Outlaw Journalist: The Life and Times of Hunter S. Thompson

William McKeen

Norton

By Mitch Myers

Hunter S. Thompson would have been 71 years old on July 18th if he just hadn't killed himself back in 2005. Thompson is probably best remembered for Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, his vivid self-depiction of Raoul Duke, a substance-addled Don Quixote battling psychedelic windmills with his Samoan attorney Dr. Gonzo--all in paranoid pursuit of some vague but urgent journalistic exhumation of the American Dream.

In lieu of Hunter's birth anniversary, synchronistic commercial opportunities have occurred. The most recent film documentary, Gonzo, has received a lot of attention, but there's also a new biography, Outlaw Journalist: The Life and Times of Hunter S. Thompson, written by Hunter's one-time associate, William McKeen.

Hunter's writings were almost always about himself, and besides the posthumous collections and anthologies, there have been several books written on his life. Outlaw Journalist is the first biography to emerge since Hunter's passing, and it benefits from scholarly hindsight and the story's clear-cut conclusion--as well as numerous interviews with Hunter's family, friends and colleagues.  

Outlaw Journalist initially portrays Hunter Thompson as a disaffected (but literary) youth from Louisville, Kentucky who lost his father at an early age and whose juvenile tastes for alcohol and vandalism would continue and flourish in adult life. Exceedingly bright, charismatic, contrary and manipulative, young Hunter traveled boldly and lived in several different locales, anxiously searching for his calling before finally stumbling into journalism as a profession.

If anything, McKeen (who chairs the journalism department at University of Florida, Gainesville) displays the bias of a writer protecting one of his own. Eschewing the sensationalist route (which is hard to do with Hunter), he methodically chronicles Thompson's remarkable ascent as a counterculture journalist with empathy and care.

Hunter's first big breakthrough book, Hell's Angels, was a powerful and distinctive example of the "New Journalism." His hyper-lucid first person account of hanging with the notorious motorcycle gang in the mid-1960s rivaled the cultural narratives of Tom Wolfe and Gay Talese, and established Thompson as an important literary voice.

McKeen never discounts Thompson's lifelong penchant for alcohol and drugs, but is far more interested in tending to his creative process and fabled struggles with editors--including a lifelong push/pull with Jann Wenner, the patron saint at Rolling Stone who published his groundbreaking essay, Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas in 1971 and pursued him to write for RS ever after.

Tumultuous working relationships marked Hunter's life; sporadically alienated from Wenner and Rolling Stone (and every other magazine/editor that he ever worked for/with), Hunter seemed to thrive when he was working with or in opposition of someone/something/anything else. Whether it was a merciless editor demanding overdue copy, the debauched camaraderie of Dr. Gonzo or an uneasy alliance with British illustrator Ralph Steadman, Hunter needed other people, and often used them as subjects in his writing.

Talented as he was, Hunter also needed a great deal of assistance getting his writings into publishable shape. Although he routinely ignored deadlines and was incredibly difficult to deal with, he was absolutely desperate to get paid--hence his alternating rage, solicitudes and full-fledged combat with editors like Wenner.   

Thompson is seen as a difficult, demanding spouse who pushed his first wife Sandy to unlikely extremes for a number of years before finally divorcing. The book is frank about Hunter's affairs, girlfriends and assistants (as well as his alcohol and cocaine habits), but McKeen still manages to soft-peddle HST's darker side, minimizing the stories of abuse (people and substances) and charting Thompson's rocky road to fame and security--which sadly coincided with the decline of his writing skills.

Those who valued his literary brilliance usually tolerated Hunter, but his addictions, attitudes and indulgences were being lionized by the time he assembled his most scathing political journalism--again for Wenner and Rolling Stone.

Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72 showcased Thompson toting strange and savage political insights. Unable to contain his righteous indignation while covering George McGovern's presidential campaign, Hunter's fearless imagination and crackling dope-prose were matched only by a loving contempt for then-President Richard Nixon. These irreverent, counterculture rants helped to change the face of political reporting in the 20th century.

Residing in Woody Creek, Colorado at his Owl Farm estate for the latter half of his life, Hunter became more infamous than famous. In 1970, he ran for Sheriff of Pitkin County on the Freak Ticket and lost in a close vote. Over the years he had land feuds, police complaints, and one problematic home bust, which was overturned in court. He fired his guns, stayed wasted and required an immense amount of handling. Hunter also hosted a number of celebrity friends at the Owl Farm--using his capacity to charm, engage and entertain everyone from Ed Bradley to Johnny Depp.

According to McKeen, Hunter's quest for fiscal security in the face of his waning literary skills resulted in a steady rehashing of style, content and motifs. Still, his public persona grew thanks to films and documentaries based on his life, the Uncle Duke character in Doonesberry--and the continued popularity of his Fear and Loathing books.  

Ultimately recognized as a man of letters but severely addicted to substances and physically deteriorating, Hunter's final years were accompanied by health issues, resulting in despondency and suicide despite a second marriage and a decent relationship with his son Juan.

Some say that the sycophants surrounded Hunter near the end--à la Elvis Presley--were people who valued their proximity and would never tell Thompson that enough was enough. Author McKeen avoids excessive speculation about Thompson's suicide, and reports that few insiders were truly shocked when they heard he'd ended his life with a handgun.

Overall, William McKeen is more than respectful to Hunter's memory, allowing his celebrated subject to keep his dignity and extolling the majesty of his gonzo prose. Thorough and thoughtful, Outlaw Journalist expertly defends Hunter S. Thompson's life on the edge, and his crucial role in literary journalism.