Fear and Loathing in America

by Hunter S. Thompson

  But to hell with all this. What depresses me is your statement that it was “absolutely clear” to you that Raoul Duke & his attorney “were not on drugs.” Because my conception of that piece was to write a thing that would tell what it was like to do a magazine assignment with a head full of weird drugs. I didn’t really make up anything—but I did, at times, bring situations & feelings I remember from other scenes to the reality at hand. I might even claim, for that matter, that this was done by consciously tripping the fabled “LSD Recall and/or Flashback Mechanism.”

  But this is a difficult subject, & there’s no point in trying to come to grips with it here. What I’m talking about, in essence, is the mechanical Reality of Gonzo Journalism … or Total Subjectivity, as opposed to the bogus demands of Objectivity.

  But fuck all that, for now. All I ask is that you keep your opinions on my drug-diet for that weekend to yourself. As I noted, the nature (& specifics) of the piece has already fooled the editors of Rolling Stone. They’re absolutely convinced, on the basis of what they’ve read, that I spent my expense money on drugs and went out to Las Vegas for a ranking freakout. Probably we should leave it this way; it makes it all the more astounding, that I could emerge from that heinous experience with a story. So let’s just keep our personal conclusions to ourselves….

  ***

  Inre: Vegas as the end of the American Dream book, I definitely disagree. Lynn has already urged this on me, and I told her that—although I share her (and your) sense of urgency about “Getting the Book Done,” I’d hate to wrap it up with a stone-crazy “drug orgy” that might impeach the essentially serious tone of the book as a whole. I can’t see coming off a thing about Aspen politics (or the Murder of Ruben Salazar) and sliding into a freakout in Las Vegas that was originally conceived in such madness that I didn’t even want to sign it with my own name.

  I might be wrong on this—and I told Lynn that I’d probably “defer to Silberman’s judgment on this,” which is true, but I want you to keep in mind that I’d just as soon not be dismissed as a Drug Addled clown … and I’m afraid that might be the effect of ending the AD book with the Vegas thing.

  My notion of a proper ending remains the Aspen/Sheriff thing—which is more or less written, and I should definitely send you a copy, so we’ll at least know what we’re haggling about.

  The main problem with everything, right now, is that it all has to be done immediately … which in the terms of my own history is probably instructive, but despite all that I’m still a bit leery of making a Public Fool of myself, just to get a book out. There is always the chance, of course, that I am a fool, but I’d prefer to make some asshole like Peter J. Prescott30 figure that out for himself, rather than give him the kind of Drug Handle that the Vegas thing would offer.

  I don’t see any real point in trying to pass the Vegas thing off as the work of “Raoul Duke,” either. But I get the feeling that “my image,” as it were, might not suffer so drastically if that one appeared separately as something like “The Vegas Diaries of R. Duke.” I like to think that I can still draw the line between savage humor and brute-serious journalism … but maybe not; and I suspect that when the final truth is known, if ever, there will be no real difference at all. Frankly, I’ve never seen one, myself.

  In the meantime, I’m enclosing an accidental classic of a photo that was taken by one of those wandering bar-room photographers in Caesars Palace on one of those nights during the Drug Convention. On the left is Raoul Duke, and on the right is “my attorney.” (His real name is Oscar Acosta—the Chicano lawyer—but I’ve promised not to publish his name in connection with this foto, without his permission. This is not the kind of story that would help him politically in East L.A.)

  Publication of the foto, itself, is no problem—and I suspect that the use of his name won’t be any problem, either, once the time comes. The key consideration is How the Story is treated: If we’re both to be made out as Fools, then the caption should be “Raoul Duke & Attorney in Caesars Palace.”

  But this is something we can worry about much later. The important thing, right now, is to finish Vegas II and also the Aspen piece. After that, we can see how it all fits. But—from my own point of view—I think Vegas I & II should be separate entities. You shouldn’t worry about RH control over this, in light of the fact that you’ve paid the major part of the expenses for Vegas.

  For that matter, you should put aside all worries or concerns or even paranoid delusions about any of this material somehow slipping out of your grasp. As far as I’m concerned—and I’ve explained this to Wenner—you’ve endured a lot of half-mad bullshit from me during the past two years, and as far as I’m concerned you have first call on any material that you think should go into this long-overdue book. My only concern, inre: Vegas, is that I don’t want to confuse payment of a legitimate debt with the permanent destruction of my credibility as a writer.

  But I assume you understand this, so until we come to some serious disagreement you can assume I think you’re doing the right thing. I’m not going to start piecing off things to Rolling Stone or anybody else without warning you far in advance—and not even then until we’ve had a human talk.

  Which seems vaguely like make-work, right now. At this point, I’m not even sure RS has agreed to pay my expenses in Vietnam, so that Sept 1 departure date is hardly definite. My only serious concern, at this point, is to get this goddamn evil AmDream book out. Vegas is secondary, and Vietnam is third. (My idea that Vietnam might be included in the AD book was clearly useless; it emerged from a panic notion that the War might be over by October—and this seems hopeless now.)

