More on Hunter
Back in 1994, I attended a conference at NYU on the Beat Generation. I was actually a memebr of the press covering the event for a now-defunct magazine. Here is my article that was published in Ergo Magazine.
When They Say Gonzo, They Ain’t Kidding
“I can’t do this right now.”
- Dr. Hunter S. Thompson
It’s funny. That was the last thing Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, Gonzo journalist and author of many best selling books, said to me at the end of a very brief, personal interview. Now, it’s me who should be saying that. After three days in New York and returning to Scranton only to find the craziness continuing, the last place I really want to be is sitting in front of this computer. But deadlines are deadlines, so I should just tell what happened and get it over with.
Thompson arrived to the conference late. Once seated on stage, and as the moderator began introducing him, Thompson took out a pipe and began passing it around the panel. He was also drinking scotch like it was going out of style. He rambled for several minutes, and the next panelist, Ed Sanders of The Fugs, took over.
As each member of the panel spoke, Thompson began to become more and more uncomfortable. Suddenly, Thompson leapt to his feet, left the stage, found someone who looked remotely connected to the organizers of the conference, and started screaming:
“You crazy bastard, can’t you see what’s going on? Get me some water. Now! And bring ice. We’re going to need lots of ice. Hurry up! Goddamnit! Before it’s too late.”
(Author’s Note: I’d hope to have more documentation than my own notes on this, but the tape of the conference I had recorded was seized as I was leaving NYU by two men claiming to be Federal agents, but that is an entirely different story.)
The conference continued to its completion with Thompson giving the occasional mumble. Then, instead of following behind Thompson in hopes of getting an interview, I kept ahead of him and eventually just waited on the other side of the stage exit door.
It worked. As security pushed him through the stage door, away from the press and the hundreds of people wanting autographs, he landed right in my lap.
GD: Dr. Thompson, as a media critic, you feel free to attack anyone, but cannot except criticism from anyone. What’s up?
HST: Who criticizes me?
GD: Gary Trudeau is a good example.
HST: Is it your life ambition to be turned into a cartoon? That creature doesn’t resemble me in any way. It’s disgusting the way that rat bastard depicts me.
GD: But Dr. Thompson, it’s no worse than the picture you painted of Muskie in”…Campaign Trail 1972”.
Thompson’s eyes grew even wider under his amber colored sunglasses. The fear had clearly gotten the best of him.
HST: I can’t do this right now.
No shit.
When They Say Gonzo, They Ain’t Kidding
“I can’t do this right now.”
- Dr. Hunter S. Thompson
It’s funny. That was the last thing Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, Gonzo journalist and author of many best selling books, said to me at the end of a very brief, personal interview. Now, it’s me who should be saying that. After three days in New York and returning to Scranton only to find the craziness continuing, the last place I really want to be is sitting in front of this computer. But deadlines are deadlines, so I should just tell what happened and get it over with.
Thompson arrived to the conference late. Once seated on stage, and as the moderator began introducing him, Thompson took out a pipe and began passing it around the panel. He was also drinking scotch like it was going out of style. He rambled for several minutes, and the next panelist, Ed Sanders of The Fugs, took over.
As each member of the panel spoke, Thompson began to become more and more uncomfortable. Suddenly, Thompson leapt to his feet, left the stage, found someone who looked remotely connected to the organizers of the conference, and started screaming:
“You crazy bastard, can’t you see what’s going on? Get me some water. Now! And bring ice. We’re going to need lots of ice. Hurry up! Goddamnit! Before it’s too late.”
(Author’s Note: I’d hope to have more documentation than my own notes on this, but the tape of the conference I had recorded was seized as I was leaving NYU by two men claiming to be Federal agents, but that is an entirely different story.)
The conference continued to its completion with Thompson giving the occasional mumble. Then, instead of following behind Thompson in hopes of getting an interview, I kept ahead of him and eventually just waited on the other side of the stage exit door.
It worked. As security pushed him through the stage door, away from the press and the hundreds of people wanting autographs, he landed right in my lap.
GD: Dr. Thompson, as a media critic, you feel free to attack anyone, but cannot except criticism from anyone. What’s up?
HST: Who criticizes me?
GD: Gary Trudeau is a good example.
HST: Is it your life ambition to be turned into a cartoon? That creature doesn’t resemble me in any way. It’s disgusting the way that rat bastard depicts me.
GD: But Dr. Thompson, it’s no worse than the picture you painted of Muskie in”…Campaign Trail 1972”.
Thompson’s eyes grew even wider under his amber colored sunglasses. The fear had clearly gotten the best of him.
HST: I can’t do this right now.
No shit.