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Gary, Indiana Visit

Date confirmed in “Rolling Stone” magazine (archived) (“January 31st [1971]”)

Personal Note:

Implement/archive the following magazine (contains images of Gary, Indiana special):

https://books.google.com/books?id=VdwDAAAAMBAJ&printsec=frontcover#v=onepage&q=jackson&f=false

Mayor Richard Gordon Hatcher, “Indianapolis Recorder” (January 30, 1971) (archived) (January 20, 1971 Proclamation)

Mayor Richard Gordon Hatcher yesterday cited The Jackson 5 with a Proclamation renaming Jackson Street to Jackson 5 Boulevard In honor of their returning to their home town for a concert on January 31, 1971. The Proclamation was issued by Mayor Hatcher reads as follows: Whereas, Micheal, Marlon, Jermaine, Tito, and Jackie Jackson were born and reared on Jackson Street in Gary, Indiana; and whereas, The Jackson 5 have become the fastest selling group in the history of the Motown Record Corporation; and whereas, The Jackson 5 were ranked by Billboard Magazine (the bible of the music industry) as the number one group in 1970; and

Whereas, the City of Gary is proud of these young men who have reached the pinnacle of the entertainment industry; and whereas, The Jackson 5 will be returning to Gary on January 31, 1971, when they will present a concert here for the first time since achieving national fame;

Now, therefore, I, Richard Gordon Hatcher, Mayor of the City of Gary, do hereby proclaim Jackson Street to be Jackson 5 Boulevard for the week of January 25, 1971 through January 31, 1971, and encourage my fellow citizens to give these young men a warm welcome back to Gary, dated this 20th day of January 1971. (signed) Richard Gordon Hatcher, Mayor, City of Gary.

“Rolling Stone” magazine (April 29, 1971) (archived)

The taxi driver kept the cab moving in straight lines, despite 50-mph winds. Street lamps and signs, strung across intersections, danced like diapers on a stormy clothesline. Welcome to Columbus, Ohio. The cabbie was in an obliging good mood, even stopping the meter at $2.80–the usual fare for a ride from Port Columbus airport to the Sheraton–to do a little sightseeing, driving through the rich part of town, the high-rise senior citizens' apartment towers, and a block away, the "colored section."

"Here's where you can get a piece of tail for ten bucks," he explained, "anything you want." He slowed down dramatically as we passed the bars and grills–clean, actually, with the grime either covered by snow or blown away. "Here's where they had that riot a few years back," he said grimly. "I just thought you'd like to see this, since you're a writer and all." Silence.

I brought up football, to get the talk going again, and his mind must've registered Kent State, or its aftermath, the disruptions at nearby Ohio State. He grunted and dismissed Ohio's high football ranking last season. We'd arrived at the hotel already anyway. He looked over his seat and explained how Ohio is regulated by the State Liquor Control. Stores are closed after 9, and it was past midnight. "If there's anything you want, I can get it for you. Or just ask any of the cab drivers. We'll be right here." Thanks, I said.

"Oh," and he took out a billfold and flashed a color photo of a "colored" woman. "I can get this for you, too. She's a nice one."

Mayor Richard Gordon Hatcher takes his place before a lectern in the Council chambers of Gary, Indiana. The mayor is waiting for the film crew to get their lights placed, and for the buzz to die down a little. It is Jackson 5 Day this January 31st in Elbert Gary's little old city; in Music Man town, soul music rules. They were going to helicopter the Jackson 5 in and parade them to their old house at 23rd and Jackson Streets, and the mayor was going to re-name the street "Jackson 5 Street" for the week, and even lay a cornerstone in front of the house where Joe and Kathy Jackson raised their family of nine.

And then there'd be the ceremonies at City Hall. But snow, 40-mph winds, and zero-degree weather made it so that, all of a sudden, we're at City Hall. It had taken about ten minutes to fill the room, some 200 Christmas-dressed kids towing parents and guardians up from the library-ish lobby into this high-ceilinged chamber. And now a dozen teenagers enter through a special door, to the tables the councilmen usually use for meetings. They sit in a neat row behind the mayor, in front of the Gary banner: City On The Move. City of steel–US Steel–and waterway transportation, and trucking, and rail; of a past of graft and corruption, and of plentiful black labor. And, now, a black mayor. The city emblem, on the flag and on the podium, is a bucket of hot metal being poured onto the globe, like gravy onto a mashed potato.

Hatcher is running for re-election in this 55 percent black city; he is generally popular, but running hard, anyway, and the J-5 are here to help, with two benefit shows today and tonight. They were in Columbus for two shows the day before. They and the mayor are all old buddies, according to all the stories in Soul Magazine. The Jackson kids all played youth-league baseball, and Hatcher, as a city official who loved kids, supported various ball teams.

It was at a campaign benefit concert for candidate Hatcher–where the Jackson 5 performed–where Hatcher introduced the boys to Diana Ross; Diana rushed the word to Berry Gordy, and that's how Motown landed them and moved them into an immense home in the Hollywood hills–and into the top hierarchy of soul, pop, and–if you must–bubblegum music.

Mayor Hatcher takes just a minute to say why we're all here today, and the kids, straining away from mothers, brothers, and sisters, are cheering with each mention of the J-5. A three-second, high-pitched, fast-dipping YAAAyyy, just like at the concerts.

"Behind me here are the winners of the Jackson 5 poster contest and essay contest," the Mayor says. "Each winning student will receive a prize that I am sure millions of young Americans would love to have. They will be able to have their pictures taken with the Jackson 5."

