The Liz Smith Column | 06/28/2009 11:00 pm
Liz Smith: Remembering My Michael Jackson
Our Gossip Girl remembers back to when she first got to know the King of Pop.

© Getty Images
"What do you read my Lord Hamlet?"
"Words, words, words."
So goes the exchange between Polonius and the Melancholy Dane.
***
And it’s words, words, words we are getting now in the wake of Michael Jackson’s shocking death at the age of 50. Laudatory and extravagant words, bitter words, accusatory and defensive words.
But what struck me instantly, as soon as I heard the news, was a terrible sense of déjà vu. Hadn’t we somehow been here before? Hadn’t we already seen Michael die so many times over the years – the death of his innocence, the death of his youthful beauty, the death of his reputation?
As with the passings of Marilyn and Elvis, there was shock, but no real surprise … these were icons fated to meet untimely and unhappy ends. And none more so than Michael, who chose to live on the absolute precipice for so many years, even, finally, falling into the abyss.
Was he a victim or a predator? Trapped by fame or enraptured by his cosseted existence? A selfless humanitarian or a ruthless self-promoter? A breathless Peter Pan or a gruff-voiced, hard-eyed business mogul? Or did he inhabit all these selves?
Unlike his great friend Elizabeth Taylor, who was similarly used as a cash-making golden goose by her family and her old MGM studio bosses, Michael couldn’t/wouldn’t break away from his childhood traumas. He seemed unable to begin to live out the life of a functioning adult, with adult passions and a basic center of reality. Taylor’s career was secondary to her life as a passionate woman, the mothering of her children. She managed to balance the inevitable narcissism of self-love with a more down-to-earth view of herself and her situation.
Michael, like Elvis – perhaps because of the emotionalism music creates in audiences – rushed headlong into unreality. He and Elvis built their own prisons and fashioned their odd lives to suit themselves. They took no good advice. They were surrounded by the worst kind of enablers. (Indeed, enablers may have killed Michael!)
Many more words are to come. Current headlines are just the beginning, everything you never wanted to know will be exposed, and the battle for Michael’s millions and the custody of his poor children will fill newspapers and tabloids for years.
So here’s how I want to remember Michael – not as the mega-star, not as Wacko Jacko, but as a lovely boy whom I got to know a bit during the filming of "The Wiz" when he was 16. He was shy – surprisingly so, for somebody who was already a showbiz veteran, and a star. His solo "Off The Wall" and "Thriller" albums were just around the corner. He was still the brilliant lead singer of The Jackson Five – a group that never would have gotten off the ground had it not been for Michael’s unique talents (much like the career of Michael’s friend/mentor/inspiration Miss Diana Ross and her Supremes).
There was nothing, and I mean nothing to suggest what was to come, in terms of eccentricity. He had yet to alter his face at all. He was a handsome young man on the set of "The Wiz." I wish I could tell you something dramatic, but in those days Michael wasn’t given to drama. The vibe he put out was one of eager, honest, hardworking drive. His soft-spoken ways were not quite so soft as they later became. He didn’t seem like a fragile Tennessee Williams heroine, ravaged by life and fearing the light. He was just a boy, on his way up. Charming.
At Elizabeth Taylor’s wedding to Larry Fortensky, I was at Neverland and sat by Michael during the wedding dinner. That night he explained to me his love for Elizabeth: "We were both child stars. We understand each other!" I was amused in that Michael was dressed more elaborately and had on more makeup than the bride. (And the groom, Fortensky, wasn’t even often at the table.)
"Words, words, words."
So goes the exchange between Polonius and the Melancholy Dane.
***
And it’s words, words, words we are getting now in the wake of Michael Jackson’s shocking death at the age of 50. Laudatory and extravagant words, bitter words, accusatory and defensive words.
But what struck me instantly, as soon as I heard the news, was a terrible sense of déjà vu. Hadn’t we somehow been here before? Hadn’t we already seen Michael die so many times over the years – the death of his innocence, the death of his youthful beauty, the death of his reputation?
As with the passings of Marilyn and Elvis, there was shock, but no real surprise … these were icons fated to meet untimely and unhappy ends. And none more so than Michael, who chose to live on the absolute precipice for so many years, even, finally, falling into the abyss.
Was he a victim or a predator? Trapped by fame or enraptured by his cosseted existence? A selfless humanitarian or a ruthless self-promoter? A breathless Peter Pan or a gruff-voiced, hard-eyed business mogul? Or did he inhabit all these selves?
Unlike his great friend Elizabeth Taylor, who was similarly used as a cash-making golden goose by her family and her old MGM studio bosses, Michael couldn’t/wouldn’t break away from his childhood traumas. He seemed unable to begin to live out the life of a functioning adult, with adult passions and a basic center of reality. Taylor’s career was secondary to her life as a passionate woman, the mothering of her children. She managed to balance the inevitable narcissism of self-love with a more down-to-earth view of herself and her situation.
Michael, like Elvis – perhaps because of the emotionalism music creates in audiences – rushed headlong into unreality. He and Elvis built their own prisons and fashioned their odd lives to suit themselves. They took no good advice. They were surrounded by the worst kind of enablers. (Indeed, enablers may have killed Michael!)
Many more words are to come. Current headlines are just the beginning, everything you never wanted to know will be exposed, and the battle for Michael’s millions and the custody of his poor children will fill newspapers and tabloids for years.
So here’s how I want to remember Michael – not as the mega-star, not as Wacko Jacko, but as a lovely boy whom I got to know a bit during the filming of "The Wiz" when he was 16. He was shy – surprisingly so, for somebody who was already a showbiz veteran, and a star. His solo "Off The Wall" and "Thriller" albums were just around the corner. He was still the brilliant lead singer of The Jackson Five – a group that never would have gotten off the ground had it not been for Michael’s unique talents (much like the career of Michael’s friend/mentor/inspiration Miss Diana Ross and her Supremes).
