I figure I'd kick in my two cents, as so much has been written (and will forever continue to be written) about Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson. Farrah, hot on the heels of that amazing pinup that scorched its way into a generation's psyche, reigned over ABC's 10pm Wednesday night timeslot as Jill Monroe in the critically lampooned Charlie's Angels, that turned feminism on its ear with a trio of insanely gorgeous detectives solving crimes while going undercover as hookers and roller derby queens (to single out just two episodes). Farrah represented wholesome beauty, athleticism and health, and the genuine goodness of her own self that punched through the sometimes silly dialog of a program she quickly wanted to distance herself from. One season she completed before bailing, essentially to better herself and to avoid the trappings of instant celebrity. At the time, she was derided and cast aside. Blacklisted. Years later, she was applauded and was vindicated. As far as her role in my elementary school period, my walls were covered with no less than a dozen posters of her, and clippings were everywhere. I was in the fan club. I was ready to be her child-groom. She was the reason I could stay up til 11pm on a school night in the 3rd grade. She continued to fascinate, even as she went through that creepy-loopy period ten years ago. She had that innate ability to engender that feeling of wanting to root for her. She connected, and she continues to resonate. She will leave a greater legacy than she would have ever dreamed possible, thanks to her unflagging tenacity and determination to show how her cancer would not beat her. It claimed her life, ultimately, but she remains victorious...
On the heels of the expected yet devastating news of Fawcett's passing came the completely unexpected death of Michael Jackson. As Farrah defined a huge chunk of my early grade school years, Michael Jackson's OFF THE WALL and THRILLER dominated radios, jukeboxes, turntables, and roller rinks from 1979-1985. An unprecedented run of hit singles and ground-breaking videos and television appearances cemented his stature as the heir apparent to uber-entertainers Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley, now to a new generation weened on the media of the 1980s. This time, though, the world felt they already knew their new sensation. I remember a Jackson 5 single that came on the box of Alpha-Bits cereal. MJ had been a star for a decade before striking out on his own, and led the 80s-era of the Mega Star (Madonna and Prince notwithstanding). The day after the Motown 25 TV special (which introduced the famous "Moonwalk") all anyone in school could talk about was the spellbinding performance of "Billie Jean"... And the singles kept coming, each better than the last...
The late 80s foreshadowed the beginning of the end (or what merely seemed an odd detour at the time). The oddball rumors started to circulate. His quirks and idiosyncracies began to overshadow the music. At the time, I thought he was competing with Madonna for the "no such thing as bad press" school of self-promotion. With Jackson, though, it felt he might actually BE losing it. Madonna somehow engendered smarts and canniness (in however questionable her tastes might have appeared to some, one never doubted her control).
The 90s saw Jackson completely fall from public favor, with troubling allegations coupling with an already increasingly looney persona. Child molestation allegations, vehemently denied, left a stink on his career and public perception that he never fully overcame. At the same time, he had the unique ability to still elicit sympathy from his detractors as well as his devoted following. He survived a tortuous childhood, and became an incredibly brilliant (and obviously irrevocably damaged) public figure. He was Elvis. He was Marilyn. His death, however untimely, ultimately comes as no REAL surprise.
Two icons, and certainly two of the biggest, gone within the space of just a few hours. A huge chunk of my childhood went along with them, and I know I am not alone in that...