  On the other hand—thinking realistically—I get the impression from Wenner that he’s dead serious about getting me to Vietnam, so any momentary haggling about “expenses” will probably be settled pretty quick.

  Next week, in fact. He & his wife are coming out here for a week or so, and on the basis of his last visit out here I have to assume the talk will run fast & heavy. So if there’s anything in this letter that addles or disturbs your thinking, you should get your reply off at once. Or call. My experience with Jann is that when he starts calling me every 24 hours—which has been the case during my solitary funk this week—that he is definitely into something. And if that’s the case, I’d prefer to be absolutely firm with you before I start making extraneous agreements.

  To that end, I’ll try to xerox & mail a copy of my half-finished version of the Aspen/Sheriff thing tomorrow. Selah….

  Another upcoming thing, next week, is a summit-conference on Vortex. That’s the name I’ve given to this valley; my friend & landlord, George Stranahan, has bought the whole thing, and now we’re trying to figure out what to do with it. Mike Murphy is coming out from Esalen, along with Wenner. What we want to do is come up with a completely new concept of land use &/or occupancy—something that transcends the old notion of “ownership.” Do you know anybody who’s into this? Or any pertinent books? If so, you should tell me at once. We have a rare situation here—a whole valley (including a small sawmill town) that the owner wants to use for some kind of genuinely revolutionary supra-ownership experiment … and I find myself in the weird position of being the Contact Man. We plan to incorporate the place immediately, then get on with the business of Destroying the Concept of Land/Ownership in Perpetuity.

  Not communes. That concept strikes me as hopelessly naïve—or at least naïve to me, given over, as I am, to my mania for privacy. And the handful of others now involved seem to feel the same way. So this leaves us with a weird hellish problem: How to codify privacy and at the same time croak the notion of fence-lines.

  I suppose this can’t make much sense to you there in The Pit … but the point, as I see it, is to establish some viable alternative to The Pit. When the world narrows down to the point where I can leave my house in Woody Creek & be in LA in 2 hrs, or NY in 4 hrs (not counting time-zone differences) … there is no longer any sense in this lifestyle. The Techno/Demogr
aphic realities of 1971 are in total conflict with the idea that any amount of money can buy absolute domain over any physical territory. This is becoming clear around Aspen, if not in NY.

  But this is a different story, and I’ll get to it later—when we get something working. Meanwhile, I’ll send the Aspen thing & also Vegas II. And on your end, let’s confront the mechanics of getting a good book together by September 1. OK for now …

  Hunter

  TO JANN WENNER, ROLLING STONE:

  Thompson’s ongoing agonies over expense accounts and contract negotiations serve as a cautionary tale for freelance writers.

  June 15, 1971

  Woody Creek, CO

  Dear Jann …

  I’m sending today, under sep. cover, an accidental classic of a photo to go with the Vegas thing. As I noted in the margin, Acosta’s name should not be mentioned without his permission. He’s not opposed to the use of the photo, but as of now he’s concerned about seeing his name etched permanently in the caption. I understand this, and agreed that he would only be identified as “my attorney.”

  My own caption-ID is personally immaterial to me. The Raoul Duke byline, however, might now be entirely viable if Random House decides to use Vegas II in the American Dream book—by HST. This is an option that Silberman bought—very cheap, I think—when he paid the Expense tab for both Vegas pieces (less $500 that was paid out in cash & remains un-reimbursed). What he paid was the Carte Blanche bill, but not in time to beat the computer that took my card. The swine cut me off last week—no warning at all, just a massive cut-off & a vicious letter from the Harbour Detective Agency, saying I should cut my card in half & send it back. I refused, of course, but that doesn’t alter the fact that my number is now on the “to be arrested at once” list that circulates among CB dealers.

  The fact that I blame you for this is probably unjust in the long run—but of course there was never any real question of “the long run.” All I wanted to do was pay off my card, and talk about Fiscal Responsibility later.

  Which is neither here nor there, for now. The deed is done. I am now naked of credit. And this ugly fact is going to put a bad crimp in my working-style for a long time to come. Selah …

  ***

  As for Vegas, it’s coming along very slowly. Silberman thinks it should go in the AmDream book, but I disagree. By picking up my expenses, however, he bought the right to decide. As I noted in previous letters—both to you and Silberman—he had no contractual obligation to pay the whole nut. I’m impressed, however, by the shrewdness he showed in buying effective control of two books for $102.10. If you want to get seriously into the publishing business you might do well to watch Silberman’s left hand—never mind his right—and see how he deals with the rudiments. What we are into now is a situation where Silberman has the right of First Refusal on Vegas II, in terms of book rights. If he wants Vegas II for the AD book, it’s his—leaving RS (Straight Arrow) with nothing but First Serial rights on Vegas I.

  Like I say, I disagree with this. The Vegas stuff is too twisted, I think, to anchor a serious book. But what will probably happen, now, is that I’ll have to persuade Silberman of that and then trade him “The Battle of Aspen—An Epitaph for Freak Power?” for the entirety of Vegas. And this dealing will be subject in a lot of ways to The Schedule—my planned departure for Saigon on Sept 1.

