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My father demanded absolute perfection, rarely praising, constantly criticizing, and often hitting.
Long before the guys became a national sensation as the Jackson 5, their calling card was precise choreography inspired by their idols, Jackie Wilson and James Brown.
They would come to me, one by one, and share something they had hidden from the scriptwriter. After watching some dailies, Tito came up with me an uncharacteristic steely look in his eyes. It was quite a paradox to watch Katherine deny in the press that Joseph had ever struck their children, then read transcripts of interviews with Joyce in which Katherine had spoken of such incidents. She said one time Joseph had come after her, intent on hitting her. I don’t know how much he spoke about his father in public but one of the famous things that he said publicly was that once his father walked into the room, he felt like throwing up ’cause he was so afraid of him. I would see my friends interact with their dad and I would say to myself, “That’s what I want to do. I want to be able to call him, ‘Dad’.” MEREDITH VIEIRA: You called him Joseph, right? There was one time, however, when my father hit me. It’s important for you to know that my father loves all of his children and that his way of communicating his love was a result of his upbringing. In between our laughter, we’d sometimes hear the crunching sound of tires rolling up the gravel driveway.
She said she picked up a glass ashtray and threw it directly at her husband. “Joseph took one look at the blood and from that point on, he never ever messed with me,” Katherine said. But Michael has a tortured, he’s had a tortured relationship with his father. I mean, this has come out, as you know, in interviews and things like that. JANET JACKSON: Yeah, he said, “That my name to you. I can’t remember what rule I had disobeyed, but I had just stepped out of the bathtub when he struck me with his belt. It’s interesting that I don’t recall the lesson my father was trying to teach, only the violence he used to make his point. I tell this story not to judge him, but to be open and to break the cycle. Many nights my siblings and I would put on our pajamas and go to Mother’s room. It was Joseph in his car, headlights turned off, windows rolled down, trying to sneak up on us to hear what we were talking about. We’d scatter like roaches, off to our rooms, ducking down low so not to be visible through the windows. I know that my kind of story is not uncommon, and I know many have endured far worse.
I watched as tears came to his eyes and he began to sob.
“Do you know that my father never came to watch me play ball? “My father never believed in me.” His pain was hard to watch. He just has a very, very different way of showing it.
I truly believe that Jackie had the same potential to become a star in his own right.
While we shrieked, Joseph ripped off his mask and fell out laughing, as if this was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. He sprouted from just over five feet to five feet ten.
It got so where every night I pulled the covers tightly over my head and gently rocked myself until drifting off. Overnight, it seemed, he went from a cute little boy to a gangly teenager.
For up to eight hours straight, the same notes, the same words, the same moves, repeated until everyone memorized them. I used to ask Mother why Joseph treated Jackie so badly. he just never liked him.” As if that made it all right.
One of the most talented Jacksons, my brother won many dance competitions as a child.