Jeremy Jordan - new teen heart throb - Interview

Interview, Feb, 1994 by Ray Rogers

Teen idols come and go in a heartthrob of a moment, but it's how twenty-year-old pop sensation Jeremy Jordan got to where he is--and where he's headed--that's truly inspiring. Just two years ago, Jordan was sleeping in the streets and subways of Chicago while attending Lincoln Park Performing Arts High School. One day the singer walked into Demon Dogs, a fast-food joint owned by Peter Schivarelli, co-manager of the band Chicago, and questioned the gold records adorning the walls. Jordan persuaded Schivarelli to give him an impromptu audition. Soon after, Jordan was on a plane to Los Angeles to sign a record contract. With the release of his Giant Records debut, the sensual, soulful Try My Love, Jordan has gone from living on the streets to inhabiting the hearts and CD players of young girls and boys the world over. Like the runt who has beaten the odds to become king of the mountain, Jeremy has grown from a cub into a sleek, chiseled, pouncing wildcat. Just watch him move.

RAY ROGERS: I heard you singing some amazing gospel songs during the photo shoot. Where did you learn that music?

JEREMY JORDAN: I have a very good friend, Malik Hart, who took me to his church when I was thirteen. That's where I learned to sing gospel. My mom had died, and my dad couldn't support me and my brother and three younger sisters. He put us in a children's home, where I met Malik.

RR: How did your mom die?

JJ: She died of leukemia. I was very close to her. But she wasn't my real mom. I don't know where my real mom is.

RR: Were you and your siblings kept together after your mom died?

JJ: We were told we'd be together, but we were separated once we got to the orphanage. It's hard to love them because we were never together. I have a hard time loving anybody because I was never really loved. Every year at the orphanage, from third to eleventh grade, I had a different set of houseparents. Some would be nice to you, but some would hit you, and some would throw forks and spoons at you.

RR: How did you end up on the streets?

JJ: The orphanage was holding me back from my dream. I wanted to get involved in movies, but they wouldn't let me sign with a talent agency in Chicago, because Aurora, where the orphanage is, is forty miles away. I just took off when I was seventeen. Then I moved in with a friend's parents in Chicago, but we got in a fight one night, and they kicked me out. This was right before Thanksgiving, 1991. That's when I was homeless.

RR: So what did you do?

JJ: I slept in the subway most of the time. Lots of nights I didn't sleep at all.

RR: Soon after, you met your manager, Peter Schivarelli, at his restaurant Demon Dogs. How many times did you have to go there before you met him?

JJ: Four times. The first time I walked in I thought, I'm going to hook up with this guy; he's got connections. I just kept on pushing.

RR: You've accomplished so much all on your own.

JJ: Absolutely. It's hard for some people to believe that. They ask, "Who do you look up to? Who inspired you?" No one, man. Not one fucking person.

RR: Where was your dad during all of this?

JJ: My dad was kind of fucked up from Vietnam, and he'd ask me for help when I'd see him. In fact, I just got him an apartment. He'd told me years ago, "I want a nice place to live someday, Don"--that's my real name, Don Henson. Not Jeremy Jordan.

RR: Where did Jeremy Jordan come from?

JJ: The record company.

RR: Was that a big part of marketing you?

JJ: Yes. That, teen magazines, and a lot of smiling. But I have been trying to show a more serious side of myself, such as my music and my attitude. What I've told you so far in this article is stuff that I don't tell anybody else. Not one person in this country knows my real name.

RR: Wow.

JJ: You're the first interviewer that I've told. I think it's about time.

RR: Is there anything else you want to get off your chest?

JJ: I'm a real lonely person. Extremely lonely. There was never time to make friends.

RR: And how about relationships?

JJ: Nothing right now; I'm kind of on my own.

RR: For someone who's been through so much, you're Incredibly upbeat. I mean, you really got into that photo shoot.

JJ: It was a thrill, man. I've never taken photos with my clothes off. I tried doing it once, and my record company wouldn't let me. People just won't let me grow up; they want to keep me as this young thing. People are more into what kind of bubble gum I chew, and what my favorite color is. If you're looked upon as a teen idol, people don't take you seriously. They think of you as an untalented kid who got to where he is on his looks only.

RR: But you've got a huge fan club; people must be getting into your music, too.

JJ: Hell, when I was in Japan, a blind man came up to me and said, "Arigato"--thank you--which just touched me so much. Blind fans who speak a different language--that blew me away. He was into the real thing, not the visuals.

RR: How do you feel about getting all this attention after being on your own for so long?

JJ: It makes me feel like I am somebody. I don't know how to word this exactly, Ray, but it's like I'm not a piece of shit. I am somebody who's come a long way. And to be photographed by Bruce and interviewed by you--wow, man, it blows my mind. This could have been someone else today.