20th Anniversary: The King of Pop's royal procession

It's not clear why Michael Jackson chose Prague as the place to kick off his HIStory tour in the autumn of 1996.

But like many of his music business decisions, this proved a sound one. Around 125,000 people packed into Letná Park, making it one of Jackson's largest single concert events, highlighting a business acumen that was at least as large as his musical talent.

Fourteen years ago, Jackson was one of the only bankable stars with Sony Music; English indie rockers Oasis, originally signed to Creation (a small label later swallowed by Sony), were one of the only others. As a result, music industry executives were extremely keen to please the man whose musical oeuvre was, in effect, bankrolling their paychecks.

Which might explain the statues. Jackson reportedly told Sony executives to build a statue of him to promote the tour. They ordered the construction of nine towering steel and fiberglass figures. These 10-meter-tall effigies became the centerpiece of the $30 million campaign to promote him, his new album and the tour, the most expensive music campaign ever at that time.

One of these imposing figures - featuring Jackson in military uniform, bandolier across his chest, fists clenched at his side, gazing off into the distance - was trucked to Prague from Germany, a couple of days prior to the concert. The 18-wheeler bringing the dismantled statue, ballast tanks and steel ropes had to carefully plan the route to evade sharp curves.

The Czech roadies tasked with rigging the event had of course never handled an object of that size, and almost lost control of the 2,100-kilogram figure while hoisting it into position atop Letná. They eventually successfully mounted it on the spot where a monument to Josef Stalin had once stood. And then pulled it down two days later.

The statue was an audacious statement, especially given that a year earlier, Jackson had his first court appearance on child molestation charges. But the statue added to the cult of Jackson, flaming the hysteria that fired through the streets of the Czech capital in the days before the Sept. 7 concert, with thousands and thousands of besotted fans filing in from all over the world.

Die-hard Jackson fans are fanatics. There were two Czech Jackson fan clubs at that time, members of which were name-calling each other, cat-fighting over who had the right to claim the "official" fan club title. This title brought with it the promise of extra Jackson promotional goodies from the record company.

Jackson flew into town a few days before the concert, commanding the upper floor of the Hotel InterContinental in Prague 1. Fans who occupied the square outside the hotel 24-7 were rewarded with the occasional glimpse and wave from the man as he leaned from a window, or came and went, usually led by a chain of children recruited by local record company staff. Jackson himself ensured that when he got on or off the elevator and would be spotted in the lobby, there would always be kids around him.

Jackson gave no press interviews. A friend of mine was one of the privileged few who got to shake hands with the man himself in one of Jackson's hotel rooms, after the concert. Yes, Jackson did wear a single glove to the meet and greet. But far from coming across as a self-obsessive loony, as other stars have, this friend came away with the distinct impression that Jackson was in control and a very smart and self-assured music business professional. While local Sony people were busy recruiting kids for Jackson's entourage, Jackson was asking Sony heads what they could they do to improve sales of HIStory. 

The author was a Prague Post reporter from 1995 to 1999. She now manages media for the Australian Department of Families, Housing, Community Services and Indigenous Affairs in Canberra.

Michele Legge can be reached at
news@praguepost.com