Money-wise, I am desperate. Send help to above address, quick … thanx.
Oscar
TO OSCAR ACOSTA:
By late 1973, relations between Thompson and Acosta had deteriorated to the point of this scathing missive.
December 4, 1973
Woody Creek, CO
Dear Oscar:
Your mail has been getting through—for good & mainly ill, as it were, so I thought I should send you this note inre: your request of Nov 29 for “seed money.”
Or any other kind, for that matter. What in the fuck would cause you to ask me for money—after all the insane bullshit you’ve put me through for the past two years? Why don’t you try to collect “your 20%” of that $7500 Clancy said I got for the film rights to Vegas? A gig like that should keep you busy for a while.
Right … put your legal skills to work; work in your own vicious shadow for a change, and see how it feels. The ugly truth, Oscar, is that there never was and as far as I know never will be a fucking penny for the film rights to Vegas— not for me, or you, or Savage Henry (sic) or the Hitch-hiker or your LA lawyer or anybody else. The book has been rendered totally unsaleable for film, for reasons I suspect you understand far better than I do … and the only satisfaction I get out of telling you this comes with knowing that you need that 20% a lot more than I need the 80%. I can still make a living by writing, old sport—but all you seem able to do is burn your ex-friends. (Yeah …I paid that goddamn $258 rental-car bill, & Wenner laughs at the idea that Harris used it for working on a RS story.)
Anyway, good luck with your grudge. No doubt it’ll make you as many good friends in the future as it has in the past.
As for me, my attorney advises me that I can at least deduct something around $10,000 for losses you caused me in ’73. In the meantime, why don’t you write a nice movie? Or a book? You shouldn’t have any trouble selling the fucker, considering all the people you’ve fucked over & burned….
Good luck,
Whitey
TO MAX PALEVSKY:
No longer associated with Rolling Stone, Max Palevsky had written to Thompson that he was calling in a ten-thousand-dollar personal loan he had made to the writer.
December 4, 1973
Woody Creek, CO
Ah, Max … sometimes I wonder about you.
Your last letter was, as always, a joyous thing to receive. It confirmed my life-long belief that “there is no such thing as paranoia.” Only ignorance, naïveté, sloth & the ever-present danger of allowing one’s affairs to fall into the hands of toothless ten-percenters.
Which means—and I suppose this was inevitable from the start—that I’ll have to come down there and deal personally with this goddamn thing. All my hired surrogates come back with different stories—which might surprise me if I didn’t know you—so I figure the only way to understand what shorted out is to talk on a human basis. Or at least as close to that as possible, given these newer & cheaper circumstances.
In any case, I’ll call in a day or so from SF. That should give you adequate time to consult with the charred remnants of your conscience.
Cazart,
Hunter
TO MAX PALEVSKY:
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas was finally made into a movie—directed by Terry Gilliam, starring Johnny Depp, and screened at the international Cannes Film Festival—in 1998.
December 25, 1973
Woody Creek, CO
Max …
I’m sure you’re aware that anything I write or say to you right now—with regard to that $10K & the Vegas film rights—is subject to certain constraints and essentially aggressive advice from other quarters—all of which I pay for, for good or ill, and which (for that reason, if no other) I’m inclined to take seriously.
And the nut of this advice, for right now, is that somebody other than me has fucked up vis-à-vis the Vegas film gig. I have not—to my knowledge or even in the realm of accusation—done anything weird, wrong or disruptive in that area … which leads me to feel, on balance, that I should not logically bear the brunt of other people’s mistakes. I have never backed off from paying my own dues—but at the same time I feel a genuine reluctance to write a cheque for other people’s fuck-ups.
I suspect you understand this—just as I hope you understand that I appreciate your loan of $10K & have every intention of repaying it. But you should also understand that I can’t just freak out & disregard all the professional advice I pay for, the essence of which is that I’m being ripped to the tits for no reason.
I was hoping, on that afternoon that I drove Linda [Palevsky] and Janey [Wenner] out to the airport, that we could cope with the problem on a human basis & thus get it off both our backs … but that was clearly impossible under the circumstances … so we’re still in the pit, and every solution proposed to me seems more distasteful than the last—but it’s also a fact that the logic of the moment seems entirely on my side, for good or ill.
