From the archives: Hunter S. Thompson on the Kentucky Derby

Hunter Thompson’s star burned bright — for about ten years. The rest was a sideshow, one man’s not altogether unsuccessful attempt to bask in the glow of a career gone supernova. Thompson’s best books, the indescribable Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and his masterwork, the unimpeachably good Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail, were published in 1971 and 1973. A talented writer and perspicuous social commentator, Thompson was nevertheless derailed by his own success: his later work is cumbersome and unwieldy, more a series of attempts to capitalize on precedent than a concerted effort to hone genius. His oeuvre is shot through with flashes of brilliance, but it is the sort of brilliance that stems from mimicry, not innovation. Only the Gonzo Letters (two volumes; 1997, 2000) stand out — and while Thompson’s correspondence is always illuminating and often hilarious, collected letters cannot be compared to the sort of voyeuristic “journalism” Thompson invented in the early 1970s. Ultimately, he finished his career as he finished the Vegas book: a prematurely aged man caught in the grip of a violent, all-consuming hangover.

Thompson’s many fans will have surely noticed that I neglected to mention The Great Shark Hunt. Published in 1979 and found on any discerning reader’s bookshelf, The Great Shark Hunt is a collection of long- and short-form magazine pieces. Thompson began his career writing for a number of different newspapers and magazines. The Great Shark Hunt contains most of Thompson’s best work in this vein, culled from the hundreds of articles and essays he wrote over the course of his life. Although best known for his work with Rolling Stone — Jan Wenner agreed to serialize Vegas before it was printed in book form — he also wrote for an obscure and short-lived magazine called Scanlan’s Monthly. More a forum for scandal and muckraking than a vehicle for “serious” journalism, Scanlan’s published some of Thompson’s most important work, notably “The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved” (1970).

A hilariously debauched (and presumably exaggerated) account of Thompson’s trip back home to cover the famous horse race, the story is magnetic, one of the finest magazine articles ever published. Attempting to outline the plot would be futile; so too would be any attempt to highlight some details. It’s perfect. And it’s the reason underlying Thompson’s rise to prominence. The right kind of people — or perhaps the wrong kind of people — took notice. The star was plainly rising, big and too bright to ignore. “The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved” is the best introduction to Thompson’s work and the perfect illustration of how moments of clear, unalloyed brilliance are immortal.

“The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved” can be found here, illustrated by Ralph Steadman, Thompson’s longtime friend and associate. If you can’t find the time to read the whole piece, at least read the excerpt below. Let Thompson’s light consume you.

By midafternoon we had everything under control. We had seats looking down on the finish line, color TV and a free bar in the press room, and a selection of passes that would take us anywhere from the clubhouse roof to the jockey room. The only thing we lacked was unlimited access to the clubhouse inner sanctum in sections “F&G”...and I felt we needed that, to see the whiskey gentry in action. The governor, a swinish neo-Nazi hack named Louis Nunn, would be in “G,” along with Barry Goldwater and Colonel Sanders. I felt we’d be legal in a box in “G” where we could rest and sip juleps, soak up a bit of atmosphere and the Derby’s special vibrations.