Finally he says, “Well…uh…I don’t know.” More silence, then he says, “I haven’t seen you in a long while. In reply I hear heavy breathing, but no words, and it wouldn’t take a psychologist to tell he isn’t crazy about the idea. I call Thompson and tell him I’d like to do a piece on him. Visitors are not welcome and he despises interviews. Only Hunter Thompson knows what Hunter Thompson has been up to, so if you seek the answer, you must go to the mountain, literally-outside Aspen, Colorado, where Hunter lives. They’re hungry for more product, and they want to know what he’s been up to. The stories of his preposterous lifestyle became an introduction to his work for many of the uninitiated, but the legend is no longer enough for them. When his output slowed down, he forged a link with the new generation in the late ’70s and ’80s through his college lecture tours. The Great Shark Hunt, a compilation of his works, was his best best-seller. Once he got in the groove, he batted out two more best-sellers, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ’72.
First he wrote for Scanlan’s and then moved over to the then budding Rolling Stone. Thompson found his niche with the new-wave publications in the mid-’60s, where his outrageous style was stamped gonzo journalism. The bike outlaws didn’t just chase him off, they kicked the shit out of him first, but he did the book, and it was his first big winner.
He started out as a tame, orthodox reporter for the National Observer, but the pace was too slow, and he set out to do a book on the Hell’s Angels. His outrageous style and disdain for the establishment was “discovered” in the late ’60s and his following grew as he kept turning out best-sellers and scintillating magazine articles. He’s a damn good reporter who writes in a perverse orbit of his own, leading you down weird paths strewn with fools and scamps. The competition can make small talk about Thompson’s lifestyle, but if he gets off his ass, they better shape up. “The man who writes best-sellers like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, whose ideal breakfast consists of omelets stuffed with psychedelic mushrooms, a dozen beers, six Bloody Marys, and a reefer to be named later, sounds to me like, well, an ideal columnist.” Also Read Fear and Loathing Illustrator Ralph Steadman Is Drawing Travis Scott and Quavo’s New Album Cover
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