“Hell's Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga” by Hunter S. Thompson
Paperback, 273 pages
Published 1996 by Ballantine Books
ISBN-10: 9780345410085 (ISBN-13: 978-0345410085)
Date Finished: December 23, 2019
How strongly I recommend it: 2/10
Find it at BookShop.org or Amazon
The moment I finished I thought, That was more of a struggle to get through than I thought it would be. With the exceptions of a few brilliant passages, I was underwhelmed. This is a complete surprise to me, as I found some of Thompson's magazine writing to be dazzling (especially his political writing in GQ magazine). I know it was unique for its time, but I'm realizing maybe I've grown to be a fan of his devil-may-care writer’s persona more than his books.
I gave it 2 stars. This is undoubtedly an unpopular view, but I could barely get through this book. There is no real character development. The lead was a mess and an illogically bad choice in my opinion. He reveals that he was beaten up by the gang at the end of the book. I would argue this is where he should have started, to draw us in, then of course, regress to tell the story in chronological order.
I appreciate the image of Hunter S.Thompson—the iconoclast, the badass, the madman—more than the author I suppose... and that makes me a little sad.
My Notes:
They rode with a fine, unwashed arrogance, secure in their reputation as the rottenest motorcycle gang in the whole history of Christendom. Pg 5
: the Slaves were the class of Los Angeles, and their women clung tight to the leather backs of these dog-eating , crotch-busting fools as they headed north for their annual party with the Hell’s Angels, who even then viewed the “L.A. bunch” with friendly condescension… pg 5
Beyond that, in his twenty-seven years he has piled up a tall and ugly police record: a multitude of arrests, from petty theft and better, to rape, narcotics offenses and public cunnilingus—and all without a single felony conviction, being officially guilty of nothing more than what any spirited citizen might commit in some drunk or violent moment of animal weakness. Pg 7
But a Labor Day Run is the biggest event on the Hell’s Angels calendar; it is the annual gathering of the whole outlaw clan, a massive three-day drunk that nearly always results in some wild, free-swinging action and another rude shock for the squares. Pg 7
… patch of a winged skull wearing a motorcycle helmet. Pg 8
In any gathering of Hell’s Angels, from five to a possible hundred and fifty, there is no doubt who is running the show: Ralph “Sonny” Barger, the Maximum Leader, a six-foot, 170-pound warehouseman from East Oakland, the coolest head in the lot, and a tough, quick-thinking dealer when any action starts. Pg 10
Country had died in the best outlaw tradition: homeless, stone broke, and owning nothing in this world but the clothes on his back and a big bright Harley. Pg 12
"Last fall, two teen-age girls were take forcibly from their dates and raped by several members of the gang” pg 24-25
“And besides, one girl refused to testify and the other was given a lie-detector test and found to be wholly unreliable.” Pg 25
Afterward, they may ride off again to seek some new nadir in sordid behavior. Pg 26
At the beginning of March 1965 the Hell’s Angels were virtually nonexistent.
The Lynch-Newsweek account of the Porterville incident was hazy in detail, but brutally clear with its image of Hell’s Angels swarming over the town and wreaking havoc on the terrified citizenry. Pg 32
Do the Hell’s Angels actually “take over a town”—as they’re often accused of doing—or merely clog a Main Street and a few local taverns with drunken noise, thus flaying the sensibilities of various locals? Pg 32
If the “Hell’s Angels Saga” proved any one thing, it was the Angels as they exist today were virtually created by Time, Newsweek and The New York Times. Pg 34
The Times took the Lynch report at face value and simply reprinted it in very condensed form. The headline said: CALIFORNIA TAKES STEPS TO CURB TERRORISM OF RUFFIAN CYCLISTS. Pg 34
The incident never occurred. It was created, as a sort of journalistic montage, by the correspondent who distilled the report. But the Times is neither written nor edited by fools, and anyone who has worked on a newspaper for more than two months knows how technical safeguards can be built into even the wildest story, without fear of losing reader impact. What they amount o, basically, is the art of printing a story without taking legal responsibility for it. The word “alleged” is a key to this art. Other keys are “so-and-so said” (or “claimed”), “it was reported” and “according to.” In fourteen short newspaper paragraphs, the Times story contained nine of these qualifiers. Pg 34
…stage of the game, there were a few who felt they were asking a fair price for their act… and their faith was justified when “one magazine” came through with either $1,000 (according to the Times) or $1,200 (according to the Angels).