So—in answer to your last letter—let me assure you once again that I have every intention of repaying that $10K loan. The only question, right now, is how it should be repaid. And that involves what I regard as an essentially ethical question vis-à-vis the Vegas film rights…just as I regard the $10K loan as an ethical question, with the onus on me.
For that reason, the repayment of the $10K loan should be the least of your worries. The question I have to deal with now is how—and to understand that I have to get straight on the facts of that goddamn film deal, which at the moment are not within my grasp, but which in the final analysis will have a drastic effect on my personal finances.
So don’t take it personally, Max, if I seem to be a trifle less than eager to abandon all hope on this matter—which has suddenly assumed a complexity far beyond the simple matter of a $10K personal loan. But, whatever happens, I’d like to keep it on a friendly human basis. If not … well … I’ve never been averse to a good fuckaround, especially in the face of the odds we’re looking at here… but, even then, I’d rather not get personal.
I’m sure, in the meantime, that either you or your lawyers will be in touch with IFA, on one level or another. So let’s leave it at that, for now. Shit …we might even have some fun with this thing; maybe even a good story of some sort.
Cazart …
Hunter
TO JANN WENNER, ROLLING STONE:
December 25, 1973
Woody Creek, CO
Jann …
Here’s a copy of a thing I just sent to Walsh.35 My feeling at the moment is that neither he nor you nor anyone else at RS can really help me on this (given the dim results of Walsh’s best efforts to lean on the Raider management) … so I think we’ll all be better off if I just deal with the bugger myself, & hope for the best. (Walsh, however, can be critical in any dealings that might arise inre: my press credentials for the Super Bowl) … but beyond that, I think we’ve pretty well shot our wad vis-à-vis RS & the Raider management, and any further “pressure” from RS will only piss them off & prejudice whatever’s left of my human connection over there.
I’m assuming, for now, that I have valid (& 1st class) press credentials for the Super Bowl in Houston—and, to that end, I think we should ask for photog credentials for Raoul Duke, in addition to the normal “press” bullshit for HST. That way—as a compromise solution in line with the one you’ve already suggested … I might be able to work incognito as a photographer. Which might work out at least as well as it did on that Cozumel/Playboy assignment.
OK for now. I hope to fuck you’ve left the “A-76” trip intact enough for me to cope with it personally. Otherwise, I doubt if there’s any point in wasting either of our time & effort on a ’74 writing contract. As far as I’m concerned, my recent visits to SF inre: the Pro Football story & other gimcracks constitute the “fair & reasonable trial period” we informally agreed on during my quasi-violent Halloween visit … and I doubt if anyone who lived thru the last one would urge any further extension of the trial period.
My feeling about RS, at this time, is that we’ll all be better off if I stay as far from the day-to-day operations as humanly possible—and if you called for a staff-vote, I think the results would agree with me. (I want to be on record, however, to the effect that I remain genuinely & personally concerned inre: the direction RS appears to be drifting toward at this time—and if there’s anything I can do to have a real effect on this drift, I’m still interested enough to lend a bit of crank to it.)
Otherwise, I think we’ll all be better off if I work directly with St. Arrow on a contract basis—like last year—& leave you & yrs. free to do whatever you want with the “book.” Every once in a while, perhaps, we might find something mutually excerptable from my book-work, & on these occasions I assume we can work together on an “article” not subject to either editing or expense-hassles.
In the meantime, pls. keep me advised on the status of “A-76.” It’s the only project we’re mutually involved in at this point that seems to have any real future.
Cazart,
Hunter
TO GREG JACKSON, ABC NEWS:
Thompson’s love of pro football went unrequited, due to the reputation that had grown up around him. Jackson had become a close friend of Thompson’s on the campaign trail.
Xmas morning 1973
Woody Creek, CO
Jackson …
It’s 1:22 A.M. here & I just got yr. thing in re: J. G. Dunne36 & Las Vegas—which started out fine & sharp & personal, then fell back on itself in the end (maybe due to bad editing) … so I guess I’ll have to wait for the book.
