It had been years since his last television performance and on 25 March 1983, at the taping of Motown 25: Yesterday, Today and Forever, Michael Jackson looked different: slimmer, almost fragile. His nose was now streamlined and sculpted, a tribute to a twentieth-century Michelangelo – his plastic surgeon. The new face had been skilfully enhanced: almond-shaped eyes outlined in black and lightly shadowed, high cheekbones emphasized by the merest hint of rouge, lips glossed to a subtle sheen. His former Afro hairstyle had been replaced by soft curls which framed his face; two wisps adorned his brow.
The Jackson 5 reunion went well. By the time they took the stage at the Pasadena Civic Center, the audience had already seen Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson and Mary Wells perform. They erupted in applause at the sight of the reunited brothers. For ‘I Want You Back’, Jermaine was back, smiling broadly and standing right next to Michael, in his old position. By the time the Jacksons swung into ‘The Love You Save’, and Randy trotted on stage to join them, the crowd – men in tuxedos, women in evening gowns – were standing and applauding. During ‘I'll Be There’, when Michael and Jermaine shared the spotlight and microphone, the two seemed choked up. Jermaine's eyes welled with tears. Michael draped an arm over his brother's shoulder and the two looked at one another with great warmth. It was an emotion-packed, memorable moment.
After hugs all around, the other Jacksons left the stage.
Then, the spotlight found him. It caught the glint of his black sequined jacket with cuffs that matched the silver sequined shirt, the white glitter socks that peeped from beneath the just-above-the-ankle black trousers, the shiny black penny loafers. And of course, there was the single left-handed white glove with its hand-sewn rhinestones.
Michael thanked the audience. He hesitated, speaking haltingly. ‘I have to say those were the good old days. I love those songs,’ he said of the medley. ‘Those were magic moments with all my brothers – including Jermaine.’ Michael began pacing the stage, his hand in his pocket, talking as though he were just voicing some thoughts that happened to pop into his head, as though he were alone, as though the audience was not there. Actually, he was walking to the side of the stage to sneak the fedora into his hand. ‘But, uh, you know,’ he continued, ‘those were the good songs. I like those songs a lot. But especially, I like’ – he was centre stage by this time, facing the audience – ‘the new songs,’ The audience knew what was coming. They began calling out for ‘Billie Jean’.
As the funk-infused guitar riff of ‘Billie Jean’ began, Michael went into his routine. He was going to be lip-synching – that was obvious from the first note – but no one watching cared. As the music pulsated, he jammed a black fedora over his eyes and struck a pose – his right hand on his hat, his left leg bent and poised for action. The stance may have been a tribute to Bob Fosse or Sammy Davis, Jr., but Michael imprinted it with his own magic. While most entertainers perform for their audiences, Michael seemed to be performing for himself, tonight. Maybe it was catharsis, his way of dealing with his personal pain, exorcising the demons in his life, coming to terms with the disappointments of the past just as others around him had celebrated it.
He threw the hat aside with a graceful flourish, the audience went wild. He moved constantly. Even when he was standing still, he seemed to be moving.
Michael's brothers stood in the wings, their mouths open. His parents and sisters sat in the audience, spellbound. ‘He just stole the show,’ Joseph exclaimed to Katherine. ‘That boy just stole the show.’ Berry was also seen standing and applauding, one of the biggest fans in the house.
‘Billie Jean is not my lover,’ Michael sang, a pained expression playing on his face. It was a deeply personal song about fathers and sons, about denial, entrapment, and hypocrisy, about coming close to the outer edges of madness.
The whole of Michael's performance was spellbinding, but during a brief instrumental interlude, he executed a combination of moves that would seal his reputation as a dance legend. He commenced with a series of split-second locking moves and poses before gliding across the stage via his now- famous sleek and graceful moonwalk – a reversed syncopated glide, heading forwards and sliding backwards at the same time. The moonwalk gave way to that equally renowned spin – now refined, after years of practice, to tornado speed – and then, immediately, he was up on his toes. Nobody but Michael Jackson could dance like that, and the audience went wild.
Michael hadn't invented any of these moves; the poses were modified versions of ‘locking’, a street dance from the 1970s. The moonwalk was a move TV's Soul Train dancers had discarded almost three years earlier. Sammy Davis, Jr., James Brown and Jackie Wilson all used to execute that same spin, and going up on the toes is a touch Michael saw Fred Astaire use in his classic films of the 1930s. To combine all those moves, from all of those eras – to take different styles and make them his own – that's Michael Jackson's genius as a dancer and creator.
Since he was a child and lead singer of The Jackson 5, Michael had possessed a magical ability to move an audience with his singing and dancing. However, somehow tonight, something was different. Tonight, his audience was just as exhilarated by the force of his personality as they were by his voice and footwork. Videotapes of Michael's performance do not begin to capture the pandemonium his act generated that evening. The few minutes Michael spent onstage alone at the Pasadena Civic Center would add up to the performance of his career. After this evening, his life – both personally and professionally – would never again be the same.
When it was over, Michael appeared surprised; he took one more step before he realized that the music had stopped – or, perhaps, it was just his own momentum carrying him. A standing ovation rocked the hall. Michael bowed, then straightened and raised his arm. His doe eyes looked straight ahead, his body motionless. He didn't smile or acknowledge the moment which, of course, was part of the act.
He would later remember that he was disappointed in the performance. He had planned to execute a spin and stop on his toes, suspended. The spin worked, but he didn't stay on his toes as long as he had planned to when he rehearsed in the privacy of his kitchen. Always the perfectionist, he wished he could do it over again. And if this had been a video – not television – he could have. It wasn't such a hot performance, he would remember thinking to himself, despite the crowd's approval.
Backstage, his brothers awaited him. All five – Jackie, Tito, Jermaine, Marlon and Randy – embraced him as he exited the stage. ‘What a job, Mike,’ Jackie exclaimed.
‘I've never seen anything like it,’ Jermaine added.
They were all talking at once. They had had no idea what Michael was going to do during his solo spot; he had decided not to tell them.
Jermaine kissed him on the cheek. Then Jackie, then the others. It was an unusual display; the brothers, following Joseph's example, were usually not affectionate or effusive with one another. However, Michael had shown them what he was capable of, they respected him for it and couldn't contain themselves. Maybe it really was a good performance, after all.
However, it wasn't long before the moment was shattered. The brothers were soon talking about what Michael's glory might mean for them – the possibility of taking the group back out on the road and making more money than ever before. ‘The Jackson 5 are back,’ Jackie kept repeating, and the others agreed, enthusiastically. ‘This is gonna be great.’
Michael didn't want any part of that idea. He turned and began walking away from them. ‘Hey, man, we're family,’ one of his brothers reminded him. Michael, an inscrutable expression on his face, just shook his head and kept walking.
As Michael continued down the hall, a young boy in a tuxedo followed him. ‘Hey, Michael,’ the youngster called out. ‘Wait up.’ Michael stopped.
‘Man, who ever taught you to dance like that?’ The kid looked up at his idol with adoring eyes. ‘Practice, I guess,’ Michael said.
‘You were amazing,’ the fan told him. ‘Thanks, I needed that,’ Michael responded. The youngster turned and walked away.