lead singer’. Jackie overheard and couldn't stop laughing.
When Michael heard about it, he was hurt. ‘I can't help it if I'm the smallest,’ he said, crying.
Joseph pulled his young son aside. ‘Listen here, Michael,’ he said, kneeling down to eye-to-eye level with him. ‘You need
to be proud that you're being talked about by the competition,’ he said, his tone gentle. ‘That means you're on your way.
This is a good thing.’
‘Well, I don't like it,’ Michael recalls saying. ‘They're talking bad about me.’
Joseph kissed his son on the top of the head, a rare moment of gentleness from him. ‘This is only the beginning, Mike,’ he
said, smiling, ‘so, get used to it.’
In August 1967, The Jackson Five performed at the famed Apollo Theater in Harlem, as contestants in its world-renowned amateur
show. Working at the Apollo was the dream of most young black entertainers at the time. In his book
Showtime at the Apollo,
writer Ted Fox observed, ‘[The Apollo was] not just the greatest black theatre but a special place to come of age emotionally,
professionally, socially and politically.’ Joseph and Jack Richardson, a close friend of his, drove the boys to New York in
the family's Volkswagen. At this time, Jackie was sixteen; Tito, thirteen; Jermaine, twelve; Marlon, ten; and Michael had
just turned nine. The brothers entered the so-called Superdog Contest, the winning of which was the most prestigious achievement
in any of the categories.
Michael once told me, ‘The Apollo was the toughest place of all to play. If they liked you there, they really
liked
you. And if they hated you, they'd throw things at you, food and stuff. But, you know what? We weren't scared. We knew we
were good. We had so much self-confidence at that time. At the other gigs we'd played, we had 'em in the palms of our hands.
I'd be on stage singing and I'd look over at Jermaine and we'd wink at one another because we always knew we had it. I mean,
you have to feel that way just to get up on that stage and take the chance, you know? Plus, Joseph would not have had it any
other way. We wanted to please him. I mean, that was as important as winning any contest.’
Backstage at the Apollo, The Jackson Five found a small log that had been mounted on a pedestal, which supposedly came from
the fabled Tree of Hope.
According to legend, The Tree of Hope had stood in front of Connie's; Inn, where Louis Armstrong performed in the famous Harlem
version of Fats Waller's
Hot Chocolates.
Over the years, hundreds of performers would stand under that tree and touch it for good luck. It became tradition. When
Seventh Avenue was widened during New York City road construction, the tree was uprooted. However, Bill ‘Bojangles’ Robinson
arranged for the Tree of Hope – he was the one who named it – to be moved to a street island, at Seventh Avenue, south of 132nd
Street. Eventually, the tree was cut down; no one remembers the reason, and a plaque is all that remains at its final location.
However, a small log from the Tree of Hope was mounted on a pedestal backstage at the Apollo. It then became tradition that
the first-timer who touched the tree before he went out on to the stage would be destined for good luck: he would join the
ranks of those black performers who had struggled to make their dreams a reality, who had fought for respect, who had paid
their dues and eventually triumphed, shaping American popular culture in the image of their race and heritage.
The pedestal was placed off to the side of the stage so that the crowd could watch as the performers touched it. It was a
Wednesday night and The Jackson Five were on the bill with The Impressions, one of the most popular vocal groups of the day.
One of its founding members, Fred Cash, once told me that he went to nine-year-old Michael before the brothers hit the stage
and told him the legend about the tree. ‘No kiddin'?’ Michael asked