Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas Page 14

  That should give you something to think about while you ponder the stark naked reality that the Gerbaz gravel heap is already 1200 feet high, and at 1300 feet it will blot out the afternoon sun. And who, in truth, are the Greedheads?

  In any case, I meant to rap off a quick note here, to accompany my rent check, but it seems to have run off the edge. So I think I’ll send a copy to Stranahan, along with a photo of the shopping center plans for Trudi’s ranch, which seems to be on the market again … and several copies of the Woody Creek master plan that Tom Daly helped me draw up; I can’t reveal the details except to say that we have a McDonald’s golden arch spanning the road above the railroad tracks on the turn to Lenado. And don’t worry about your option on that land for a midget golf course on that lot behind Ferris’s trailer; Tom wrote it into the plan at Judge Crater’s insistence.68

  Wellllll … what else can I say? My rent’s paid up, and if you try to evict me out of sheer bile, all I can guarantee is that I’ll leave this house in the same shape it was in when I rented it. All the insulation will be in the driveway where HICO left it … and, yes, I promise to restore all those pink walls in the bedrooms, and the gravel yard, and the junk cars … the Owl Restoration Company has a coast-to-coast reputation, and Woody Creek would be a hell of a place to blow it, right?

  TO JIM BELLOWS, LOS ANGELES TIMES:

  In pitching Oscar Acosta’s story on the “brown power” movement to the Los Angeles Times, Thompson offered smart thoughts of his own on race relations in America.

  May 24, 1968

  Woody Creek, CO

  Dear Jim …

  I recently told a friend of mine in LA to give you a ring about the possibility of getting together on a straight/inside etc. “brown power” story. His name is Oscar Acosta; he’s a Chicano lawyer who’s heavily involved in that action and he seems to feel the story gets castrated, somehow, every time the establishment press tries to deal with it. This is why I told him to call you. All I know about “brown power” is what I see now and then in the Free Press, and I take their stuff with about three bags of salt to the column. So all I really know about the story is that I’d start with Oscar if I had to get into it. Most people at the core of these color/power movements seem to trade their perspective for their badge, but Oscar has kept his head pretty straight—or at least straight enough to explain the basics of that scene to me on the phone … and considering my fear and loathing of the telephone, that’s a feat. I can’t even deal with Lynn Nesbit on the phone; there is something rude and inhuman about trying to communicate with a piece of black plastic.

  Anyway, I told Oscar to give you a ring, on the chance that you might be interested in an intelligent, non-hostile intro to the brown power scene. For my own part I try to avoid any talk of politics and race in my dealings with the pigmented minorities of this country; that sort of talk is a dead-end trip unless you want to convince yourself or sell something … but then I’m only a writer. If I were an editor of one of the largest and most influential papers in the country I’d have to consider the implications—however reasonable or otherwise—of the fact that the attitude of the press has become a major factor in the thinking of people who want to tear the country apart. It’s a rotten development, I think, but the press has somehow drifted into a mediator’s role, and reporters on this scene are more and more forced to think like diplomats in order to get their stories. And by “diplomats” I mean representatives of a foreign govt. Which is why I thought you’d like to talk to Oscar, who understands all this and would like to cut through it.

  Sincerely,

  Hunter

  TO JIM THOMPSON:

  At age thirty to his youngest brother’s nineteen, Hunter Thompson was a voice of experience for Jim.

  May 30, 1968

  Woody Creek, CO

  Jim …

  Right after I sealed the enclosed note to you I found your last letter, which I thought I’d lost in the wilds of my desk. Your questions about Tom Dormann and Centre… yeah, a lot of colleges have these programs and I’ve dickered with a few, but the only problem is that once you do “a few” of these gigs, it’s like stepping into a beartrap and you can’t get out of the next 15 commitments you never made but which have been made for you. The point is that I think I’d enjoy it now and then, but I can’t stand the idea of a “speaking tour”—which is what the agencies want from any writer they can sell. I wouldn’t mind talking to some people at Centre, but I don’t want to haggle about expense money and that sort of thing—so if he’s serious, tell him to write my literary agent, Lynn Nesbit, c/o the Marvin Johnson Agcy. 1271 Sixth ave, New York City 20. She protects me from people who want to put me on the road as a traveling freak, and she knows how I feel. Next time I talk to her I’ll tell her to make an exception to my normal stance if she hears from anyone who claims to be a friend of my brother. So if Dormann wants to pursue this, it’s fine with me.

