Michael Jackson - a physical wreck pushed to the limit to pay debts

Michael Jackson's London concerts were part of a push - including a possible 'Thriller' casino - to pay his mountain of debts. Photo / AP

Behind the face masks, and the bewildered stare, and that ashen brow that needed to be held together with sticking plaster, there was a hopeless vulnerability about Michael Jackson.

His sudden death might have shocked the world when it was first reported yesterday. But it also felt grimly inevitable.

Stars die young, of course. And though Jackson had reached the age of 50, he had never quite shaken off the fragile demeanour of a small child.

To his millions of fans, together with the small band of family members and old friends still allowed into his inner circle, the warning signs about his fading health, and the dangerous nature of his "comeback", were blindingly obvious.

Jackson was no longer the ball of vibrant energy who danced to "Billy Jean" and recorded Thriller, which is still, after all these years, the best-selling pop record of all time.

For years, he had looked thin, gaunt, and pallid. Since 2005, he'd been largely confined to a wheelchair and unable to work. Fans hadn't been able to see him on tour since 1997; his last original album was released back in 2001.

He also had long-standing problems with substance abuse. Evidence that emerged during his child molestation trial revealed that he suffered from an addiction to powerful opiate-based prescription painkillers.

He'd started taking them in the mid-1980s to cope with a lower-back problem that had frequently been aggravated by performing. There was no indication that he ever stopped.

Court documents released at the 2005 trial also suggested that Jackson's lifestyle was hopelessly, comically indulgent: a typical day involved rising at lunchtime, knocking back painkillers from silver pillboxes, watching Disney films and drinking bottle after bottle of expensive wine, which he controversially offered to his young companions, telling them it was "Jesus juice".

Put simply, Jackson had become a physical wreck. Even if he was able to sing (and at a press conference in March this year, he struggled to speak coherently), he was almost certainly incapable of performing a dance routine.

Elizabeth Taylor, the 77-year-old best friend who has now managed to outlive him, was probably in better shape.

This, however, was the man who earlier this year bullishly announced that he was going to relive his soaring glory days by getting back in peak physical condition and returning to the stage to headline a gruelling series of no less than 50 solo concerts at the O2 Arena in London.

Little wonder that even hopeless optimists among the 750,000 fans who helped tickets to the "This is it!" tour to sell out in hours, generating almost $255 million in overnight revenue, bought their seats in a spirit of hope rather than expectation.

Little wonder that music industry rivals were quick to question the wisdom of concert promoter AEG's decision to indulge the singer's attempts at a comeback, and remained quizzical about the nature of the insurance policy covering any "unforeseen events" that might cause the lucrative gigs to be cancelled.

And little wonder that many informed commentators predicted the worst, reminding readers that most stars of a similar vintage who remain on tour maintain a fearsome fitness regime. Madonna has her gym sessions and vitamin diets; Sting his yoga; even the Rolling Stones take to the treadmill from time to time.

Jackson, by comparison, was in shaky condition. Yet circumstances had forced him into the fatal London concert run. At a stage in his life when most pop legends have either shuffled off into genteel retirement, or settled into the sepia-tinged luxury of occasional nostalgia tours, the long-standing King of Pop had one very big problem: money.

Put simply, Jackson was in debt; vast quantities of it. Estimates of how much he owed ranged from a conservative $60m ($NZ92.9m), cited by news agencies yesterday, to the astonishing-sounding figure of $500m (NZ$775m) quoted by the Wall Street Journal in an investigation earlier this year.

Unfortunately, even existing was an expensive business. Many experts described him as a millionaire who was attempting to live like a billionaire. Since the early 1990s, the singer had fallen into the habit of spending between US$20m and $30m a year more than he made. Some of this was spent on $10,000-a-night hotel suites he liked to live in for weeks at a time. Other portions were spent on shopping splurges.

Staff costs, to maintain the often-dodgy entourage that surrounded him, have been estimated at $4m annually.

At the time of his death, he was living in a rented, French-chateau-style house in Los Angeles, once owned by Sean Connery, and costing $100,000 a month.

To subsidise this bizarre and lavish lifestyle, after his acquittal on charges of child molestation in 2005, Jackson had spent recent years attempting to freeload his way around the world, supported by star-struck benefactors.

He'd spent 2006 in Bahrain, as a guest of Sheikh Abdullah bin Hamad al-Khalifa, and later years in Ireland, where he lodged with the Riverdance star Michael Flatley. He has also popped-up in Dubai, Germany, the South of France and Japan, where he was seen signing autographs at $600 a pop.

Eventually, though, a string of debts and costly lawsuits caught up with him, and he returned to the US, initially basing himself at his mother's house in Las Vegas, early in 2008. His intention was to balance his books with one of the few assets he had left: his enduring fame.

The concert series, which would earn him an immediate $50m, was intended to be the first part of a string of ventures that would ultimately encompass a three-year world tour, a new album, promotional movies, a Graceland-like museum, musicals in Las Vegas and Macau, and even a Thriller casino.

In three years, the plan went, Jackson would be able retire in comfort. However, in recent months, evidence began to emerge that the stresses of re-launching his career were weighing heavily on his fragile soul.

In May, it also emerged that he was suffering from minor skin cancer. AEG was suddenly forced to delay the scheduled date of the opening night of his London run, due to what it described as "unforeseen circumstances".

An investigation by The Wrap, a Hollywood website, then revealed that Jackson had only showed up to two rehearsals at the venue in Burbank where the concert was being put together. He had been due to attend more than 40. When he did appear, one witness said he seemed "lethargic."

At the time, Ramone Bain, Jackson's former publicist, expressed doubts that the concerts would go ahead at all, saying that dancers had yet to be hired and that Jackson, who remained a proud individual with a healthy ego, was deeply troubled at the prospect of attracting negative reviews.

Jackson's father worried that he was addicted to morphine.

In the pressure-cooker atmosphere of recent weeks, with the O2 run fast approaching, Jackson had finally begun attending rehearsals under the watchful eye of creative director Kenny Ortega. He was running through his routine at the Staples Centre in Downtown Los Angeles on the eve of his death.

The suddenly heavy workload, and growing emotional strain, came as Jackson also adopted a vigorous workout schedule under the watchful eye of his friend Lou Ferrigno, the actor who achieved fame playing the Incredible Hulk. His death could leave AEG nursing losses of up to $40m.

Some say it serves them right for indulging the singer's far-fetched belief that he was capable of a comeback. Others say they can hardly be expected to take responsibility for a veteran showman's enduring desire to entertain his public.

Either way, the coming months will almost certainly represent a bloodbath for lawyers and a slew of other former connections, who will attempt to extract their pound of flesh from Jackson's estate.

- THE INDEPENDENT