Deaths of Michael Jackson, Elvis Presley were huge stories
By Lewis Diuguid, Kansas City Star Editorial Page columnist
My 22-year-old daughter, Leslie, sent me a text message from Omaha, calling Michael Jackson’s death on June 25 the story of the century worldwide.
I pooh-poohed her at the time. The closest thing to it for me was the death of Elvis Presley on Aug. 16, 1977.
Like Leslie now, I was 22 when Presley died, fresh out of college and just starting my career. Other parallels between now and then are eerie.
Elvis was only 42; Jackson, 50.
Investigations into Jackson’s death could show similar links to drugs, which were behind Presley’s untimely demise.
Presley died at Graceland, his home in Memphis. Jackson died at his rented home in Holmby Hills in Los Angeles.
Like Presley, Jackson’s death stylishly moon walked past stories about the faltering economy, the deaths of U.S. soldiers in wars, job losses, rising gasoline prices, Kansas City School District problems and President Barack Obama’s travels to Russia, seeking deep cuts in nuclear arsenals. Jackson was all that most people talked about.
In the library of The Kansas City Star, I reviewed microfilm of newspapers from 1977. Stories that were drowned out then by Presley’s passing were similar to those that Jackson’s death overshadowed.
They included efforts to find U.S. servicemen listed as missing in action in Southeast Asia, work by the Carter administration to end nuclear proliferation with the Soviets, parents wrangling with the Kansas City School District and people criticizing energy bills in Congress for not doing enough to end U.S. dependence on foreign oil.
Business stories told of the stock market hitting a 19-month low and worries over interest rates, inflation and economic slowdowns.
Jackson and Presley wore crowns because of their phenomenal contributions to music.
Elvis was the King of Rock; Jackson was the King of Pop. The music, movies and what the men did to bridge American’s racial divides also can’t be overlooked. Jackson, like Presley, was a crossover artist. Presley picked up the style, rhythm, voice and moves of black musicians and sold that to white audiences in the 1950s and 1960s.
Jackson was one of Motown’s leading stars making black people, music and culture as sweet and as satisfying as Kool-Aid even during America’s hottest, sweatiest and most difficult days in the ’60s and ’70s. Jackson lifted his crossover music, videos and dance to a high art form in the years that followed.
It’s no wonder that basketball great Magic Johnson credited Jackson at the memorial service last week with his own rise to superstar status.
Before Jackson, outstanding black athletes were routinely passed over by corporations looking for pitchmen for their products. White players were favored. But Jackson’s stardom made black people and culture marketable like never before.
“I want to thank Michael for opening up so many doors for African Americans,” Johnson said at the Staples Center. “He allowed Kobe (Bryant) and me to have our jerseys in people’s homes across the globe because he was already there and he opened all those doors.”
If Jackson’s death is the story of the century worldwide, then the future may hold annual parades here in Jackson’s honor just as there have been for Presley. The number of touring Jackson impersonators here and at nightspots worldwide also may grow just like those who make a living playing Presley.
People love Presley’s hits, including, “Don’t be Cruel,” “Love Me Tender,” “Jailhouse Rock,” “In the Ghetto,” “Teddy Bear” and “Suspicious Minds.” Headlines after Presley’s death told of his albums’ being sold out at record stores worldwide.
Jackson’s death sparked a similar demand.
Jackson’s music, including “ABC,” “I’ll Be There” and “I Want You Back” defined the coming of age of baby boomers like me. His continuing artistry with “Thriller,” “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’,” “Heal the World” and “Man in the Mirror” defined my daughters’ generation.
The contributions of each man will benefit America and the world long after his death. My texting daughter is right.
Lewis W. Diuguid is a member of The Star’s Editorial Board. To reach him, call (816) 234-4723 or send e-mail to
Tosches displays not only a historian’s love for the eras he writes about, but a gossip columnist’s passion for irreverence and shock. That makes this book and its companion (Unsung Heroes of Rock & Roll) completely essential reads for anyone who loves popular twentieth century music. And, it blows the lid off country’s origins in a way guaranteed to outrage country’s often-times “holier-than-thou” patrons. Obscure names, obscure songs, obscure facts all mesh to create a living, breathing historical time-capsule that speaks as much about the era the music was recorded in as the music itself. And the writing is dry yet never condescending, witty yet never demeaning, sincere yet unafraid to point out “the truth” no matter how ugly and undignified it may be. But you’ll learn to love the heroes that pepper this book for the pioneers they were. And, when the last page is read, you’ll come back to it again and again. Part of the pleasure of reading a great book is rereading it and learning much more than you did the last time you read it. . . Tosches manages that feat thanks to an unflinching eye for detail and a poet’s way with words.