  I got a letter from Mom today that struck me as sort of unnaturally depressing. Gypsy’s death, etc. John Ray’s69 death, for unexplained reasons … your probation. Yeah. So, with regard to your transferring to any school in Calif, I guess that’s out of the question right now. Which is a good thing if you were thinking about the CC Sacramento. Or even SF City. Those are fourth-rate schools, far below UK, and you wouldn’t like them at all. San Francisco State is another matter, but any California college or university is financial hell for out-of-staters. They jack up the tuition deliberately, to make room for the ever-increasing tribe of local applicants. I think you’re right about getting away from the KY/olde south scene, but you have to be careful about what you trade it in for. Sacramento is no better than Lexington, probably worse. Berkeley or UCLA would be good (John Smith from Louisville is a journalism prof at UCLA and he’ll be out here this summer), but if you’re on probation at UK your chances of transferring to a better school are pretty slim. I can’t tell you in good conscience that your “best bet” is to stay at UK, but at a glance that seems a hell of a lot better than drifting into the army. Remember that deer I shot in Glen Ellen? Remember how it looked after the bullet and the knife? Well that happens to nice all-american boys in Vietnam. Any one of those stinking generals will put you and all your friends in the graveyard or a disabled vets’ home, just to take a single hill that won’t mean a fucking thing to anybody the day after it’s taken. Avoid that military thing; that’s the best advice I can give you & I know it’s not bullshit. This is a tough thing to talk about on paper and I think we’d accomplish a lot more in person. Try to make it out here for a visit. But give a decent warning before you bomb in; I have friends from Calif. here now, and more coming. My temper goes all to hell when the house gets too full. OK …

  H

  TO CAROL HOFFMAN:

  Thompson couldn’t help but tell Mrs. Hoffman what he thought of her letter.

  May 31, 1968

  Woody Creek, CO

  Dear Mrs. Hoffman …

  You are one of the few people who read my book on the Hell’s Angels closely enough to realize that the whole thing was a wonderful rat-fuck and—as you put it—“a perpetual ball.” The best part of the action was beating the living shit out of anybody who bugged me. I broke a lot of goddamn faces, just for the hell of it, and usually I had plenty of help because we all stuck together. Terry and Tiny just took off for New York; they stayed here a few days and I gave them your address before they left. They live off the land when they travel, so they need to know places where they can rest and do their thing for a while. They left the coast yesterday after taking me out to the airport. I missed my flight because we got in a fight with some longhair types, but I finally got off. And then that fucking stewardess gave me some shit about my clothes. I punched her around and put some bastard’s eye out when he tried to jump in. They busted me in NY and I need money now so I can hire a punk lawyer. Send $500 to me c/o Random House as quick as you can. Terry & Tiny said they’d be here by June 1, but they always get hung up when they travel
& if you see them before I do, tell them what happened so they can do something for me. I’m in bad trouble because the editor says I owe them money and won’t even give me a goddamn dime. You and Terry and Tiny are the only people I can count on. For christ’s sake, do something.

  As for that shit-brained writers school, it’s a bad hype and a con game and anybody who falls for it deserves whatever happens to them. You must be thick as a goddamn redwood tree to think they’d give you an “A” on the first run. Shit, everybody gets a “C.” That way, there’s room for improvement, which costs about $500, right? If you give those evil bastards a dime they’ll jack you up for the whole thing. You’d be better off sending the money to me. I picked up a fat young boy in Times Square but he’s a demanding little bastard & I need a lot of grease for him. This younger generation has gone to the dogs. They’re a bunch of communist yellowbellies. Every time I see one I whip on the bastard. I’d like to kick the shit out of somebody right now, for that matter. But my uniform ain’t back from the cleaners yet. So I’m naked. Yeah, nothin but crabs between me and whatever I want to hurt. I like it this way. But if you think I’m weird, just wait for Terry and Tiny. They’ll show you where it’s at, and your friends too, if they want it.

  H. “Ratfucker” Thompson

  FROM OSCAR ACOSTA:

  On June 5, 1968—two months and a day after the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr.—Senator Robert F. Kennedy was shot in the head in the kitchen of the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles on his way to celebrate his victory in California’s Democratic presidential primary. He died the next afternoon.

  June 6, 1968

  Woody Creek, CO

  Dear Hunter:

  This is a letter in which both the date and the address are significant. Kennedy died today in Los Angeles not far from where I sit. If you saw the event on TV you will recall that the first identification of the suspect was that of a Mexican-American or a Latin-American. The reason being that on that same day the newspapers out here were full of stories related to 13 Mexican-American barrio politicians who had been indicted by the Grand Jury on conspiracy charges, which is a felony, only the previous Friday.

  The “conspiracy” related to a prior agreement between these men to disrupt the public schools. You may recall in my last letter, I think sometime in March, I mentioned to you of the high school walkouts, or blowouts, as they are called, that some 10,000 Mexican-American high school students went on strike [over the] inferior educational system. Now it is evident that massive strikes are not spontaneous in particular when you are dealing with high school students and serious questions concerning their education. The men in the groups that had been talking about it at least since October, 1967, are the people that I mentioned to you that I was working with and have continued to work with, including, but not limited to, the militant young chicano group called the Brown Berets of whom you may have read about in Newsweek; another group called UMAS, meaning United Mexican American Students, who are a radical group of Mexican-American students in the colleges here in California. Most of the activity centers about the offices of an underground newspaper called La Raza edited by Eli Risco, who is a Cuban, and who participated in certain events in Havana prior to Batista’s ouster.

