The First Book of Michael

by Syl Mortilla

  The bustling laughter of children gives anywhere an inherent sense of unbridled joy. The playground that was Neverland became ghostly silent in its grief for those children that fell victim to the demonic personalities infected by “the same disease of lust, gluttony and greed”, as Michael laments in the HIStory album track, ‘Money’. The actions of a pitifully envious few, hell-bent on monetary gain, were the ones that raped children. Not Michael.

  ***

  I was recently watching my two young daughters run around the local park. They approached people without prejudice, their curiosity craving the sating of a question on their minds: “Why is your baby crying?” or “Can you ride a bicycle, too?” They indiscriminately engage with strangers, usually introducing themselves with the ostensibly random knowledge of how old they are. They are an unparalleled pleasure to observe. Yet, there was something in their demeanour that reminded me of the horrors I have personally witnessed on the streets of the Kenyan capital of Nairobi. The thirst for knowledge that I recognised in my children’s faces caused me to recall the look in the eyes of Kenyan children of a similar age – pre-schoolers – who begged for money from people passing by: money that would be spent on the drugs to which they had become addicted; drugs that helped them escape the reality of their tragic situation.

  I recently happened upon an interview with the actor Zac Efron (as one does.) In it, Mr. Efron describes – as a fortuitous consequence of working with Kenny Ortega on the High School Musical movie franchise – how he was handed a phone on which Michael was on the other end. Zac Efron is a lifelong fan of Michael’s, and the surprise that was his being on the phone to his idol, resulted in him breaking down in uncontrollable tears. Unable to compose himself, Zac handed the phone back to Kenny Ortega, who ended the call. Michael then phoned back and asked to speak to the actor. Michael was also now crying. Through the mutual sobs, Michael managed to utter the words, “See? Dreams do come true.”

  I believe that Michael was weeping in the piqued hope of believing his own dreams would one day come to fruition: that all his efforts in forging a cultural foundation upon a belief in the wisdom of childhood would one day be realised; that all the sacrifice will have been worth it. After all – and with total respect to the likeable man – I somehow doubt Michael was plaintive at the realisation of a dream involving talking to Zac Efron on the phone.

  The proposed sale of Neverland by the Estate – the physical construct, remember, that inimitably expresses Michael’s soul – is a tragedy. Michael acquiesced to participate in This Is It for financial reasons, though at the same time persevering in earnestly dismissing the idea of selling Neverland (or his unpublished music, for that matter).

  In 2003, Michael said,

  “I wanted to have a place where I could create everything I never had as a child… I love it. And I will always love it. And I will never, ever sell Neverland. Neverland is me… You know? It represents the totality of who I am. It really does… I love Neverland.”

  In 2012, a legal spokesperson for Katherine Jackson said, “It is the wish of the beneficiaries that Neverland be kept in the family, and Michael’s children one day decide what to do with their home.” In 2013, Paris Jackson spoke about her wish to return and resurrect this childhood home. In a few mere years, Michael’s children will gain personal control of their inherited share of their father’s multi-millions (should they still exist). Why can’t the lawyers at the helm of the Estate of Michael Jackson fund the preservation of this culturally-precious, historically-significant and much-cherished childhood home until then? The place where Michael’s children grew up not having to imagine retrieving animals from their attic, as those very real animals lived in their garden? Animals that lived there because Michael so clearly and inherently understood the idiosyncratic yearnings of youth.

  Legal advice or otherwise, it is no wonder that Michael never returned to Neverland. Instead, he embarked on a world tour of an altogether different ilk – he became nomadic, traversing the globe looking for somewhere that he could settle with his children, unworried and secure.

  Michael craved privacy. He understood that privacy is crucial for potential; for creativity; for democracy. Another example of his dichotomous nature was his being the most recognisable person on the planet, yet also the most private. His philosophy made concrete, that to be truly free, one must exist within an environment that allows the flourishing of an individual’s potential, in order to be able to contribute wholly to society.

  Michael argued that it should be possible to have a celebrity’s relationship with the media, as well as a private one: that the two were mutually exclusive. In the 1997 Barbara Walters interview, Michael argues there is a time and a place for paparazzi involvement – fully acknowledging that it’s part and parcel of the game of self-promotion, but simultaneously suggesting that there is a cut-off point (perhaps just before hiding cameras in toilets whilst simultaneously taking photographs from helicopters flying overhead?). Michael said,

  “There should be some boundaries, the star needs some space. He has a heart... he is human.”

  Whilst wandering the world, Michael continued to love artistry; continued to lift his head from the drowning waters of attempted oppression and make his voice heard. Or - as he put it in ‘Unbreakable’ - “steady laughin’ while surfacin’.” Michael never stopped writing, even whilst in exile: songs such as ‘People of the World’ and ‘Days in Gloucestershire’ - the latter example evoking an image of a man in peaceful and deserved semi-retirement, lazily picking at grass whilst lying in a field blessed in sunshine. There is a real, simple beauty to it. ‘People of the World’ demonstrates that Michael’s determination to unite the world through melody was unrelenting.

