<http://www.thejakartapost.com/misc/PrinterFriendly.asp> The Jakarta Post February 28, 2005 Fear and loathing no more: Hunter S. Thompson, 1938-2005 Doug Anthony, Contributor, Jakarta It was always hard imagining the gun-toting, drug-addled king of "Gonzo" journalism, Hunter S. Thompson, surrendering to the infirmities of old age. And on Feb. 20, aged 67, just three years from reaching the biblical three score and ten, his final felony -- and caper -- was to violently end it all with one of the shotguns about which he wrote so fondly in his autumnal memoirs. Aside from this self-inflicted death, the tragedy of Thompson's life is that in the 34 years since his Fear and Loathing books of the 1970s, his mythic stature as a counter-culture wild man had overshadowed his contributions as a writer. Thompson went from waging a mescaline-fueled guerrilla war on the establishment to becoming part of it. He became the quintessential voice of America's left-wing rebellion of the 1960s, and through classics such as Hell's Angels (1966) and Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail (1972), Thompson helped to found New Journalism and its close cousin, Gonzo. Thompson and other Gonzo practitioners ripped the narrator from polite anonymity and placed him center stage, often making it feel like a bad LSD trip. Even Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1971), subtitled A Journey to the Heart of the American Dream, he said, was more truthful than most mainstream journalism at the time. In it, he documents a road trip through the Nevada desert and into America's own heart of darkness. Thompson's subjects were tyranny, corruption, power, guns and above all, drugs. On the way to Las Vegas, Raoul Duke (Thompson's alter-ego), and his 300-pound Samoan companion were armed with "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 multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, ... and also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether". He added: There is nothing more helpless and irresponsible than a man in the depths of an ether binge." Contemplating the meaning of the 1960s and what was to come, Thompson marked 1971 as the turning point for America's hippies and drug-takers, when flower-power idealism turned to cynicism. Later, sometime in the 1970s, perhaps after ascending to the masthead at Rolling Stone magazine, he seemed to realize he'd become a trademark, a patriarch of hipster street-cred. After all, what writer could sustain such a toxic outburst of creativity over such a long period of time. In a letter to a 14-year-old, Thompson wrote of the Hell's Angels that many of the older members were not "smart or funny, or brave, or even original. They just Old Punks, and that's a lot worse than being a Young Punk". In the 1990s, critics increasingly made the same charge of Thompson -- that unlike his contemporary Tom Wolfe, he hadn't moved on. Thompson's wacky stunts, such as igniting dynamite or blowing up Cadillacs on his farm in Woody Creek, Colorado, were no longer seen as cool or funny, just the behavior of a Peter Pan who refused to grow up. Thompson, of course, refused to give up his old hobbies of groping women, drinking and smoking to excess, or to cut free of his obsession with psychotropics. His later books, such as Better Than Sex, the 1994 diatribe about Bill Clinton, and Kingdom of Fear (2004), became increasingly peppered with personal letters, faxes and already-published articles. They creaked under the weight of a tired writer struggling to keep up a franchise. University campuses paid him to speak, however incoherently; editors shelled out top rates for rambling, repetitive columns. Again and again, we heard of his drug adventures, passion for guns and disdain for authority. He often said his beat as a reporter was to chart the decline of the American century. Kingdom of Fear is a case in point, taking as its subject post-9/11 America, advancing in obscene and angry tones those critiques already popularized by Michael Moore. Sadly, Thompson sounds just as he did 30 years ago. Instead of savaging Nixon, he turned to savaging George W. Bush and the Washington neo-conservatives. In the end, we won't know if the pain of a broken leg, a drug-fried brain or even old-fashioned despair spurred Thompson's final act. But as he slips even further into history, it is not the end of his career, but rather the beginning, that we are likely to remember. "This life's not for everyone," Thompson said in a 1998 interview, and last weekend proved it. -- ----------------- R. A. Hettinga <mailto: rah@ibuc.com> The Internet Bearer Underwriting Corporation <http://www.ibuc.com/> 44 Farquhar Street, Boston, MA 02131 USA "... however it may deserve respect for its usefulness and antiquity, [predicting the end of the world] has not been found agreeable to experience." -- Edward Gibbon, 'Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire'