Bio pulls no punches on mag’s Wenner
THE ROLLING STONES were wrong — you can always get what you want. At least if you’re Jann Wenner. “Sticky Fingers: The Life and Times of Jann Wenner and Rolling Stone Magazine” takes an exhaustive look at the now 71-year-old media magnate’s life as his signature publication turns 50 in November.
Despite an ending that tries to soften the previous 545 pages, Wenner comes off as a narcissist desperately seeking acceptance by the cool crowd.
He’s also ambitious and treacherous, once even crossing his idol John Lennon to turn a quick buck.
The bio, four years in the making by author Joe Hagan, relies on 240 interviews, thousands of articles and dozens of books. It arrives in stores Tuesday.
How badly does Wenner come off? He’s already complaining about the content in this decidedly unauthorized biography.
Wenner is presented as a doughy boy drawn to all that glitters, someone who demands to be center stage even with little reason to be there.
The counterculture chronicler is compared to President Trump more than once. At worst, he comes off as a professional sycophant — dictatorial and greedy.
Yet there’s no denying Wenner’s genius for creating popular and profitable magazines. Wenner describes himself as “the first child of the baby boom” — and his pediatrician was Dr. Benjamin Spock.
So from the beginning, it seemed as if Wenner was destined for the nexus of the zeitgeist. He adored JFK, dreamed big, followed rock music and catered to celebrity.
Wenner, in a nuclear-proof vault, obsessively catalogued every letter, memo and backstage pass from his journey — as if it might one day go on display in his presidential library.
And, yes, he had White House aspirations.
Hagan had access to the archives and spent considerable time with Wenner, his ex-wife, Jane, and others — including ally Bruce Springsteen and a skeptical Paul McCartney.
The book’s tone is set early as Hagan lays out Wenner’s first meeting with Lennon and Yoko Ono.
“The hirsute supercouple were smaller than anybody imagined, but John Lennon still towered over Jann Wenner, who at five-six so often found himself gazing up at his heroes like a boy vampire,” he writes.
The awestruck Wenner still brokered a deal with Lennon to print incredibly long interviews intended exclusively for the magazine. And over Lennon’s objections, he later turned them into a book.
Lennon never spoke with him again.
In 1974, Lennon even sent Wenner a Polaroid of himself and McCartney poolside with the caption: “How do you sleep???!!!”
Years later, McCartney would wage his own battle with Wenner over The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
Though The Beatles were inducted in 1988, with Lennon following six years later, an irked McCartney didn’t enter as a solo act until 1999.
Wenner, deeply involved with the Hall as a committee member and an honoree himself, had asked McCartney to induct Lennon. Given that they were a songwriting team, McCartney asked if he, too, could be inducted.
Wenner insisted it wasn’t up to him.
“In all my dealings with him, it’s never up to Jann,” snipes McCartney. “It’s up to these ‘other people’ who are down the corridor somewhere. His thing just happens to be ‘Owner/Editor’ on the door but they’re responsible for things.”
Wenner made a promise to McCartney: Induct Lennon in 1994, and join his old Liverpool mate in the hall a year later.
When the time came, McCartney was spurned — and he was furious. At McCartney’s 1999 induction, daughter Stella stood alongside her Beatle dad wearing a shirt that read: “About F---ing Time!”
Broken promises and feuds erupting into rage are documented throughout this tale. Expect to see a lot about the book and Rolling Stone over the coming weeks: HBO has a two-night documentary on how the magazine molded popular culture for half a century.
This book began with Wenner approaching Hagan — they both live in Tivoli, Dutchess County — about the proposed project.
Wenner has long had an eye for writing talent: Hunter S. Thompson, Tom Wolfe and Mike Taibbi are among Rolling Stone’s stable of contributors.
Hagan, whose analysis throughout is sharp, nails it with this take on the gonzo Thompson: