The morphing of Michael Jackson

The handsome young man in a letterman's jacket had become a werewolf, a predator, chasing his girlfriend through the woods.

It was only a video. But the short horror film Jackson released in 1983 to promote his single "Thriller" increasingly looks like a metaphor for the grotesque public transformation that the artist would undergo in the ensuing years.

In the next two decades, everything about Jackson would change. He lost his position as the world's biggest pop figure. His physical appearance changed radically — it's been said that he went from looking like a young black man to an old white lady. Every subsequent album of all new material sold less than the one before it. Jackson, once one of Motown's signature artists, entered a creative quagmire as his sound was eclipsed by edgier rock and hip-hop artists. His public image spiraled downward as he was accused of being a sexual predator. Before our eyes, the young, sexy, sensitive star became a pariah.

"Thriller" divides Jackson's life almost perfectly in half. He was 24 and on top of the world when the record came out. He's 46, and though he was acquitted of child molestation and related charges Monday, he may well be ruined now.

It's so easy in 2005 to see the singer as a freak — indeed, that may be the only Jackson some young people know. But to fully understand the scope of his transformation, his tragic reversal of fortune, one must look back to Jackson's first 24 years, in which his career traveled on a sharp upward trajectory.

Look back at pictures of the Jackson 5, and you'll see a Jackson barely recognizable today. He was not Jackson, the weirdo. He was just Michael, America's little brother.

There he was, young Michael, surrounded by his bigger siblings. Mushrooming Afros, huge collars, toothy smiles.

Michael was the unquestioned star. Your eyes drew naturally to him, and you couldn't look away. He projected a rare blend of childlike innocence and adult poise. It was almost eerie.

Michael singing. Michael dancing. His voice so bubbly. His melodies so happy. His feet so light. Easy as ABC.

Soon he became a solo star, fusing heavy disco with gossamer R&B. He was an amazing dancer, the James Brown of his time, and his records came out of the box big. He had a hit with his first record, "Off the Wall." Then came "Thriller," which changed everything.

"Thriller" became his commercial and artistic pinnacle. The record sold 26 million copies in the United States, and six of its nine tracks were Top 10 hits. The "Thriller" video was unquestionably the most revolutionary in the history of MTV.

Then began the fall. Year by year, the positive aura that had once followed the singer like a halo started to disappear.

True, it would've been difficult for any adult star to maintain the enormous goodwill that the public had for a young Michael Jackson. But in the aftermath of "Thriller," the singer made it impossible for all but the most unwavering fans to keep their loyalty.

He became Wacko Jacko, better known for his eccentricities than his music. He begged to be left alone but played into public fascination with his eccentricity: He had a pet chimp and a theme park for a home. He wore a single glove. He married Elvis' daughter. He divorced Elvis' daughter. He walked under umbrellas in the sunlight. He dangled his baby from a hotel balcony.

He made a good record, "Bad," then a pretty good record, "Dangerous," and then found himself facing accusations that he'd molested a young boy.

In 1994, the year Jackson settled the case, this newspaper quoted Alan Towers (of Alan Towers Associates reputation management) as saying: "If Michael Jackson was a stock, and if there was any room left for it to go down, I would tell you chances are it would fall further after a settlement."

Noreen Jenney of the Celebrity Endorsement Network said at the time: "For a while he was able to exercise damage control, but even that point has passed. Maybe people will forget. But certainly not in the foreseeable future."

No one forgot. Michael went a full decade, from 1991 to 2001, without releasing a record of all-new material, and the album he finally did release ("Invincible") was a critical bomb that sold only 2.1 million copies in the United States, a huge sum for most artists but a pittance for the one-time King of Pop.

Then came the next round of abuse allegations, and this time the case went all the way through the jury process. Even those fans inclined to see him as a victim had to wonder about his insistence on playing — and, he admitted, lying in bed — with little children.

Jackson had long been unusually preoccupied with children. He once released a song, "Childhood," about this very thing. "People say I'm not OK 'cause I love such elementary things," he sang. "It's been my fate to compensate for the childhood I've never known."

As the trial unfolded, it became clear that the real issue at stake was lost innocence — the very issue that had haunted Jackson throughout his fall from grace. If he were found guilty, the world would know that he had robbed a small boy of his childhood. If Jackson were acquitted, maybe then the world would see the artist as he saw himself — a victim whose genuine, kindhearted love for children was cruelly exploited. A sad pop star who could never retrieve the years he gave to the public.

Now a California jury has found him not guilty. But the upshot would've been the same even if the verdict had gone the other way: A cloud has been cast over his entire career.

It's getting harder and harder to remember the young Michael singing "I Want You Back" or to recall just how astonished we all were the first time we saw an older Michael moonwalk. Tunes that initially seemed pure of heart have now taken on terrible double meanings.

The peppy love song "P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)" is soiled now, as one ponders, perhaps unfairly, the age and gender of the subject. The ballad "You Are Not Alone," which might've sounded adorable on "American Bandstand" in the '70s, now sounds creepy. These days, it's hard to imagine anyone wanting to be alone with Michael Jackson.

We didn't know what we were watching when the "Thriller" video debuted, all those years ago. And it's still hard to tell whether the film was a self-fulfilling prophecy or Jackson's conscious way of foretelling his inner need to molt.

Either way, it suggested something that, at the time, would've been unfathomable — once Michael Jackson turned into a beast, he could never turn back.