In the spring of 1970, a scant month or so before receiving a BA in philosophy from Georgetown University, I had no clue how I was going to support myself once I was off the parental dole. “Not a lot of work out there for philosophers,” my father used to say on a regular basis…one of the few things on which we agreed. Then lightning struck in the form of a tiny notice buried in the Washington Post: the newspaper was looking for its first rock critic.
