Hunter S. Thompson dead

[denoir 0]

The father of gonzo journalism and the author of "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" Hunter S. Thompson has comitted suicide.

He is one of my favourite authors of all time. While it is sad news, I'm not really surprised by the way he died.

The Thompson Style: A Sense of Self, and Outrage [NYT]

Quote[/b] ]

Hunter S. Thompson died on Sunday, alone with a gun in his kitchen in Woody Creek, Colo. In doing so, he added heft to a legend that came to obscure his gifts as one of journalism's most influential practitioners.

Somewhere beneath the cartoon - he was Uncle Duke in the Doonesbury strip, of course, but Bill Murray inked him well in the 1980 film "Where the Buffalo Roam" - and a lifestyle dominated by a long and sophisticated romance with drugs, Mr. Thompson managed to change the course of American journalism.

Of all of the so-called practitioners of New Journalism, Mr. Thompson was the one who was willing to insert himself and his capacious reserve of outrage into the middle of every story. In his articles for Rolling Stone and his seminal 1973 book, "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72" Mr. Thompson threw himself at the conventions of political reporting. Not only was he not neutral, he was angry, an avenging proxy for the American polity. Brick by brick, he tore away a wall - since rebuilt - that made politics seem like a low-stakes minstrel show.

"He spent his life in search of an honest man, and he seldom found any," said James Silberman, his longtime editor and publisher at Random House and Summit Books.

As a writer though, Mr. Thompson met plenty of honest digressions, and engaged them all to their fullest. He would begin with a premise - Richard Nixon was doing Satan's handiwork, for instance - and then in writing about it, tumble through the Tet Offensive, the drugs from the previous night he was trying to fight through, Hubert Humphrey's alleged spinelessness, Nixon's surprising knowledge of the N.F.L., and the fecklessness of his editors, before landing the entire rococo mix in one tidy package, like a gift.

His assignments always became quests. It was not enough for him to journey south to Cozumel off the Yucatán Peninsula to write about rich white men hunting sharks; he also had to retrieve 50 doses of MDA, a drug he was fond of, that he had stashed in the shark pool of the aquarium the last time he was on the island. Mr. Thompson managed to live and write his own version of the Heisenberg principle: That the observer not only changes events by his presence, but his presence also frequently surpasses the event in terms of importance. Like many contemporary American writers, Mr. Thompson lived the bell curve of a writer's life. Long after the "Fear and Loathing" rubric had been arrayed over everything from shark fishing, the Hell's Angels and Las Vegas, he was hounded by the fact that his moment - a white hot one where in which he found himself face to face with a shark or George McGovern - had passed.

His friends would continue to drop by Woody Creek, his remote, mountainous salon near Aspen for smart, engaging talk accompanied by the explosives, narcotics and weaponry Mr. Thompson counted as enduring hobbies. Ed Bradley of "60 Minutes" was one of them, and said yesterday that Thompson's menace was overestimated, that it was frequently overwhelmed by courtliness. George Plimpton was a frequent visitor, as was Walter Isaacson. Even the town sheriff was welcome, as long as he called ahead so Mr. Thompson could tidy the premises.

For a generation of American students, Mr. Thompson made journalism seem like a dangerous, fantastic occupation, in the process transforming an avocation that was mostly populated by doughy white men in short-sleeve white button-downs and bad ties into something fit for those who smoked Dunhills at the end of cigarette holders and wore sunglasses regardless of the time of day. It is to his credit or blame that many aspiring journalists showed up to cover their first, second, and sometimes third local city council meetings in bowling shirts and bad sunglasses (no names need be mentioned here), along with their notebooks.

For all of the pharmacological foundations of his stories, Mr. Thompson was a reporter, taking to the task of finding out what other people knew with an avidity that earned the respect of even those who found his personal hobbies reprehensible. Hunter S. Thompson knew stuff and wrote about it in a way that could leave his colleagues breathless and vowing to do better.

He had a gift for sentence writing, and he tended to write a lot of them. But his loquaciousness was not restricted to articles and books. In "Fear and Loathing in America: The Brutal Odyssey of an Outlaw Journalist," his memoir published in 2000 which was composed of correspondence, it became clear how in his hands even the lowly expense report, usually a relentlessly banal document, could be a thing of beauty.

To Mr. Thompson, it was all true, every word of it. Maybe not literally, you-can-look-it-up true, but true in a way that the bean counters would never understand. Friends say that he appeared to be relatively happy of late, and was fully engaged in the writing projects he had before him. But a chronic series of physical infirmities - he had to use a wheelchair at times - left him feeling that he was finally being maneuvered by forces he could not medicate or write into obscurity.

And his suicide had its own terrible logic. A man who was so intent on generating a remarkable voice that he retyped Hemingway's novels just to understand how it was done, gave a final bit of dramatic tribute in turning a gun on himself.

[EiZei 0]

A sad loss indeed.

[Blink Dog 0]

Definately one of my fav authors as well. One of my life goals was to goto Woody Creek and see the owl farm (his ranch) and maybe see the famed Dr of journalism myself.

Edit: Stole your sig Eizei

[AOCbravo2004 0]

Very sad indeed. Sunday night I was with my friend Michelle and I was telling her about how Where the Buffalo Roam is so much better then Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas, and I came home to read the news.

[denoir 0]

From Ralph Steadman (http://www.ralphsteadman.com/), Hunter's illustrator.

