Jacko, His Rise and Fall: The Social and Sexual History of Michael Jackson (32 page)

MJ and Paul McCartney

Whether Michael had
a pet boa constrictor
called "Muscles" or not,
music critics found the song a "covert admission of sexual preference on Michael Jackson's part."

Ross more or less agreed when she told an audience of fans in Los
Angeles, "I don't know if `Muscles' was supposed to be my fantasy ... or
Michael's." The audience broke into catcalls and hysterical laughter at the
remark.

"Miss Ross," as Michael called her, wasn't the only world-famous star
Michael wanted "to make music with." As a kid, he'd listened for hours to the
music of The Beatles. "Somehow," Quincy Jones said, "Michael wanted a
piece of the action. Or at least a bond of some sort with Paul McCartney."

Michael had known McCartney since 1969, but they only became casual
friends in the late 1970s.

At Michael's request, McCartney flew to the States in the spring of 1982
"to help out on an album," as he announced in London. It was later learned
that he was going to record a duet with Michael for his new album, Thriller.

After a meeting at Le Cirque in New York with "an old mate," Yoko Ono,
the ex-Beatle flew to Los Angeles for a recording session with Michael. The
two stars sang a duet on "The Girl Is Mine," the first of seven smash singles
to be culled from Thriller. As Christopher Sandford reported, "McCartney
resisted Jacko's pleas for repeated takes of the song, preferring to nail his
vocal and then affably sign autographs for the crew."

Recorded in 1982, the mid-tempo "The Girl Is Mine" was composed by
Michael and McCartney as they watched Donald Duck cartoons and Fred
Astaire movies. In the song, Michael delivers what was to become a famous
line: "Paul, I thought I told you, I'm a lover, not a fighter." The song peaked
at number 2 on Billboards "Hot 100." Even so, "The Girl Is Mine" is one of
the lamest moments in the career of either Michael Jackson or Paul
McCartney. It's an insipid melody, with a backing, in the words of one critic,
"more appropriate to Barney the Purple Dinosaur than Motown."

There was worldwide interest in the duet between The Beatles'
McCartney and The Jackson 5's Michael. In the song, two ardent suitors,
Michael and McCartney, engage in a verbal fight for a "dog-gone girl." Their
collaboration led to disagreements, and the record was almost never recorded.
But in the end they managed to work out their artistic disputes.

Michael arrived in England on February 2, 1983, passing through
Heathrow Airport dressed in military garb with a variety of unearned medals
and garish sashes. He wore a surgical mask which an Immigration official
made him remove. Beefed up by an eight-man security guard, Michael was
driven in a stretch limousine to the farmhouse of Paul and Linda McCartney
in Sussex. In spite of his impressive reputation, the McCartneys assigned
Michael only a small bedroom.

Perhaps McCartney would regret that farmhouse meeting with Michael for the rest of his life. During a long talk in the
living room, McCartney told Michael of all the
money to be made by getting into the music
publishing field and acquiring copyrights to hit
songs of the past.

John Lennon & Yoko Ono
posing for the cover of their
experimental 1968 album
Unfinished Music No.1:
Two Virgins

McCartney dazzled Michael with profits to
be made from owning standards. He cited
some of the songs he owned, including
"Stormy Weather," the Lena Horne standard,
or else "Autumn Leaves," featured in a Joan
Crawford 1956 movie. He even owned that
rock 'n' roll classic, "Peggy Sue."

Michael and McCartney sat and listened to
many of the standards he owned, including
Doris Day's "Sentimental Journey."

In one of the mistakes of his life, McCartney
told Michael that "these golden oldies of yesterday brought in an annual income of nearly
forty million dollars." Michael's eyes widened
at the prospect of a whole new business opportunity for him, but he discreetly said nothing.
"Paul's revelation gave Michael a terrible
resolve," Yoko Ono was reported to have said
later.

McCartney might have been the wealthiest
man in show business, but Michael wanted to
wear that honor for himself.

To McCartney's surprise, Michael, as savvy as he was about the music
industry, didn't understand that a song earns money for its composer and
copyright owner each time it sells in a recorded format, is played on the radio,
or sung by another artist. The owner of the copyright can also license the song
to advertisers, in some cases for large sums of money.

A return visit was in order for the McCartneys. This time Michael arrived
on their doorstep dressed in a gold lame astronaut's suit. On this visit, Michael
would record yet another song, "Say Say Say," at the Abbey Road Studios in
London.

"Say Say Say" demonstrated both McCartney and Michael at the peak of
their talent. Steve and Abe's Record Reviews claimed that the two performers
"rode a great melody with a surprisingly chattery accompaniment to pop
glory. It's a great arrangement that fills every corner with a different touch,
combining the hallmark sounds of each performer." Produced by George Martin, "Say Say Say" as a duet for the unlikely pair evolved into a 1983 hit
single for both McCartney and Michael. As a single, it stayed for six weeks
at the top of Billboards "Hot 100" chart. Despite the high praise and glory
it received, it contains such inane lines as "You know I'm crying oooh ooh ooh
ooh ooh!"