Mayor Hatcher's even sounding like a Boss Soul DJ. A heartfelt OOOooohhh swells up and wafts up to the Mayor. There's real envy in these 200 little faces.

Just before the Jackson 5 walked in, the kids were angling for the best view from their pew-seats in the spectator section of the council room, sitting on patient parents' laps, standing, leaning against the back of the row in front, some of them with Instamatics poised. A couple of girls in the second row figure out I'm press, languorously taking up a couple of front-row spaces in the press pew, and there is a deluge of hellos to deliver to the J-5: Rebecca for Jermaine, Rochelle Williams and Sheryl for Michael, Sheryl also for Tito, and Margo for Marlon.

The ones they love enter, dressed in suits and sports jackets, mod but moderately so, looking pretty much straight ahead to the Mayor. "Lookit them in their suits...Oooh..." First, as promised, they take pictures of the brothers with the contest winners, and, just like in a high school assembly, the winners take turns introducing themselves and their schools. Partisan cheers go up as each one passes by. "...And I'm from Roosevelt High." "Right on!" They shake hands with each of the J-5. Tito and Michael exchange power shakes with some of the winners–the ones who offer their hands for that grip. They're at home. Their father, Joe Jackson, misty-eyed at the heroes' reception, says a short thank-you. Another cheer; the kids consider him a hero, too. "Lay it on, Jackson, lay it on!"

The Jackson 5 goes through it all with consummate grace. They accept a flag that has flown atop the state capitol, a gift from a Congressman. They get a plaque from Indiana University, for inspiring "hope for the young." Mayor Hatcher himself presents plaque keys to his city, so proud, today, "that the Jackson 5 has carried the name of Gary throughout the country and the world, and made it a name to be proud of."

Each of the Jackson 5 steps up for a few words. Tito sums it up: "We're glad to be home. There's no place like home."

(Concert)

"I'd like to talk to you all tonight about the blues. Yeah, the blues."

Mike's brothers are standing around pretending like this is the first time they've heard this, and do a mocking-the-kid-brother routine. "Don't nobody have the blues like I do," says Michael. "I may be young, but I know what it's all about."

He tells about this girl he met at school–in the sandbox. "We toasted our love during milk break." (The brothers snicker; Marlon walks off from the group disbelieving, shaking his head)..."And then I said to her..." A slam of the drums, and Michael oomphs up a crotch-thrust, the head goes down, and when it comes up again, he's crooning: "When I ..." broken up into about 10 syllables altogether, the first words of Smokey Robinson's Fifties song, "Who's Loving You."

And the brothers are an A-framed unit behind him, hands behind their buttocks like the Miracles, doing steps in place and weaving a perfect vocal backing. Marlon, two years older and two inches taller, is a superb dancer–confident and workmanlike in his younger brother's shadow. He'll flash a smile once in a while to say he's thoroughly enjoying being a part of this precision–a look you see on the face of an Ikette.

Marlon will grow to be handsome, where Mike will forever be, as almost all the girls say, "so cute." Jackie has grown to a bit over 5'10", and looks not unlike Sly on stage, an Indian-costumed stone among pebbles. Sometimes he looks out of place, his high cheekbones drawing his soft features into a just-about-adult face. Sometimes his role appears to be that of puppeteer, letting Marlon and Michael go only so far.

Tito is sturdy, serious, an Ali in demeanor, with a developing bass voice and a developing skill at lead guitar. He'll keep one leg out and planted while his fingers pick out simple lines.

With tinted shades and brown suede apple hat on, Toriano (the given name means "bull") rarely looks up and out to the audience to acknowledge all the Tito fans.

Jermaine is the innocent, lamb-y figure. He plays strong bass on his Fender jazz model, often playing a harmony line to support Tito's vocal effort. Jermaine has sung lead on several tunes, including the single, "I Found That Girl," but now he's worried a little 'cause his voice is changing. At 16, he's the perfect idol-figure for those who can't seriously get into 11-year-old Mike.

Now Michael's to the end of his woes, and he stretches it out, microphone tippled over his mouth: "Who-o-o-o-o ...'s loving you," the "you" broken down and up into six parts.

Then a James Brown spin and another pump of the still-forming pelvis while Marlon, Jermaine, and Jackie are just completing their spins, and they're ready to sing "Darling Dear." The show moves fast, from "Stand" right into the hits–"One More Chance" and "ABC," then a Traffic song they credit to Three Dog Night–"Feelin' All Right," which gives Tito a chance to move out on lead guitar; then the blues; then, usually, another nine or 10 numbers.

If the J-5 show lacks anything, it's surprises. Whatever happens, you can tell it's been worked out in long rehearsal sessions at home in the Hollywood hills or at Motown: Cousin Ronnie Rancifer stepping out to show off his funky chicken; Jermaine being directed by Jackie to sing a song to a particular girl in the audience: "That one there, in the red dress," and Jermaine does a job on her, serenading, "Won't you take me with you," his head shaking with the words, looking for a "yes." Or the singularly excellent dance routine for "Walk On By."

And the song salute to Gary, "Goin' Back to Indiana," met by power salutes by the pre-teens in Gary, at the West Side High gym. Fans stand up, here and there, to their full four or five foot heights and scream; girls soul-slap with each other to celebrate eye-contact with one of the Five; everywhere, kids are holding hands tightly in their excitement. But there is no mass movement, no jumping atop chairs and flooding of aisles, articulations of defiance, like at Sly concerts. The kids are like the Jackson 5; there is a lot of unself-conscious fun, but, also, a remarkable lack of tension.