The Michael Jackson Memorial Ceremony was as surprising as the Icon himself. From start to finish, this event was nothing like it was portrayed or how I imagined it.
It was about 7 in the morning as we walked towards The Staples Center and our seats in Row 11. I was determined to soak up the atmosphere and the energies: the good, the bad, the indifferent. Here is some of what I saw, some of what I felt. and some of what Iearned.from this experience.
- There were far more media, from around the world, pressed outside The Staples Center, than fans or celebrity hounds. Although the City had expected hoards of people to pour into the City, I heard there were only a few thousand, if that many. I didn’t see any of them on the carefully guarded way in and way out.But the crush of media felt oddly surreal. It reminded me, even momentarily, of what Michael Jackson must have felt whenever he ventured out in public.
- The media, the photographers, the reporters in general were irritating and annoying - often shoving microphones into our faces, asking "what we expected" as we walked by. This was press from around the world -speaking in their native languages, set up to photograph or film every minute. I was glad I wasn’t one of those "reporters" assigned to get a story,any story — I kept hearing them asking a variation of this question. Many people complied with interview requests; anxious to have their 1.5 minutes of fame, but we rushed past them. The second most annoying group of people outside The Staples Center were the hawkers - selling everything from $5 t-shirts to buttons to signs. There were not nearly as many of them as there were reporters, but it was still a trick to navigate around them. I wondered if any reporters bought any of the MJ wares as souvenirs to take back to their homelands.
Inside the Area, the atmosphere was much different. The lights were low, and as people filed in, the atmosphere was subdued - unusual for any other Arena event before it starts.
- From what I could tell, from our seats in the 11th row, the arena was filled with Michael Jackson fans from around the world. Behind me was a man who flew in from Nigeria (arriving at 2 a.m.). And behind him, a couple visiting from Australia, who "got lucky" and won tickets while they were in L.A.. Directly in front of me, were two men, in suits, from Mexico. I heard many different languages, and saw people of every color and diverse nationalities. It was like attending a United Nations event (I have done that in my past). This was different. There were no translators needed. I realized, as the ceremony’s impact began to hit me, Michael Jackson’s music and showmanship was and is universal. It requires no translation. That’s what drew so many from around the world to honor him.
- None of the people in the 11th row, including us, had any idea of what was happening outside, as the world watched. Before the 10.a.m. scheduled beginning, people were texting back and forth and looking up the news on their Iphones and Blackberries. That’s how we first learned Michael Jackson’s casket would be brought to the Arena. None of us had expected or anticipated that, and to say we were astonished is to understate that emotion- at least in Row 11. As I later heard, there was some confusion about how the casket was set to arrive, which caused a 30-minute delay in the Ceremony start. We were told, upon entering, that the Ceremony would begin with a lengthy video of Michael Jackson’s life. I believe this was deleted because of the delay.
- The Ceremony began to take on a completely different aspect when we learned Michael Jackson’s casket would be placed front and center. I realized I was not attending a jam-packed musical celebration of his life, but his funeral ceremony. It was then I understood why religious leaders were speaking. The performers also seemed to adjust their performances; many of them having trouble staying composed through their songs. Mariah Carey and Usher both broke momentarily as they sang to the audience, the family, and the flower-covered casket. Queen Latifah brought the energy level up a few notches when she read the poem Maya Angelou had written, "We Had Him." Her reading was powerful; the words stirring. John Mayer, the only major white performer, did not sing, and if so, we couldn’t hear him. But he played his guitar piece as if he was plucking his heart strings - the clarity of the notes and their simple power brought me to tears for the first time. Jennifer Hudson was also incredibly moving. Dressed in white, her voice filled the arena with passion and power. No stranger to tragedy, Jennifer Hudson did not cry - at least outwardly. Kobe Bryant and Magic Johnson spoke briefly. For once, the cameras and the adulation were not solely directed at them, and for this, they were grateful. They paid homage to Michael Jackson, stating that his breakthrough as a successful African-American performer made it possible for them, Tiger Woods and many others to achieve their dreams. This was then that I realized that Michael Jackson’s impact on society was larger than his music. His achievements made it possible for people of color and diversity to follow his path - and reach for the peaks in whatever areas they excelled. More than one speaker noted his family’s roots as members of a blue-collar family of 9 children in Gary, Indiana. The rise of Michael Jackson and the Jackson Five was proof to other lower-income families, the speakers said, their children could also achieve greatness.
The Ceremony neared its end with a grating speech by a Houston congresswoman who seemed to be running for office.She rambled on for too long. Fortunately, she was followed by Brooke Shields, who also broke, but at least knew Michael Jackson. The climax of the Ceremony was a number that had been planned for the final Michael Jackson tour in London. It was said to be Michael’s "favorite segment" of the tour. Up on the giant video screens we saw various religious symbols and photographs of many people from different nationalities. On stage, a group of singers began a version (from what I gathered) was"We are the World" and "Heal the World." Then a group of children and Michael Jackson’s family entered the stage. A few of the family members spoke, including the unexpected 11-year-old Paris Jackson, and her statement of affection for her father. It was another moment, in Row 11, for tears. It was then I realized Michael Jackson had a completely different role in life: that of father and care-taker of three young children and as brother and son of a grieving family. The visible grief of his children and his family was unmistakable. It was moving, beyond these words, to see them openly expressing and sharing their pain with "the fans."
As we filed out of the Ceremony, I glanced behind me at the stage, now devoid of people; emply, save for one lone spotlight.
I have collected Michael Jackson ephemera for many years. I have never been a major fan, but more of an interested observor in the way he lived. Recently, before his death, I intuited his psychic astrology and a tiny sliver aspect of his troubled life. Following his death, I envisioned some of his impact as a major cosmic public icon. But from the 11th row in The Staples Center at his Memorial Service, as I looked around at some of his devoted fans, Michael Jackson emerged in my mind as a different, far more complex figure. I see him now as a ground-breaking, trail-blazer, who in his own way, united people. I also see him as a zig-zagging comet on an uncertain, downward trajectory, burning out before his time. Whatever his troubles (and there were many), his devotion to his music and his performance triumphs can not and should not be disparaged. From Row 11, I glimpsed a fallen hero, larger than life.
07.08.09