  But above his craft and all, Michael’s love was for his children. As he sang himself, his children were his life. There’s a reason Michael had less time for his artistry in his final decade on Earth: he was a hands-on single father.

  As I have mentioned, I also have the honour of being a father. Something that involves the divine privilege of listening to a four year old and a two year old serenade me with adaptations of Jackson 5 songs that are somewhat less-than-faithful to the originals. Though my children possess quite different musical tastes: whereas the elder daughter likes to pirouette and float gracefully to ballads, the younger likes to head-bounce to funk. The younger’s favourite Jackson 5 song is ‘Dancing Machine’ (at the drop of the tune, she comes alive), whereas this fondness for ‘Dancing Machine’ is ridiculed by my elder daughter for her belief in the song containing the lyric, “croc-oc-odile” (it doesn’t, of course – but if you listen to the refrain “Watch her get down”, you can tell exactly what she means). The elder’s favourite is ‘I’ll Be There’. Or, as she croons it, “I’m A Bear”. Running around in circles with the single-minded determination of catching up with themselves is a dance move they can both agree on, however. And the one song they have a mutual appreciation for is ‘ABC’.

  Yeah. It’s on a lot that one.

  Indeed, perhaps the only song I’ve sang on more occasions in my life than ‘Billie Jean’, is ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’. During those long, long nights of settling babies down to sleep.

  Now. Imagine if someone threatened to take them away from me?

  There were cries for Michael to have his children taken away from him after the second wave of allegations.

  Imagine what that would have done to him?

  ***

  The talent and genius of Michael Jackson almost becomes redundant in the face of what he tried to utilise the resulting fame for – an attempt at a legacy that makes the world a better place, beginning with a universal reverence for childhood. Michael gathered the waifs and strays - the lost children - and led them to a land of pure escapism. Not only in the physical snapshot of eternal youth that was Neverland, but on a much larger scale, through his art and his mantra of following one’s dreams.

  Michael never won the Nobel Peace Prize,
although he was twice nominated - in 1998 and 2003 - and was surely the most worthy human being to have never acquired it. Nevertheless, in spite of this particular accolade not having adorned any of the many mantelpieces of Neverland, Michael did receive some twenty internationally-recognised humanitarian awards, as well as countless other recognitions and tributes, including a Guinness Book of World Records entry for the Most Charities Supported By A Pop Star (thirty-nine), and an eponymous music industry award that continues to be annually presented in celebration of that year’s most philanthropic musical artist. As well as this, Michael set up his own charity, the Heal The World Foundation, for which he toured the world to raise funds – donating every penny of the proceeds from it - before having the charity deliver aid by military planes to the innocent people caught up in the war in Sarajevo. All this, before even mentioning his constant striving to use his talent and status to release globally-recognisable musical anthems bearing the sole purpose of inspiring peace and unity amongst the human race.

  As the Icelandic musician Bjork surmised, "[Michael’s] religion is 'magic' and he has a fanatical belief in hope and that everything is going to be alright."

  Michael’s self-imposed exile in Neverland was due to the sense of incongruity he felt with the cynicism of the adult world. He wanted to disassociate himself from a corrupted system. The turbulence and brutality of the world and its media empires that were prejudiced against him, meant Neverland was the place where Michael sought refuge. As he said,

  “People become addicted to the world and the violence. And they become subjected to other people’s thoughts and to the American system. Our way is not the only way."

  To illustrate this point, there’s a humorous example in which Michael, at the conclusion to a commercial for Suzuki, turns to the camera and appears to attempt to wink, but blinks instead. Of course, we see in the ‘Smooth Criminal’ video, that Michael is more than capable of winking. In Japan, however, where the advert was shown, blinking means ‘love’.

  Michael built Neverland with the sole purpose of creating a haven for the celebration of childhood - as a retreat for an unhindered exploration of the purity and potential of youth; as somewhere he could escape the societal ‘norms’ thrust – unsolicited – upon us all. ‘Norms’ that consistently attempt to corrupt the very concept of love, in any of its given forms. 'Tarantism' is the word given to describe the act of banishing melancholy through the act of dancing. It was the refuge of Neverland that provided Michael with the solitude and privacy to "escape the world" and "enjoy that simple dance." Before it was ransacked in 2005, whereupon Michael’s utopian pocket of eternal youth was irreparably corrupted by the monstrous ugliness of a perverted and emotionally retarded outside world.

  In Moonwalker, Michael had an actor playing a young version of himself perform a skit of his ‘Bad’ video. The actor then transforms into the adult Michael. The peculiarity of Michael’s friends dressing up as him is often seized upon by critics. The reason for this could be as prosaic as his friends merely wanting to dress as their hero (after all, thousands of people do this without even having met Michael). Or maybe it was an attempt by Michael to marry his pre-Thriller persona with his post-Thriller self.

  Neverland was not a paedophile’s lure; it was a true expression of innocence. The problem wasn’t Michael’s perspective, it was theirs. It was the rest of the world that needed to recover their inner child, not Michael. People query Michael’s choice to spend his time in the company of children, without ever questioning the reason why millions of people sought to seek his presence when he was a child. As well as whilst he remained childlike as an adult. Michael saw more individual human beings than anyone else that has ever existed. Because they flocked in their hundreds of millions to go and see him.

