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
One could, if one were so inclined, say I grew up at Memphis Magazine. I was still in college, when this 8.5 x 11-inch stack of glossy paper first captured my interest and imagination. It was 1983 and the magazine ran what would become a national-award-winning series of stories on race.
The staff, the writers, the photographers took on what was — and still is — one of the city’s and country’s biggest issues. It was thoughtful, provocative, even brave. The series didn’t just state the problem. Those stories also offered potential solutions, some outright, others hinted at.
JULY 1999
Just a couple of years later, I showed up on the publication’s doorstep, practically begging for a job, any job. It was an ironic career choice for a kid who couldn’t write himself out of a paper bag, but fortunately, at least for me, then-publisher Kenneth Neill, a mark for a good con, took me under his wing.
At first, he had me dig holes around town — literally — and hide little clues and trinkets, during the old Lancelot Bueno Bufflehead scavenger hunts. For that privilege, Ken made sure I got a paycheck and some needed direction. Sometimes, he made me wear a tie. But he didn’t make me cut my hair, just my teeth on journalism’s basics.
I worked my way up and around at the publication, as public relations specialist, errand boy, assistant editor, marketing manager, managing editor, and eventually The Editor. The day I got that gig was one of the headiest moments of my young life.
My life revolved around Memphis the city, as it was. It now centered on Memphis the magazine, as well as the merry-go-round of its monthly routine. The world that was my hometown opened up in whole new ways.
I even convinced the City of Memphis to let me climb the Hernando de Soto Bridge, with the man who changed the light bulbs on the “Big M” truss. Photographer Steve Davis and I were there to get photos for the magazine. It seemed a great idea, until I got about halfway up the ladder and felt that structure shake with every passing 18-wheeler.
Take, for instance, the people I got to interview: mayors, Elvis impersonators, musicians of all stripes, chefs, farmers, saints, sinners, all manner of shady characters, civil rights leaders, actors — the bumptious agents for stars like Priscilla Presley, Marlo Thomas, and Cybill Shepherd — and everyday warriors fighting to make my city a better place. My head spun with all those new sights, sounds, tastes, smells, thoughts, and many things pleasurable, some painful.
And the things I got to do, like drink what was then a new thing called craft beer, and eat my weight in barbecue, as well as chef Raji Jallepalli’s duck with tamarind sauce (my wife would always ask for extra sauce, so she could basically drink it).
I got to canoe and kayak the Mississippi. In one masterful moment, I even convinced the City of Memphis to let me climb the Hernando de Soto Bridge, with the man who changed the light bulbs on the “Big M” truss. Photographer Steve Davis and I were there to get photos for the magazine. It seemed a great idea, until I got about halfway up the ladder and felt that structure shake with every passing 18-wheeler and saw the Big Muddy a few hundred feet below ready to swallow me, with only a splash to mark my last known location.
Then, there were the staff, people I’ve been honored to call my colleagues, who taught me more than how to put together a magazine. They encouraged my feral side, while helping me understand to think before I spoke.
They were, and still are, the reasons why Memphis Magazine is a terrific publication, not to mention still in print and online, in this age of the all-powerful conglomerates. The point is, like many of you reading this remembrance, the magazine has taught me so much about the city. In the 50 years — some 600 monthly issues — this publication has been a thing, it’s been a helluva teacher, highlighting the best of this region and spotlighting that which could use some improvement.
Its stories and pics, illustrations and voices are all what still capture my interest today. If we’re lucky, we’ll celebrate another 50 years of Memphis Memphis, and I, as a 112-year-old, will still be around, ready to read and learn from it.
In 2000, Richard Banks moved to Birmingham, Alabama, to work for Southern Progress, publisher of Southern Living magazine. He is now the senior reporter and Morning Edition host for WHBM radio.