This record was followed by "The Man," the third duet from Michael and
McCartney, which was released on the former Beatle's Pipes ofPeace album.
"The Man" sounds like a Michael ballad with limited input from McCartney.
But who knew what the lyrics were about? One critic found them "so vague
they must have been written by McCartney."

During this second visit to Sussex, Michael did not reveal his intention, at
least not to McCartney, of acquiring the rights to the greatest of The Beatles'
songs. With his Machiavellian intentions completely hidden, Michael blended
into the local neighborhood, meeting the children who lived nearby. They
called him "Mr. Mum," and he always had treats for them. Later in the day, he
would help Linda prepare vegetables in the farmhouse kitchen, and end the
afternoon reading Winnie-the-Pooh stories to the kids who flocked around
him.

Months later, long after Michael's departure from his home, McCartney
received a phone call from a reporter seeking his reaction to Michael's purchase of the ATV Music Catalogue. McCartney was stunned by the news. A
quick call to Lee Eastman, and McCartney knew the tip from the reporter was
true. Michael had outbid Warners, the Coca-Cola Corporation, and CBS,
thereby acquiring control over each of The Beatles' songs written or released
between 1964 and 1971.

When he first became aware that The Beatles' songs were available for
sale, Michael had done a "hop, skip, and a jump," eerily evocative of Hitler's
dance steps after the fall of France.

Many years before, John Lennon and McCartney had foolishly sold their
copyrights to a publisher, Dick James, when they were young and naive about
the music business. James went on to make a fortune from their music, which
was controlled by a company called Northern Songs. In time James sold
Northern Songs to Sir Lew Grade's ATV Music, Limited, for tax reasons.

McCartney himself had attempted to purchase this same catalogue for $20
million in 1981 when he tried to convince Yoko Ono to become his partner in
the deal. But the widow of John Lennon turned him down.

Yoko thought her $10 million share was too much money. She would
eventually have made tens of millions. One executive at ATV said Yoko's
decision was one of the worst ever made in terms of money in the music
industry. "With her profits, she could have fucking bought the Dakota." He
was referring to the luxury apartment building on Manhattan's Central Park West, in front of which her husband, John Lennon, was murdered.

Headlines in 1984 blared the news of Michael's acquisition of the songs
for $47.5 million, the largest publishing takeover by one person in the history
of the music industry.

Many Beatles fans around the world reacted with outrage when they heard
that Michael now owned The Beatles' songs. One fan wrote, "It's a humiliating kick in the crotch to Paul. It's sickening to know that he has to pay that little twerp royalties every time he sings a Beatles song. Jackson stabbed him in
the back but good."

One music executive who didn't want to be named, said: "In spite of that
little girl voice and that oh, so delicate manner, Michael Jackson is one hardnosed son of a bitch in business. But whereas old Joe made one stupid decision after another, Michael is more calculating. The smartest move he ever did
was to hire John Branca, one hot-shot lawyer, to acquire old standards and not
just The Beatles' catalogue."

"A fish gets caught by opening its damn mouth," McCartney later said. "I
should have kept mine shut."

McCartney went on to additional feelings of betrayal when he discovered
that Michael even owned a $5 million insurance policy on his life. "My God,
he'll make millions when I'm 64 and dead and gone." ATV itself had collected a life insurance policy on Lennon after he was assassinated.

McCartney was particularly enraged to learn that, as part of the deal,
Michael would get fifty percent royalties for any performance, anywhere, on
any Beatles' songs, with a 25% royalty going to him. Yoko took the final
quarter-share, thanks to her role as Lennon's widow and heir.

The official date of Michael's acquisition
was September 6, 1985. When he woke up the
next morning, he owned 250 Beatles' songs,
including such famous classics as "A Hard Day's
Night," "Help!," "Eleanor Rigby," "Penny
Lane," "Yesterday," "Strawberry Fields
Forever," "Let It Be," "Good Day Sunshine,"
"Yellow Submarine," "Revolution," and "Hey
Jude."

Yoko Ono, "A later portrait"

When Michael was told that he was now the
owner of all of those Beatles' songs, he said,
"I've found the Holy Grail, although I'm not sure
what the Holy Grail is."

The ex-Beatle-and now "former friend" of
Michael felt betrayed and used. He was understandably bitter about the way Michael had done business. "Our friendship suffered a bit of a blow," McCartney said in a statement noted for its restraint. "I've hardly spoken to Jackson since then, except
to ask, `Will you give me a deal? I'm under a slave agreement.' Talk about
stonewalling! He's worse than all of them."

When Michael was in Los Angeles shooting a clip for "Dangerous" in
1991, years after the infamous deal was concluded, he agreed to meet with
McCartney. "Jackson was friendly enough but hardly in a mood to accommodate my request," McCartney said.

"You know, I've cried so much about this," Michael whimpered.

"Ok, but please, Michael, see your people," McCartney beseeched. "Give
me a promise that you'll talk to your people about this." According to
McCartney, Michael said, "I've tried. I have told them." In reporting his meeting with Michael, McCartney did not make it clear exactly what compensation he was seeking from Michael, but no doubt it was an increased share of
the royalties.