HUNTER S. THOMPSON & NEW JOURNALISM
Hunter Stockton Thompson (July 18, 1937 – February 20, 2005), Kentucky-born, Air Force veteran, dedicated to journalism early on, was a storyteller who incorporated anthropological approaches to his journalistic fieldwork. He perceived the truth that a story about others depended on the self at the desk writing the story. How much, how honestly, and how overtly that self is recognized in the story is critical, Thompson felt, and he wasn’t shy about saying so. He is the founder of New Journalism, what he called “gonzo journalism,” which is an ongoing experiment in narrative in which the writer is a central character and thereby a participant in what is related or described.
Thompson’s influence is staggering to this day. Not only the obvious comrades in the field — Jimmy Breslin, Truman Capote, Joan Didion, David Halberstam, Pete Hamill, Norman Mailer, Joe McGinniss, George Plimpton, Rex Reed, Mike Royko, Terry Southern, Gail Sheehy, Gay Talese, Dan Wakefield, and Tom Wolfe — but fiction writers, too, paid attention to the possibilites of what Thompson articulated.
Thompson is an essential American moral voice in its literature, a description that would probably make him laugh, but consider the evaluation an Air Force officer wrote in giving Thompson his honorable discharge: "In summary, this airman, although talented, will not be guided by policy. Sometimes his rebel and superior attitude seems to rub off on other airmen staff members.” Classic description of the role of the writer in American literature.
In developing this page, associated New Journalism writers will be added, both those contemporary to Thompson and those who operate in his legacy.
The Voyeur's Motel
The Voyeur's Motel
On January 7, 1980, in the run-up to the publication of his landmark bestseller Thy Neighbor’s Wife, Gay Talese received an anonymous handwritten letter from a man in Colorado. “Since learning of your long awaited study of coast-to-coast sex in America,” the letter began, “I feel I have important information that I could contribute to its contents or to contents of a future book.”
The man went on to tell Talese an astonishing secret: he had bought a motel outside Denver for the express purpose of satisfying his voyeuristic desires. Underneath the peaked roof of his motel, the man had built an “observation platform,” fitted with vents, through which he could peer down on his unwitting guests.
Unsure what to make of this confession, Talese traveled to Colorado where he met the man—Gerald Foos—and verified his story in person. But because Foos insisted on remaining anonymous, preserving for himself the privacy he denied his guests, Talese filed his reporting away, assuming the story would remain untold.
Over the ensuing years, Foos occasionally reached out to Talese to fill him in on the latest developments in his life. He also sent Talese hundreds of pages of notes on his guests and their habits, work that Foos believed made him a pioneering researcher into American society and sexuality. America in microcosm had passed through the Voyeur’s motel, and he witnessed and recorded the harsh effects of the war in Vietnam, the upheaval in gender roles, the decline of segregation, and much more. But Foos continued to insist on anonymity. Now, after thirty-five years, he’s ready to go public and Gay Talese can finally tell his story.
The Voyeur’s Motel is an extraordinary work of narrative journalism. It is at once an examination of one unsettling man and a portrait of the secret life of the American heartland over the latter half of the twentieth century.