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A true legend has passed. The death of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson has rocked the journalism world. Thompson, one of the pioneers of “real journalism,” went out with a bang – literally – by ending his own life with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. His decision ended an illustrious 67-year life.
When I first heard the news, I was dumbfounded. This man, best known for his savage, no-holds-barred approach to journalism, had truly lived life to the fullest.
As the news sunk in, I found little surprise in the Good Doctor’s suicide. This was a man who had penchant for drugs, guns and using both simultaneously at his secluded ranch on the outskirts of Aspen, where he churned out many of his later masterpieces, ranting about the sports world – most recently espn.com’s “Hey Rube” column – and the current state of politics.
“When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” Thompson’s immortal words fail to adequately assess his outlook on life. This was a man who truly lived for the moment, embracing all facets of insanity and never looking back or fearing potential consequences of his outrageous actions.
He wrote for a number of publications, most notably Rolling Stone and Sports Illustrated, balancing the unbelievable, the incredulous and concrete fact, including his breakout work “Hells Angels.” He was comissioned by the biker gang themselves to ride with them for a year and to publish his account of what transpired. His writings were raw, perceptive accounts of the events he experienced, or in most cases caused to happen – no bullshit, no pandering to editors and most importantly, no deadlines, the true essence of “Gonzo journalism,” the phrase coined by Thompson to describe his mad musings, also applies to fellow ground-breaking author Tom Wolfe’s works – “The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test”, “Bonfire of the Vanities.”
More often than not, Thompson’s assignments took a backseat to his unbridled sense of adventure and mischief that would get today’s reporters fired for even thinking about. His skepticism was his trademark, the signature of a true Thompson misadventure.
Anyone who has seen the movie “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” can attest, at least partially, to Thompson’s ingenious insanity. As is usually the case, the book is far superior to the film adaptation. But as far as mainstream portrayals of Thompson go, Johnny Depp hit the nail on the head with his role as Dr. Gonzo. If you have not yet experienced this film, I would recommend seeing it just to understand, on a very minimal level, the depth of Thompson’s brilliant lunacy.
His works range from the ultra-political “Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail,” his brutal assessment of the 1972 presidential campaign, to the intensely personal, such as “Screwjack,” a rare, candid account of his sex life at the height of his celebrity.
Never one to mince words, Thompson was a pro at keeping a grudge. His disdain for Former President Richard Nixon was echoed at Nixon’s funeral, where he called the former president “A liar, a quitter and a bastard. A cheap crook and a merciless war criminal.” For Thompson, the pen was truly mightier than the sword.
His words are his legacy. His free-spirited nature is an eternal beacon for those who opt to seek out the truth as opposed to those who choose to follow the masses. He came under fire from conventional journalists for his extremely unorthodox journalistic practices, specifically regarding his ultra-reckless drug use. Thompson said it best himself: “I hate to advocate the use of drugs, alcohol, violence and insanity, but in my case, they’ve seemed to work.”
It was this approach to covering stories that made Thompson such a coveted writer and icon for those jaded by conformism and predictable media professionals.
Thompson’s influence led me to write for this publication. As a fan of his works and his individualistic approach to writing a seething piece, I got rip-roaring drunk and decided the issue of reality television had to be addressed in my own unique fashion. A 12-pack of Bud Light, at least two shots of Jack Daniels and God-knows-what else later, my very first column for The Maine Campus was emailed to the Opinion editor at the time, Marshall Dury. Looking back, the piece was terrible and I could have inadvertently blacklisted myself from the publication. However, sitting at my desk in The Maine Campus Office, there but for the grace of the Good Doctor, go I.
In some journalism classes, the professor will go around and ask if anyone has a journalistic influence. I always reply “Hunter S. Thompson.” Usually I am met with a nod of trepidation and a raised eyebrow, the kind that denotes an unsavory character. This never deters me, because I embrace Thompson’s fearlessness, tenacity and courage under fire.
The impact of Thompson’s life and legacy will transcend mere personal anecdotes and tales of woe. Through his storied catalog, Thompson has solidified a place amongst the greatest writers of our time. The echo of his distinguished career and countless rants against the powers that be reverberate his gonzo voice of reason through this era of political and social turmoil.
Mike Melochick is a senior journalism major who believes it’s better to burn out than to fade away.
