Jacko, His Rise and Fall: The Social and Sexual History of Michael Jackson (16 page)

In the wake of the Cher special, the Jackson brothers continued to appear
on national television, including a Bob Hope special. The Jackson brothers
were booked to go on with John Denver and Ann-Margret. One Jackson brother was overheard backstage telling what he'd like to do with busty, leggy AnnMargret should he ever get her alone. "I don't think she's all that sexy,"
Michael said petulantly. "Just because you can't handle it," Jennaine said,
"doesn't mean your older brother can't. Never call in a kid to do a man's
work."

Although he had middle-of-the-road humor before the camera, and never
said anything offensive on stage, Hope could be raunchy once he was in his
dressing room. He could also tell very indiscreet stories about his rivals.

He informed Michael that Milton Berle also always stole his best jokes.
"Uncle Milty dresses in drag all the time," Hope said. "Putting on women's
clothes comes natural to him. He's got a real gay streak in him. In New York
years ago, when we were both struggling, I shared a hotel room with Berle.
He came on to me. Don't ever let him get you alone, kid. You'll be in for a surprise."

On their night off, Joe booked a private plane to fly his sons from Vegas
to Lake Tahoe to the Sahara Hotel and Casino to hear one of their all-time
favorites, Elvis Presley.

Elvis appeared dazed on stage that night, at one point looking in vain for
his band but not really sure where they were. He wandered about bloated and
drugged in a white jump suit. But the fans were loyal. One critic wrote, "Elvis
Presley could have appeared last night with his big belly in a wheelbarrow,
and his devoted fans would still adore him." One critic was even harsher:
"Presley on stage last night looked like a bloated go-go girl from the 60s who
had just been gang-raped by a rock band."

At one point Elvis stopped the show and walked forward toward the
stunned audience. "You know where I might have ended up?" he asked the
silent audience. "Flipping burgers in Memphis." That's all he said before
launching into "Hound Dog," the lines of which he'd seemingly forgotten
after having sung them countless times.

Michael was particularly shocked by the sound of Elvis's voice. "I didn't
recognize it. It was not his `Hound Dog' voice of the 50s. More a childlike
voice. Almost like I used to sound. He talked, instead of sang most of his
song."

"Elvis was up there on that stage last night like a man crying out for someone to come and save him-yet knowing that no help would ever come," Joe
said.

After the show, the manager personally came to the Jackson table to escort
Michael backstage. He was terribly shy and almost shaking with nervousness,
but Michael followed the director.

"The King wants to meet you," the manager told Michael.

As he was ushered into the dressing room of Elvis Presley, Michael could
hardly have known that he was meeting his future father-in-law.

"Kings are supposed to compete with their predecessors and
kings are supposed to marry other royals. Elvis's widow,
Priscilla Presley, makes clear that she saw Michael Jackson as
a scheming pretender, building Neverland to top Graceland,
then courting Elvis's daughter to secure his lineage. But why
shouldn't Lisa Marie Presley want the only man in the world
as famous and powerful as her father? A man who might help
her find her own way as a singer-songwriter, yet keep her in
the royal arena to which she was accustomed?"

--Margo Jefferson

"When dancing, I felt touched by something sacred. In those
moments I felt my spirit soar and become one with everything
that exists. I became the stars and the moon, I became the
lover and the loved. "

--Michael Jackson

"I've recorded a whole lot of these pop musicians and
Michael's the straightest of the goddamn lot. Ok, Michael's got
a few quirks but everybody in California does. "

--Bruce Swedien

"One of the oddest things about Michael Jackson is that this
45-year-old former Motown child prodigy has remained a
superstar despite all the Peter Pan fantasies, Potemkin marriages, cosmetic surgery, spending sprees and now criminal
charges of child molestation. He is both a popular entertainer
and a tabloid freak show. In that sense he is the perfect icon
for the shame-free age: a television twofer. "

--Alessandra Stanley of The New York Times

"I feel guilty having to put my name on the songs I write. I
do write them and compose them, and I do the scoring, lyrics,
and melodies. But still. It's a...it's a work of God!"

--Michael Jackson

Freddy Briggs, who worked at the Sahara, has been the only one who has
come forward to give a personal account of the historic first and only meeting
between the King of Rock-and-Roll and the King of Pop. Briggs attended to
Elvis's wardrobe and other personal needs. "I even made him several peanut
butter and jelly sandwiches," he said. "Elvis liked creamy peanut butter and
preferred blackberry jam, at least during his stay at Lake Tahoe."

As Briggs later revealed, Michael was "tongue-tied around Elvis," calling
him "Sir" and letting Elvis do most of the talking through slurred speech.
Ironically, Elvis used to address men as "Sir" in his earlier days, but no more.
"After he became King, he didn't need to be subservient to anyone," Briggs
said.

Elvis greeted and was polite to all the Jackson brothers, but he knew
where the talent lay, so he paid most of his attention to Michael, whom he
spoke with privately.

The Elvis Presley that Michael encountered in Lake Tahoe was in a foul
mood, although respectful of Michael. He'd just taken some unknown medication which seemed to wake him up and put him in a talkative mood. Based
on his performance on stage, Michael expected Elvis in private to be a zombie, but instead the singer was strangely articulate, at least as long as the medication lasted.

"They all come to me for advice," Elvis, according to Briggs, told
Michael. "If I have any advice to give you, it's `go solo.' You're the star of the
act, the only real talent. You're letting your brothers and all that background
music drown you out. I never let that happen to me, and you shouldn't either.
Tell them to go fuck themselves. You're the show, boy, and don't forget it."

