Hunter S. Thompson didn’t go to Louisville in 1970 to watch the horses. Honestly, he barely saw them. He went to find the face of the "whiskey-guzzling" establishment, and in doing so, he accidentally birthed an entire genre of writing. The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved isn't just a magazine article; it's the moment journalism stopped trying to be "objective" and started being honest about the chaos of the observer.
It was a mess. A beautiful, booze-soaked, frantic mess.
Thompson was on assignment for Scanlan’s Monthly, a short-lived publication that somehow had the budget to fly a wild-eyed Kentuckian and a British illustrator named Ralph Steadman into the heart of the Bluegrass State. They were supposed to cover the 96th running of the Kentucky Derby. Instead, they covered the end of the American Dream, or at least the blurry, drunken version of it found in the infield of Churchill Downs.
If you've ever felt like the world is a swirling vortex of hypocrisy, this piece is your North Star. Thompson didn't just report on the race. He became the race. He and Steadman spent days wandering through the crowds, looking for a specific kind of face—the "Old South" face—that represented everything decaying about the era.
The Birth of Gonzo at Churchill Downs
Before this, Thompson was a talented writer, but he was still mostly playing by the rules. Then came Louisville. He was broke, stressed, and running out of time. He couldn't find a "story" in the traditional sense because he was too busy surviving the heat, the Mint Juleps, and the looming threat of a riot.
So he did something desperate.
He started ripping pages out of his notebook and sending them straight to the printer. No polish. No secondary edits. Just raw, unfiltered observation. This is what we now call Gonzo journalism. It’s the idea that the reporter isn't a fly on the wall, but a participant. You can't understand the Derby unless you're in the mud with the people losing their life savings on a horse named Dust Commander.
Steadman’s role can’t be overstated here. He had never seen a horse race. He didn't even know what a Kentucky Derby was. He just saw the grotesque. His ink-splattered drawings of distorted, melting faces perfectly mirrored Thompson’s prose. They were a pair of wolves in a sheepdog convention.
Why the 1970 Derby Felt Different
You have to remember the context of 1970. The Vietnam War was screaming in the background. Nixon was in the White House. Just days before the race, the Kent State shootings had happened. The country was vibrating with tension. Thompson expected the Derby to be a flashpoint for violence, a collision between the "New Left" and the "Old Guard."
It didn't happen.
Instead of a revolution, he found a sea of people wearing seersucker suits and drinking themselves into a stupor. This realization—that the "establishment" wasn't just a political entity but a lifestyle of willful ignorance—is the engine of the piece. He realized the horror wasn't a riot; the horror was that everyone was having a great time while the world burned.
The Narrative of the "Whiskey-Guzzling" Crowd
The genius of The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved lies in its self-loathing. Thompson doesn't position himself as a hero. By the end of the weekend, he and Steadman realize they have become the very people they were mocking. They are the "decadent and depraved."
- They were using Mace on people in elevators.
- They were hallucinating from lack of sleep.
- They were hiding in their hotel rooms, terrified of the very crowd they had joined.
This level of honesty is rare today. Most modern "influencer" journalism is about looking better than the subject. Thompson looked into the mirror and saw a monster.
The prose itself is a masterclass in rhythm. He moves from sharp, staccato observations to long, rambling sentences that feel like a drunk person trying to explain a philosophy. It’s visceral. You can smell the stale beer and the horse manure through the page.
The Face of the Crowd
Throughout the article, Thompson is searching for a specific face. He calls it the "special kind of face" he’d seen all his life in Kentucky. It's a face of "bloat and arrogance."
The irony?
At the very end, Steadman shows Thompson a sketch he’s been working on. Thompson looks at it and realizes the grotesque, distorted caricature Steadman drew was actually Thompson himself. It’s a gut-punch of an ending. It suggests that if you look long enough at the things you hate, you eventually start to resemble them.
Impact on Modern Media and Literature
You see the fingerprints of this article everywhere now. Every time a YouTuber does a "I spent 24 hours in a haunted city" video or a Vice reporter embeds themselves with a cult, they are chasing the ghost of Hunter S. Thompson.
But most people get it wrong.
They think Gonzo is just about doing drugs and being loud. It's not. It’s about the brutal pursuit of a "Higher Truth." Thompson believed that objective journalism was a lie because humans are inherently biased. By leaning into the bias, he felt he could get closer to the reality of the situation than a standard newspaper report ever could.
He used the Derby as a microcosm for America.
How to Read It Today Without Getting Lost
If you're picking up the piece for the first time, don't look for a plot. There isn't one. The "action" is internal. It’s about the psychological breakdown of two men in a high-pressure environment.
- Focus on the atmosphere. Don't worry about the names of the horses or the specific politicians mentioned. Focus on the feeling of being trapped in a crowd of 100,000 people.
- Watch the shift in tone. Notice how the article starts with a somewhat professional intent and slowly descends into madness.
- Look at the Steadman art. You can't separate the words from the images. They are a singular organism.
Most people think of Thompson and they think of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. That’s fine. It’s a classic. But The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved is where the engine started. It’s shorter, meaner, and in many ways, more focused. It’s a surgical strike on the American psyche.
The Legend of the "Infield"
The infield at Churchill Downs has changed since 1970, but the spirit Thompson captured remains. It’s still a place where social classes collide in a strange, muddy dance. You have the millionaires in the grandstands with their $1,000 hats and the college kids in the middle of the track passing out in the grass.
Thompson saw this divide and recognized it as the central tension of the country. He saw the "rich" not as refined, but as the most depraved of all because they had the resources to hide it better.
Actionable Takeaways for Writers and History Buffs
If you want to understand why this matters for your own work or your understanding of history, look at the methodology.
Embrace the Subjectivity
Don't try to be a neutral observer of your life. If you're writing a review, a report, or even a social media post, acknowledge your presence in the story. People trust a human voice more than a corporate one.
Find the Contrast
The power of the article comes from the contrast between the "prestige" of the Derby and the "filth" of the behavior. If you want to tell a powerful story, find the place where the polished surface meets the messy reality.
Speed is a Tool
Thompson's "notebook" style worked because it was fast. Sometimes, over-editing kills the soul of a piece. If you're struggling with a project, try writing a "vomit draft" where you aren't allowed to hit the backspace key. You might find your own version of Gonzo in the mess.
Study the History of Louisville
To truly appreciate the piece, look into the 1970s civil rights struggles in Kentucky. Thompson wasn't just being cynical; he was writing in a city that was a powder keg of racial and social tension. His fear of a "riot" wasn't hyperbole; it was a very real possibility in the summer of 1970.
The Kentucky Derby is still held every May. People still drink Mint Juleps. People still wear the hats. And every year, a few writers try to recreate what Thompson did. They usually fail. You can't recreate a lightning strike; you can only study the scorched earth it left behind.
To dive deeper into the world of 1970s Gonzo, your next steps should be specific. Find a high-quality scan of the original Scanlan’s Monthly layout to see how the text and Steadman’s ink interacted on the physical page. Then, read Thompson’s private letters from that period—specifically those collected in The Proud Highway—to see just how terrified he was that he had ruined his career with this "messy" assignment. You'll realize that the greatest piece of journalism in the 20th century was written by a man who thought he was failing. That's the real story.