NEW YORK — Starting about 6 p.m., a crowd began gathering under the blinking white lights of the Apollo Theater marquee on 125th Street in New York’s Harlem neighborhood. The marquee read: “In Memory of Michael Jackson, A True Apollo Legend, 1958-2009.”

By 9 p.m., it had grown to more than 200 people, most of them dancing and singing along to a boom box that played Jackson hits such as “I’ll Be There,” “Billie Jean” and “Off the Wall.” T-shirts bearing vintage photos of the star were selling for $20.
Jackson had performed at the theater numerous times, beginning when he was 9 years old as a member of the Jackson 5 and as late as 2002 for a Democratic fundraiser, according to Apollo historian Billy Mitchell.
“This is the Apollo’s way of saying thank you,” said Mitchell of the boisterous spontaneous gathering. “The first time I saw him he was 9 years old, and he was way better than any kid I had ever seen at that young age,” Mitchell said. “He was with his brothers, but you could easily see that Michael could dance and sing better.”
Fan Louise Butler of New York was returning home on a train from Washington, D.C., when she heard the news of Jackson’s death and immediately arranged for a car to take her to the Apollo. “He was a king,” she said. “His music will live forever.”
Said New York resident Roosevelt Michael, as he danced to “Off the Wall”: “Much love. He was the greatest of all times — besides James Brown!” — Jerry Shriver
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In Greenwich Village’s Washington Square Park, a mecca for musicians, a tribute to Jackson broke out among a quartet of men (two guitarists, a clarinetist and an exuberant clapper), belting hits from “I Want You Back” to “Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough” to “The Way You Make Me Feel.” It was the kind of impromptu memorial Shaneve Tripp was in search of when she left her nearby apartment.
“I was hoping to see other people here so I could just share the memory of Michael,” said Tripp, 25, who just graduated from nearby New York University.
The multiracial, multi-age crowd of two dozen — from the homeless to the professional — yelled out requests and sang and clapped and toe-tapped along. Spectators recorded the scene on their smart phones. A man with a Jackson-esque falsetto and guitar strapped to his back joined in.
As the sun set, the audience had swelled to several dozen. “I want to remember him in a happy way,” said Tripp, a “huge” fan who hosted Jackson parties in high school. “When you experience music and dance, it’s easier.
”I’m upset he died at such a low point,“ Tripp said. ”I’m glad to see that so far people are supportive and kind and there aren’t too many cruel jokes.“ This ad hoc jam session is ”cathartic.“
A few blocks uptown, a white van parked outside Union Square Park blasted Jackson.
Jackson’s hand-scrawled, nearly illegible lyrics to ”Billie Jean,“ his gold-beaded Sgt. Pepper-esque jacket worn for ”We Are the World“ and his long black fingerless gloves that grace the cover of ”Bad“ felt extra lonely at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Annex in SoHo. They were cased in glass next to a jumpsuit and hand-scrawled Bible once owned by that other entertainment icon who died too young and too quickly, Elvis.
Jaxon Twain, 27, a musician and security worker at the museum, agreed that the two dates, Aug. 16, 1977, and June 25, 2009, would prove to be equally significant.
He predicted that tomorrow’s crowd was ”going to be crazy. ... He’s one of the most popular exhibits. Everyone always stops here, even young kids.“
With the current John Lennon exhibit next door, ”people get so sad. They start crying. And now, it’s here,“ he said, gesturing to the jacket, so tiny it looks like it would fit a women’s size 6.
After he got off work, his plan was a YouTube-d Jackson fest.
Standing in the accompanying store, Keith Vyse, memorabilia manager at Gotta Have It!, which specializes in music auctions, said Jackson gear has always done well, and ”we expect it to now fetch an even higher premium.“ The next batch goes on sale next month.
Twain’s Annex co-worker, Yvonne De La Rosa, planned to pop in her well-worn, 20-year-old VHS tape of the making of the ”Thriller“ video when she got home to the Bronx. ”I almost expected him to live forever because he’s so iconic, so big,“ said De La Rosa, 25. ”I’m mostly sad for the people who won’t be able to know what he was like before the pedophilia stuff. It kind of left a negative impression on who he is. It’s sad he died before he had a chance to redeem himself. Even though it was never proven, it still left a mark on his legacy.“
Twain isn’t as worried about what future generations will think. ”All that stuff will disappear. It’s his talent that will really be remembered.
“Most kids don’t know who half the people are in this room, but they know Michael.”