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They first met as kids, performing with their brothers, at the Canadian National Exhibition in Toronto in 1971.
“I remember seeing Michael peeking out the side of the curtain watching me during the show. In hindsight that was a pretty amazing moment, but at the moment it was like, ‘There’s my buddy looking at me stage right,'” Osmond recalled, adding how earlier in the day they had played backstage like two normal 13-year-olds. “It’s really difficult talking about … these two little teenagers who are just selling amazing amounts of records and having number-one records and very powerful recording artists, and all they want to do is just be kids.
“Those were the innocent, wonderful moments before life got difficult and complicated.”
A decade later, when they went to see the movie “The Dark Crystal,” Jackson insisted they wear disguises — and the pair turned up in trench coats, wigs and sunglasses. “We were just trying to be normal,” Osmond said. Still, everyone knew it was them.
That same year, Jackson’s massive hit album “Thriller” came out (Osmond was one of the first to hear it), but Osmond’s own career had crashed and burned. “I couldn’t get a record deal. I couldn’t get arrested,” he remembered.
His then-publicist half-joked that he should get himself arrested for drug possession to get attention and look edgy and grown-up.
Jackson, however, had other advice.
“I said, ‘Mike, how do I get back on the charts? How do I get back out there?’ And he said, ‘Well, you got to change your name. Your name is poison!'”
“And it was quite offensive,” Osmond admitted. “But what’s interesting is that he told me that in ’83, and it wasn’t until 1989, that ‘Soldier of Love’ became a hit without my name. So Michael was right.”
Radio DJs had refused to spin anything by Osmond, but the song was good. So they played it, but didn’t say who the singer was — until it was a hit.
“The greatest thing that ever happened to me was I lost my career,” Osmond mused, taking stock in the fact that failure makes you more grateful when you succeed. “And it’s so strange for me to hear me say that because the ’80s were the worst decade of my life because I didn’t have a career.”
Years later, Osmond and Jackson had plans to record a cover duet of Stevie Wonder’s “I Wish,” but Jackson had to postpone as he faced charges of child molestation. (Jackson was acquitted.)
The last time they spoke was when Jackson called about a year before his 2009 death from cardiac arrest caused by an overdose.
“I said, ‘Mike, where are you?’ He says, ‘I can’t tell you.’ I said, ‘Mike, come on. You’re talking to me. Where are you?’ He said, ‘Please don’t tell anybody, but I’m in Phoenix. I rented a tour bus and I got my kids and we drove to Phoenix and I’m in hiding right now.’
“I said, ‘It’s a nine-hour drive to my home in Utah. I want your kids to go swimming with my kids. You’re going to have a wonderful conversation with my wife and myself. And I’m going to bring some normalcy into your life.’
“And he said, ‘I really need that right now.’ But he never took me up on it.”
Osmond admits that the Jackson he knew, though, was gone long before his death.
“We lost a genius and not just upon his passing, but upon the changes in his life,” Osmond said. “It’s those roads that people keep you on — it forces you to be someone that you aren’t in reality. But the Mike that I hold onto in my mind is the kid I met in Toronto.”
At the time of Jackson’s death, the singer was mid-rehearsal for a series of enormous gigs at London’s O2 Arena.
“His life was so messed up at the end … with the pressure of doing all the shows that he ought not to have signed up to do,” Osmond said. But he understands the pressure to perform.
“It’s not only that you can’t say no, but you’ve got hundreds and hundreds of millions of dollars of investors on your back. And they say, ‘You can’t say no, because we’re telling you what to do, because it’s our money.'”
source:https://pagesix.com/2022/02/19/donny-osmond-on-puppy-love-and-the-one-time-he-trashed-a-hotel-room/
“I remember seeing Michael peeking out the side of the curtain watching me during the show. In hindsight that was a pretty amazing moment, but at the moment it was like, ‘There’s my buddy looking at me stage right,'” Osmond recalled, adding how earlier in the day they had played backstage like two normal 13-year-olds. “It’s really difficult talking about … these two little teenagers who are just selling amazing amounts of records and having number-one records and very powerful recording artists, and all they want to do is just be kids.
“Those were the innocent, wonderful moments before life got difficult and complicated.”
A decade later, when they went to see the movie “The Dark Crystal,” Jackson insisted they wear disguises — and the pair turned up in trench coats, wigs and sunglasses. “We were just trying to be normal,” Osmond said. Still, everyone knew it was them.
That same year, Jackson’s massive hit album “Thriller” came out (Osmond was one of the first to hear it), but Osmond’s own career had crashed and burned. “I couldn’t get a record deal. I couldn’t get arrested,” he remembered.
His then-publicist half-joked that he should get himself arrested for drug possession to get attention and look edgy and grown-up.
Jackson, however, had other advice.
“I said, ‘Mike, how do I get back on the charts? How do I get back out there?’ And he said, ‘Well, you got to change your name. Your name is poison!'”
“And it was quite offensive,” Osmond admitted. “But what’s interesting is that he told me that in ’83, and it wasn’t until 1989, that ‘Soldier of Love’ became a hit without my name. So Michael was right.”
Radio DJs had refused to spin anything by Osmond, but the song was good. So they played it, but didn’t say who the singer was — until it was a hit.
“The greatest thing that ever happened to me was I lost my career,” Osmond mused, taking stock in the fact that failure makes you more grateful when you succeed. “And it’s so strange for me to hear me say that because the ’80s were the worst decade of my life because I didn’t have a career.”
Years later, Osmond and Jackson had plans to record a cover duet of Stevie Wonder’s “I Wish,” but Jackson had to postpone as he faced charges of child molestation. (Jackson was acquitted.)
The last time they spoke was when Jackson called about a year before his 2009 death from cardiac arrest caused by an overdose.
“I said, ‘Mike, where are you?’ He says, ‘I can’t tell you.’ I said, ‘Mike, come on. You’re talking to me. Where are you?’ He said, ‘Please don’t tell anybody, but I’m in Phoenix. I rented a tour bus and I got my kids and we drove to Phoenix and I’m in hiding right now.’
“I said, ‘It’s a nine-hour drive to my home in Utah. I want your kids to go swimming with my kids. You’re going to have a wonderful conversation with my wife and myself. And I’m going to bring some normalcy into your life.’
“And he said, ‘I really need that right now.’ But he never took me up on it.”
Osmond admits that the Jackson he knew, though, was gone long before his death.
“We lost a genius and not just upon his passing, but upon the changes in his life,” Osmond said. “It’s those roads that people keep you on — it forces you to be someone that you aren’t in reality. But the Mike that I hold onto in my mind is the kid I met in Toronto.”
At the time of Jackson’s death, the singer was mid-rehearsal for a series of enormous gigs at London’s O2 Arena.
“His life was so messed up at the end … with the pressure of doing all the shows that he ought not to have signed up to do,” Osmond said. But he understands the pressure to perform.
“It’s not only that you can’t say no, but you’ve got hundreds and hundreds of millions of dollars of investors on your back. And they say, ‘You can’t say no, because we’re telling you what to do, because it’s our money.'”
source:https://pagesix.com/2022/02/19/donny-osmond-on-puppy-love-and-the-one-time-he-trashed-a-hotel-room/