Michael Jackson (8 page)

‘Get out and in line for inspection,’ Joseph ordered.

The youngsters clambered out on to the already-warm Detroit street, where, as if a military troop, they lined up according
to age: seventeen-year-old Jackie; fourteen-year-old Tito; thirteen-year-old Jermaine; ten-year-old Marlon, and nine-year-old
Michael. Seventeen-year-old Johnny Jackson joined the group. Though they were not related, Joseph treated him just like he
treated his own sons, and Johnny obeyed just as quickly. ‘All right,’ Joseph growled. ‘It's ten o'clock. Let's go. Remember
everything I taught you and, except when you're singing or being spoken to, keep your mouths shut. And remember what I always
say…’ He looked at Jermaine.

‘Either you're a winner in this life, or a loser,’ Jermaine said. ‘And none of my kids are losers.’

‘Thata' boy,’ Joseph said, patting him on the back.

Inside the main building, the first person to greet the gang was a sharply dressed, black man. When he asked how he could
assist them, Joseph explained that they were the Jackson family from Gary and that they had an appointment for an audition.
The man said that he'd been expecting them. ‘You must be Michael,’ he said, looking at the smallest. Then, pointing to the
boys in turn, he correctly called each one by his name. ‘And you, sir, you must be Joseph,’ he announced as he and the family
patriarch shook hands. The boys looked at each other, amazed.

The family was then led into a small studio. As they walked in, they noticed a person setting up a film camera on a tripod.
There were ten folding chairs in front of the small, elevated wooden platform which would serve as a stage.

Suzanne dePasse, creative assistant to president Berry Gordy, entered the studio wearing a blue miniskirt and a yellow blouse
with ruffles. Her high heels clicked as she approached the group to introduce herself. She was an attractive, young black
woman with shoulder-length, soft hair and a bright, friendly smile. The boys liked her immediately.

Ralph Seltzer was the next to appear. A tall white man wearing a dark suit and conservative tie, Seltzer seemed more intimidating
than dePasse. He shook the hand of each boy, and then Joseph's and Jack's.

‘We've heard a lot about your group,’ he said to Joseph. ‘Mr Gordy couldn't be here, but – ’

‘You mean Mr Gordy's not here?’ Joseph asked, unable to hide his disappointment.

When Seltzer explained that Gordy was in Los Angeles, Joseph said that they should reschedule the audition when he was back
in Detroit. He wanted his sons to audition for the boss, not his flunkies. However, Seltzer explained that they intended to
film the audition, and then have it sent to Gordy on the West Coast. ‘Mr Gordy will render a decision at that time,’ he said.

‘He'll render a decision,’ Joseph repeated, more to himself than to Seltzer.

‘Yes, he will,’ Seltzer said, nodding his head. ‘Mr Gordy will render a decision at that time.’

‘Mr Gordy's gonna render a decision,’ Michael repeated to Marlon.

‘What's that mean?’ Marlon whispered.

Michael shrugged his shoulders.

After all of the boys' equipment was lugged in from the van and set up, eight more staffers who did not introduce themselves
filed into the studio, each with a notepad. Michael was ready to speak into the microphone when he heard someone in the corner
snicker and say, ‘Yeah, the Jackson Jive.’ (‘The Jackson Jive’ is an old slang expression.) It sounded like an insult. Ralph
Seltzer cleared his throat and glared at the person who made the remark.

‘First song we'd like to do is James Brown's “I Got the Feeling”,’ Michael announced. ‘Okay? Here we go.’ He counted off – ‘A-one,
a-two, a-three’ – and then Tito on guitar, Jermaine on bass, and Johnny Jackson on drums began to play.

‘Baby, baby, baa-ba. Baby, baby, baa-ba. Baby, baby, baa-ba,’ Michael sang. He grimaced and grunted, imitating James Brown.
‘I got the fe-e-e-lin' now. Good
Gawwd
almighty!’ He skated sideways across the floor, like Brown. ‘I feel
goooood,
’ he screamed into the microphone, a wicked expression playing on his little face.

Suzanne dePasse and Ralph Seltzer smiled at each other and nodded their heads. The other Motown executives kept time to the
music. Joseph, standing in a corner with his arms folded across his chest, looked on approvingly.

After the boys finished, no one in the audience applauded. Instead, everyone feverishly wrote on their notepads.

