellow blouse with ruffles. Her high heels clicked as she approached the group to introduce herself. She was an attractive, young black woman with shoulder-length, soft hair and a bright, friendly smile. The boys liked her immediately.

Ralph Seltzer was the next to appear. A tall white man wearing a dark suit and conservative tie, Seltzer seemed more intimidating than dePa.s.se. He shook the hand of each boy, and then Joseph's and Jack's.

'We've heard a lot about your group,' he said to Joseph. 'Mr Gordy couldn't be here, but '

'You mean Mr Gordy's not here?' Joseph asked, unable to hide his disappointment.

When Seltzer explained that Gordy was in Los Angeles, Joseph said that they should reschedule the audition when he was back in Detroit. He wanted his sons to audition for the boss, not his flunkies. However, Seltzer explained that they intended to film the audition, and then have it sent to Gordy on the West Coast. 'Mr Gordy will render a decision at that time,' he said.

'He'll render a decision,' Joseph repeated, more to himself than to Seltzer.

'Yes, he will,' Seltzer said, nodding his head. 'Mr Gordy will render a decision at that time.'

'Mr Gordy's gonna render a decision,' Michael repeated to Marlon.

'What's that mean?' Marlon whispered.

Michael shrugged his shoulders.

After all of the boys' equipment was lugged in from the van and set up, eight more staffers who did not introduce themselves filed into the studio, each with a notepad. Michael was ready to speak into the microphone when he heard someone in the corner snicker and say, 'Yeah, the Jackson Jive.' ('The Jackson Jive' is an old slang expression.) It sounded like an insult. Ralph Seltzer cleared his throat and glared at the person who made the remark.

'First song we'd like to do is James Brown's ”I Got the Feeling”,' Michael announced. 'Okay? Here we go.' He counted off 'A-one, a-two, a-three' and then t.i.to on guitar, Jermaine on ba.s.s, and Johnny Jackson on drums began to play.

'Baby, baby, baa-ba. Baby, baby, baa-ba. Baby, baby, baa-ba,' Michael sang. He grimaced and grunted, imitating James Brown. 'I got the fe-e-e-lin' now. Good Gawwd Gawwd almighty!' He skated sideways across the floor, like Brown. 'I feel almighty!' He skated sideways across the floor, like Brown. 'I feel goooood, goooood,' he screamed into the microphone, a wicked expression playing on his little face.

Suzanne dePa.s.se and Ralph Seltzer smiled at each other and nodded their heads. The other Motown executives kept time to the music. Joseph, standing in a corner with his arms folded across his chest, looked on approvingly.

After the boys finished, no one in the audience applauded. Instead, everyone feverishly wrote on their notepads.

Confused, the youngsters looked at each other and then at their father for a hint as to what they should do. Joseph motioned with his hand that they should continue with the next number.

'Thank you. Thank you very much,' Michael said, as though acknowledging an ovation. 'We 'predate it.'