The result was a piece of slothful, emotionally biased journalism, a bad hack job that wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow or stirred a ripple had it appeared in most American newspapers… but the Times is a heavyweight even when it’s wrong, and the effect of this article was to put the seal of respectability on a story that was, in fact, a hysterical, politically motived accident. Pg 35
Until the Monterey rape they were bush-league hoods known only to California cops and a few thousand cycle buffs. Pg 35
My dealings with the Angels lasted about a year, and never really ended. I came to know some of them well and most of them well enough to relax with. But at first—due to numerous warnings—I was nervous about even drinking. I met a half dozen Frisco Angels one afternoon in the bar of a sleazy dive called the DePau Hotel.. pg 43
Only a few cultivated a noticeable body odor. Those with wives and steady girl friends bathe as often as most half-employed people, and make up for it by fouling their clothes more often. Pg 45
The ceremony varies from one chapter to another but the main feature is always the defiling of the initiate’s new uniform. A bucket of dung and urine will be collected during the meeting, then poured on the newcomer’s head in a solemn baptismal. Or he will take off his clothes and stay naked while the bucket of slop is poured over them and the others stomp it in. Pg 45
That was in early spring of 1965. By the middle of summer I had become so involved in the outlaw scene that I was no longer sure whether I was doing research on the Hell’s Angels or being slowly absorbed by them.
.. views the future with the baleful eye of a man with no upward mobility at all. Pg 53
Here was the Examiner, which had always viewed the Angels with fear and loathing, suddenly presenting them as misunderstood patriots. Pg 56
Whatever else might be said about the Angels, nobody has ever accused them of modesty, and this new kind of press was pure balm to their long-abused egos. Pg 57
… they were generally pleased with the result. At the same time they reviewed their traditional view of the press: not all reporters were congenital liars—there were exceptions, here and there, with the guts of keen understanding to write the real stuff. Pg 57
But that was Bobo’s gig; before the Hell’s Angels came into his life he was one of San Francisco’s more promising middleweight boxers, and it was no feat for him to put down a half dozen unsuspecting tavern brawlers. Later, when he became a karate expert, he happily destroyed a new generation of challengers. Pg 60
The Angels say they are named after a famous World War I bomber squadron that was stationed near Los Angeles and whose personnel raced around the area on motorcycles when they weren’t airborne. Pg 66
A motorcyclist has to drive as if everybody else on the road is out to kill him. Pg 68
We began to see that the Hell’s Angels were assuming a mythical character. They had become golf heroes—vicarious exemplars of behavior most youth could only fantasize (unless swept away in mob activity), and legendary champions who would come to the rescue of the oppressed and persecuted. Transaction article Pg 69
The Hell’s Angels try not to do anything halfway, and outcasts who deal in extremes are bound to cause trouble, whether they mean to or not. This, along with a belief in total retaliation for any offense or insult, is what makes the Angels such a problem for police and so morbidly fascinating to the general public. Pg 70
Many of their “assault victims” are people who have seen too many Western movies; they are victims of the John Wayne complex, which causes them to start swinging the moment they sense any insult. This is relatively safe in some areas of society, but in saloons frequented by outlaw motorcyclists it is the worst kind of folly. Pg 70
The outlaws take the “all on one” concept so seriously that it is written into the club charter as Bylaw Number 10: “When an Angel punches a non-Angel, all other Angels will participate.” Pg 70
The root definition remains the same: a dangerous hoodlum on a big, fast motorcycle. Pg 73
The only consistent difference between the Hell’s Angels and the other outlaw clubs is that the Angels are more extreme. Most others are part-time outlaws, but the Angels play the role seven days a week: pg 74
Chapter presidents have no set term in office, and a strong one, like Barger, will remain unchallenged until he goes to jail, gets killed or finds his own reasons for hangin up the colors. Pg 74
Professional motorcycle racers, who have learned the hard way, wear helmets, gloves and full-length leather suits.
