alternatehistory.com
North, South and West
Sorry for the delay everyone!
July 8th, 1987
A letter from Hunter S. Thompson in response to mail he received from a fan
Dear Aaron,
I apologize for the delay in the return of this letter; as I’m sure you are aware, this past weekend was the Fourth and I was otherwise disposed for the better part of 48 hours. As you wrote, you’ve read all my ramblings that you call ‘books’, so I’m sure you can imagine what I was getting into over the last few moons.
Ah, and you may surprised that I spent the last couple days celebrating anything in regards to this backwards country. If this is the case, shame on you. Any excuse to drink and be merry is good enough for me.
I must say, sir, you raise a good point. You said it in the kindest words possible, but I agree; what I was doing in my last article was bitching.
Truth be told, both parties continue to show me why I have avoided the scene altogether since McGovern lost Nixon all those years ago. There was hope then, ah, was there hope. Maybe you remember this time, maybe you don’t.
On second thought, you better remember 1972; I don’t need some kid reading my stuff and losing out on his chance to experience all this sorry world has to offer.
God, Aaron, do you remember the vividity of ‘72? For the first time, it seemed we might actually have a shot. It was like we had found the most clean shaven guy at Woodstock, put him in a suit and thought he actually had a shot at the White House. Ah, we were hopeful, but young and stupid.
Anyway, back to the matter at hand. The complaining about this campaign does make me feel better, but it is also fair to say that it really isn’t accomplishing anything. Maybe it’s time to do something about it.
Stop, stop right there Aaron. I know exactly what you’re thinking, and I’m putting a stop to it here and now. No, I won’t run for President. I’ve seen what it’s like and I want no hand in the slaughter.
But, there are other ways to help. Maybe you’ll find out soon what I mean. Probably not.
Also, regarding your other question, no, I haven’t heard from any of the campaigns yet. I don’t think I will, unless Hart gets into the Ibogaine or Falwell traps me in a cage as human bait on a hunting trip.
Probably for the better. If I came into contact with any of those schmucks, I’m not certain I could contain myself for more than a moment; the instincts run strong through this one.
Oh, well. I’ve got an engagement with the publisher (the noose is tightening as I speak), so I must run. I appreciate the letter, and until I hear from you again, I remain,
Your friend,
Hunter
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
July 10th, 1987
A memo from Dale Bumpers, Democratic Senator from Arkansas
‘A Difficult Decision’
I will not be running for the office of President of these United States of America in the year 1988.
This decision has been weighing on me for months, ever since the first encouraging calls came from a few of my constituents from the great state of Arkansas. I’d like to thank these callers, for without them this decision would have been much easier.
When considering this chance the personal ledger weighed heaviest of all because a campaign means a total disruption of one's life and the lives of his family. 'It would mean a total disruption of the closeness my family has cherished, and if victorious much of that closeness is necessarily lost forever.
When the decision was the closest to being 50-50, a congressional friend of mine wrote, pleading with me to run, saying that America and all the people of the world want to reverse their all-too-common heritage of suffering and fear of annihilation. The next President can help do that.
And right now I would like to say that the next President should, and will, God willing, be Gary Hart of Colorado.
It may be unseemly of me to make an endorsement this early; to that I say nonsense. I believe that Gary is the wisest man in the field and the closest to representing my own views.
Again, I’d like to thank all of my supporters in Arkansas and the entire country for all of the kind words.
In solidarity,
Dale Bumpers
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
July 11th, 1987
“Oh, for Christ’s sakes!” Al Gore yelled, ripping up the memo set in front of him.
To tell the truth, Senator Howell Heflin of Alabama had never seen Gore this angry. He sat back, trying to cool down his usually mild mannered friend.
“Al, it’s not that big a deal.” Gore rolled his eyes at this.
“Not that big a deal? Not that big a deal? Aren’t southerners supposed to stick together? This is a mutiny. This is a big deal!” Gore slammed his fist down on the desk with every word of the last sentence, his face glowing red.
“Al, Dale has never stood with us and our values. You know what they call him in the press, right?” Gore looked momentarily confused.
“No, what?” Heflin laughed and shook his head.
“They call him ‘the Northerner’s Southerner’.”
“Is that supposed to comfort me, Howell? I feel like I’ve lost the South!”
Heflin took a sip of bourbon and shook his head again. Gore was charismatic, that was sure, but he was young. Too young, maybe.
“Al, we would never have had them in the first place. If Hart wouldn’t have gotten him, then Jackson would have.”
“Well, I guess that is true,” Gore said, the anger draining from his face.
“Look at it like this,” Heflin began, “this is a bigger hit to Jackson than us. He was relying on the more liberal Southerners, you have the moderates, the smart, common people, locked down.” Heflin could see Gore was placated.
“I hadn’t considered that.” Gore began, “Hart and Jackson could split the vote below the Mason Dixon line. If I can control the Southern votes, I can get on the ticket.”
“There you go,” Heflin said, “stay the course. And let’s get the South on the ticket.”