I met him & his wife about a month ago, incidentally, at a dinner party at Palevsky’s; they seemed like inordinately quiet people. Or maybe it was just because of my own standard-brand behavior—drunk, speedy & raving.
Anyway … thanx for the clip.
On other fronts, how do you like [Tim] Crouse’s trip? I feel like the illegitimate father on a trip that would have to include you as the mid-wife …and in the wake of all that campaign fever & bullshit, I feel a strange sense of angst and dis-jointed emptiness about “journalism.” The past year has been a total waste of time & everything else, to my mind … and tonight is my last chance to finish a piece for the Jan 1 NY Times Op-ed pg. on “the meaning of ’73,” or whatever.
Which is a hard thing to write—because (despite the wild breakthrough of Watergate, etc.)—’73 has been as dull & rotten a year as I can remember. I have a $50K book/novel contract to fulfill by July of ’74—and I suppose I’ll have to do it; but all that really interests me now is the ’76 Campaign.
In the meantime, seize any chance you get to stop by the Owl Farm & do nothing for a week or so. That’s all I can offer at the moment. My only gig for the past 3 months has been a long and psychically complicated “pro football” story—which unexpectedly terminated last week when the Oakland Raider management suddenly informed me that I was barred—because of my “personal involvement in the drug scene”—from any contact with the team in public or private. There was no explanation, to me or the editors of RS, and right now I’m waiting for official word that I’m barred from even attending the Super Bowl in Houston.
It’s the Ziegler trip all over again, but this time I’m dealing with pros. When the NFL comes down on you, it’s like the NKVD37—they make the White House hacks look like amateurs.
Anyway, if you get to the Super Bowl in Houston, I’ll be there—and probably under the same ugly circumstances that characterized my arrival on the ’72 primary scene in Florida. Which might be fun, or at least a reasonable facsimile, so why don’t you try for a sort of auxiliary coverage gig at the Super Bowl—using a peg like “the socio-political aspects of pro football,” or whatever you can make of it.
OK for now. I have to get back to struggling with this goddamn thing for the Times.38 If you can’t get out here in the next few months, I’ll see you in either Houston or NY.
Cazart,
Hunter
1974
BACK TO WASHINGTON, BACK TO WORK, BACK TO THE HALLS OF THE EVIL WATERGATE HOTEL … COLLAPSE OF THE NIXON EMPIRE, REVENGE OF THE BRUTAL FREAKS … CONSTANT TRAVEL, CONSTANT PLOTTING, SUMMIT CONFERENCE IN ELKO & FATEFUL FIRST MEETING WITH JIMMY CARTER … SENATOR THOMPSON FROM COLORADO? …
Studebaker Society, 1974, clockwise from 6:00: Little Richard, Dick Goodwin, Adam Walinsky, Dave Burke, Carl Wagner, Pat Caddell, Rick Stearns, Sandy Berger, Jann Wenner. (Missing from photo: Doris Kearns and Hunter Thompson.)
(PHOTO BY HUNTER S. THOMPSON)
Jann Wenner and Doris Kearns, Elko Conference, 1974.
(PHOTO BY HUNTER S. THOMPSON)
Pat Caddell and Sandy Berger, Elko, 1974.
(PHOTO BY HUNTER S. THOMPSON)
Zaire, 1974, with George Plimpton.
(PHOTO BY RALPH STEADMAN)
Leaving Elko, 1974. Left to right: Pat Caddell, Dick Goodwin, Jann Wenner.
(PHOTO BY HUNTER S. THOMPSON)
With Ralph Steadman in Zaire, 1974.
(PHOTO BY RALPH STEADMAN)
TO PATRICK J. BUCHANAN, THE WHITE HOUSE:
After newsstand sales proved the popularity of Thompson’s 1972 campaign-trail articles, the National Affairs Desk was encouraged to expand Rolling Stone’s political coverage.
January 3, 1974
Woody Creek, CO
Dear Pat:
Why is it that every time I pick up a magazine or newspaper I see your name? More often than mine, even. And on top of that, my dubious & beer-stained relationship with you has “lent,” as it were, a certain onus to my reputation.
