One of my older brothers subscribed to Rolling Stone magazine in its early years, and while I saw women and musicians of color gracing its cover from time to time, they certainly seemed like a rarity.
“Clapton, the Stones, Clapton, the Stones,” was the way a friend of mine recently characterized the magazine covers, for decades, after its start in 1967, when co-founder Jann Wenner was calling the editorial shots at what quickly became rock’n’roll’s bible. I would only add: the Beatles, the Who, and, inevitably, a bare-chested Jim Morrison.
