Unlike previous marathon memorials, from Princess Diana to Tim Russert, the media did not have a fix on essential storyline and meaning of Michael Jackson. Like the protean entertainer himself, the narrative is still unstable, begging for an interpretative coherence. It took five days for the New York Times to begin to understand what Jackson meant for African Americans and why the Apollo became the instantaneous mecca for so many fans. Having seen so many career overviews in all forms of media, I am more surprised by what is left out, especially on how MJ learned his craft and then transformed himself into an international brand.

The Jackson storyline usually jumps from the prepubescent exuberance of "I Want You Back" to sexy bravado of "Off the Wall," occasionally with the minor detour as the Scarecrow in The Wiz. That is an amazing conversion right there, with few child stars ever able to sustain a Second Act into adulthood. With Jackson, and so many black artists and athletes, the implication is that he is a natural, endowed with some God-given ability.  But today I was looking at the variety series The Jacksons, from 1977-8, which is not in distribution and rarely excerpted in compilations. Although the program was very similar to other CBS variety series such as The Sonny and Cher Comedy Hour, I was astonished how much energy and imagination that Michael gave to his production numbers. He was called upon to summon his inner Fred Astaire, and he displayed a mastery of all sorts of dance technique. Take a look for yourself and see how Michael was learning the basic moves that he would later subvert in his videos.

The Paley Center will be screening these variety shows where Michael received an education in old school entertainment. Malcolm Gladwell recently wrote that true mastery of any art requires at least 10,000 hours of practice. He argued that the Beatles achieved their threshold with those hours of practice in Germany in the early sixties. Having started at such a tender age, Michael's hours of artistic preparation must have been off the charts.

If The Jacksons series is relatively obscure, the moonwalk on Motown 25 is iconic, one of the pivotal performances in MJ's career. I would argue that it is never framed as the personal act of rebelliousness that Michael meant it to be. The 1983 special was a salute to the recording company that nurtured Michael in the early seventies and was conceived as a homecoming for all the major acts who made the label the soundtrack of "Young America." Michael was the only artist who adamantly refused to perform a Motown number. In fact, his rendition of "Billie Jean" showed little trace of the Motown polish. Michael was defiantly telling his peers he had moved on and could create moves that his former colleagues were incapable of choreographing. Michael was combining the street with Bob Fosse, making the Motown moves seem so yesterday. Take another look at Michael's declaration of personal independence:

The madness in Michael was also there much earlier than is usually documented. His one overt act of humanitarian charity, "We are the World," contained seeds of Michael's megalomania. Quincy Jones relates in his autobiography that it took days to convince Jackson that the rest of the superstars should not be singing backup to his lead vocals. When you treat the world as your supporting cast, things are bound to go terribly awry. There is so much more to Michael's success and excess that needs to be written and interpreted; his life narrative remains a work in progress.