I first met Michael Jackson some 33 years ago when Diana Ross introduced the Jackson 5 – then a brand-new Motown act – to 350 music and media folk at the Daisy Club in Beverly Hills. My husband, Ken, and I were then publishing Soul, one of the first national black-entertainment newsmagazines.
Ten year old Michael already knew how to charm a crowd. Acknowledging Diana’s support, he said, “After singing for four years and not becoming a star, I thought I would never be discovered – this is, until Miss Ross came along to save my career.”
Just four months later, the Jackson 5′s first single, “I Want You Back,” soared to the top of the Billboard Hot 100 charts, followed two months later by “ABC”. Thousands of letters from across the country poured into our mailbox. Responding to the Jackson’s first tour, one reader wrote: “Those youngsters performed in a manner that could be harmful to one’s health. The heart can only stand so much soul, and their performance was definately an overdose.”
Over the next decade, Soul kept up with the Jackson family as a guest at parties, weddings, and concerts. We were also regular visitors to the family home, where Michael – soft-spoken, polite, curious, and quiet – was usually off by himself, drawing or playing with his snakes and other pets, while his older brothers, cousins and visitors played basketball. But when Soul stopped publishing in 1980, I lost touch with the family.
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