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Review by Bruce Tierney
Gonzo journalist, iconoclast, raconteur and notorious pack rat Hunter Thompson saved every piece of correspondence (in - and outbound), awaiting the day when he would be famous and someone would want to publish them. At the outset of his literary career, in the mid '50s, this meant that each letter had to be meticulously hand-copied. "The Proud Highway," the first in a multi-volume compilation of Thompson's letters, exposes aspects of Thompson rarely seen in his journalism and fiction: the job applicant, the son, the lover, the brother, the friend.
A running theme throughout his college years, a theme familiar to students everywhere, was money, or more precisely, the lack thereof. At various times, he hit up his mother, his friends, his landlords, and in one memorable case, author William Faulkner:
"Dear Mr. Faulkner . . . As far as I can see, the role, the duty, the obligation, and the only choice of the writer in today's 'outer' world is to starve to death as honorably and defiantly as possible. This I intend to do, but the chicken crop in this area is going to be considerably depleted before I go. And, incidentally, if you feel, as a result of this letter, a ripping desire to send me a weekly check, please do so . . ."
Forever one step ahead of his creditors, Thompson crafted manipulative and hilarious reasons as to why this debt or that one should be forgiven; occasionally, when backed to the wall, he would grudgingly cough up the dough:
"Although a wild and lengthy court battle might have proved stimulating indeed, I decided after lengthy consultation with my compatriots that it might be best to clear this debt . . . Before closing, allow me to say that your letters have shown neither originality nor wit. They have convinced me that the collecting business is a haven for dullards and habitual misers, devoid of humor and incapable of interesting correspondence. You have my most sincere condolences . . ."
In the hedonistic days of Hefner and his Playboy Philosophy, the pleasures of wine, women and song were never far from the forefront of Thompson's thoughts. Snippets of letters to various (and often concurrent) sweethearts would tend to indicate some level of achievement in these areas. As is often the case with boys (of all ages), wheels played an important part in Thompson's development. From his vintage Jaguar to his not-so-vintage Rambler, he remained transportationally challenged throughout much of his career. It was not an issue he suffered lightly; in a letter to the president of now-defunct American Motors, Thompson blasted the quality of their products, presaging the demise of that company:
"I'm certain that this horrible failure of a car that I'm forced to drive and display is a more effective advertisement for Rambler than any half-dozen TV spots or magazine ads you are laying out a lot of money for. When you consider the impression this wreck -- along with my raving about it -- has made on about 150 service station attendants in the course of two years, there can be no doubt in your mind that this thing is a serious liability and a threat to the Rambler image . . ."
If you move your lips while reading, keep a case of Chapstick close by, as "The Proud Highway" measures some 700 pages, diligently footnoted, annotated, illustrated and cross-referenced. Volume I takes us from 1956 through 1967, allowing us to view that world through the intimate, personal, acerbic and sidesplitting observations of one of the hippest and most influential journalists of our time.
©1997, ProMotion, inc.