There’ve been any numÂber of aspirÂing “gonzo jourÂnalÂists” over the past half-cenÂtuÂry, but there was only one Hunter S. ThompÂson. HavÂing origÂiÂnatÂed with his work in the earÂly 1970s, this sense of gonzo made it into the RanÂdom House DicÂtioÂnary withÂin his lifeÂtime. “Filled with bizarre or subÂjecÂtive ideas, comÂmenÂtary, or the like,” says its first defÂiÂnÂiÂtions. And its secÂond: “Crazy; eccenÂtric.” ThompÂson seems to have approved, seeÂing as he kept a copy of this very ediÂtion, put on disÂplay at the Owl Farm PriÂvate MuseÂum (run by the Gonzo FounÂdaÂtion) after his death in 2005. ThirÂty years earÂliÂer, he had the quesÂtion put to him in the interÂview above: “What is gonzo jourÂnalÂism?”
“That word has realÂly plagued me,” ThompÂson says. But he also credÂits it with putting disÂtance between himÂself and the recentÂly ascenÂdant “New JourÂnalÂists” like Tom Wolfe, Gay Talese, and Joan DidÂion: “I wasÂn’t sure I was doing that, but I was sure I wasÂn’t doing what we call straight jourÂnalÂism.” Indeed, few pieces could have seemed less “straight” than “The KenÂtucky DerÂby Is DecaÂdent and Depraved,” first pubÂlished in ScanÂlan’s MonthÂly in 1970. AssemÂbled in desÂperÂaÂtion out of pages pulled straight from ThompÂson’s noteÂbook and illusÂtratÂed by Ralph SteadÂman (the beginÂning of a long and fruitÂful colÂlabÂoÂraÂtion), the piece struck some readÂers as a revÂeÂlaÂtion. A friend of ThompÂson’s declared it “pure gonzo” — an unconÂvenÂtionÂal name for an unconÂvenÂtionÂal form.
“Christ,” ThompÂson rememÂbers thinkÂing, “if I made a breakÂthrough, we’ve got to call it someÂthing.” Why not use a label with at least one instance of preceÂdent? (It also appealed, he admits, to his inner “word freak.”) As for the subÂstance of gonzo, he attribÂutÂes to it “a mixÂture of humor and a high, stompÂing style, a bit more active than your norÂmal jourÂnalÂism” — as well as whatÂevÂer gets him past his innate hatred of writÂing. “All I can realÂly get off on,” he says, is “when I can let my mind run. I start to laugh. I underÂstand that DickÂens used to laugh at his typeÂwriter. I don’t laugh at my typeÂwriter until I hit one of those what I conÂsidÂer pure gonzo breakÂthroughs. Then it’s worth it.”
PubÂlished three years earÂliÂer, ThompÂson’s best-known book Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas marked the culÂmiÂnaÂtion of a parÂticÂuÂlar writÂing project: “to elimÂiÂnate the steps, or the blocks, between the writer and the page. That’s why I always get the fastest and newest typeÂwriter. If they make one that costs twelve milÂlion dolÂlars, I’ll write a bad check and get it for a while.” RegÂuÂlatÂing this sigÂnaÂture gonzo directÂness is a rigÂorÂous stylÂisÂtic disÂciÂpline. “That’s the one book of mine that I’ve even read,” ThompÂson says, thanks to the “four or five rewrites” he perÂformed on the manÂuÂscript. “There’s not a word in there — I mean, there might be fifÂteen or twenÂty, but that’s about all — that don’t have to be there.”
InterÂviewÂing ThompÂson is vetÂerÂan jourÂnalÂist HarÂriÂson SalÂisÂbury, the New York Times’ Moscow bureau chief in the 1940s and 50s. He also wrote many books includÂing The Shook-Up GenÂerÂaÂtion, a 1958 study of juveÂnile delinÂquenÂcy (and a volÂume found in MarÂiÂlyn MonÂroe’s perÂsonÂal library) that could have primed his interÂest in ThompÂson’s debut HelÂl’s Angels when it came out a decade latÂer. Appear though he may to be the kind of estabÂlishÂment figÂure who’d have litÂtle enthuÂsiÂasm for gonzo jourÂnalÂism, SalÂisÂbury’s quesÂtions sugÂgest a thorÂough knowlÂedge and underÂstandÂing of ThompÂson’s work, right down to the “tenÂsion” that driÂves it. “It could be drug-induced, or adrenÂaÂline-induced, or time-induced,” ThompÂson says of that tenÂsion. “I’ve been told by at least one or two conÂfiÂdent speÂcialÂists that the kind of tenÂsion I mainÂtain canÂnot be done for any length of time withÂout… I’ll either melt or explode, one of the two.”
RelatÂed ConÂtent:
“Gonzo” Defined by Hunter S. Thompson’s PerÂsonÂal Copy of the RanÂdom House DicÂtioÂnary
A Young Hunter S. ThompÂson Appears on the ClasÂsic TV Game Show, To Tell the Truth (1967)
Based in Seoul, ColÂin MarÂshall writes and broadÂcasts on cities, lanÂguage, and culÂture. His projects include the SubÂstack newsletÂter Books on Cities, the book The StateÂless City: a Walk through 21st-CenÂtuÂry Los AngeÂles and the video series The City in CinÂeÂma. FolÂlow him on TwitÂter at @colinmarshall or on FaceÂbook.
Thank you for this.
I didÂn’t know what my style of writÂing was called until I read about Hunter S Thompson–and this artiÂcle is very inforÂmaÂtive, thank you. I didÂn’t know DickÂens was like this, too. I always laugh when I’m writÂing and everyÂone thinks I’m nuts too.
Art and the creÂative process SHOULD be joyÂful, donÂcha think? GetÂting there maybe someÂtimes torÂturÂous, but, as every mothÂer knows, (are women not the penulÂtiÂmate of creÂativÂiÂty? Despite the hijack numÂber done durÂing The RenaisÂsance) if your creÂative outÂput is not bringÂing you joy, there’s someÂthing very, very wrong. I hope your work is going well, best wishÂes from South Wales
One world, one love, no borÂders ✌🏾❣️