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
I joined the editorial staff of City of Memphis magazine, as it was then called, in the spring of 1977.
I was hired by the magazine’s founder and publisher, Bob Towery. The editor, the magazine’s first, was Ken DeCell. Bob ran his family’s printing company on East Brooks Road in Whitehaven, where the magazine’s offices were. The rumble of printing presses was our background music. Bob knew everyone in the lively Memphis literary world. Ken, a Princeton graduate, had roots in Mississippi. Ken’s wife, Florri, and Bob’s wife, Patty, filled out the editorial staff. All of them were smart and sophisticated and knew Memphis.
APRIL 1979
Then there was me. I was from New York, had been teaching English at Memphis State for six years, and still had much to learn about the city I would come to love.
Also on staff then, working in the basement, was this undergraduate kid who had been pressed into service as our art director. The kid’s name was Fred Woodward. Under Fred, the magazine was to win scores of national awards for illustration and design. He later became art director of Rolling Stone and is now in the Art Directors Hall of Fame. Fred was the magazine’s one true genius.
My job as associate editor was to write articles and edit submissions from freelancers. In some issues I wrote as many as three articles. The job was hard. Ken, the editor, was a perfectionist. Deadlines were suffocating. Once, a writer bailed on an assignment, leaving a last-minute hole in the magazine. I had 24 hours to fill that hole. I did interviews with teachers and principals all over the city and in one day managed to scratch out a 2,000-word article called “How to Read a Report Card.” It almost killed me.
In those days many articles came from freelancers. To name all the fine writers whose work crossed my desk would fill this page. Many of them later joined the magazine’s staff and became beloved colleagues.
Over the years, I wrote about all kinds of things. Each article revealed something about the many worlds of Memphis. In 1979 I wrote what I believe was the first full-length look at the gay community in the city (shown above). That article ran to about 10,000 words over two issues. Back then, not many magazines would have given that much space to that subject.
I moved north in 1992 to take a job with the New York Times Magazine Group. The Times hired excellent writers, but I have never worked with nicer, more talented people than I did at Memphis Magazine.
I wrote two profiles of Cybill Shepherd, one before her TV show Moonlighting and one after. In the second profile, Cybill dished about her co-star on the show, Bruce Willis. The National Enquirer offered me big money to reprint parts of that Cybill profile. Out of respect for our hometown gal, I turned them down.
I profiled many Memphians — among them Kemmons Wilson, who founded Holiday Inns, and then-mayor Wyeth Chandler. Wilson’s wife cooked me a nice spaghetti supper at their surprisingly modest home in East Memphis. Chandler, reputed to be just a good ol’ boy, had the Complete Works of Charles Dickens behind his desk in City Hall and had read them all. There is always more to Memphis — and Memphians — than meets the eye.
For many years I wrote the “Backporch” column on the last page of the magazine. “Backporch” columns were supposed to be funny. The magazine ran my columns even when they bombed — that’s how kind everybody was.
In 1987, the magazine received the Silver Gavel Award from the American Bar Association for the best article in the nation on a legal subject. The award was for a 6,000-word article I’d written about the Memphis public defender’s office and the obstacles public defenders face. I was proud of that. Still am. It proved Memphis had subjects that could engage the world.
I wasn’t so proud of a “Backporch” column I wrote in 1988. In it I suggested that Wyoming, a large square state with no population, should be turned into a penal colony. Ha ha. Three weeks after the article appeared, I received a manila envelope from Casper, Wyoming. It contained hate mail from a fourth-grade class there. “We all hate you here,” wrote one student. “What you said was stupid.” The kid was right. He was also a better writer than me.
The last article I wrote for Memphis, in 1991, was called “A Life on the Edge.” It told the story of “W.C.,” a man from a wealthy Memphis family who had lived a more or less low-down life. The story described rich gamblers at the Memphis Country Club, bottle-drunk touts at the West Memphis dog track, organized crime at Memphis strip clubs. In the end, W.C., dying of Lou Gehrig’s Disease, went undercover in his wheelchair, helping the FBI catch drug dealers. He was as complex as the city itself.
I moved north in 1992 to take a job with the New York Times Magazine Group. The Times hired excellent writers, but I have never worked with nicer, more talented people than I did at Memphis magazine.
I live in Virginia now, but know this: Memphis the city and Memphis the magazine are forever imprinted on my heart.
Ed Weathers finished his career teaching writing at Virginia Tech. Today, he lives in happy retirement in Blacksburg, Virginia.