Confused, the youngsters looked at each other and then at their father for a hint as to what they should do. Joseph motioned
with his hand that they should continue with the next number.

‘Thank you. Thank you very much,’ Michael said, as though acknowledging an ovation. ‘We 'predate it.’

Michael then introduced the group, as he did in their live show, after which they sang the bluesy ‘Tobacco Road’.

Again, no applause, just note-taking.

‘Next song we'd like to do is a Motown song,’ Michael announced. He paused, waiting for smiles of acknowledgement that never
materialized. ‘It's Smokey Robinson's “Who's Loving You” Okay? Here we go. A-one, a-two, a-three…’

They closed the song with a big finish and waited for a reaction from the Motown staffers. Again, everyone was writing. ‘Jackson
Jive, huh?’ someone in the room said. ‘These boys ain't jivin'. I think they're great.’

Michael beamed, his eyes dancing.

Ralph Seltzer cleared his throat and stood up. ‘I'd like to thank you boys for coming,’ he said. His voice gave no hint of
how he felt the audition had gone. He shook each of their hands before walking over to Joseph and explaining to him that the
company would put them all up at a nearby hotel. ‘I'll be in touch with you,’ Seltzer concluded, ‘in two days…’

‘When Mr Gordy renders a decision,’ Joseph said, finishing Seltzer's sentence. He didn't sound happy. The boys were also clearly
disappointed. As they filed out, no one said a word.

Two days later, Berry Gordy saw the sixteen-millimetre black-and-white film. He made a quick decision. ‘Yes, absolutely, sign
these kids up,’ he told Ralph Seltzer. ‘They're amazing. Don't waste a second. Sign 'em!’

On 26 July 968, Ralph Seltzer summoned Joseph into his Motown office for a meeting. During the two-hour conference – while the
boys waited in the lobby – he explained that Berry Gordy was interested in signing The Jackson Five to the label, and then outlined
the kind of relationship he hoped the company would develop with the Jackson youngsters. He spoke of ‘the genius of Berry
Gordy’ and Gordy's hopes that The Jackson Five would become major recording stars. ‘These kids are gonna be big, big,
big,
’ Seltzer enthused, his manner much more cordial than it had been on their first visit. ‘Believe me, if Mr Gordy says they're
gonna be big, they're gonna be big.’ Joseph must have felt like he was dreaming.

Then Seltzer presented Joseph with Motown's standard, nine-page contract. It never occurred to Joseph that he should probably
have shown up with independent legal counsel for such an important discussion, and Seltzer hadn't suggested it.

‘Berry did not want outside lawyers looking over any of our contracts,’ Ralph Seltzer would explain in an interview long after
he and Gordy had parted ways. ‘Quite simply, he did not want outsiders influencing the artists. I thought it was more than
fair for an artist to be able to take the contract home and read it, think it over. Berry told me that if I ever allowed an
artist to take a contract home, that artist would not sign the contract. I tried once, and he was right: the artist did not
sign. It was best, Berry decided, that potential contractees read over the agreement in my office and then just sign. If they
had a problem with that, they did not become Motown artists. It was that simple.’

Seltzer began with clause number one, which stated that the agreement was for a term of seven years.

‘Hold it right there,’ Joseph interrupted. ‘That's too long.’

Joseph felt that they should be committed for only one year. That brief length of time was unheard of at Motown, where the
minimum arrangement was five years. Gordy felt it took that long to fully develop an artist, and then see a return on the
company's investment.

Ralph Seltzer picked up the telephone and called Berry Gordy in Los Angeles. He explained the problem and handed the phone
to Joseph, whom Berry had never met. After a brief conversation, Joseph hung up.

‘He said he was gonna think about it,’ Joseph told Seltzer, who smiled knowingly. Two minutes later, the phone rang again.
It was Gordy wanting to talk to Joseph. He explained to Joseph that, as far as he was concerned, the real issue was a basic
matter of trust. If Joseph really believed in Gordy and Motown, he wouldn't mind having his children obligated to the company
for seven years. After all, Gordy was willing to pay for their accommodation, recording sessions, rehearsal time, and so forth.
However, if Joseph
insisted
on changing the clause, then it would be changed, ‘because, after all, I just want what's best for the kids,’ Gordy explained.