Michael politely thanked Elvis for this advice, looking at Elvis with a
devotion that seemed so genuinely sincere that Briggs believed that it had
touched Elvis in some deep way. At one point during their encounter, Elvis reached for Michael's hand. "I owe a debt to all you black boys and your
music. Without the music of `the brothers' I heard back in the Forties, there
would be no Elvis Presley today." He turned around and looked at himself in
the mirror. It appeared that he couldn't formulate his next thought. "Who am
I kidding? There is no more Elvis Presley. Like yesterday, Elvis Presley is
dead and gone. The bastards killed him long ago. This bag of shit you see
before you is all that's left of the great Elvis Presley."

"To me, you'll always be the greatest," Michael said in a soft voice. "Your
music will live forever."

"That sounds like a suck-up to me, boy," Elvis said. "But even if you're
lying, what you just said is appreciated."

"Do you have any other advice to give me," Michael said. "I mean, you've
gone so far in the business."

"Sure, I have more advice, but I don't expect you to follow it. No one ever
does. Don't become a really big and famous star. If you do, you'll live to
regret it. Stardom-I mean really big stardom, not the Ann-Margret stuffmakes you pay such a price that it will destroy you. Nearly all really big stars
have to suffer indignities and invasions of their private lives to such a degree
that it's not worth it. If you become super famous, every little asshole in the
world will be out to get you. They'll resent your fame and want to turn it into
infamy, particularly if they can make a buck off you. Speaking of bucks, if you
make the big ones, the world-or at least someone in the world-will figure
out how to take it from you. It's happened to me. It'll happen to you. The press
used to say I was a sweet Southern boy. No more. Have you read the shit written about me?"

"I don't read stuff like that," Michael said.

"I don't read it either," Elvis
said. "If you do become big, don't
read the papers, the tabloids, and
those magazines. If you start reading what the fuckers write, it can
destroy you. You won't even have
enough courage to go on the stage
if you read the shit."

Elvis: The Farewell Months

There was a knock on Elvis's
door, which Freddy went to
answer. Joe, along with his other
sons, was waiting to take Michael
away.

"Gimme your phone number,
boy," Elvis said to Michael. "I'd like to call you some night, real late, and talk more with you. There are so
many things I could tell you. I have this great hunch that in the 80s you're
gonna become what I was in the 50s. Revolutionary. But with a totally different kind of music than mine."

As Michael headed for the door, Elvis reached to shake his hand but
decided instead to lock him in a warm embrace. "Be good now, you hear?"

"I stayed up with Elvis until late in the night after Jackson left," Briggs
said. "He seemed lonely and I was a big fan. At first when he invited me up
to his hotel suite, I thought it was for sex, and I was most willing, even though
I'm basically straight. You don't turn down a star. He didn't want sex. He
wanted company. During the night he had me place several calls for him
around the country. I called numbers but I didn't know who they were to. On
the phone, Elvis talked for hours. He was incoherent. I think he made up a lot
of things. He was paranoid, claiming the FBI was trying to kill him because `I
know too much.' He also claimed that everybody who even remotely knew
him was writing a book to expose him. There were three phones in the suite.
At one point Elvis ripped one phone out of the wall and tossed it at the television set. I forgot what program was on, but Elvis didn't like what he was seeing."

From all reports, and there have been dozens, Elvis continued his habit of
calling people in the middle of the night and babbling into the phone. At times
he was completely irrational. Acquaintances reported that there would be long
periods of silence before he started talking again. "Perhaps some of Elvis's
stories were true perhaps not," Briggs said. "Those I heard sounded farfetched to me. But, considering Elvis and all the crap that happened to him,
they just might have been true."

"I know for a fact that Elvis planned to call Jackson," Briggs said, "even
though he referred to him as `the little nigger boy.' That was such a put-down
of Jackson, but the way Elvis said it-and I know this sounds crazy-it was
an affectionate reference."

"Like, would you tell your secrets to Michael Jackson?" Briggs asked
Elvis.

"There's no way that Michael Jackson is gonna write a book about me,"
Elvis told Briggs. "No way. You can trust people who don't write books. From
what I know, the kid can't even read and write. I hear his brothers never went
to school. Not that I got much education myself. Living a life like I've lived
is all the education I need. I've seen it all!"

"I don't get it," Briggs said. "Why would you tell Michael Jackson your
secrets?"

"The kid has an honest face, and I know I can trust him with my most private secrets," Elvis told Briggs.

"Secrets are dangerous things," Briggs warned Elvis. "Why tell them to
anyone? They might use them against you."

"Don't you think I know that?" Elvis asked. "But I've got to confess them
before I die. It's a compulsion with me. I can't stop myself. I know it's crazy.
I have to unburden myself, and I'm playing with fire telling all this shit about
myself. I know it'll get in print one day for the world to learn about. There's
a war going on inside myself. The good side of me wants to protect myself
from all harm. But there's another side of me that is trying to destroy Elvis
Presley. Not only abusing his body, but telling his darkest secrets so my fans
will know what's really going on and will be revolted by me."

It was seven o'clock in the morning before Briggs finally left Elvis's hotel
suite. Dawn had come, but you wouldn't know it if you were in the suite,
because heavy black velvet curtains blotted out the day.

"When I was putting Elvis to bed, I couldn't resist," Briggs said. "I just
had to slip off his jockey shorts and see what it looked like. After all, he'd
been the sex symbol of the 50s, and I wanted to see what drove all those girls
crazy-and also how I stacked up against the King. The first voyeur who's
willing to give me five-thousand dollars will get a complete description of it,
in all its uncut glory, even a description of Elvis's balls. So that I would never
forget, I even sketched what I'd seen that morning. Before becoming a 'gofer' at some fucking hotel, I had wanted to be an artist. Here was my chance.
I plan to sell reproductions of my sketches of Elvis's privates for big bucks to
collectors."