Monday, February 21, 2005
Death of a Titan II: I am in morning again, after an early wake-up call from my buddy Kevin. One of my heros in journalism -- for his writing, not his lifestyle -- is gone. Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, the gonzo journalist, is dead in an apparent suicide.
Thompson's "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" opened my eyes when I read it in college. It was part of a class in Literary Journalism, where we were exposed to narrative writing and encouraged to write "stories" not boring just-the-facts accounts. It was Thompson who really illustrated to me the beauty of writing. The book inspired me, not with its drug-induced rants, but with its metaphors. Thompson described the "high water mark" from the tidal wave that was the 1960s and how by 1971 the water had already rolled back.
He was a genius, even though I don't think he would like that title. He told the truth, even though some people couldn't find or appreciate it in his writing.
I'm sure Thompson is somewhere better now, toting his classic stash of drugs: two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine and a whole galaxy of multicolored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls; riding a big red shark convertible on his way to his new fortified compound. But now he won't have to worry about the helplessness and irresponsibility that comes in the depths of an ether binge.
So long, Mr. Duke, those of us trying to be gonzo journalists and continue your legacy will miss you.
Thompson was a regular columnist for ESPN.com's Page 2 section. You can check out their tribute and his past columns here.
Thompson's "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" opened my eyes when I read it in college. It was part of a class in Literary Journalism, where we were exposed to narrative writing and encouraged to write "stories" not boring just-the-facts accounts. It was Thompson who really illustrated to me the beauty of writing. The book inspired me, not with its drug-induced rants, but with its metaphors. Thompson described the "high water mark" from the tidal wave that was the 1960s and how by 1971 the water had already rolled back.
He was a genius, even though I don't think he would like that title. He told the truth, even though some people couldn't find or appreciate it in his writing.
I'm sure Thompson is somewhere better now, toting his classic stash of drugs: two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine and a whole galaxy of multicolored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls; riding a big red shark convertible on his way to his new fortified compound. But now he won't have to worry about the helplessness and irresponsibility that comes in the depths of an ether binge.
So long, Mr. Duke, those of us trying to be gonzo journalists and continue your legacy will miss you.
Thompson was a regular columnist for ESPN.com's Page 2 section. You can check out their tribute and his past columns here.
