The word, as they say, is out.
In case you haven't noticed, most of the 'HST Friday' stuff and a few chunks of associated detrius have been archived at the top of the sidebar on the left.
And the Gonzocrats have taken notice.
As a result, my inbox is suddenly full to bursting with Thompson Trivia of all manner and description.
Which is not necessarily a bad, or even an unwanted, thing.
Here's one of them, a fine, if somewhat tangential, memorial from David McCumber who worked with Thompson at the SF Examiner back in the salad days of the middle-80's.
"Back in '85, everybody at the Examiner figured Hunter's column would last maybe three weeks before it blew up in a bloody froth of disputes over deadlines, editing and expenses. (One of Hunter's truisms about journalism: "Given money for expenses, anything is possible.")
Indeed, he and editor Dave Burgin clashed quickly -- and publisher Will Hearst decided somebody more expendable than the editor of the newspaper should handle Hunter's column, or that's the impression I got when he ominously invited me into his office to discuss being Hunter's new "control."
When I said, "sure," Hunter burst out of Will's bathroom, fell to the floor, did 10 pushups, then grabbed two tumblers, filled them with scotch, jammed one into my hand, shook the other hand, and the hog, as he would say, was in the tunnel. He would write the column for five years, three of them with a little help from me, and the best of them would make a book, "Generation of Swine," that sold a quarter-million copies in hardback."
Good stuff, huh. One myth destroyed and one confirmed.
Me, I'm just the steno.