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IN 1964, MEET THE BEATLES is released in the United States. President Lyndon Johnson declares a “war on poverty.” The first Ford Mustang rolls off the assembly line. The Summer Olympics open in Tokyo. Actress Bridget Fonda is born—eight months later, so is quasi-actor Keanu Reeves. Harpo Marx dies. Martin Luther King Jr. wins the Nobel Peace Prize. And William Kellogg begins a subscription to San Diego Magazine.

That 42-year-old subscription—our longest continuous one on record—is still mailed each month to the same La Jolla office at 2000 Spindrift Drive.

There are 4,662 readers—like June Pond of Vista—who’ve been putting up with us 10 or more years. That number includes 1,916—here’s a shout out to College Grove’s Helen Sailors—holding strong after two decades. There are 463 people who would be getting their 30-year service pins (if we gave out service pins). Count Mrs. Theodor Geisel among the 62 faithfully filling out 35 years’ worth of subscription-renewal notices. We have 26 folks with 36-year subscriptions (including Hall of Champions founder Bob Breitbard and a woman who lives in Pittsburgh).

After that it jumps up to Kellogg—“taking” the magazine six more years than his nearest competition.

What’s the point? Customer recognition. It’s time to acknowledge loyalty and to value experience. If any consumer could lend insight on what’s right or wrong with our offerings, it’s the guy who’s received more than 500 issues. At the risk of appearing self-serving—and also risking a hail of slings and arrows—I will drive out to visit Kellogg, thank him, and perform a one-man, VIP focus group.

BLUE-EYED BILL KELLOGG is wearing a similar-hued button-down shirt and darker blue tie emblazoned with crossed tennis racquet logos. We’re in his wood-paneled office, which has a window view of a bank of tennis courts. This office—rich with tennis memorabilia—has long been the president’s digs here at La Jolla Beach & Tennis Club. The prestigious, beach-kissed resort was founded in 1935 by Bill’s great-grandfather, Frederick William Kellogg. The presidency passed to Bill’s grandfather, William Scripps Kellogg, who held the title from 1940 to 1973. The job belonged to William Crowe Kellogg until 1989—the year Bill took over for his father.

Bill has a confession.

“The subscription originally belonged to my grandfather,” he says. “It was passed down.” Hmmm. Kellogg says he’s been reading the magazine on a steady basis since 1979. After contemplation, it’s determined he still owns the longest continuing subscription—always under roughly the same name —thus making him our de facto most loyal subscriber.

At the time Kellogg took over at the resort, he was voluntary president of the Mount Soledad Memorial Association. He’s been there for the entire ongoing, 17-year legal battle to remove the 29-foot cross/war memorial that’s maintained on city property.

“My grandfather was an original vice president of the association when it was created in 1952,” says Kellogg. “He held the title until he died in 1985. But I remember a hot day in the early ’80s—his health was failing. He asked me to sit in on an association meeting for him.”

And thus, that torch was passed. Kellogg—40 years younger than most memorial association members, and not a war veteran—continued to attend meetings. He became the official leader just as the lawsuit was being filed.

Even though running a hotel and an association—he’s also the national chair of the United States Davis Cup tennis team—keeps him busy, Kellogg usually finds time in the day to walk outside and hit some tennis balls. He was a standout college tennis player, and spent one summer playing pro tournaments in Europe.

Does he always play on Court No. 1?

“I play on whatever court is open,” he says, laughing. “My grandfather was legendary for kicking people off. I try to be a little friendlier to our club members.”

Now it’s time to see what volleys Kellogg has for San Diego Magazine.

DUSTY, BOUND EDITIONS of the magazine are sprawled on Kellogg’s desk. In 1964, the magazine was black-and-white —no fancy, four-color spreads. We’ve opened a ’64 issue in which ads plug La Jolla homes for $50,000. (Kellogg swears that at 12 years old he did indeed notice the magazine on his grandparents’ coffee table.)

Thumbing through an issue, Kellogg espies an article by Ted Schroeder about the Davis Cup.

“Hey, this is interesting,” he says. “Ted had been an honorary member of the club for years. He just passed away last month. I’d love to sit down and read this.”

We arrange to make a copy for later perusal. I pull out a bound edition from 1979. Color photography has arrived.

Kellogg: “September of 1979 was when I came to work for my dad.”

Me: “And as soon as you got here, the first thing you said was, ‘Bring me San Diego Magazine?’ ”

Kellogg: “Right.” He laughs politely. “Actually, I did pay a lot of attention to San Diego Magazine, for a lot of reasons. It gives you a nice synopsis of things that are happening in the city. When I was trying to get myself up to speed, it kept me tuned in to what local issues were and what people were thinking.”

Me: “So you look to a monthly regional magazine for in-depth analysis?”

Kellogg: “Absolutely—for current events. You cover a wide variety of topics—some of them political, some event-related and some about larger national issues. Even on the social side, I would see pictures of people doing things, and it helped me learn the names and who was doing what. But it was definitely fun to see who was getting hot under the collar about something or other.”

Me: “The magazine is distributed in your hotel. Did you ever pull an issue from rooms because something was too controversial?”

Kellogg: “I don’t know if he did, but my grandfather was volatile, and he could have. We put it in the guestrooms because we know guests use it. You must spend a lot of time putting it together. . . Probably the most difficult part of the magazine is the extremely large number of ads.”

Me: “Okay. . .”

Kellogg: “Particularly from cosmetic surgeons. That seems to be a trademark of the publication. That being said, you have a lot of great content in between.” We move to the 1989 bound edition of the magazine. It’s the year the Mount Soledad cross issue took legal center stage.

Kellogg: “Frankly, one thing that has been extremely surprising to me is that this issue has only gotten as many column inches recently as it has in 20 years. We’ve really turned this into one of San Diego’s great tourist attractions. It’s a veterans memorial that has been an incredibly important development in San Diego.”

Me: “Duly noted.” Kellogg picks up the most recent issue of San Diego Magazine.

Kellogg: “The magazine seems to attempt to bring about change, as opposed to simply reporting change. It’s done some pretty aggressive, in-depth reporting on issues. I’ve learned things in the magazine I didn’t pick out of the newspaper. I’ve really been educated by the magazine.”

Me: “Do you think we lean one way or another?”

Kellogg: “I can’t really characterize it as Democratic or Republican. I could say you take a given topic and try to push things a little bit. But it’s more a right-or-wrong type of thing. If you see something that comes across as corruption, you are tough on people.”

As we wrap things up, Kellogg says, yes, he’s going to keep the subscription going. But given that he doesn’t have a male heir to eventually pass the magazine legacy to, what’ll happen? Will the streak end?

Not to worry. One of Kellogg’s daughters is working in the hospitality industry and may someday inherit Dad’s office. Her name is Wendy Scripps Kellogg. Bill says they could simply change the name to W.S. Kellogg—the same initials as Bill’s subscription-initiating grandfather.

I believe the judges will allow that.

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