Monday, February 21, 2005

SAYING GOOD-BYE TO TWO VERY DIFFERENT REFUGEES OF THE '60s


Hunter S. Thompson is gone today. However he might have romanticized it, and whatever his ultimate reasons were, in his own particularly astringent way he probably thought all along that spraying his brains out with the firearm of his choice would be the way to go, at least for him. The isolation of the Woody Creek compound, good for retreat and for the production of Gonzo Journalism, finally, as the demons began shouting louder, provided the stage for the ultimate getaway. Like Loxjet, I first read Hell's Angels at a wildly inappropriate age-- I think I was around eight or nine when I squirreled a copy out of my aunt's book club-derived library-- and it scared the hell out of me, which is exactly what I think I wanted it to do. I wouldn't return to Thompson until my late college years, and during the Reagan '80s I devoured the entire twisted Thompson bibliography, perhaps as a way to escape the crushing reality of that most depressing of decades, but also because I felt transported by the grandiose hallucinatory historical vision and fecund imaginative connections produced by reading Hell's Angels (again), Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72, The Great Shark Hunt, Generation of Swine and, of course, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas virtually back-to-back. As Loxjet suggested, now that Thompson is gone all we're left with is a long string of imitators and watered-down pretenders to the throne, and watered-down is even worse when it comes to Thompson (as his later work, cut by increasing paranoia and incoherence, certainly proved) than it is when speaking of a tumbler of his beloved grain alcohol. Writing in The New York Times in 1973, Christopher Lehmann-Haupt worried Thompson might someday "lapse into good taste":

"That would be a shame, for while he doesn't see America as Grandma Moses depicted it, or the way they painted it for us in civics class, he does in his own mad way betray a profound democratic concern for the polity," he wrote. "And in its own mad way, it's damned refreshing."

That lapse certainly never happened. While the trajectory of his career and life may leave a bitter aftertaste, for those who loved his writing, in its peaks and its valleys, there is a freakish kind of solace from revisiting his contributions to the continuing surgery being done on "that dark, venal, and incurably violent side of the American character." R.I.P. seems a strangely inappropriate sentiment on this day. Better to think of Dr. Thompson hitting the highway on the other side and letting 'er rip.


And goodbye as well to another icon of the '60s who was never able, as Thompson was, to burst out and make her mark on the subsequent decades of her life. Sandra Dee was Gidget (1959) long before anyone ever heard of Sally Field, and it's for that movie she'll be most fondly remembered. But as a kid I was always partial to her two appearances as country girl Tammy Tyree, the role Debbie Reynolds originated in Tammy and the Bachelor (1957). Dee first played the role in Tammy, Tell Me True (1961) and then again in Tammy and the Doctor (1963). Her coming-of-age adventures were favorite rainy Sunday afternoon TV fare, and while no one, not even me, would mistake them as anything but corny fluff, they were well served by her unpretentious charm and precocious energy. Her split from husband Bobby Darin in 1967 got her stuck with the label "divorcee," not exactly a scarlet "A," but close enough for a Hollywood mired (at least publicly) in outdated moralistic attitudes toward actors who would dare to be open about such personal matters. The last thing I ever saw her in was her damsel-in-distress turn in the American International Pictures H.P. Lovecraft adaptation of The Dunwich Horror (1970), frightening enough to a ten-year-old but certainly not worthy of her warm and easygoing presence. Dee was diagnosed with throat cancer and kidney failure in 2000 and died of complications from kidney disease at the age of 62. Those who knew her well will mourn the passing of a friend who likely treasured her early Hollywood experiences and her life beyond them. For those of us who knew her only as Gidget and Tammy, her relatively low profile over the past 30 years will make it easy to preserve that bubbly starlet persona as our remaining fond mems of Sandra Dee.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

I was stunned to see the sad news on this morning's front page about Hunter S. Thompson, and held the newspaper up mutely for Pattie to see. Thanks for a nice tribute--and ditto for Sandra Dee, who was memorably sweet in all the movies I've seen her in, and even in the epidode of the old Gary Collins series "The Sixth Sense" I saw her in!

Bruce

Anonymous said...

As if Thompson's literary and journalistic excellence weren't enough reason to admire him, Charles Kuralt provides us this outstanding further example (and reason to admire Kuralt himself, for that matter):

"...I knew him from Rio, where I had once lent him bail money to get out of jail after he had slugged a guy who had kicked a dog in a bar." (1960s) From "A Life on the Road" by Charles Kuralt

Jen

Dennis Cozzalio said...

Jen: That's wonderful. It's no surprise Thompson would have the inclination to throw down in defense of a lowly barroom mutt. But is it just me and my general ignorance of his work, or is it more surprising to find that little nugget of Raymond Chandler lurking within Charles Kuralt?

Anonymous said...

Nah, it's not really that surprising; Kuralt was a genuine tough cookie. He may have looked like a kindly grandpa type, but, like many a Midwesterner (okay, he was from North Carolina, but the premise still holds), that self-effacing demeanor masked an astute sensibility and wicked wit... and a touch of debauchery as well, it would seem: after his death, at least one woman came forward with a credible tale of having been his long-time mistress.

Easier now to picture him drinking in Rio with Raoul, isn't it?

Jen

Dennis Cozzalio said...

Yep. Too bad he never officially went "On the Road with Hunter S. Thompson." Oh, and thanks for the articles you forwarded, by the way. The man remains fascinating. Though now I wanna know more about Charles Kuralt!