Hunter S. Thompson is dead. Unbelievable.
I lived in the Aspen area for almost three years. For most of that time I worked at a small school in Woody Creek, located directly next to Hunter’s home (or fortified compound, as he liked to call it). The man I worked most closely with, George, was a close friend and long-time supporter of Hunter’s. There are lots of people in Woody Creek and elsewhere who are reliving their memories of Hunter today. Mine are minimal in comparison, but precious nonetheless.
I was lucky enough to meet Hunter on several occasions. Once I even sat next to him on a barstool at the Woody Creek Tavern and let him blow cigarette smoke at me (before the restaurant smoking ban). Mostly, when I saw Hunter, he just growled in my direction or muttered under his breath. Not that I cared. Just being in proximity to the great man was enough.
Once, I was house-sitting for George, which really was less about caring for his home and more about having an incredible place to throw parties. George’s home has an indoor pool and hot tub situated behind the living area (in addition to an ever-present tapped keg of Flying Dog Ale—see Hunter’s comments on the brew labels). After one such party, I had fallen asleep on the sofa, but was awoken by strange sounds coming from the pool area. I wandered to the edge of the dark pool, only to be met by a stream of garbled invective. I retreated to one of the bedrooms where another teacher was asleep (or passed out).
“Philip, Hunter Thompson is in the pool. He just yelled at me.” Philip rolled his eyes (you woke me up for this?). “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go swim with Hunter.” Philip looked at me. “He just yelled at you? Does he have a woman with him?” “Oh,” I replied. “I did hear another voice.” “Go back to sleep,” commanded Philip. So I did—listening to Hunter’s voice echoing from the enclosed pool–and dreamt that he rode into the living room on a huge black Harley, revving the engine and roaring, outfitted in a Hell’s Angels jacket.
I hope that’s what he’s doing now.
Share This
No writer has ever been so in charge of his own voice. I suspect (but it’s only a guess) that he got bad news from the doctors, and this was his final way of keeping control.
Damn, he will be missed. He’s already missed.
rev it up doc. nice words. thanks for sharing! i feel like we all need to be a little more non-conformist…a little less doomed…out of respect for one who lived his life in that spirit…and it is probably still not weird enough for him…
I will miss him … BIG HUG for Juan, Jen, Willam and Anita… who will never be able to fill the hole left in there lives by the man in spite of the myth and legend attached to his life..
Bradley Laboe
HST wrote some powerful stuff, but he wrote a lot of not-so-decent stuff (i.e. his unthinking glorification of drugs and his sports worship); he should be assessed without the typical sentimental gonzo perspective. Some of the scribblings posted since his death may remind some of us why we detest much of the party-dude left–the hipper than thou ‘tude, the “I’m part of the scene and you’re not” crap. And there are more than a few stories and reports that HST’s hands were not exactly clean. His political insights were admirable I guess, yet he also represents to some degree the excesses and mistakes of the 60s.
Egads, I swear an oath to kill the bastard that took the good doctor from us…oh wait he did it?!!!
Is it a case of “when the going gets tough the tough got weird?”
Did we let the man down?
Weren’t we, the secret Gonzo society, the enlightened ones, given the knowledge of the
soft white underbelly of American politics and culture, through pained Kentucky Bourbon soaked literary works charged with fighting for a change.
Hunter S. Thompson may not have been the best at what we did, but at the beginning, He was the only who did it. Doesn’t that make him a poineer? Should we let his lifes work be summarized on CNN as merely the guy who wrote that weird Johnny Depp Movie?
It was about the death of the American dream…and the world will be a sadder place without the doctor to help make nonsense of it all…
Farewell Hunter, and thanks for the food for thought…
We will keep up the fight