Tosches is an entertaining and skillful writer and the premise of this book is an important and timely one. Country music has been diluted, softened and stripped of what once made it great and is now in the hands of the pallid “new country” gang of cheeseballs. Tosches saw this coming way back in the mid-70s, resented it and wrote this book. Unfortunately Country is full of misconceptions, omissions and serious factual errors. Yes, country music did have a dark side but it’s always had a family and religious side as well and even in its earliest stages could cross over into sentimental and mawkish pap. This didn’t start in the 50’s as Tosches insists but was present in the music of the Carter Family and Jimmy Rogers (Tosches barely mentions either) who between them invented the genre. Their music embraced both sides of the coin as did every great country artist who ever lived including Hank Williams and Johnny Cash. (Tosches unfairly savages Cash in this book for his lightweight songs which is odd because in an article written 15 years later, Tosches praises him to the skies although Cash had written no groundbreaking tunes in the intervening years) Tosches makes much of how the British murder ballad tradition disappeared completely from early country music, ignoring (or perhaps being unaware of) songs like Banks of the Ohio or Knoxville Girl–both of which were major country hits in the 30s and 50s respectively and are both taken directly from the murder ballad tradition as are many, many other country songs. His chapter on the development of the dobro and steel guitar is potentially interesting but is full of major errors. Tosches seems unaware of the major differences between dobro, slide guitar, steel guitar, pedal steel guitar and so on and at times it sounds like he thinks they’re all the same instrument with only minor alterations. For example, he doesn’t mention the difference in the number of strings between dobro and pedal steel nor the very different tunings used. This would be acceptable if the discussion were brief but considering the space he devotes to the topic, these omissions are glaring. It would be a bit like saying that the piano is just a big harpsichord. At one point he strongly disagrees with musicologists who claim that many country guitarists were influenced by jazz guitarists. He claims that the guitarist from Milton Brown’s band couldn’t have been influenced by Django Reinhardt because–he says–Reinhardt’s records didn’t reach the states until the late 30’s. Wrong, Nick. Try 1933. Eddie Lang, who had a huge influence on country guitarists is never mentioned nor is Charlie Christian whose work was the source of the style of every gutiarist who played with Bob Wills. But the most unforgiveable mistake is his insistence that Maybelle Carter’s guitar playing had as much influence on country music as “Rudy Vallee. ” Read the history of the Carter Family, “Bury Me Beneath the Willow” and the many testimonials from the greatest country guitarists ever recorded who all say that their primary influence was Mother Maybelle. This is so evident simply by listening to classic country music rhythm guitar playing that one wonders if Tosches has actually heard any. Also, Tosches can’t resist proving to us once again that he is a scholar of Greek and Roman literature and history and his references to this subject are sometimes laughably incongruous, clearly designed to convince us that his scholary credentials are unimpeachable. Usually these tedious asides have nothing to do with the subject at hand. Still, Tosches is a good writer, full of irreverence and wit and great turns of phrase. This is a fun book to read and Tosches makes a few good points. But if you want to read truly well researched books on country music, forget this and pick up Bill Malone’s Country Music USA and Rich Kienzle’s excellent book Southwest Shuffle, a fantastically researched book which says more about the real roots of “New Country” in one chapter than Tosches says in this entire poorly realized mess of a book.
In a reader review of Tosches’ book on Emmett Miller, whose real origins are in the imaginary chapters of the first edition of this book, this book belongs in every home. The writing is this book alone is worth the price. He’s a vigorous wise ass and elegant literary dynamo. If you just read the writing, and dont give a hoot about country music, you will enjoy yourself. So much of music writing is devoled to haigiagraphy and confirming ignorant common places, whereas Tosches is concerned with the dirty nasty truth, and the wild side of things. You aren’t going to learn that Roy Acuff who appointed himself a great country music icon, decades after he had had a hit, began his work in music with a group called “the Bang Boys” that specialized in X rated songs. His description of a Jerry Lee Lewis recording session sometimes in the 1970s is really masterful and still rings in my mind 20 years after I first read it. Likewise, you will love Tosches’ description of the dark end of Spade Cooley. Cooley torutured and murdered his wife because Cooley believed she had banged Roy Rodgers–and Cooley got into show business a double for Roy Rogers in the movies! There is so much uncovered about the real origins of rock and roll. No one can live without the first book that wasn’t afraid to let you know that Hank Williams was bald! If you don’t have this book in your house, buy it, or move in with someone who’s got it! Dont forget his great book on Jerry Lee Lewis, Hellfire. This man knows how to write!