Earlier today I stopped by 2300 Jackson Street. The tiny house that shaped and molded a legacy out of a large family.
After fall and winter took spring hostage, summer finally arrived with bright sunlight and a temperature that does not require a jacket, nor giving in to turning up the thermostat. I live mere minutes from 23rd and Jackson Street, so it did not take long to pull up across the street from the house.
I no longer write for the local newspaper, the Post-Tribune. However, I maintain some freelancing on my own time. The journalist in me made the brief drive to see if anyone was stopping by to snap photos or leave a trinket. Along with a white rose tied to the front gate, someone left a black hat, a copy of the 25th anniversary of the BAD album and the DVD case of “This is It,” the last documented film on Michael and name of the tour he was working on at the time of his death. As a fan, I snapped a couple of photos, and at the request of a man visiting, used his cellphone to capture shots of him standing in front of the house.
Today 23rd and Jackson Street was accessible with the occasional cars stopping by to look at the tiny house. One vendor a few houses down was set up with t-shirts and anything else Michael.
However, on this date 10 years ago, arriving on this block was different, and surreal. It’s hard to believe that 10 years ago, the world would be stunned by the announcement that Michael Jackson, forever and aka, ‘The King of Pop,’ was dead. Michael, one of 10 children — Marlon’s twin brother Brandon died 24 hours after birth — died nearly two months before his 51st birthday on August 29th. I was a correspondent for the Post-Tribune when the news hit.
The day was already media driven with the morning announcement of the death of actress and 1970’s pinup girl Farrah Fawcett. Here, a press conference was scheduled later in the afternoon by the Lake County Prosecutor that the body of two-year-old Jada Justice was found encased in concrete in a LaPorte County swamp. The child was murdered by her cousin/babysitter. Stories leading up to recovering of Jada’s body, included a story of Jada being kidnapped at a Gary gas station on June 16. That turned out to be false after Gary police officers conducted a massive search for the child. Unfortunately the press conference would be overshadowed by the news about Michael Jackson.
June 25, 2009 was extremely hot and humid. It was close to 5 p.m. and I was sitting on the front porch of my parents’ home with Dad and my big sister. My brother-in-law, a Gary police officer at the time, arrived at the house donning a shirt, tie, pants and hat. We were talking about the press conference and moments later, both my sister and brother-in-law left the house. I went inside to start a quick dinner of fried chicken wings, home-cut fries and mixed vegetables.
I was prepping the wings as the pan of grease was heating. “Something’s wrong with Michael Jackson,” my Dad said from his bedroom. I remember leaving the kitchen and standing in my father’s doorway. He sat on the foot of his bed and added that Michael was sick. I read the crawler at the bottom of the TV screen. It said that Michael was in the hospital. I rushed back to the kitchen and started putting the wings in the hot grease, and my cell phone rings. It was Rich Jackson — no relation — , one of the newspaper editors. He asked if I could be on standby because of the news about Michael. The report he was getting came from TMZ. No other media outlet at the time was reporting it.
“As much as I can’t stand TMZ, they may out-scoop other news outlets,” Rich said. He told me he would call back as soon as he got confirmation on anything. I went on with cooking dinner. When Rich called back moments after the first call, I had a feeling it wasn’t good. He confirmed that Michael died, and as I listened to him, Dad turned up the volume on his TV. This interaction with Rich tickles me to this day, as I assured him that as soon as I finished frying those wings and fries, I would jump in my car and head over to 2300 Jackson Street. Rich reminds me that I scolded him after his third phone call, telling him that ‘these wings weren’t going to fry themselves!’
It was another 15–20 minutes before I called Dad to come to the kitchen for dinner while I grabbed my pens, notepad, phone and purse. I rushed to the car and headed to 2300 Jackson Street. Prior to this fateful day, I rarely drove down the block and looked at the house. There wasn’t a huge sign directing people to see the house that built the Jackson 5 as a tourist attraction. The house sits on the far North corner of Jackson Street, off the edge of a one-way street pointing south to Roosevelt High School. The house was just there, among a block of neighboring homes, some occupied and others abandoned. But on that day, the narrow road leading to the house, was crowded with TV news vans, and local citizens. And the days following, traffic would be directed by Gary police officers as fans from across the world, showed up to pay their respects and hold impromptu dance parties.
I was in work mode that day. The fangirl in me had to wait, although she bobbed her head and moved a bit every time a blast of hits from MJ filled the air. Fans of all ages cried and danced to songs created by Michael in various stages of his life. I remember the little bitty pretty Black girl who held her journal filled with pictures of the King of Pop against her chest as she sobbed. She was oblivious to how her hair looked because she and her mother rushed from a nearby beauty shop to the house. Another child, a boy, Elijah from Orlando, FL, was among many MJ impersonators who showed off their moves in tribute. It did not hit until the next morning as I stopped at a gas station on my way to the house for another assignment. I picked up a copy of the Post-Tribune with my story on the front page. That’s when the fan in me cracked.
Throughout the years leading to this 10th anniversary, Gary held tributes, particularly around Michael’s birthday and in front of the house. His parents, Katherine and Joe Jackson, frequented the city during these times. Katherine was often here during the birthday celebrations over the years, with friends and relatives. She also brought Michael’s children, Paris, Prince Michael and Prince Michael II, aka, ‘Blanket’ to see their father’s childhood home. Michael’s siblings have also visited Gary in the last few years.
The house has since undergone changes after Michael’s death. In 2010, 2300 Jackson Street got a makeover. Late winter the house were surrounded with a gated look, new doors and shuttered windows. Another house on the left is also gated to prevent anybody from getting as close to 2300 as possible.
Later in the warmer months, the exterior of the house was fully made over. It would later include a beautiful monument on the far right corner of the front yard. The monument was originally placed at the Gary Railcats Stadium until 2011, when moved to the house.
However, the monument was removed in the fall of 2017 after a visit from the youngest Jackson and equally iconic superstar, Janet. Janet visited the house, as well as spoke to students at Roosevelt Career Academy during her Chicago concert tour stop.
The monument has not been placed back in the yard.
Since then, the Jackson family lost their patriarch, Joe Jackson in 2018. Michael’s oldest son is a college graduate. Paris has been modeling and involved in social activism. Prince Michael II is being a teenager. His brothers Marlon, Tito Jackie and Jermaine have performed all over and Janet is in the midst of her Las Vegas residency.
Despite a documentary, “Leaving Neverland” resurfacing on allegations of Michael as a child sex offender — airing on HBO months ago, the late entertainer’s family and fans remain faithful to his legacy. Janet spoke about her brother a couple days ago regarding his legacy. https://www.tmz.com/2019/06/23/janet-jackson-brother-michael-legacy-continue-leaving-neverland/.
If Michael were still around physically, I can see him working on new songs. Cheering on up and coming Black artists. And continuing to speak out against racial discrimination, and the mistreatment of immigrants.
Michael’s legacy will continue to live on through his fans. Especially fans in his hometown. Despite many here who rant and say they don’t care, I’ll always hear a Michael Jackson or a Jackson 5 song blaring from a car. Or singing his lyrics at the top of their lungs. 2300 Jackson Street is where it all began. And where it will stay.
