We won the Apollo amateur night competition, and I felt like going back to

those photos on the walls and thanking my "teachers." Dad was so happy he

said he could have flown back to Gary that night. He was on top of the world

and so were we. My brothers and I had gotten straight A's and we were hoping

we might get to skip a "grade." I certainly sensed that we wouldn't be doing

talent shows and strip joints much longer.

In the summer of 1968 we were introduced to the music of a family group that

was going to change our sound and our lives. They didn't all have the same

last name, they were black and white, men and women, and they were called

Sly and the Family Stone. They had some amazing hits over the years, such as

"Dance to the Music," "Stand," "Hot Fun in the Summertime." My brothers

would point at me when they heard the line about the midget standing tall

and by now I'd laugh along. We heard these songs all over the dial, even on

the rock stations. They were a tremendous influence on all of us Jacksons

and we owe them a lot.

After the Apollo, we kept playing with one eye on the map and one ear to the

phone. Mom and Dad had a rule about no more than five minutes a call, but

when we came back from the Apollo, even five minutes was too long. We had to

keep the lines clear in case anyone from a record company wanted to get in

touch with us. We lived in fear of having them get a busy signal. We wanted

to hear from one record company in particular, and if they called, we wanted

to answer.

While we waited, we found out that someone who had seen us at the Apollo had

recommended us to "The David Frost Show" in New York City. We were going to

be on TV! That was the biggest thrill we'd ever had. I told everyone at

school, and told the ones who didn't believe me twice. We were going to

drive out there in a few days. I was counting the hours. I had imagined the

whole trip, trying to figure out what the studio would be like and how it

would be to look into a television camera.

I came home with the travelling work my teacher had made up in advance. We

had one more dress rehearsal and then we'd make a final song selection. I

wondered which songs we'd be doing.

That afternoon, Dad said the trip to New York was cancelled. We all stopped

in our tracks and just stared at him.

We were shocked. I was ready to cry. We had been about to get our big break.

How could they do this to us? What was going on? Why had Mr. Frost changed

his mind? I was reeling and I think everyone else was, too. "I cancelled

it," my father announced calmly. Again we all stared at him, unable to

speak. "Motown called." A chill ran down my spine.

I remember the days leading up to that trip with near-perfect clarity. I can

see myself waiting outside Randy's first-grade classroom. It was Marlon's

turn to walk him home, but we switched for today.

Randy's teacher wished me luck in Detroit, because Randy had told her we

were going to Motown to audition. He was so excited that I had to remind

myself that he didn't really know what Detroit was. All the family had been

talking about was Motown, and Randy didn't even know what a city was. The

teacher told me he was looking for Motown on the globe in the classroom. She

said that in her opinion we should do "You Don't Know Like I Know" the way

she saw us do it at the Regal in Chicago when a bunch of teachers drove over

to see us. I helped Randy put his coat on and politely agreed to keep it in

mind - knowing that we couldn't do a Sam and Dave song at a Motown audition

because they were on Stax, a rival label. Dad told us the companies were

serious about that kind of stuff, so he wanted us to know there'd be no

messing around when we got there. He looked at me and said he'd like to see

his ten-year-old singer make it to eleven.

We left the Garrett Elementary School building for the short walk home, but

we had to hurry. I remember getting anxious as a car swept by, then another.

Randy took my hand, and we waved to the crossing guard. I knew La Toya would

have to go out if her way tomorrow to take Randy to school because Marlon

and I would be staying over in Detroit with the others.

The last time we played at the Fox Theatre in Detroit, we left right after

the show and got back to Gary at five o'clock in the morning. I slept in the

car most of the way, so going to school that morning wasn't as bad as it

might have been. But by the afternoon three o'clock rehearsal I was dragging

around like someone with lead weights for feet.

We could have left that night right after our set, since we were third on

the bill, but that would have meant missing the headliner, Jackie Wilson.

I'd seen him on other stages, but at the Fox he and his band were on a

rising stage that moved up as he start his show. Tired as I was after school

the next day, I remember trying some of those moves in rehearsal after

practising in front of a long mirror in the bathroom at school while the

other kids looked on. My father was pleased and we incorporated those steps

into one of my routines.

Just before Randy and I turned the corner onto Jackson Street, there was a

big puddle. I looked for cars but there weren't any, so I let go of Randy's

hand and jumped the puddle, catching on my toes so I could spin without

getting the cuffs of my corduroys wet. I looked back at Randy, knowing that

he wanted to do the things I did. He stepped back to get a running start,

but I realised that it was a pretty big puddle, too big for him to cross

without getting wet, so, being a big brother first and a dance teacher

second, I caught him before he landed short and got wet.