About this episode
Welcome to the hall of imagination, and I can't believe what I'm seeing. This is the first time that I have ever seen a wax figure who is now deceased that I saw in real life.
Yes, I am Michael Jackson, and you say that you have seen me before?
Yes, I saw you with your brothers at a concert in Washington DC.
AH, Mr. Bartley, I believe that I remember that concert very well.
And Michael, if I may call you that–this is really strange–as of talking to wax figures and hearing them respond is not strange enough - but in your case I saw you during your earthly life.
Well, Mr. Bartley, Let’s have some fun… or at least, let’s start there.
Michael, could you tell us about your very beginnings–back to the Gary Indiana days.?
Yes Mr. Bartley. If you were talking about my life, it definitely does begin in fun–think of me as a kid in a tiny house in Gary, Indiana, singing my little lungs out, dancing like someone my age, trying to be heard over brothers, siblings, and the general chaos that you might find in a big family.
But it doesn’t end in fun.
You might say, Michael, that you are a tragic warning about what happens when intense fame collide with a fragile human body and mind. Why don't you start by telling us about your early years?
Certainly Mr. Bartley. I was born August 29, 1958, in Gary, Indiana—a working-class steel town in the Midwest. I was the eighth of ten children in the Jackson family, packed into a small house where money was tight, tempers could be hot, and music was both escape and opportunity.
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