Our Elvis moment

On Sept. 9, 1956, more than 82 percent of American homes with a television were tuned into Elvis Presley’s debut on the Ed Sullivan Show … a moment that would change music forever.
My grandparents were in their 20s then.
I haven’t asked, but I’m certain they were of the majority.
In February, 1964, on the same stage, a group of mop-topped boys from England performed for the first time in the states, drawing an estimated 73 million viewers … a record for American television at the time.
My dad, who would become a lifelong Beatles fan soon after, was 10 years old.
Flash forward almost 20 years to March 25, 1983. I was a 7-year-old who, like most boys my age at the time, loved all things Star Wars, was discovering the wonderful world of Atari and was a fan of Michael Jackson.
Because of the latter, my mom and dad let me and my younger brother and sister stay up past our bedtime to watch Motown’s 25th anniversary special, a show that would feature Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, The Temptations, The Supremes, and of course, Michael Jackson and the Jackson 5.
We were giddy — about as giddy as young kids could be a few hours past our bed time — when Michael and his brothers performed a medley of their greatest hits. But it was when Michael ditched the siblings; donned a fedora, white socks and one white glove; and proceeded to moonwalk across the stage that a simple Motown dedication became my generation’s “Beatles’ U.S. debut” or “Elvis on Sullivan.”
Go back and watch the performance (it’s posted all over YouTube and any other video-sharing sites), and it’s instantly clear you’re watching Michael in his prime. The performance (as badly lip-synched as it was) wasn’t necessarily brilliant from start to finish, but Jackson had three things going for him that night — ”Billie Jean,” perhaps the catchiest, most timeless song he’s created; the opening pose with the fedora; and, of course, that moonwalk.
He’d done it so many times after that, that few people remember he only did it twice in this performance, and both for a very short period of time.
But it was so new — so brilliantly done — that it was all anybody talked about for days. Months.
And yes, you can be sure that 7-year-old Billy (who really did own the famous red zipper jacket at one time) tried like heck to imitate it for several years.
Sure, Jackson would have done just as well without the performance (as would Presley and the Beatles without Sullivan), as “Thriller” had already sold millions by the time the Motown special came along. But when people point to Jackson’s iconic television moment, the vast majority of them point to this.
And I’ll forever have the memory of staying up late with my parents, huddled around a crappy color TV with poor antenna reception watching history.
In the years that passed, I outgrew Jackson’s music. I appreciated the “Bad” album in the late 80s, and I took notice of the innovations he was making with his tours and music videos, but the 90s brought Pearl Jam, Metallica, Nirvana and several other depressing bands that took me away from the “pop” world.
Plus, after his hey-day in the 80s, Jackson became more of a punchline than a “legend,” whether it was from the botched plastic surgeries to allegations of child molestation, or his purchase of a chimp and the Elephant Man’s bones.
We all heard the jokes, and sadly, most of them were funny.
It wasn’t until his death this week, and the hours of tributes on every channel that followed, that I rediscovered an appreciation for the King of Pop. I wasn’t around for the younger Jackson 5 days, but those songs are both classic and timeless, and they define the wonderful Motown era. Even the disco-influenced “Off the Wall” isn’t totally dated when hearing it today, and of course, the “Thriller” album will always hold up. I owned it on vinyl, and my brother, sister and I wore it out on our Fisher-Price record player … I may give it another look on iTunes once the hype (and the prices) go back down.
And it’s refreshing to see that for the most part this week, Jackson the punchline has taken a backseat to Jackson the music legend. Oh, I’m sure when the cause of death is released and the custody battles begin for his children, the media and the world will revert back to treating Jackson as a tabloid target.
But for now, let’s remember the good times. Let’s remember staying up late to watch NBC’s Friday Night Videos to catch a glimpse of “Beat It” or “Billie Jean.” Let’s remember those awful zipper jackets and the white gloves. Those older than me — remember the Jackson 5 cartoons. Those younger — they’ve got “Man in the Mirror” and “Black or White.”
And while you’re at it, I’ll remember the moonwalk.
Rest in peace, Mike.