Welcome to 2025’s final issue of Memphis Magazine. It’s been a big year here, I realize as the calendar is about to turn. Our cover stories have explored topics as various as: the local history at the public library’s Memphis and Shelby County Room; a coffee roaster who’s built an all-Black supply chain; a mid-century modern home, beautifully preserved; the Delta blues inspiration for the Sinners movie and score; a local bookstore celebrating 150 years in business; and a 90-year-old man endeavoring to hike the entire Appalachian Trail. And that’s only mentioning 50 percent of our cover stories, let alone all the other work that filled the 12 issues of this magazine.
To close the year, we are so thrilled to bring you a cover story about the legendary, lovely Carla Thomas, the Queen of Memphis Soul. It would be natural to assume that at some point in our nearly 50-year history, Thomas would have graced our cover. But this is a first, and long overdue. I loved learning more about her from Alex Greene’s writing, including that we both chose to study English Renaissance poetry in our younger lives. I can’t even begin to sing like she can, though. Gee whiz, indeed.
Some say Memphis is particularly haunted, and I can understand why. But to me, it feels more accurate to say that everything that’s ever happened here is still happening.
Shortly before we went to press with this issue, I found myself, fittingly, at the Stax Museum of American Soul Music, the jewel of Soulsville and a really moving tribute to the art that was created at Stax Records. Several of my in-laws were in town for the weekend, and — music-lovers all — we had a feeling they would appreciate the chance to explore what might as well be hallowed ground. If anything, I underestimated how many memories the museum would unearth in both my father-in-law and his wife — they grew up listening to so much of the music created just a few miles from our house.
My favorite memory from that day, though, is this: While we were watching the scene-setting video at the beginning of the tour, I checked my email, and opened an early version of this month’s cover, featuring Carla Thomas herself. I showed the image on my phone to my in-laws, and they lit up — so excited that the history we were about to experience remains vital and celebrated today.
That’s something I love about Memphis: The past, good and bad, is very much still present. We don’t just mothball our history and move on. We delve deeply into the stories of this city, even or especially the complicated stories, and try to make meaning of our past. Some say Memphis is particularly haunted, and I can understand why. But to me, it feels more accurate to say that everything that’s ever happened here is still happening. Stax is rolling out hit records, and it’s being demolished after going bankrupt — both at the same time. Carla Thomas is singing a duet with her father, Rufus; she’s reading John Donne in college; she’s 82, appearing at Crosstown’s Listening Lab to mark a vinyl reissue — all at once. It’s all right here. Gee whiz.
L-R: Wayne Fogle, Linda Fogle, Anna Traverse, and Cameron Fogle outside Stax.
