A half-century: long enough to be distinctive, but short enough to fit within the span of retrievable human memory. In compiling this 50th-anniversary edition, we consulted with several past leaders of our publication. Each past editor left his or her impression on our pages, and we are grateful to them for carrying Memphis Magazine forward. Like most human endeavors that endure, this one has been a relay race, with each editor carrying the baton for a few miles, a few laps around the sun, before handing it over to the person waiting around the bend. Here, then, are reflections from a few of the relay-runners from years gone by — presented with our thanks to all those involved in creating and maintaining this enterprise. — Anna Traverse
Decaying Mississippi River town,” a “Southern backwater.” That was how Time magazine described Memphis in an April 12, 1968, article published shortly after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
It was a grossly unfair slur, and of course, untrue. That wasn’t all Memphis was. Those of us living in Memphis then, like me, knew that. But the insult stung anyway.
SEPTEMBER 1987
For decades afterward Memphians tried to live down that backwater label, to disprove it. To prove we deserved professional sports teams. To demonstrate we could revive a dying downtown. To show our capacity to improve race relations. Backwater — we were more than that, dammit!
Then, in April 1976, came another sign of Memphis’ defiance. A magazine, City of Memphis, appeared on newsstands. It was perhaps telling that the magazine’s publishers included the word “city” in the title. Yes, we were a city, just like Nashville or even Atlanta. We deserved a magazine by us, for us, about us, to tell our story.
For me, seeing that first issue of the magazine was like watching a sunburst, or the birth of a new planet. I immediately approached the magazine’s editor about writing for them (confidence or naivete of youth?). My first small, published freelance item appeared in 1977. Things gradually progressed then to my writing major features and cover stories, getting my name on the masthead as a contributing editor, writing a monthly column, and finally, in 1986, being appointed editor.
For the next five years, I had the tremendous professional and personal joy of helping to chronicle life in my hometown. We covered it all, from the fun (“Harambee! Memphis in May’s Salute to Kenya”) to the fatal (“Dead Reckoning: Does the County Medical Examiner’s Office Have Something to Hide?”). We covered people famous (music legend Al Green, baseball broadcasting Hall of Famer Tim McCarver) and personal (“My Battle With Aids: One Memphian’s Story”).
Those stories wouldn’t have happened without the contributions of an array of talented people. I was always amazed at the magazine’s good fortune in continuing to attract such talent, from an early succession of Ivy League-educated editors to extraordinary writers, artists, designers, and photographers who could have worked for any publication in America.
The folks at Time magazine were wrong, and we were right. Right about our faith in our city’s capacity to grow, mature, be better. Right about our confidence that the city could support and sustain a magazine devoted to it.
That’s borne out by the boatload of awards Memphis Magazine has garnered. I still have a framed photo on my wall of the magazine’s staff accepting a Distinguished Service Award from the Society of Professional Journalists.
As Memphis Magazine progressed, so too did Memphis itself. We got professional sports teams, reopening The Peabody kicked off a downtown revival, the city saw its first Black mayor, and coincidentally, a Black city magazine editor, me, believed to be the first in the country.
Yet, even through it all, I still heard the questions, the doubts. I tried addressing it in one column, “Why I Stay Here: A Special Message for My Out-Of-Town Friends.” “I believe in Memphis,” I wrote. “I think this city has the potential, at least, to be one of the best cities in America.” I still believe that.
The folks at Time magazine were wrong, and we were right. Right about our faith in our city’s capacity to grow, mature, be better. Right about our confidence that the city could support and sustain a magazine devoted to it.
Now, 50 years on, I’m proud of this magazine and my hometown. No, it isn’t perfect; no city is. No, it isn’t Atlanta; it doesn’t have to be. Memphis is Memphis — and that’s enough.
Larry Conley later served as an editor for the Detroit Free Press (three years) and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution (16 years), ending his journalism career as the DeKalb County Bureau Chief. He’s now “semi-retired” and living in Atlanta, where he has taught English and volunteers for food relief agencies.