  Adorning one wall of Michael’s bedroom at Neverland was a framed picture of Jesus Christ, which was surrounded by pictures of Disney characters; his house was inhabited by statues and mannequins of cartoon figures. Though Michael’s fashion was lavish and iconic when in the public eye, the wardrobes of his bedroom were filled with red shirts and white T-shirts, which when at home, he wore every day.

  Michael was uniquely complicated. We are not expected to fully understand. But, as civilised human beings, we are expected to infer positivity from his experience, as part of an endeavour to transform the world for the better.

  For everyone.

  The alternative is outright disaster.

  People believe what they need to believe. The world needs to believe in the integrity of Michael Jackson’s message of innocence.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Every child that is born is proof that God has not yet given up on human beings.

  RABINDRANATH TAGORE

  The sun takes twelve days to set after its glorious zenith on what fans now refer to as Vindication Day. During these twelve days, clouds gradually gather: tinged by the touch of the star’s tragic tiring - exacerbating an increasing anxiety that ultimately succumbs to the bleak and black sadness that is the anniversary of Michael’s death.

  Children were simultaneously Michael's Achilles’ heel and his vitality. His single-mindedness in being their advocate was his only vulnerability; a pressure point that was exploited with aplomb. As Michael said, "They try to use my love for children against me and it's so unfair, I'm very upset about it you know?”

  Michael’s artistic riposte to the 1993 extortion attempt is dedicated to all the children of the world, who he claims responsibility for. Michael loved all children the way any mother loves their own.

  There comes a time in most people’s lives when the fig leaf falls and the Eden of childhood ceases to be. What with the lifelong constancy of Michael’s childhood, there were inevitably various occasions when the fig leaves of his fans fell, whilst his remained. Michael’s work being categorised into eras provides a convenient system for measuring this.

  The first instance of such corruption was with the release of Dangerous in 1991. Grunge was the coming-of-age rally cry for the turn-of-the-decade teenager, and Nirvana’s Nevermind album stole the cool vote. Michael had anticipated the change in mood and ‘Give In To Me’ - which had initially been mooted as a dance number - became Michael’s rock response.

  The contradiction is that Dangerous is often described as Michael’s coming-of-age album. Yet, as he concocted a different image for each era, a case can be made for all of them: Off The Wall – his first solo album featuring self-penned material, a falsetto exhale that embodied the entire genre of disco; Thriller – the historic unit-and-culture shifting phenomenon; Bad – all songs bar two self-penned, as well as his first tour as a solo performer; HIStory – a unique polemic sparked by a very unique inspirational spur; Invincible – his desire to be emancipated from Sony Music.

  Though remaining stolid throughout all these distinct phases, was Michael continuing to be childlike.

  The evidence for which, is ubiquitously extant: the sincere glee in Michael’s laughter during the custard-pie fight shown in the making of ‘Black Or White’; the genuine giddiness in the film of Michael and Macaulay Culkin dropping water bombs on people brave enough to pass beneath their hotel balcony; the palpability of the incredulity in Michael’s voice when asking the smiling executioner Martin Bashir, "You don’t climb trees?.. You missing out...” the delirious delight emanating from a man in his thirties charging around in a dodgem whilst eating candy floss.

  Commentators of a certain ilk often remark and opine with pop-insight that a lot of Michael’s problems could have been resolved by a good therapist; how his yearning for his lost childhood could have been sated by some time spent embracing his inner child. In reality, a therapist sitting opposite Michael, attempting to help him harmonise with his inner child, would have had to contend with a man daydreaming about how to best employ his next practical joke. Michael spent each and every day embracing his inner child: meeting him at the door; welcoming him with reconciliation and rejoicing. He celebrated childhood dai
ly – both its innocence and mischief.

  Michael’s predilection for “such elementary things” as he describes in the HIStory track, ‘Childhood’, is evident in his words,

  “I feel that they are more than just children; that they are all little geniuses and that they have a secret all of their own. A secret that they cannot always express. […] I studied child psychology because of my love for children – all over the world. […] If a kid doesn’t like you, he’ll tell you. But adults pretend and put on phoney ways. I wish the world could be full of children!"

  Though this revering of naivety is by no means peculiar to him; indeed it is a trait commonly found in adults who have suffered unorthodox upbringings.

  Brian Wilson, the troubled chief songwriter for the Beach Boys, is another example of a childlike musical luminary fond of activities that most people would deem to be unusual.

  During his youth, Wilson experienced such horrors at the hands of his ferocious father as the macabre punishment of being forced to stare into his father’s empty eye socket. When terrors such as this are inflicted on the mutable and sensitive mind of a child, the resultant eccentricities in their adult behaviour suddenly become much more comprehensible. Consoling themselves by indulging in idiosyncrasies with which they feel affinity, is the right of these individuals - not merely as human beings, but also, in the case of such people as Michael and Wilson, in their status as agents of priceless artistic pulchritude with which they illuminate humanity.