But not Hell’s Angels. Anything safe, they want no part of. They’ll stoop to wearing shades or weird goggles on the road, but more for show than protection. Pg 81
Many a groveling merchant has made a buck off the Hell’s Angels. All they ask is tribute, and naked fear is a very pure form of it. Pg 84
There are literary critics who insist that Ernest Hemingway was a tortured queer and that Mark Twain was haunted to the end of his days by a penchant for interracial buggery. It is a good way to stir up a tempest in the academic quarterlies, but it won’t change a word of what either man wrote, more alter the impact of their work on the world they were writing about. Pg 85
A group of them seen on a highway for the first time is offensive to every normal notion of what is supposed to be happening in this country; it is bizarre to the point of seeming like a bah hallucination… and this is the contest in which the term “outlaw” makes real sense. To see a lone Angel screaming through traffic—defying all rules, limits and patterns—is to understand the motorcycle as an instrument of anarchy, a tool of defiance and even a weapon. Pg 88
There is something pathetic about a bunch of men gathering every night in the same bar, taking themselves very seriously in their ratty uniforms, with nothing to look forward to but the chance of a fight or a round of head jobs from some drunken charwoman. Pg 88-89
The little bikes may e fun, like the industry people say, but Volkwagens are fun too, and so are BB guns. Big bikes, Ferraris and .44 Magnum revolvers are something beyond fun; they are man-made machines so powerful and efficient in their own realms that they challenge a man’s ability to control them, to push them to the limits of their design and possibilities. 92
In the end I narrowed it down to the Sportster, the Bonneville and the BSA Lightning Rocket. All three will run circles around a stock Harley 74, and even the Angel version of the dog—which is anything but stock—can’t run with the newest and best production models without extensive alterations and a very wavy rider. Pg 92-93
With rare exceptions, the outlaw bike is a Harley 74, a giant of a motorcycle that comes out of the Milwaukee factory weighing seven hundred pounds, but which the Angels strip down to about five hundred. Pg 93
A chopper hog, or “chopper,” is little more than a heavy Fram, a tiny seat and a massive, 1,200-cubic-centimeter (or 74-cubic-inch) engine. Pg 94
A fanatic can satisfy the mirror requirement by using a tiny dentist’s mirror, with is technically legal. Pg 95
There is not a Hell’s Angel riding who hasn’t made the emergency-ward scene, and one of the natural results is that their fear of accidents is well tempered by a caller kind of disdain for physical injury. Outsiders might call it madness or other, more esoterica names… but the Angels inhabit a world in which violence is as common as spilled beer, and they live with it as easily as ski bums live with the risk of broken legs. Pg 96-97
People who know them are keenly aware of the “all on one” ethic, which is not covered by any statue of limitations. An Angel on his own turf is as secure as a Mafia runner in a tough Italian neighborhood. Pg 97
Justice is not cheap in this country, and people who insist on it are usually either desperate or possessed by some private determination bordering on monomania. Pg 105
Buck, a huge Indian on a purple Harley, told me later that they’d pegged me for a cop. Pg 112
Earrings, Wehrmacht headgear and German Iron Crosses are virtually part of the uniform—like the grease-caked Levi’s, the sleeveless vest and all those fine tattoos: “Mother,” “Dolly,” “Hitler,” “Jack the Ripper,” swastikas, daggers, skulls, “LSD,” “Love,” “Rape,” and the inevitable Hell’s Angels insignia. Pg 113
As the most-reprehensible celebrities in years, it was inevitable that their trek to Bass Lake would draw large crowds of horrified burghers all along the route. Pg 117
But there is also a quiet menace, an egocentric fanaticism tempered by either years at the helm of a legion of outcasts who, on that sweat afternoon, were measuring the sheriff purely by his size, his weapon and the handful of young rangers who backed him up. Pg 131
Most of the Angels are obvious Anglo-Saxons, but the inkhorn attitude is contagious. The few outlaws with Mexican or Italian names not only act like the others but somehow look like them. Even Chinese Mel from Frisco and Charley, a young Negro from Oakland, have the Linkhorn gait and mannerisms. Pg 156
