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When we entered the studio, one of the Motown guys was adjusting a movie
camera. There was an area set up with instruments and microphones. Dad
disappeared into one of the sound booths to talk to someone. I tried to
pretend that I was at the Fox Theatre, on the rising stage, and this was
just business as usual. I decided, looking around, that if I ever built my
own studio, I'd get a mike like the one they had at the Apollo, which rose
out of the floor. I nearly fell on my face once running down those basement
steps while trying to find out where it went when it slowly disappeared
beneath the stage floor.
The last song we sang was "Who's Lovin' You." When it ended, no one
applauded or said a word. I couldn't stand not knowing, so I blurted, "How
was that?" Jermaine shushed me. The older guys who were backing us up were
laughing about something. I looked at them out of the corner of my eye.
"Jackson Jive, huh?" one of them called out with a big grin on his face. I
was confused, I think my brothers were too.
The man who had led us back said, "Thanks for coming up." We looked at Dad's
face for some indication, but he didn't seem pleased or disappointed. It was
still daylight out when we left. We took I-94 back to Gary, subdued, knowing
there was homework to do for class tomorrow, wondering if that was all there
was to that.

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