Big fish in a small jury pool

If any place has a shot at producing the uber-Michael Jackson juror, capable of ignoring what the Japanese, Germans and English can’t seem to get enough of, it’s this quiet Central Coast town. Its demographics would seem to hold out some hope of yielding that magical somebody who has escaped the pop culture ether and hasn’t heard about the moonwalk, the glove, the plastic surgery gone wild, the baby over the balcony, the child molestation charges, the King of Pop himself.

Despite showing halting signs of wanting to be a bona fide city -- lots of housing construction and familiar franchises like Home Depot and Applebee’s -- this enclave of roughly 82,000 just 12 miles from the Pacific Ocean is still a small town. It’s a place where mom-and-pop stores still thrive along its streets, where farmers fill up 20 million trays of strawberries annually and where the local newspaper this week ran the headline “Man Sought in Beer-Bottle Attack.”

And because of the town’s mild climate, relative affordability and easygoing ways, it’s a favorite choice for retirees. Almost a fifth of the town is 55 or older, and 1 in 10 adults is a retired veteran, thanks in part to nearby Vandenberg Air Force Base, the area’s largest employer. All in all, not the kind of folks you picture singing “Beat It” to themselves at a stoplight.

But can anyone escape the Michael Jackson Show?

“I know that some people try to cut themselves off, but you can’t,” said Diane Bentley, a volunteer at the town’s Elwin E. Mussell Senior Citizens Center. “If you see a newspaper, magazine or television, there [Jackson] is. He’s famous all over the world.”

The daily carnival at the town’s county courthouse underscores that observation. Critics, fans, Jackson impersonators, cultural rubberneckers and media from all around the globe stand vigil behind the court’s fence barricades, waiting for a fleeting glimpse of the King of Pop. Those in the crowd scoffed at the notion that everyone in Santa Maria didn’t at least have a seat inside the Jackson fame bubble.

“You’d have to be brain-dead,” said Lee Emmett, 62, who drove in from nearby Oceania with her digital camera. “My mother is 90 years old and she lives in East Bend, Ore., and she’s heard of Michael Jackson.”

The omnipresence of Jackson’s fame should be no surprise, according to Sean Vezina, a Michael Jackson impersonator who drove from Hollywood to “be here for the most important day of Michael’s life” and who seemed insulted at the idea that someone wouldn’t know the pop star. The diminutive 24-year-old, wearing trademark black buckled trousers, black fedora hat and mirror shades, hailed his idol’s singing, dancing and humanitarianism as the unstoppable forces behind the fame.

“How could anyone not know who Michael Jackson is?” said Vezina, who estimated he’d been interviewed more than 100 times Monday by the media. “That’s crazy.”

Not far from the courthouse, at the Boy’s Restaurant, the biscuits and gravy were the breakfast special, the radio was playing Neil Diamond and Buddy Holly, and the talk was about their strange neighbor from the Neverland ranch.

“People are buzzing about Jackson, yeah, but they like to joke about it more,” said Lisa, a waitress at the ‘50s style coffee shop who didn’t want to give her last name. “People can’t believe he comes with his own cheering section.”

He’s a great dancer, second only to Fred Astaire, added Arline Lawrence, a waitress at the Boy’s for 28 years. Lawrence, who was born and raised in Santa Maria, lamented that Jackson’s high-profile legal case is hurting the town’s image.

“It’s a bad way to get our name on the maps,” she said. “I’m tired of hearing about it and talking about it, really.”

Any customer not heard of Jackson?

“My daughter never has,” said Lisa. “She’s 21 months old.”

“That’s going to be hard to find someone like that in Santa Maria,” added Arline. “Good luck.”

Not a fan, but ...

At the Farm Supply Co., a friendly corner store where you can purchase an irrigation system or just some fly repellent ointment for your horses, old-timers and young alike certainly knew of Jackson, though few approved of his musical talents or the circus he’d brought to town.

“I’m conservative,” said Steve Heller, 57, the store’s sales manager. “I like country western.”

Still, he couldn’t see how someone in town, caught up in traffic snarls, all the visitors and constant media coverage, could dodge the Jackson case. “Whether you want it or not, it’s in your face. It’s on the front page of the newspapers every day, it’s always on television. You can’t get away from it.”

It even almost hit home. Farm Supply salesman Greg Flores was called to jury duty, and for a while it appeared he would have to report with potential Jackson jurors. Late last week he found out he wouldn’t be needed.

“He already had the book written,” joked fellow salesman Andy McFarland, 44.

“Man, I had that money spent already,” replied the 38-year-old Flores to a roar of laughter in the store.

Later, Flores confided he liked Jackson and still owned several of his albums. But if he had been called, prosecutors would have probably rooted that out and he would have been kicked off anyway.

“I would have been a good juror,” he added. “It would have been cool to be on that jury. I mean, who wouldn’t want to do that?”

After malls, fast-food restaurants and a local college proved fertile ground for Jackson’s notoriety, there was really only one last place to go for answers. It was time to consult the wisest among us -- the seniors.

At the Mussell Senior Center, within a mile of the courthouse, it became quickly apparent that everybody there not only had heard of Jackson, but detested him and the media swarming around him to boot. These members of the Greatest Generation, who survived the Great Depression and won World War II, were again being tested in their golden years.

“Oh, I’m so tired of hearing about him,” said one elderly woman, who wouldn’t give her name, while enjoying a morning needlepoint class at the center. “I swear if the president came to town, he wouldn’t have as much police with him.”

“Why do you people keep writing about him?” asked another in the all-woman needlepoint class. “Enough.”

“I remember him from the Jackson Five,” said another. “He was so cute. Then he went the other way. He wanted to be white.”

Down the hall, the senior guys shooting pool felt much the same way. They fondly recalled the Big Band sound, Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra. As for Jackson?

“I don’t talk about it, I don’t care about it,” said Jack, 77, who wouldn’t supply his last name. “I don’t like his music. I think he’s an idiot.”

Maybe there’s no finding anyone in Santa Maria or anywhere for that matter who hasn’t heard of Michael Jackson.

In today’s pop culture-saturated society, that’d be like finding Neverland.