W hen people hear “Gary, Indiana,” they often picture steel mills and smokestacks, the hum of labor, and the grit of everyday life. But those who know its heart understand Gary as something far deeper—a cradle of rhythm, faith, and family. It’s where one of the greatest musical stories ever told began: The Jackson 5.
Born of Grit and Gospel
Before sequined gloves and moonwalks, the Jackson family lived in a small, two-bedroom home at 2300 Jackson Street. Katherine and Joseph Jackson raised nine children in that modest house, where music wasn’t just a pastime—it was purpose.
Joseph, a U.S. Steel worker and former musician, recognized his sons’ gift early. He drilled discipline into talent, and their rehearsals often filled the tiny house with the sound of possibility.
The brothers started out playing in school gyms, local clubs, and church basements, their harmonies shaped by gospel and Motown dreams. By the time they won Amateur Night at the Apollo Theater, they had become a force. Signed to Motown Records in 1968, the Jackson 5 exploded onto the scene with I Want You Back, ABC, and The Love You Save—each song a joyful reminder that something extraordinary was happening in Gary, Indiana.
After They Left, the Beat Went On
I often tell people, I moved to Gary after the Jackson 5 left to become famous.
It’s true—and in a way, it feels like I was walking into their echo.
My family lived at 3375 Georgia Street and later at 1324 Connecticut, not far from where the Jacksons first dreamed their way out of the city. I went to George Washington Carver for second grade and Dunbar Elementary for third. I still have my class pictures, and though I don’t remember their names, my classmates’ faces hold precious memories.
When I think back on those days, I can’t help but imagine that the same kind of dreams that lifted the Jacksons were still in the air, lingering like music that never quite faded. In Gary, even the silence had rhythm.
They never stopped being Gary Kids. They just took the sound of our city wherever they went.
The Lost Footage That Found Me
Decades later, I stumbled upon a black-and-white video tucked away in my Promo.com account. It showed the Jackson 5 sitting in chairs, sipping from paper cups. They looked casual, content, older than their ABC days but still unmistakably boys from Gary.
At the end, a man in a suit stood and handed Michael Jackson a framed record. I had no audio—just gestures, smiles, and a moment frozen in time.
Curious, I dug deeper and discovered the original clip on Getty Images: Wellington, New Zealand, 1973.
The Jackson 5 were being presented with a gold disc for “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.”
In the full version, you can hear their laughter as reporters ask about missing school and how they planned tours around summer vacation. It’s a tender, human scene—global superstars still grounded enough to talk about homework.
That moment hit me. Here they were, half a world away, yet their politeness, humility, and charm were pure Gary. Watching it, I realized I wasn’t just seeing celebrity; I was witnessing our shared story—the one that begins in small classrooms, modest homes, and the unshakable belief that where you start doesn’t define where you’ll go.
Gary Still Sings
The Jackson 5 didn’t just put Gary on the map—they made it sing. Their rise was proof that brilliance can bloom anywhere, even in the shadow of smokestacks.
Today, you can still feel their spirit here. Murals, festivals, and tributes keep their legacy alive, but the real monument is invisible—it’s in the rhythm of every dreamer who dares to believe that greatness is possible, right where they stand.