  So we’ll have at least this to ponder when you get here. Sandy says you called Sunday & then today. I was far into madness on Sunday—Lucian Truscott showed up with a huge bag of mescaline—and today I was too cosmically pissed off to talk about anything. Especially money—which you seem to have indicated would be the subject under discussion. I had a terrible scene with the dentist earlier today: One of the side-horrors of Vegas II was that I bit down on something that cracked three of my teeth—a problem I was unaware of until I went in a few days ago for my routine 6-month cleaning.

  I’ve also been locked into this Vortex (new concept of land use & ownership) thing for the past few days. We can’t figure out what to do with this fucking valley, and this impotence is driving me nuts. Maybe you have some ideas …??? Mike Murphy (Esalen) is coming out in a week or so & I plan to prod him for ideas. When exactly do you plan to be here?

  Shit, I’ll call him tomorrow. I’m vaguely concerned, among other things, about that “Jesus Freak memo” from the Sports Desk … if there’s any possibility that it might be published, I want to talk about it first. (Meanwhile, I’ve prepared Sports Desk Memo #2—On the subject of “Drug Lyrics in Rock Music.”) The very nature of this format makes the writing a bit heavy. #1 began as a joke—and perhaps it ended that way. I can’t be sure. Whenever I belch out my bias that strongly, it takes on an element of craziness … and I want to be careful of this. In the past two weeks I’ve received copies of two different books that used “selections” from Hell’s Angels, and in both cases I was shocked at what happens to my stuff when it’s printed out of context. All it takes is a few cuts on the Humor to make the rest seem like the ravings of a dangerous lunatic.

  Anyway, we can deal with these things when you get here. It’s possible that [Bill] Noonan will be gone, and if he is you can stay in his house—which would probably be preferable, from your end, to using the guest room here. Which is definitely available—complete with White Sound. But I’ll talk to you tomorrow, before you get this, and get a fix on your travel dates.

  OK for now …

  HST

  TO TOM WICKER, THE NEW YORK TIMES:

  New York Times Washington bureau chief Tom Wicker was a soft-spoken North Carolina liberal known for his eloquent opposition to the Vietnam War and other injustices. He would write in his 1978 book On Press that “the true freedom of the press is to decide for itself what to publish and when to publish it.”

  June 18, 1971

  Woody Creek, CO

  Dear Mr. Wicker …

  I just finished your piece on “The Greening of the Press” in the May/June Columbia J-Review—perhaps the best or at least the most consistently-committed thing of yours I’ve ever read. Your out-front public education has been one of the minor-spectacles on the press scene during the past few years.

  Nothing snide or nasty about that; it’s definitely meant as a compliment. Most people with your kind of leverage seem to hunker down & start snarling when their natural preconceptions go down the tube … but you seemed to have learned from it, which would seem to be such a natural thing that it shouldn’t need a compliment. But I think it does.

  Which is neither here nor there—at least not in the context of your CJR piece. The thing made a perfect, ominous kind of sense from beginning to end … and from my own POV as a long-time special pleader, I was particularly jerked up by your conclusion, the last 3 grafs:

  “The novel, the good novel, has always been the best journalism.” And “… we must create the kind of conditions in which they (all those good writers) can do their best work.”

  Which raises the point—and the reason I write this letter—that, despite the visceral wisdom of the point you make, I get the feeling that what is actually happening is exactly in the opposite direction of what you advocate: that what we see today is a savagely collapsing market for the kind of journalism you seem to value. And so do I; and a hell of a lot of others….

  But the truth—which your Columbia speech never even hinted at—is that the market, and therefore the possibilities, for the kind of writing you’re talking about has shriveled drastically in the past year. I never really gave a fuck for Harper’s, but at least it was an opening, a possibility….

  Or maybe not … a quick spin on my own bitch here might be that Harper’s was really a waste of my time & money & paper. Just a stylish sinecure for a handful of writers who couldn’t find elbow room or whatever at the Times. Or Mailer’s private bazooka … but to hell with all that; it’s not that important. Harper’s at least passed for the kind of journalistic format that you and all the others—including me—say is necessary.r />
  On another level, I recently covered a motorcycle/dune-buggy orgy in Las Vegas with the Life bureau chief from LA, and he said that both Life and LOOK were in terminal trouble … and I said that was a fucking shame, but that if he wanted to take about a 90% cut in pay, we might create a position for him as Rolling Stone bureau chief in Miami.

  He smiled. It was a bad joke. He could no more work for RS than you could write editorials for the NY Daily News. But the point, once again, went far beyond the real or rumored vulnerability of any one or two magazines: Once again, it was Main Doors closing, possibilities shut off….

  To this end, I’m enclosing a thing I recently did for RS—not because I think it’s especially valuable in itself, but it seems to me to be the kind of thing that almost certainly couldn’t be published anywhere else in American journalism. As it happens, this was a first-draft deadline special, and it has a few nasty holes in it—but even if it were absolutely perfect, journalistically, I doubt if I could have sold it or even given it away to any other publication with any sort of readership or circulation. Not even the LA Times—Salazar’s own newspaper—would have touched a thing like this; not even after the inquest confirmed the Chicano militants’ charges on almost every point except the charge of First-Degree Murder.