Joseph smiled and gave Richardson the thumbs-up signal. He handed the phone to Seltzer who got back on the line and spoke
to Berry for a moment. Then Seltzer put Gordy on hold and summoned an assistant into his office who took some quick dictation
from Gordy. About five minutes later, the assistant returned with a new clause, which stated that the group was obligated
to Motown for only one year. Joseph beamed; he had won a strategic battle against Berry Gordy.

Ralph Seltzer quickly explained the rest of the contract. Joseph nodded his head, then called his boys into the office.

‘We got it, boys,’ he announced.

‘Oh, man, that's too much!’

‘We're on Motown!’

‘We got us a contract!’

They all began jumping up and down and hugging one another.

Ralph Seltzer gave each boy a contract. ‘Just sign right there on that line, fellas.’

They looked at their father.

‘Go ahead. It's okay. Sign it.’

Though Joseph had not even read the contract – he just had it explained to him – and neither had any of his sons, each boy signed.

‘And here's an agreement for you, Mr Jackson,’ Ralph Seltzer said, handing Joseph a paper. ‘This is a parental approval agreement
and it says, quite simply, that you will make certain that the boys comply with the terms of the contract they just signed.’
^*

Joseph signed the agreement.

‘Well, congratulations,’ Ralph Seltzer said with a smile and a firm handshake for Joseph. ‘And let me be the first to welcome
you to Motown.’

In years to come, many would wonder why Joseph Jackson allowed his sons to sign Motown contracts – and why he himself would
sign an accompanying agreement – without first reading the documents? In litigation against Motown, years later, Joseph would
explain, ‘I did not read these agreements nor did my sons read these agreements because they were presented to us on a take-it-or-leave-it
basis. Since my sons were just starting out in the entertainment field, we accepted these contracts based on the representations
of Ralph Seltzer that they were good contracts.’

Ralph Seltzer would disagree, and in a way that was a bit unsettling. ‘I have no recollection of ever saying to Joseph Jackson
or The Jackson 5 that the agreement being offered by Motown was a good agreement.’

Later, after leaving Ralph Seltzer's office, Joseph telephoned Richard Arons, the man he had hired as his lawyer and the group's
unofficial co-manager. Arons would recall, ‘Joseph called me up and said he had signed with Motown. There wasn't much I could
offer at that point.’

It's easy to understand why Joseph would just sign the deal. It
was
Motown, after all. However, there were significant problems with the contract, many of which would cause trouble for the
family later on down the road.

Clause Five, for instance, stated that The Jackson 5 would be unable to record for any other label ‘at any time prior to the
expiration of five years from the expiration or termination of this agreement’. This was a standard Motown clause that applied
whether an act was signed for seven years, five years, or, as in the case of The Jackson 5, one. So Berry Gordy's concession
to Joseph Jackson proved meaningless; The Jackson 5 were still tied up for at least six years.

Furthermore, the third clause stated that Motown was under no obligation to record the group or promote its music for five
years, even though this was purportedly a one-year contract! Some other contractual stipulations that Joseph might have questioned
had he read the agreement: Motown would choose all of the songs that the group would record, and the group would record each
song until ‘they have been recorded to our [Motown's] satisfaction’. However, Motown ‘shall not be obligated to release any
recording’, meaning that just because a song was recorded, it would not necessarily be issued to the public. The group was
paid $12.50 per ‘master’, which is a completed recording of a song. But in order for the recording to be considered a master,
the song had to be released. Otherwise, they were paid nothing. In other words, they could record dozens of songs and see
only one issued from that session, and that would be the one for which they'd be paid. As for the rest, well, they would just
be a waste of time.

It's been written that the Jacksons received a 2.7 per cent royalty rate, based on wholesale price, a standard Motown royalty
of the 1960s. Actually, according to their contract, the boys would receive 6 per cent of 90 per cent of the wholesale price
(less all taxes and packaging) of any single or album released. It was the same rate as Marvin Gaye, and also The Supremes,
got. Marvin, as a solo artist, did not have to split his percentage, though. The Supremes had to divide it three ways. And
this amount had to be split five ways among the Jackson brothers. In other words, Michael would receive one-fifth of 6 per
cent of 90 per cent of the wholesale price – or a little under one-half of a penny for any single and $0.0216, about two cents,
per album released (based on an assumed wholesale price of $0,375 a single and $2.00 an album).