Don't Matter if You're Black or White

So it's 1970. Ducknik and Plotnik have gone to a half-posh restaurant somewhere in upper Manhattan and sitting at the table next to them is a large family: the Jacksons. The Jackson Five have broken out into the mainstream, and Michael is the lead singer with the incomparable voice, but in this family he's just another child who is supposed to behave. Ducknik doesn't recognize them but Plotnik does.

Michael's father and mother (you never hear about Michael Jackson's mother) and all his brothers and sisters are there. They sit upright. Nobody talks but the father: Dad rules the roost. Michael Jackson may be on the road to superstardom but not at this table.

Plot and Duck eat their dinner trying not to stare, but Plot really likes the Jackson Five and peeks every chance he gets. This is obviously not an autograph situation. The Jacksons are still having dessert when Plot and Duck pay their check and walk out. Plotnik nods to Mr. Jackson and he nods back.

Did any child ever have a voice like 5- or 8- or 10-year old Michael? Later, Jermaine Jackson has some limited success and Janet Jackson does too, but Michael morphs into the most popular entertainer as well as the most recognizable human being on the planet. He's not just successful, he's Mega Multi Supra. He's completely unique. And he's really, really good. The records he makes with Quincy Jones are the greatest pop records of all time. There is nothing Michael cannot do with music -- fantastic singer, ridiculously good dancer and choreographer, the best of his generation.

He's on the top so long people don't even know when he's fallen off. Even after he's sick, and crazy, and maybe a pederast or maybe not, he can give a concert on a moment's notice and draw 100,000 people to any concert hall or stadium in the world. They're going to have to give back the money to 750,000 people right now who have bought tickets to see someone who hasn't been on a stage in many years. When did Michael Jackson become Judy Garland?

Life got worse, Michael had multiple operations and held babies out of windows and was supported by death-like wraiths like Elizabeth Taylor, and then he was appearing in public rarely, shrouded in black. And then, all of a sudden -- yesterday little Michael died. He was only 49.

He made more money than England but they say he's Beaucoup Millions in debt.

Poor Farah Fawcett. Timing is everything.

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PS:

It's his blog, so here is Plotnik's beef:

What was Michael Jackson's biggest crime? He seemed, to white people, to be trying to surgically undo his blackness.

Forget all the sensationalist paparazzi stuff -- celebrities are infamous for being the other side of loopy. He didn't die young like James Dean or Jim Morrison or even Elvis. He had more time to be insane in public and everyone was watching.

But the skin thing -- ask practically any white person in America of a certain age and they will give you a derisive snort and shake of the head, as if it's common knowledge that Michael Jackson wanted to be white. Well, maybe he did and maybe he didn't. So how about all the white soul singers and the Irish girls wearing dreadlocks? Isn't a style or fashion statement simply that? And either way: is this really something to despise?

There is really only one person to compare Michael Jackson to: Stevie Wonder. Stevie, obviously, could never be a performer like Michael, but the two of them made the most long-lasting musical statements of their age. Everyone loves Stevie: he's black and he's blind.

Michael Jackson would have to go a long way for The Great Plotnik not to be sad he is gone. Michael influenced everyone. Osama bin Laden is probably sitting on his sofa in his cave right now, watching 'Thriller.'

Message for Osama: Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough.

So put a Jackson Five Greatest Hits record in my bag when they shoot me off into space. Don't Matter if You're Black or White out there. It's blue and so am I.