A syndicated episode of Saved By the Bell unspools on the television over the rear bar, and it’s the very least of the pop-culture artifacts on display. The Joint’s three levels contain 550 lots’ worth of Jackson Family Memorabilia, including a framed MGM Grand Celebrity Room menu boasting an appearance by the Jackson Five; a license plate frame reading, “I Love Louie, My Llama”; a gold “Weird Al” Yankovic record “Presented to Michael Jackson to Commemorate the Sale of More Than 500,000 Copies of the Rock ‘N’ Roll Records Long-Playing Record Album In 3-D”; Randy’s bongo drums; an Adonis Vsop Brandy poster “For the man of rare beauty,” featuring Joe; an autographed can of “jocola”; and a collection of Michael magazine covers including Billboard, Life, Rolling Stone, Tiger Beat, Black Beat and Tuf Mag. And that’s just on the top levels. Down near the stage, where guards casually flip through the $25 catalogs, mannequins fill out seemingly every bell-bottomed, bedazzled outfit a Jackson ever wore in public. Mugging tourists photograph themselves next to Neverland art (the Disney version), while over by a cabinet of contracts, a ponytailed hippie chirps “My Daddy Touched Me” to the tune of “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough” and mimics dance moves indicating such.
Photo by: Danny Lott
Guernsey’s Auction House senior designer Christian Jensen paces the displays answering questions about the 1,100 lots of Jermaine, Tito, LaToya, et al’s rummagings, while president Arlan Ettinger perches like a hawk on a stool next to the entrance, commanding attendants to snap to when curious passersby enter with must-check baggage. “You’ve got to be in it to win it,” he says gravely of both the physical and online auctions, taking place in four sessions over Wednesday and Thursday. “This is the real McCoy. There will never be another exhibit of this magnitude.” Near the front, meanwhile, a tan woman in high heels and a leopard-print bikini takes video of strangers fawning over a young Janet’s Mae West costume.
It’s a gathering both informal and holy, impressive and melancholy. A lot of yesteryear’s treasures will end up in unfamiliar mitts, but it also raises the question: If Marlon Brando’s telegrams and Tito’s hand-written “ABC” lyrics are the castoffs, what sort of stuff did the brood actually hold onto?