There was nothing, and I mean nothing to suggest what was to come, in terms of eccentricity. He had yet to alter his face at all. He was a handsome young man on the set of "The Wiz." I wish I could tell you something dramatic, but in those days Michael wasn’t given to drama. The vibe he put out was one of eager, honest, hardworking drive. His soft-spoken ways were not quite so soft as they later became. He didn’t seem like a fragile Tennessee Williams heroine, ravaged by life and fearing the light. He was just a boy, on his way up. Charming.
At Elizabeth Taylor’s wedding to Larry Fortensky, I was at Neverland and sat by Michael during the wedding dinner. That night he explained to me his love for Elizabeth: "We were both child stars. We understand each other!" I was amused in that Michael was dressed more elaborately and had on more makeup than the bride. (And the groom, Fortensky, wasn’t even often at the table.)
Read more about: Death, Diana Ross, Elizabeth Taylor, Elvis Presley, Entertainment, Larry Fortensky, Legends, Liz Smith, Marilyn Monroe, Michael Jackson, Music, News, Tennessee Williams, The Jackson Five, The Liz Smith Column, The Supremes
























65 Reader Comments (so far…) Sign In or Register to comment
I think ,like Elvis, Michael was an advanced soul, frustated by being earthbound and unable to traverse and taste the boundlessness of the universe. They both reached higher than worldly means would allow and were frustrated that they had already fulfilled their purpose on earth and were ready to expand their soul’s expression on a higher plane. They had evolved here on earth to the end of their usefulness to themselves and were simply "hanging in" and waiting in abject frustration for their "time" to come.
To Dear Michael:
"Now cracks a noble heart…..Good night Sweet Prince…
And flights of angels sing the to thy rest."
GOOD GAWD….he was just a human that wrote music and entertained. PERIOD.
He squandered MILLIONS and perhaps took the innocence of other shy, sensitive youths. He was an ENTERTAINER. A great one….yes…
…but nothing more.
Thank you Liz. Your article was brilliant. I think your truth about him is so smart.
I have met Michael before. I was very lucky and he was sweet and generous and kind. It was at a theater and I was very very pregnant with my first child. I introduced myself and told him how much I liked his debut solo album and he was sweet open and kind. He had not started the plastic surgery nightmare. Just a sweet kid that took a chance and broke from the family group to try on his own. I remember he was playing with a yo yo. He had one bodyguard. Oddly enough, I remember him most from that. I was places that he was at times, but that memory sticks out the most.
I came to know Michael Jackson in other ways. A very good childhood and college friend of mine was his chef. Her daughter spent time at my house and when they went on tour, J lived with us. J knew Michael very well. She spent the night over there with other children and always said that Michael would never touch or molest a child. Therefore I never believed the allegations. My friend worked for him for several years and she would share with me how smart Michael was and how different his private persona was from his public persona. She was always impressed with his integrity.
When he started his journey of plastic surgery I asked her why and she said that he always had people around him that would tell him anything he wanted to hear. Parasites and hangers on that thought maybe a little of his fame would rub off on them.
I called her one day because one of my oldest son’s friends, who was a huge Michael Jackson fan, father had suddenly died of a heart attack - he was in his 40’s. I wondered if we could get an autographed picture of him for the friend. The response was immediate and more than a picture arrived, there was so much love and generosity it made me cry. Once he didn’t want to go to a Gladys Knight and the Pips concert and my husband and I got his tickets. He was always thoughtful.
I guess we all feel that we all knew Michael Jackson in a personal way. He was so vulnerable and exposed to us because of what he did to his face, he did not want to look like his father. He wanted stardom, adoration and privacy which just don’t mix. I am so sorry it turned out this way. It didn’t have to end like this.
I try to live my life by the creed that I shall judge no man harshly until I have walked two moons in his mocassins. Never having met Michael Jackson I am ill prepared to pass judgement on him , but I was and always will be in awe of his amazing talent. and his passing is a great loss to all who knew him, and those whose lives were touched by him, and so in honor of those who did know and love him. I would like to share a poem by E.E. Cummings that I read at my brothers funeral.
I carry your heart with me. I carry it in my heart. I am never without it anywhere I go you go my dear, and what is done by only me is your doing my darling.
I fear no fate for you are my fate, my sweet, I want no world for beautiful you are my world, my true. And it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
And here is the deepest secret nobody knows. Here is the root of the root, and the bud of the bud, and the sky of the sky of a tree called life, which grows higher than the soul can hope or the mind can hide. And this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart.
I carry your heart, I carry it in my heart.
Good night Michael, rest well……God bless.
Excellent writing and insight. When I heard Liza Minnelli say how she was glad they were memorializing him now, because later things would come out that wouldn’t be nice, I remember thinking, "…and as his friend, she would know." Already this weekend so many unpleasant things have surfaced in just the actions of his father alone that I won’t ennumerate on. The vain peacock parades.
I think you are dead on right, too, about Elizabeth Taylor in how she grounded herself to the business and in just how much she would let it control (or not) her life. I would still love for wOw to do a piece about Ms. Taylor and her "tweets." I love the idea she is using Twitter to reach her fans.
You know, Washington Cube, Liza Minnelli’s comment struck a chord with me also. My thinking, though, was that she had experienced her mother’s life and reputation dragged through the headlines. Judy Garland, another child star, enormous talent, tragic life. The public just cannot know the intimate details of such enormous celebrity…well, Liz Smith brings us closer, doesn’t she? Stars often explode across the sky…burning brighter but extinguished quicker.
Peace and grace