'Where the wave finally broke'

Last week, Hunter S. Thompson, best known for writing "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream," took his own life with a shotgun.

Two years ago, I was watching late-night television, normally an unlikely activity for me. Conan O'Brien can be worth the time, though.

Like every episode, O'Brien had a "very special guest." This time, however, he was right. You can call this portion my nod to "gonzo" journalism. These quotes and events are paraphrased from memory for lack of a readily available documentation.

"Tonight, we have a very special guest for you. Author of a new book called 'Kingdom of Fear,' Hunter S. Thompson," he said.

It didn't seem like O'Brien knew quite who he was talking about.

If he didn't, he did after the episode was over.

A moment after he introduced Thompson, the show cut to commercial. It seemed odd, but I don't make a habit of reading into the editing of cheap-laugh entertainment.

Upon return from break, O'Brien did what he does best. He stalled. He spoke with his band. He kept looking to the wings of the stage. At this point, I took notice of the disturbance.

"All right, when we come back, we'll have Mr. Hunter S. Thompson." He was beginning to get an idea who Thompson was, and what he represented.

Another set of ads, viscously prolonging my curiosity.

This time when O'Brien returned, he introduced his very special guest one last time.

"Now, I'd like to present Mr. Hunter S. Thomson."

Thompson came out from behind the curtain with a young man on his arm. It's worth noting that at the time, Thompson didn't suffer from any physical handicaps. He was too drunk to walk by himself from stage right to the couch.

What proceeded was probably the most interesting interview I've ever seen. Thompson didn't want to promote his book. He wanted to discuss it. The margin between promotion and discussion is gaping. He challenged O'Brien. Most guests chuckle along to the host's jokes and allow him be interrupted them so that he can interject a comical facial expression of physical interpretation.

Thompson took himself more seriously. He called O'Brien a subject in the "Kingdom of Fear." O'Brien chuckled and dismissed Thompson as a crazy old kook. Despite his efforts to maintain his onscreen dignity, O'Brien got an idea who Hunter S. Thompson was and that he represented his antithesis.

As a member of a college culture that phones in its attempts to rebel against authority and conforms in its attempts at nonconformity, I think it's important to note the accomplishments of a man who succeeded in deviating our culture.

In addition to cultivating his own genre of writing, dubbed "gonzo journalism" by his editor, he served as a symbol of the remnants of 60s counter-culture. Whether he knows it or not, this is probably one of the guys my father is talking about when calls the late 60s, "the biggest f***-it era ever."

In 1970, Thompson ran for sheriff of Aspen, CO as a member of the Freak Power party. Predicting the possible slurs his crew-cut Republican opponent might use, he shaved his head and called his opponent "my long-haired opponent." His platform was the legalization of the at-cost sale and possession of narcotics, along with tearing up downtown streets in favor of bike paths, and renaming Aspen, "Fat City."

Just like any sane population, Aspen did not elect him. But winning wasn't the idea. The idea was to force people to consider deviation. With someone like Thompson pulling at society's flanks, it's impossible to become too centered.

Most people lose their ability, will, caring or vehemence to rebel along with their youth.

Thompson, at 65 years of age, maintained his disregard for social norms and customs. He clearly made it a point to incapacitate himself in front of a national audience. But despite his inebriation, he maintained his ability to speak and reason. This is exactly how his career went. Readers knew he had a head full of acid when he was writing, but his writing forced compelled them to read further.

Most people think "Fear and Loathing," is about tripping on acid. The book's narrative climax, though, speaks to peace-and-love's failure.

"So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look west, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high water mark-that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back."

Last week, Hunter S. Thompson took his own life with a shotgun. It came as no surprise to family and only mild surprise to his fans. He was a man who, for a long time, felt he was fighting a losing battle against an invincible foe. He was a man too proud to age ungracefully.

Better to blow up the field than let them add one to their score.