Backstreet Mom: A Mother's Tale of Backstreet Boy AJ McLean's Rise to Fame, Struggle With Addiction, and Ultimate Triumph (6 page)

Alex gave one hell of
an audition. Unfortunately the part he read
for was already taken,
but he made such an impression on the director that a new part was written into the play especially for him. When the show finally opened, I was amazed. Every time
Alex gleefully recited his few lines, he never failed to elicit laughter and
applause from the audience. Alex naturally sensed how to charm a crowd.

From the moment Alex walked onto that stage, he never really wanted to leave. The stage, the audience, the footlights ... all of it became a
second home to him. It was a place where he felt comfortable and secure. A place where he was able to leave everything behind and become
whomever he wanted to be.

I don't know why any of this came as a big surprise. From the time he
was three, Alex had an active imagination. He spent hours creating characters through which he acted out entire stories. He danced and sang
for anyone who was interested.

When MTV first came about, Alex watched it for hours after doing
his homework. Great pains were taken to copy and perfect the dance
moves of some of his idols, especially Paula Abdul. Alex developed a
passion for music and he loved to move to every kind of beat imaginable. When old musicals aired on television, he sat glued to the screen
watching his favorite stars, especially Gene Kelly.

In addition, Alex always put a spin on the words that sometimes came
tumbling out of his mouth. Depending on what movie he was drawing
from or what character he was playing on any given day, he would speak
like them. If they had a British accent, Alex tried to copy it. If they were
older, he lowered his
voice. And so on.

Odd child really... his
imagination was just out
there. Oftentimes, I would
listen outside of his bedroom door. Had I not
known better, I would
have been hard pressed to
say that there were not two
or more people talking to
each other. Alex had unusual talents, even at that
young age.

Alex and me on his
fifth Christmas

Alex's vivid imagination was not always seen as one of his better traits.
In later years, he spun wild tales both about his family and himself. I
think part of it was to hide the fact that his father was not present in his
life. Alex would tell friends that I had given birth to him while on a
skiing trip to Switzerland with his dad. Or that his dad traveled a lot, so
that was why he never seemed to be around. This went on throughout
his school years and much beyond. His imagination seemed to have no
boundaries.

I remember a particular incident when Alex was in middle school. He
convinced his math teacher that he was an entirely different person. I'm
not really sure to this day how he pulled that one off. The truth finally
caught up with him when he failed to turn in his homework. Now, as
clever as my son thought himself to be, he had unwittingly given the
teacher his real phone number. After several mysterious messages on
my answering machine about some kid named Duane, I figured out
what was going on.

Alex the cowboy at six

When I spoke with the teacher, we
were both a bit shocked to find out that
this Duane was actually my son, Alex.
That is when I realized just how damaging his imagination could be when
given the chance to run rampant. His
practice of "becoming" other people
was a portent of things to come.

At about the age of seven, Alex asked
me to take him to dance class. He told
me he wanted to learn tap and jazz because those were the main steps that
Paula Abdul used in her music videos.
I explained that girls mostly attended
dance classes and he might feel out of
place. Alex said he didn't care. He wanted to see what it was all about.

I asked around and found a dance
school that my friends all recommended. We went to observe some classes
and Alex begged me to let him enroll. I
worked it out in the budget so he could
take a couple of classes to start. With in a month, he had caught up to the rest of the class and was having a
wonderful time. The instructors told me Alex had a natural rhythm and
a good ear for music. My parents and I were amazed at his first recital
performance, for he performed a short solo.

In addition to his dance classes, Alex also wanted to learn how to
play a musical instrument. Again, through some friends, I found him a
teacher, a minister at a local church who took Alex on as a student for
piano and organ. Alex loved it! I have videos of him playing the organ
and singing along at the same time. Or, as Alex put it so eloquently, cute
lisp and all, "simultaneously, at the same time."

That lisp never stopped him from reaching for his dreams. He owes
quite a bit to a wonderful lady named Margie Sargeson Richards who
became Alex's second mom when he was not with me. In addition to
being his English teacher in elementary school, she was also his voice
and dialect coach in drama school. Margie was the person responsible
for helping Alex to hone both his dramatic acting skills and his animated speaking skills.

The two of them worked closely together on the many plays he performed in from the ages of six to ten. Margie was a huge influence on
Alex during that time. She taught him the importance of laughing at
yourself when you make a mistake.

Margie also worked with him on
his lisp. She taught him to enunciate his words so that everyone
could understand him. At the time,
she had no children of her own, so
there was always extra time for
Alex. And he loved her for it. They
were quite a pair onstage. She
loved to play the villain and he the
hero. A perfect match. Margie insisted that he learn Shakespeare,
which later paved the way for him
to write songs and poetry.

During that time, Alex continued with his dance classes despite
the fact that he was one of only a
few boys who attended. My son was no fool. The ratio of girls to boys was off the charts. It gave him a
playing field on which to learn the fine art of flirting. He perfected it to
a higher form and flexed his flirting "muscles" every chance he got.

Margie and Alex

Alex attended a very small, private school for most of his life. Not
surprisingly, his classmates were like a family to him. Since Alex did not
have the benefit of his father's presence, he developed very close bonds
with some of the finale teachers in his school. One of them was his coach
and fencing instructor, Coach Diaz.

Coach Diaz was a very handsome Latin man with a wonderful outlook and an exciting teaching style. It took a lot to get those young
people interested in things like stage combat and fencing-not the typical school sports. Coach Diaz managed to inspire each and every one of
them. Alex took to him immediately.

Alex loved the movement and challenge associated with fencing. The
coach said his dancing classes had undoubtedly helped him with his
form. The rest was apparently just his natural ability. I was amazed. Up
to that point, Alex had not really
shown any aptitude for sports. I
believe it was his coach's teaching style that inspired my son to
really want to excel in that sport.

Alex in fencing class