  Hunter, this letter is rather halting and stilted for two reasons: (1) both my hands are broken and in casts and, if you will recall, I can only write and create on a typewriter; I am not a dictaphone man; (a) because I am chief counsel for the dirty dozen plus 1, or the baker’s dozen, as I am referring to the case, I find it difficult to make statements that could be used against my clients. I know you will accuse me of being paranoid, but the fact of the matter is that not only are my telephones bugged but the District Attorney, here in Los Angeles, is out to get me, and it would not surprise me one damn bit were I to be told that an investigator was in fact tailing me. Sounds kind of funny doesn’t it? Unfortunately it is true, I haven’t written to you about these things primarily because they were small time, that is, local, until this past week-end when the matter got national coverage because of its uniqueness and because it was the last week-end prior to the June primaries here in California. The article I am sending along pretty much tells the story, at least the pertinent facts. The bail was set at $12,500.00 for each of the 13 men. I have to this date gotten the bail reduced to $250.00 for each person with the exception of David Sanchez, Prime Minister of the Brown Berets, whose bail has been set at $1,000.00 because according to the D.A. when they arrested him he attempted to escape. The irony of the matter is that David in fact tried to run out the back door because he had a date for the senior prom that evening. He already rented his tuxedo and, he told me after I got him out of jail, that he knew that if the girl were disappointed he’d never be able to make it with her again. They caught him of course along with 4 others, put them in an isolation cell and they immediately went into a hunger strike for three days before I was able to bail them out. I worked on the mass demonstrations and the picketing and the press conferences 20 hours a day for the past six days. I am just about ready to drop dead but it has all been worth it because for the first time the entire southwest is beginning to take notice of what we have been saying for the past year, mainly that the Mexican American is out to get his cut of the apple, we, too, want a piece of the action.

  An interesting side note to this whole episode is the number of people who have asked to get a share of our apple already. For example: Mrs. McCarthy, the Senator’s wife, contributed $8,000.00 to our fund. One of his attorneys appeared in Court Monday morning and approached me and said he had the money for the bail whatever it might be if we wanted it. I turned him down (diplomatically of course) because the people in the barrios were supporting Kennedy, and although I had no personal interest in either candidate, I didn’t want to in any way offend our people. He still made a water-downed [sic] statement of support and did give us the money, so what the hell! Both the Justice Department and the Civil Rights Commission have contacted me and based on my report to them over the telephone they are coming out next week to look into the matter a little more closely. If you can get the tenor of my note, and if by looking at these clippings, you can see that there is a big story here and that there are only certain people who are privy to the hard facts, you would be less than the irresponsible hack that you are if you did not at least attempt to follow through on this. Several magazines and newspapers have already approached me for stories. I have turned them down because, as I have indicated above, my hands being in casts I cannot write, and also because I cannot trust them since I do not know them. Even though I am still somewhat pissed at you for that last volley ball game we had in Aspen, I think I would be willing to at least talk with you about an inside story on the whole thing if, but only if, you do not bring [Doberman pinscher] Darwin along with you.

  The case is of such importance that I have one of the top lawyers in the Country working for me, namely, A. L. Wirin, of the ACLU, and I have received calls from attorneys in New York, Washington D.C., Texas, San Francisco, all asking to get on the showboat with us; for the first time, unlike the blacks, the militant chicanos have money and publicity on their activities thanks to the foolish political moves of the D.A. [Evelle] Younger and Chief [Thomas] Redding [sic] of Los Angeles. I do not yet know what part Mayor [Sam] Yorty had to play in this thing but it is rather evident to any perceptive person that the whole mess, the timing of the Grand Jury indictments, the arrests of the group, was to hurt certain candidates and help other candidates. It is rather significant that Kennedy got the massive number of votes from the Mexican Americans in East Los Angeles, which is to say that the plan, if there was such a plan, back-fired! But even if I cannot prove that it was a question of national politics, I am convinced that I will be able to prove that it was politically motivated in so far as the D.A. was concerned, and the continued power of Chief Redding [sic] was concerned. On that score there is no question in my mind.

  Just one more thing (I don’t give a da
mn if you laugh at me for it), if you call me on this thing on the telephone, whether at my office or at my home, don’t expect any direct answers to any specific questions.

  And also, I still am planning to go to Aspen and get even with you on that volley ball game, hopefully next month.

  Seriously, Hunter, I would like to know very soon if you are interested in this thing, because others are. Although we have some very good writers from within my own group I feel that we are all too directly involved to make any meaningful appraisal of the situation, of the story that needs to be told.

  Very truly yours,

  Oscar Acosta

  Attorney at Law

  TO CAROL HOFFMAN: