MICHAEL Jackson, loneliness. One day, shortly before turning 30, he made his dark skin as white as the creamy langsat flower, and his flat nose as sharp as carved ivory. "See," the detractors said, "the negro is rejecting his origins! He is ashamed of the features of his race!"

They did not ask why, they thought they knew why. Michael, they said, wants to be the brightest of evening stars. He is constantly dressing