Pop culture news learned on the street

Worldwide icon: Graffiti portrait of a young Michael Jackson in Berlin. Image courtesy of Flickr user stylespion.

I had an inkling that today would be interesting and sure enough, I, along with the rest of the world, watched three pop culture events upfold.

The first was discovered when I updated my Twitter to link to my latest food blog post. I noticed several Cavs fans excited about Shaq coming to Cleveland. I did a quick search and saw that, yes, Shaq will don a crimson and gold jersey next season. I don’t even like basketball, but it was enough to get my attention. I might not have seen his skills on the court, but I have watched him as the star of Kazaam.

The second was that Farrah Fawcett had died from cancer. I know next to nothing about Fawcett, save that she was on Charlie’s Angels (and referenced in a Gilmore Girls episode) and that she recently let cameras document her struggle with cancer in an NBC  prime-time special. After reading a few short tributes and clips, I admire what she did with her portrayal of a battered woman in The Burning Bed.

But Fawcett, just as she was eclipsed in fame by other rising stars during life, didn’t hold the top story position for long. Michael Jackson died from a heart attack in an L.A. hospital.

How I learned about Jackson’s death is strange. For the first time in my life, I literally heard the word on the street. I was walking home from work, which takes  me directly through the National Mall, and I heard two people on their cell phones say that Michael Jackson was dead. Something in me was irked because this it was one of the few times during the day that I didn’t have access to a computer (and no, I don’t have Internet on my phone). I was so bothered by not knowing the story that I called my parents. They actually hadn’t heard the news, so they got online and started reading me headlines and blurbs.

But here’s what I’m wondering in retrospect: Why did I care?

He wasn’t an artist that I particularly followed, like Springsteen or Petty, even though I regularly put his music on playlists. I hadn’t been interested in his upcoming O2 tour. I didn’t even care what was said about him in the tabloids.

I can only come up with a two-part reason. The first is that the man, whether you liked him or not, was a legend. The second is that I am, as one friend described me, a “Web 2.0 journalist.” I work online, but it’s also my primary source of news. I want accurate answers and I want them fast. Jackson’s health wasn’t in the news like Fawcett’s had been. Her death was somewhat expected; Jackson’s was not.

After getting my fill of Jackson details, I also realized that for once Jackson was remembered for what he was: a musician and performer. Not one headline that I saw used the moniker “Wacko Jacko” or referred to his plastic surgery or allegations of sexual molestation. No, the headlines all proclaimed him “King of Pop” once more.

And that’s good because soon enough the other stories will make the rounds online. I’m sure there will be reports about his will, his massive debt, his children, his personal possessions and his ownership of the Beatles catalogue. For now, though, he is remembered as the King of Pop and as someone with immense talent, who had problems, but still managed to leave a mark in this world.

An interesting day for pop culture, indeed.