1978年MJ 和世界小姐Penny Commissiong

來源：mjjcn.com   作者：Sara Lee
 

圖中為年輕的MJ 和那年新當選的世界小姐Penny Commissiong

JANELLE COMMISSIONG, the First Black to become Miss Universe in 1977.下面是Mark Lyndersay 關於這張照片的回憶：


當時唱片公司負責與媒體打交道的人安排了這次會面——第一位黑人世界小姐與包括未來的KOP在內的Jackson兄弟們。我是當時唯一在場的攝影師，那時用的相機還是個攝影新手才用的Pentax K1000，閃光燈也很小。我給這次會面照了相，拍照過程中因為太緊張了，以至於Penny 都好奇地問跟我一起去的同事：“ 他平常也這麼緊張嗎？”事後，唱片公司的人顯然很喜歡Penny 和Michael 的這張合影，他們立即要求我加印多份，以便分發給國內外的多家媒體。

之後，應有關方面的請求，傑克遜兄弟在當地短暫逗留期間，我也作為陪同之一跟隨他們活動。不過，這期間也沒發生什麼特別的事。傑克遜兄弟給媒體的印象是溫和有禮的黑人青年的形象，有時還會有點兒害羞，事實上他們大多數的時候也的確如此。需要時，也會很有禮貌地給歌迷們簽名。

Michael 是Jackson 兄弟中最沉默寡言的一個，他總是微微低著頭，就好像他那非洲風味的爆炸頭，對他來講太過沉重似的。與兄弟們相比，他說話聲音也很輕，面對別人直視的目光，他總是以羞澀地微笑來回應。

一個周日的下午，他請求我和John Cupido（當地接待Jacksons 的負責人）跟他一起出去走走，“去見見人”，用他的話來說。他的保鏢們則開著車，在不遠的地方跟著我們。

那天下午，這個瘦瘦的年輕人就這樣沿著上坡的街道走著，午後的微風吹亂了他滿頭的捲髮。他邊走邊跟人打招呼，握手，還不時停下來跟當地人聊天，讓那些午後在自家走廊上乘涼的人們都很吃驚。一路上我拍了許多照片，Michael 說他會把這些照片收進他的私人影集，作為旅行紀念。

後來我把還未沖洗的膠捲給了他，他們則付了酬金給我。有時我會想像著在Michael Jackson王國的某個角落裏，有這麼一本舊舊的影集，裏面貼的正是那些我拍的但卻從未見過的照片。

那天晚上，我還有機會見識了MJ 真實生活中的一面。當時他的保鏢們開著車跟在我們乘坐的汽車後面。汽車行駛到Skinner Park大街時就開不動了，那裏已經聚集了許多人在等著想要看一眼他們的大明星。我們的車窗是那種暗色玻璃的，從裏向外望，可以看到許多手在拍我們的車窗，還有人摸索著試圖打開車門。都怪我當時粗心忘記鎖上後車門了，結果車門竟然就這樣給碰開了一條縫，外面的叫喊聲立即清晰地傳了進來。我抬眼望去，看著這個屬於Michael Jackson 的世界：那簡直就像是一張巨大的網，目光所及之處都是人，看到的儘是人們睜大的眼睛，張大的嘴巴，還伴隨著那震耳欲聾的喊聲。

突然旁邊伸出的一隻手越過了我，一把抓住了門把手，很有教養卻又非常堅決地將車門牢牢地鎖上，然後那手又撤了回去，外面的喊聲也隨之低了下去（Sara：這裏指的是Michael 關上了車門，因為當時作者是跟MJ 坐在後排的）。我還在發懵，沒完全反應過來，這時就聽到保鏢叫到：“ 絕對，絕對不能忘記鎖車門！”。

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++（Sara：作者上面描述的那個場景的確有些嚇人，那時的MJ 還沒出來單飛就已經要經常面對那種場面了，而且日後他面對的情形只能用“愈演愈烈”來形容了。。。MS 別的大明星好像沒有誰會像MJ 這樣，從小到大，自始至終地被人“圍追堵截”吧？！怎麼會這樣？！ ）



February 1978, Michael Jackson meets the new Miss Universe Penny Commissiong at the Hilton Hotel
Penny meets the boys
Through a confluence of event and opportunity, I ended up in a small meeting room at the Hilton where the Jacksons were to meet local performers a day before the first of their local concerts. Alfred Aguiton’s new public relations company, AMPLE, was handling the press liaison, and he struck on the idea of bringing Penny Commissiong down to meet the boys. His brother, William, worked at the hotel and facilitated the request and so it came to pass that the first black Miss Universe came to meet the future King of Pop.

And I was the only photographer in the room. Armed with a beginner’s Pentax, the K1000 and a little flash, I shot the encounter, prompting a bemused Penny to ask my colleague, Joan Christopher in an aside she later took some glee in reporting to me, “Does he normally shake so much?” The resulting photo of Penny and Michael greatly pleased the Epic representatives, who requested prints that were promptly circulated to the international press.

There is, regrettably, little that happened of any consequence during their short stay. The boys, minus their brother Jermaine who remained with Motown, were press savvy, presenting themselves as quiet, generally shy young black men who largely kept to themselves and signed autographs politely when cornered.

Michael was the quietest of the group, prone to gently bowing his head as if the weight of his enormous afro was just a little too much for him, speaking a pitch and tone lower than his brothers and responding to direct looks with a shy smile. Thriller, cosmetic surgery and vitiligo were still in this young man’s future. At his request, John Cupid and I accompanied him to the top of Picton Road in Laventille, his security rolling along in a car a respectful but close distance behind as he set out to “meet the people,” as he put it.

The lanky young black man, his hair a massive puff that swayed in the evening breeze, walked along the road, waving, shaking hands and chatting with surprised people relaxing in their verandahs on a warm sunny Sunday afternoon. I photographed the entire encounter for what I was told were his scrapbooks, memoirs he gathered of his travels.
In return for another pittance, I handed over my unprocessed film of this evening stroll. Somewhere in the collected properties of the Michael Jackson empire, I sometimes imagine, is an old scrapbook full of these pictures, images I’ve never seen. I learned less about Michael Jackson’s world that evening than I had the day before, when the security team I was travelling with switched cars with the Jackson ’s official vehicle.

We bundled into the car in the evening on its way to Skinner Park , and it rolled into a huge crowd waiting for the pop stars. Hands pressed against the tinted glass and groped at the door handle of the backdoor. I had failed to lock the door, and it sprang open with a roar of screams, now clearly audible.

I looked up, into the face of Michael Jackson’s world, a web of grasping digits, wide eyes and open mouths beyond them, accompanied by a ululating screech. A hand shot past me, pushing me back into my seat and seizing the door handle firmly, gently but forcibly shutting it again as the hands retreated and the sound dimmed. Through my shock, I heard the guard growl, “You never, ever, forget to lock the door.”