Nothing of real importance happened that day.

That’s the way I enjoy starting this tale.

Not only because it’s true but it adds a little flare.

The Day is May 16, 1983.

And what actually happened happened at night.The day was as plain as a sandwich made only of bread. However the night was a one of a kind tailor made sub the kind that sits in your belly and warms your body.

I was dressed in my best—only—suit the tie already slowly working to evict all the oxygen outta my throat. My Dad said I looked like Bond, James Bond.  He was wrong.  I felt more like Newman, Alfred E. Newman.

My family was getting ready for a church dinner. A church dinner was where the roast beef was undercooked, the potatoes were soggy and the veggies still hadn’t thawed out. Yum!And the company was worse than the food. I’m already sick thinking of the food so I’ll skip mentioning the people.

I was in my parents’ bedroom watching a TV disguised as wooden furniture. Behind me, beside me parents scurried about trying to finish getting dressed. Dad was struggling to evict a gravy stain from his tie. Mom misplaced one of her gold earrings. And the dinner started five minutes ago. I didn’t care.

Waiting. I was sitting on the edge of my parents’ bed watching TV...waiting. The program was called Motown 25:  Yesterday, Today and Forever. Patiently: I hummed a few bars from Beat It as I waited.

Soon…my wait was almost over.

Right after this commercial. Hurry. The anticipation was killing me. The audience was welcomed back as if going to the fridge or to the can was a bad thing to do.They were really drawing it out I couldn’t take the suspense. I was dying, like having to pee on a road trip.  “Hurry up!” I snapped at the TV screen. Dad paused in his losing battle with the gravy stain, gave me a look and shook his head.

Then, finally—finally!—the wait was over. The announcer announced his name.

I’m still trapped in a suit but no longer in my parents’ bedroom. Now I was in a fantasyland where magic rules not science and where wonder replaced curiosity.He was here and he was supernova brilliant. He came out dressed in a black sequined jacket, those white socks and black shoes, a black fedora tilted just so and his trademark: one sparkly white glove.Instantly as Michael Jackson appeared music was thrown out to the audience to gobble up like a hungry man gobbles food. Within seconds the game of Name That Tune was over:  Billie Jean.No sooner had the song been named then Michael began to dance. With a whooooooooooo that excited the nerves of my teeth he dashed his fedora like a Frisbee.

And the crowd went crazy.

Dimly in the background Dad finally overcame the great gravy stain.

A few moments later Mom found her earring.Michael was gonna have to hurry if I was to see the end of his performance. As if he knew, he danced in a zone.The crowd still getting over the throwing of the fedora nearly suffered asthma attacks as he moonwalked across the stage. It never occurred to me to gravity was a suggestion not a rule.

In one ear my Dad was yelling, telling me that we had to go! and in the other was Billie Jean and Michael Jackson’s contagious whoooo’s.I closed the ear to my father. Then, sadly as quickly as the fedora sailed across the stage…it was over.

And like every great party there are survivours left to tell the tale.But what about the importance of this tale?

To me it was nothing more than a great performance from a great performer. Like a really good movie that is forgotten when the next really good movie comes out.Still I wasn’t the only person who felt magic that night. Millions did.  Course I’d discover all this much later.That one performance launched Michael Jackson’s solo career. From there on Thriller, his then latest album went on to sell 54 million copies (it’s since crossed over 70 million albums).

From that one powerful performance he became a pop star and cultural icon who dominated an entire decade and beyond. And that’s all it took? A 5 minute performance.Nobody really remembers May 16, 1983 because it was a day when nothing happened.  Yet something did happen.Not bad for one night’s work, don’t you think? Something to think about this upcoming May 16.

Attached is my 2017 interview with Greg Phillinganes; a fun throwback.

With Michael Jackson Greg played keys and recorded the following albums:

Off the Wall (1979)

Thriller (1982)

Bad (1987)

Dangerous (1991)

The pipe organ that Vincent Price does his rap over? That's Greg. Yo.

He was the musical director for Michael Jackson's Bad and Dangerous concert tours.

Stevie Wonder's Isn’t She Lovely? Greg! He's worked on 3 Wonder albums including Songs in the Key of Life.

He's worked with Lionel Richie, Leonard Cohen, Toni Braxton, Mick Jagger, Eric Clapton...Bruno Mars.

Not my best interview; you know when you have so much in your head and you just want to get it all out.

But with Michael Jackson gone…this is as close as I’ll get.

Not bad for one night’s work, don’t you think? Something to think about this upcoming May 16.

Glad It All “Worked” Out…by Sammy Younan-28-

Thanks for reading My Pal Sammy! Electric pop culture connections lovingly sugar coated in sarcasm.

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