(Steadman portrait of Thompson)

Quote[/b] ]

Since it happened my feet haven't touched the ground. It's like I can still speak to Hunter beyond the grave. Like he is saying, 'Don't fuck up on this one, Ralph! Tell it like you knew it, but don't bad mouth me!! You always knew I was going to do it, so it wasn't 'if' but 'when'. It was my call, Ralph and now you will have to deal with the flood. Apres moi, Ralph- the deluge!! Did you think it was going to be an easy ride? You knew what you were doing when you bought a ticket. You were there most of the time, but towards the end you couldn't handle the heat, but you made the Role of Honor by the skin of your teeth. So long Ralph, and thanks for the laughs. And remember- The Crazy Never Die! Look after Anita'.

So there we are. I always knew that one day Hunter would make that journey, but I did not know yesterday that it would be today. He told me 25 years ago that he would feel real trapped if he didn't know that he could commit suicide at any moment. I don't know if that is brave or stupid or what, but it was inevitable. I think that the truth of what rings through all his writing is that he meant what he said. If that is entertainment to you, well, that's OK. If you think that it enlightened you, well, that's even better. If you wonder if he's gone to Heaven or Hell- rest assured he will check out the both, find out which one Richard Milhaus Nixon went to- and go there. He could never stand being bored. But there must be Football too- and Peacocks. I thank everyone who has sent condolences, but spare a long thought for his wife Anita, who has had to balance their lives on a knife edge these last few years to keep them sane. She is a lovely lady. Bless her heart....

Ralph Steadman,

February 22, 2005

[hellfish6 7]

A favorite of mine as well. I'll really miss him and his writing... he was a man too strange for this world. I hope he's found his place.

[bn880 5]

Well, I am not much of a book buff, call me different or stupid (your choice); but from what I can gather by all depictions, I can see he would make that choice. Personally if I spent my days thinking about society/politics I'd likely blow my brains out as well, so it's better to just not go there in life...

Sad fact of life, but it has to be accepted, remember, a sheep never commits suicide, but a man sometiems does.

R.I.P. (not that it makes a diff, I wish the family the best.)

[bn880 5]

Quote[/b] ]There is a self-regulating mechanism inside everything (the GAIA principle). Violence is a reaction to helplessness. Helplessness is impotence.

From his site...

[Schoeler 0]

"We were halfway to Barstow when the drugs began to take hold . . ."

"There is nothing more frightening to a man in the depths of an ether binge than to see his dead grandmother crawling up his leg with a knife in her teeth."

God I loved that man. It's a shame he's no longer making us laugh. I've read most everything he's written more than once. He was a good serious author too. Read Hell's Angels sometime.

Now I'll have to wade my way through a world filled with angry rotarians alone. Maybe my attorney can help me.

[hellfish6 7]

"Did you see what God did to us, man?"

[denoir 0]

"Did you see what God did to us, man?"

"God didn't do that! You did it. You're a fucking narcotics agent! I was on to your stinking act from the start, you pig!"  

Anyway, I could never have imagined him die a natural death - it would be so uncharacteristic. It's too bad we won't get any more writing from him, but as deaths go, he could have done worse.

[bn880 5]

I second that.

[cozza 24]

wierd. Just last night I was talking about borring Fear and Loathing in Las Vagas from my sisters boyfriend

[Guest]

Goodbye Hunter S. Like the article said, the wall has been rebuilt. I'm not too suprised he didn't want to be around anymore....

I do find it amazing though that he lasted this long, considering he's taken more drugs than everyone on this board put together.

[Ares1978 0]

A real shame.

Anybody know what kind of gun he used?

[maximilien 0]

Quote :"Anybody know what kind of gun he used?"

What is the interest ?

[Winters 1]

"As your attorney i advise you to drive as fast as possible"

[theavonlady 2]

My idea of counter cuture is not cleaning up in the kitchen for 2 days.

[Balschoiw 0]

"As your attorney I advise you to drink as much beer as possible."

My variation when I visit a good friend of mine and we get drunk on his couch watching Killing Zoe or some other funstuff like Peter Sellers movies...

I had fun with the books of Thompson.

Farewell !

[Sole 0]

A sad loss, may he rest in peace

"Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a Highway Traffic Cop. Your normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side. This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop heart. Make the bastard chase you. He will follow."

One of my alltime favourite quotes.

(Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas)

[Winters 1]

Everyone remembers Johnny Depp in "Fear and Loathing...", but lets not forget thet Bill Murray did a good job of it in "Where the Buffalo Roam".

Although i think Bill Murray was being Bill Murray playing Hunter, Depp WAS Hunter in his portrayal.

But they are both good movies IMO.

[Ares1978 0]

Quote :"Anybody know what kind of gun he used?"

What is the interest ?  

Just curious.

[kerosene 0]

I was gutted, when I saw this on the CNN website I thought it must be a practical joke, then I started to read the article... He was a real one of a kind.

[Nemesis6 0]

"Tell me about the fucking golfshoes!!"

[Balschoiw 0]

Quote[/b] ]Depp WAS Hunter in his portrayal.

Definately. Whenever I should feel tempted to listen to White Rabbit and have my friend throw the player in the bathtub filled with oranges to make me grill, I´d prefer to have Depp doing that.

Hehe, anyone remember the part in the book where they poored Äther (english expression ?) all over the hotelroom floor to give them some kind of permanent flash ?

Grejsi !