July 8th, 1987
A letter from Hunter S. Thompson in response to mail he received from a fan
Dear Aaron,
I apologize for the delay in the return of this letter; as I’m sure you are aware, this past weekend was the Fourth and I was otherwise disposed for the better part of 48 hours. As you wrote, you’ve read all my ramblings that you call ‘books’, so I’m sure you can imagine what I was getting into over the last few moons.
Ah, and you may surprised that I spent the last couple days celebrating anything in regards to this backwards country. If this is the case, shame on you. Any excuse to drink and be merry is good enough for me.
I must say, sir, you raise a good point. You said it in the kindest words possible, but I agree; what I was doing in my last article was bitching.
Truth be told, both parties continue to show me why I have avoided the scene altogether since McGovern lost Nixon all those years ago. There was hope then, ah, was there hope. Maybe you remember this time, maybe you don’t.
On second thought, you better remember 1972; I don’t need some kid reading my stuff and losing out on his chance to experience all this sorry world has to offer.
God, Aaron, do you remember the vividity of ‘72? For the first time, it seemed we might actually have a shot. It was like we had found the most clean shaven guy at Woodstock, put him in a suit and thought he actually had a shot at the White House. Ah, we were hopeful, but young and stupid.
Anyway, back to the matter at hand. The complaining about this campaign does make me feel better, but it is also fair to say that it really isn’t accomplishing anything. Maybe it’s time to do something about it.
Stop, stop right there Aaron. I know exactly what you’re thinking, and I’m putting a stop to it here and now. No, I won’t run for President. I’ve seen what it’s like and I want no hand in the slaughter.
But, there are other ways to help. Maybe you’ll find out soon what I mean. Probably not.
Also, regarding your other question, no, I haven’t heard from any of the campaigns yet. I don’t think I will, unless Hart gets into the Ibogaine or Falwell traps me in a cage as human bait on a hunting trip.
Probably for the better. If I came into contact with any of those schmucks, I’m not certain I could contain myself for more than a moment; the instincts run strong through this one.
Oh, well. I’ve got an engagement with the publisher (the noose is tightening as I speak), so I must run. I appreciate the letter, and until I hear from you again, I remain,
Your friend,
Hunter
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
July 10th, 1987
A memo from Dale Bumpers, Democratic Senator from Arkansas
‘A Difficult Decision’
I will not be running for the office of President of these United States of America in the year 1988.
This decision has been weighing on me for months, ever since the first encouraging calls came from a few of my constituents from the great state of Arkansas. I’d like to thank these callers, for without them this decision would have been much easier.
When considering this chance the personal ledger weighed heaviest of all because a campaign means a total disruption of one's life and the lives of his family. 'It would mean a total disruption of the closeness my family has cherished, and if victorious much of that closeness is necessarily lost forever.
When the decision was the closest to being 50-50, a congressional friend of mine wrote, pleading with me to run, saying that America and all the people of the world want to reverse their all-too-common heritage of suffering and fear of annihilation. The next President can help do that.
And right now I would like to say that the next President should, and will, God willing, be Gary Hart of Colorado.
It may be unseemly of me to make an endorsement this early; to that I say nonsense. I believe that Gary is the wisest man in the field and the closest to representing my own views.
Again, I’d like to thank all of my supporters in Arkansas and the entire country for all of the kind words.
In solidarity,
Dale Bumpers
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
July 11th, 1987
“Oh, for Christ’s sakes!” Al Gore yelled, ripping up the memo set in front of him.
To tell the truth, Senator Howell Heflin of Alabama had never seen Gore this angry. He sat back, trying to cool down his usually mild mannered friend.
“Al, it’s not that big a deal.” Gore rolled his eyes at this.
“Not that big a deal? Not that big a deal? Aren’t southerners supposed to stick together? This is a mutiny. This is a big deal!” Gore slammed his fist down on the desk with every word of the last sentence, his face glowing red.
“Al, Dale has never stood with us and our values. You know what they call him in the press, right?” Gore looked momentarily confused.
“No, what?” Heflin laughed and shook his head.
“They call him ‘the Northerner’s Southerner’.”
“Is that supposed to comfort me, Howell? I feel like I’ve lost the South!”
Heflin took a sip of bourbon and shook his head again. Gore was charismatic, that was sure, but he was young. Too young, maybe.
“Al, we would never have had them in the first place. If Hart wouldn’t have gotten him, then Jackson would have.”
“Well, I guess that is true,” Gore said, the anger draining from his face.
“Look at it like this,” Heflin began, “this is a bigger hit to Jackson than us. He was relying on the more liberal Southerners, you have the moderates, the smart, common people, locked down.” Heflin could see Gore was placated.
“I hadn’t considered that.” Gore began, “Hart and Jackson could split the vote below the Mason Dixon line. If I can control the Southern votes, I can get on the ticket.”
“There you go,” Heflin said, “stay the course. And let’s get the South on the ticket.”
- Meyer London
- Word Count: 1.1k