In any case, it occurred to me tonight—in my semi-retired capacity as Nat. Affairs Ed. of RS—that you might get a boot out of writing a real hammerhead screed for us, something to jerk the dope-addled RS audience off its ass and generate some of that old-fashioned fear & loathing that we all came to know & love in the old days.
More specifically, I’m thinking about your prognosis vis-à-vis the health & future of “conservatism” in American politics—given the current …ah… uneasy circumstances. As you know, I’ve always felt a certain twisted sympathy for your (personal) stance—if only because of what strikes me as its basic integrity, along with a stylistic brutality that I can appreciate for reasons I see no need to discuss at this point in time.
As for the chance of your doing a screed for RS, I’m thinking about something between 2000 and 4000 words, which would be either one or two pages in the magazine (with heads & white space) at about twice the money you get from the NY Times Op-Ed gang.
Or maybe more. I don’t want to be put in the position of negotiating for yr. wisdom on a sleazy commercial basis. I am, as you know, above that sort of thing—and besides that, Jann Wenner (the editor) has the final say on fees. Just between you & me though, I wouldn’t take anything less than a grand for anything substantial.
My reason for mentioning length-limits is that if you run over 2K you’re into another page—which is no real problem, but I’ve always found things more congenial if you can seize a whole page (or two) for yourself, which means shooting for either 2 or 4 thousand words, just in order to clear the decks.
I can’t guarantee your audience reception, but as far as any editorial interference is concerned, I’ll make damn sure that whatever you write gets printed—or at least that you’ll have the final cut on any editing; and our format’s so flexible that I can’t see any likelihood of that.
So … give it a thought. I think we’re all a bit nervous, these days, about what’s coming next, and I’m personally curious as to how you see it—for good or ill. Shit, for all I know, the RS readers might lock right into yr. trip. That would scare me a bit, but what the hell? Let me know how you feel about doing the piece.
Meanwhile, hello to Shelley … and also I want to get together with you and Nick1 when I get back to DC in early spring—to cover the impeachment proceedings. OK. Say hello to the boys in the bunker for me.
Cazart …
&nbs
p; Hunter
cc: Jann Wenner
TO TERRY COOK, HOT ROD:
Hot Rod editor Terry Cook had asked Thompson, a longtime car-racing fan, to consider covering a California road race for his magazine.
January 4, 1974
Woody Creek, CO
Terry…
Thanx for the good letter; I’m not much on answering mail, but yrs. hit a friendly nerve & I thought I should rip out a note in the few remaining hours before cranking off to Houston for the Super Bowl festivities.
Fortunately, I’ve never had the time to sit back & really think about what I’ve been writing—but if it has anything even remotely resembling that Lewis & Clark2 effect you mentioned, I figure it can’t be all wrong … and, despite the assumed limitations of yr. own gig, why not give it a whack now & then, and see what happens. You’d be surprised what even real pigs will swallow when they’re looking down the barrel of a brute-deadline and the first 10 pages of the book are still empty.
Anyway, thanx for writing & I hope you’ll keep me posted (thru Dave Felton at RS) on whatever we have to do to get posted for the next Cannonball Baker classic. Given the nature of the fucker, I suspect Nixon’s 55 mph speed limit should only make it more interesting … and it’s hard to see much difference between 90 and 110 past the cop-house in Needles.
Fuck Nixon; he doesn’t even have a driver’s license.
In any case, I’m eagerly awaiting post-time, etc. for the CB classic. Cazart …
HST
cc: Dave Felton
TO ALAN RINZLER, STRAIGHT ARROW BOOKS:
Thompson had convinced Jann Wenner to have Rolling Stone sponsor a gathering of the best liberal thinkers from the staffs of the 1968 and 1972 presidential campaigns of Robert F. Kennedy, Eugene McCarthy, and George McGovern for a four-day political symposium in February 1974. The idea was that these Democratic gurus would hash out an issues agenda for America’s future, which Straight Arrow would publish in book form and distribute to the nation’s decision-makers.