At first I thought it was for evidence, but after watching them urge the Angels to strike colorful poses and dive into the lake with their clothes on, I realized that the cops were as fascinated as any first-time visitor at the Bronx Zoo. Pg 157
He would ride his bike into a river to fight a bull moose if he thought the beast had it in for him. Pg 160
In accordance with their ethic of excess in all things, the Angels booze with a zeal that seems hardly human. Pg 162
Many swell up with beer, but the swelling bears little resemblance to the stylish pot of the desk-bound world. Even the few fat Angels are built more like beer barrels than water balloons. Pg 172
… and if times are lean all around, a foraging party will hit a supermarket and steal everything they can carry. Few clerks will try to stop a dangerous hoodlum rushing out the door with two hams and three quarts of milk. The outlaws are not apologetic about stealing food, even though it goes against their pride. Pg 173
That sounds a bit harsh. Invariably, the girls who pursue the Hell’s Angels are in the grip of some carnal urgency, and some are deranged sluts, but few really look forward to being gang-raped. Pg 191
More than half of the fifty or so outlaws
Pg 195
More than half of the fifty or so outlaws still standing around the bonfire had lost all contact with reality. Pg 195
The most common penalty for crashing is the urine shower; those still on their feet gather quietly around the sleeper and soak him from head to foot. Pg 195
He introduced himself as Jerry Cohen. Just as he started to explain what he wanted, Tiny rushed up to Barger, threw his arms around him and planted a sloppy wet kiss on his mouth. This is a guaranteed square-jolter, and the Angels are gleefully aware of the reaction it gets. “They can’t stand it,” says Terry. “It blows their minds every time—especially the tongue bit.” Pg 196-197
They consider me a slow learner, a borderline case with only splinters of real potential. My first plunge into folly was getting a limey bike, an insult that I only partially redeemed by destroying it in a high-speed crash and laying my head open. Pg 197
They smoke marijuana so openly that it’s hard to understand why they’re not all in jail for it. California’s marijuana laws are among the most primitive manifestations of American politics. Two convictions for possession means a minimum five years. Pg 211
I was vaguely afflicted by this syndrome, since my name was becoming associated with the Angels and there was a feeling in the air that I could produce them whenever I felt like it. This was never true, though I did what I could to put the outlaws onto as much free booze and action as seemed advisable. At the same time I was loath to be responsible for their behavior. Pg 226
The only problem with the Angels’ new image was that the outlaws themselves didn’t understand it. It puzzled them to be treated as symbolic heroes by people with whom they had almost nothing in common. Pg 227
Conclusions are a bit hazy at this point, and the rash of LSD laws passed in 1965 and ’66 will probably abort any meaningful research on the subject for many years. Pg 236
Several months earlier I would have laughed the whole thing off as some kind of twisted, adolescent delusion… but after spending most of that summer in the drunk-bloody, whore-walloping taverns of East Oakland, I had changed my ideas about reality and the human animal. Pg 241
It is a noisy, ugly, mean-spirited place, with the sort of charm that Chicago had for Sandburg. It is also, a natural environment for hoodlums, brawlers, teen-age gangs, and racial tension. Pg 244
One is passive and the other is active, and the main reasons the Angels are such good copy is that they are acting out the day-dreams of millions of losers who don’t wear any defiant insignia and who don’t know how to be outlaws. The streets of every city are thronged with men who would pay all the money they could get their hands on to be transformed—even for a day—into hairy, hair-fisted brutes who walk over cops, extort free drinks from terrified bartenders and thunder out of town on big motorcycles after raping the banker’s daughter. Even people who think the Angels should all be put to sleep find it easy to identify with them. Pg 261
Postscript:
The first blow was launched with no hint of warning and I thought for a moment that it was just one of those drunken accidents that a man has to live with in this league. But within seconds I was clubbed from behind by the Angel I’d been talking to just a moment earlier. Then I was swarmed in a general flail. Pg 272