In the late 1960s, a barrister supposedly responded to a judge’s inquiry of “who are the Beatles?” with the line, “they are a popular beat combo, m’lud.” While the exchange may seem far-fetched today, it might have reflected the times. The era’s well-known advertising campaign, “Top people take The Times. Do you?” suggested that the “top people,” including members of the judiciary, likely read The Times. So, who might they have read about in its pages?
The newspaper’s obituaries section primarily focused on public figures such as archbishops, captains of industry, and war heroes. Music, if mentioned, typically referred to classical composers and opera stars, not rock or pop artists. In fact, when Buddy Holly died in 1959, The Times did not run an obituary for him.
By the late 1960s, pop stars began to appear in The Times’ obituaries, but it was often begrudgingly, in a brief and formal manner. Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones received a short 500-word obituary in 1969. However, in 2021, when Charlie Watts, the Stones’ drummer, passed away, I—then the obituary editor—wrote a much more detailed 3,000-word piece, dropping the formal “Mr.”
This shift reflected a broader cultural change. The Times, once a symbol of establishment, had resisted pop culture, but gradually began to embrace it. The growing influence of youth-driven cultural movements, particularly in the 1960s, created a divide between the “top people” and the youth with their long hair, flares, and rock music. By the time icons like Kurt Cobain and Amy Winehouse passed away, The Times had become more open in acknowledging the sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll lifestyle, a far cry from the dry, formal obituaries of earlier pop stars like Jimi Hendrix and Dennis Wilson.