My Back Pages Michael Kodas Underneath his trendierthan-Clark-Kent disguise, Will Dana ’81—<strong>the</strong> new managing editor of Rolling Stone —is more magician than superhero. His first trick: restoring <strong>the</strong> magazine to its former glory. By Julie Reiff
My Back Pages T he photo editor’s office at Rolling Stone looks out over 51st Street through floor-to-ceiling glass. It’s not a huge room, but seven editors file comfortably into it—although <strong>the</strong>re aren’t enough chairs. Two editors lean against <strong>the</strong> solid wall that’s shared with <strong>the</strong> neighboring office <strong>and</strong> a third st<strong>and</strong>s near <strong>the</strong> doorway. Will Dana ’81, <strong>the</strong> newly promoted managing editor, grabs a <strong>sea</strong>t by <strong>the</strong> glass wall that separates <strong>the</strong> office from <strong>the</strong> cubicles beyond. He’s wearing khakis <strong>and</strong> a flowered shirt <strong>and</strong> puts his loafer-clad feet on <strong>the</strong> edge of Jodi Peckman’s desk. She sits behind it holding a box of tissues, apologizing that she has a cold. <strong>The</strong> group brainstorms cover ideas for an upcoming issue featuring <strong>the</strong> rock b<strong>and</strong> White Stripes. Dana suggests dressing <strong>the</strong> duo in NASCAR jumpsuits in front of a burning car wreck; <strong>the</strong>y know that publisher Jann Wenner will want what <strong>the</strong>y call a “concept cover.” Excited about his idea, Dana pulls his feet off <strong>the</strong> desk <strong>and</strong> leans forward as he describes <strong>the</strong> scene he pictures in his mind. <strong>The</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r editors nod <strong>the</strong>ir heads <strong>and</strong> discuss his idea for a minute until someone suggests a carnival <strong>the</strong>me. Nah, I think Annie Leibowitz has done that already, one says, <strong>and</strong> someone else grabs a photography book off <strong>the</strong> shelf behind Peckman to see if he can find it. <strong>The</strong>y’re bro<strong>the</strong>r <strong>and</strong> sister, right? ano<strong>the</strong>r editor asks. And isn’t he into Orson Welles? Maybe we can do something with that? <strong>The</strong> magazine is such a collaboration, Dana says later. He loves <strong>the</strong> teamwork, working with o<strong>the</strong>r editors, writers, <strong>and</strong> art directors. “My role is to create an atmosphere in which people can do <strong>the</strong>ir best work, to give <strong>the</strong>m <strong>the</strong> support <strong>and</strong> confidence to do work that will meet our st<strong>and</strong>ards. I like people who are ambitious, talented, <strong>and</strong> a little weird; I want <strong>the</strong>m to know that if <strong>the</strong>ir creative impulses lead <strong>the</strong>m away from <strong>the</strong> conventional approach, that we’ll follow <strong>the</strong>m <strong>the</strong>re.” <strong>The</strong> group throws out o<strong>the</strong>r ideas—dressing <strong>the</strong> musicians up in one costume or ano<strong>the</strong>r almost as if <strong>the</strong>y were a couple of Barbie dolls. Eventually <strong>the</strong> editors move on to discuss which photographer to use. Dana listens attentively to each of <strong>the</strong>m. He may be <strong>the</strong>ir boss now, but he’s also still one of <strong>the</strong> guys, part of <strong>the</strong> team. All I Really Want to Do A large W (for Wenner Media) dominates <strong>the</strong> small lobby, but, neatly lined up along <strong>the</strong> wall, framed issues of <strong>the</strong> publication give away <strong>the</strong> place’s true identity: home of <strong>the</strong> most famous magazine in <strong>the</strong> world devoted to music <strong>and</strong> pop culture. Beneath <strong>the</strong> glass, <strong>the</strong> newspaperlike first issue from 1967 is far from pristine. Dogeared <strong>and</strong> yellow—<strong>the</strong> fold still visible—it’s a clear sign that Wenner, <strong>the</strong> magazine’s founder, had little idea what an integral part of that culture Rolling Stone would become. A single black-<strong>and</strong>-white image—a still photo of John Lennon in army fatigues— dominates <strong>the</strong> colorless cover. <strong>The</strong> offices of Rolling Stone are, though, simply offices. Bob Dylan isn’t hanging out at <strong>the</strong> water cooler, nor is Aerosmith performing its latest song. In fact, <strong>the</strong>re isn’t any music playing, unless people are listening through headphones. <strong>The</strong> place is busy but surprisingly quiet, businesslike, except that jeans outnumber suits even on a Tuesday. “That’s all I remember about my first day,” says Dana, “how quiet it was here. <strong>The</strong> place was sleepy. <strong>The</strong> saying was you’d work here for one year or 15.” Dana started his career as an unpaid intern at Harper’s right after graduating from Middlebury in 1985. He has also worked at Interview, Esquire, 7 Days (which won a national magazine award for general excellence two weeks after closing down), Manhattan Inc, Outside, <strong>and</strong> Worth. After that he worked for Details, what he calls his “lone Condé Nast experience” in his 20-year career. He says he felt uncomfortable <strong>the</strong>re because <strong>the</strong> culture was so competitive <strong>and</strong> <strong>the</strong>re was no real sense of job security. So when Rolling Stone called Dana in 1996—after periodic inquiries on his part—it was, he says, as if a helicopter had flown over <strong>and</strong> dropped a ladder to rescue him. “This is really where I wanted to be all along.” <strong>Taft</strong> Bulletin Fall 2005 23