Quotes from Jann S. Wenner

John was putting out his first solo album, an extraordinary revelation about himself. No one at the time made an album that intimate.

The last question I asked was "Do you have a picture of 'When I'm Sixty-Four'?" He replied, "I hope we are a nice couple living off the coast of Ireland, looking at our scrapbook of madness.

BURNING MAN WAS not on my radar. Taking drugs twenty-four hours a day with thousands of people in the windblown desert a hundred miles outside of Reno, Nevada, was not on my bucket list, more like my fuck-it list.

The combination of David Cassidy and William Burroughs was undeniably weird.

JOHN BELUSHI ENTERED my life with the crash of a door, a broken chair, and maybe pots flying out of the kitchen cabinets.

He filled the camp with fellow ecstasy fanatics, free spirits, and babes. There was more than enough sensuality to be had, but three guys in their sixties traveling with the wives of their close friends was like traveling with private detectives.

Sixteen magazine, which sold hundreds of thousands of copies during the reigns of Herman's Hermits and the Monkees.

We walked around in the afternoons visiting art installations and camps that offered all kinds of entertainments. The pop-up city was a psychedelic carnival.

The highlight is on Saturday, when the thousands gather to watch a bonfire consume the Burning Man, a ten-story-high wooden effigy packed with gasoline.

Burning Man was a mash-up of Star Wars and Apocalypse Now and Disneyland and the Las Vegas Strip.

I traveled on Pan Am, in the glory days of first class, catering by Maxim's, champagne and tins of caviar

Rolling Stone was selling almost as many copies in London as in Los Angeles and had a big reputation.

Pete Townshend asked me to dinner with his wife at his house in Twickenham, on the Thames.

In the middle of the night, Keith Richards painted Capote's hotel room door with ketchup, thumbing his nose at the snooty Mr. Capote and the Princess with a not-so-veiled reference to In Cold Blood.

The issue was devoted to New York, with articles about the world we thought we were moving into, and we had an original cover of Bella Abzug that Andy Warhol did for us.

DAVID FOSTER WALLACE hanged himself at age forty-six. I had sent one of our best new feature writers, David Lipsky, out to profile Wallace when Infinite Jest was first published in 1996.

Bruce Springsteen wrote, "Elvis was as big as the whole country itself, as big as the whole dream. He embodied the essence of it.

Wallace, it turned out, was a big fan of Rolling Stone and me. When he died we had hours of tape of him trying to explain his life.

As for his piece, Truman had been struggling with writer's block since In Cold Blood and couldn't finish the assignment.