The Kid was about seven months old at the time so there I was, breastfeeding at the show settlements with Michael’s tour accountant and Paul Gongaware, production director for all of Michael’s shows.  Did I think I’d ever find myself in this…uh…position?  Well, no.  But that’s how it went for two nights in January 1997 when we co-promoted Michael Jackson’s final (and only U.S.) HIStory Tour concert dates.

Aloha Stadium was transformed into a massive city of trailers, tents, ramps, plywood highways, and one of the largest sets ever constructed.  There were a staggering 400 people involved in staging these shows.  Michael’s dressing room was decorated like a heavenly Hawaiian hut and thousands upon thousands of avid MJ fans had managed to do the unthinkable; sell out an Aloha Stadium concert in under 2 hours.  Ainsley Paki, the superb box office manager, printed special imaged tickets on his shiny new computerized ticketing system but the whole networked ticketing gig was in its infancy so we faced some pretty interesting challenges.

And then there were the VIP tickets.  No one had done anything on the scale of the MJ VIP pre-concert parties before this, and no one has ever matched the party attendance numbers.  Until Janet Jackson performed with us two years later, no one matched MJ’s concert attendance numbers, either.

Aside from the surreal settlement clash between my new mom self and my concert promotion maven self, I had a lot of really high highs and a lot of really low lows during those shows.  One of my favorite memories is of dancing with the Kid in my arms at the back of the field during Michael’s finale as pyrotechnics lit up the night sky.  I wondered if the ash raining on me was ruining anyone else’s night (it did…a burned jacket and a scarred paint job on the Stadium Director’s car).  Projects of this magnitude have so many moving parts it’s not even funny, yet Paul’s expert mentoring and a lot of cooperation (mixed with the stupidity of having a S.W.A.T. team combing the aisles) made for an experience of the good, the bad AND the ugly kind that I will cherish until my dying day.

So there was no question in my mind that I was going to see “This Is It” on the day it was released.  And you know what?  I left the theater in tears because I was moved by what John Meglen, Paul Gongaware, and Kenny Ortega put together (there were scores of others involved but I only know these three).

As concert films go, “This Is It” is atypical.  There were no sneak peeks into the catering tent, no forays into the dressing rooms, no cameras trailing the star of the show as he walked the corridor toward a triumphant entrance before thousands of screaming, adoring fans on the first night of the concert tour.  There were no climactic anythings, really, from start to finish, and yet I sat riveted, taking in every sight, every sound, every crazy dance step, every soft-spoken utterance from Michael’s lips, every glimpse into the Show That Should Have Been.  This carefully choreographed film runs solely on the energy and vibe of its star but is punctuated by amazingly intimate details: Michael getting too much mix in his ears, Michael needing the timing to be perfect on his cues, Michael talking about why he writes music that deals with ecology.

Had Michael Jackson performed this concert in O2 as planned it would have been the concert of the decade if not the millennium.  There is no doubt in my mind that 50 shows would not have been the end, that the engagement could have extended for twice that.  It would have been a concert worth seeing more than once and it would have been a concert worth seeing even if you weren’t a hardcore MJ fan.  The showmanship, the presentation, the music, the nostalgia, the technical precision, the amazing choreography, the very cool cherry picker and bulldozer hidden in the stage (tell me, Paul, were you thinking of =touring= with that rig?!  My gosh!).

I cried because “This Is It” would never be seen.  I cried because in the end MJ was still writing amazing songs that would never be sung…not by him, at least…songs about love and hope and change and responsible stewardship.  I cried because he looked good, sounded great, and put a lot of the rest of us in his age bracket to shame with our sedentary, middle-aged ways.  And I cried because I was grateful for the memories the movie brought to me of that week in January when I got the chance to work on something grand with the King of Pop.

Watching him strut his stuff at 50 years of age, keeping up with dancers and musicians half his age, was inspiring.  I finally got the reason he danced the way he did.  He felt the music in every muscle, every tendon, every nerve…the dancing was another voice for the music, an extension of the lyrics.  Why’d it take me his whole career to see that?  It makes me feel like I wasn’t paying attention, I wasn’t getting Michael Jackson.  Well I get him now and I’m sorry I’ll never be able to celebrate it in a live setting.

We’re probably never going to know the real answers to all the questionable activities in his personal life.  We’re probably never going to get over the fact that he was from another planet in a distant galaxy.  We may have hated the plastic surgeries or Bubbles the Chimp or the shrouds that covered his children’s faces but we cannot deny that he had talents far greater than most (if not all) of his peers.

Do yourself a favor and see “This Is It” on the big screen.  If you were ever a fan it will mean so many things to you.  If you were never a fan it is still a masterful glimpse into the world of concert rehearsals with the most intriguing entertainer the world has ever known.