Motorcycle Gangs: Losers and Outsiders

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Motorcycle Gangs: Losers and Outsiders

Magazine article

By: Hunter S. Thompson

Date: May 17, 1965

Source: Thompson, Hunter S. "Motorcycle Gangs: Losers and Outsiders." The Nation (May 17, 1965).

About the Author: Hunter S. Thompson (1937–2005) is best known as the founder of "gonzo" journalism, an irreverent style of reporting in which the distinction between the subject of an article and the writer's personal perspectives is often difficult to distinguish. Thompson's work began to find favor with American and international audiences in the late 1960s. Thompson had earned a precarious living as a journalist prior to 1964, the year that he immersed himself in the nascent Hells Angels biker culture of California. As a frequent contributor to Rolling Stone magazine, Thompson achieved status as both a counter cultural icon, as well as notoriety as a fierce critic of President Richard Nixon. Thompson was also a best-selling author, with works that included The Hells Angels and The Great Shark Hunt. Thompson's later work expressed a deep disenchantment with American society. Thompson took his own life in 2005.

INTRODUCTION

In 1965, the public perception of the motorcycle gang was not the entirely dark and overtly criminal image that this phrase conveys today. The Hells Angels, as then chronicled by Hunter S. Thompson, appear to share more attitudes in common with the drunken brawlers who had ridden their motorcycles into Hollister, California, to briefly take over that town for a weekend in 1947, than with the fearsome modern public persona of the Angels, that of an organized, efficient criminal association.

The California Hells Angels of 1965 were inspired by the image created by the Hollister types—wild, brawling comrades, in search of fun on powerful machines, loud and free spirited, with manners calculated to upset conventional American society. The seed for this archetype was planted at Hollister and then cultivated to cult status by Marlon Brando's portrayal of a motorcycle gang leader in the 1954 film The Wild One, a production loosely based on the Hollister incident.

Between 1947 and 1964, motorcycle gangs and their membership were perceived as a small, decidedly fringe element in American society. Three events that occurred in the months prior to the publication of Thompson's 1965 article triggered a process by which this public view point was significantly altered. The first two developments were successive magazine articles, published in Time and Newsweek respectively, that detailed the problems associated with the behavior of motorcycle gangs in California. These articles were the first national media attention directed at the California motorcycle gang subculture, and they cast its members in a highly negative, anti-social light.

The third event that impacted the public opinion of motorcycle gangs in advance of Thompson's article was the allegation that four members of the California Hells Angles, with whom Thompson consorted in the course of his research, were involved in the gang rape of two young women near Monterey, California over the Labor Day weekend of 1964. Thompson's observations of the gang members are, thus, made at a time in the history of the Hells Angels when the perception of the bikers as simply rowdy, Harley Davidson motorcycle aficionados was beginning to give way to that of the biker as a dangerous criminal.

PRIMARY SOURCE

San Francisco

Last Labor Day weekend newspapers all over California gave front-page reports of a heinous gang rape in the moonlit sand dunes near the town of Seaside on the Monterey Peninsula. Two girls, aged 14 and 15, were allegedly taken from their dates by a gang of filthy, frenzied, boozed-up motorcycle hoodlums called "Hell's Angels," and dragged off to be "repeatedly assaulted."

A deputy sheriff, summoned by one of the erstwhile dates, said he "arrived at the beach and saw a huge bonfire surrounded by cyclists of both sexes. Then the two sobbing, near-hysterical girls staggered out of the darkness, begging for help. One was completely nude and the other had on only a torn sweater."

Some 300 Hell's Angels were gathered in the Seaside-Monterey area at the time, having convened, they said, for the purpose of raising funds among themselves to send the body of a former member, killed in an accident, back to his mother in North Carolina. One of the Angels, hip enough to falsely identify himself as "Frenchy of San Bernardino," told a reporter who came out to meet the cyclists: "We chose Monterey because we get treated good here; most other places we get thrown out of town."

But Frenchy spoke too soon. The Angels weren't on the peninsula twenty-four hours before four of them were in jail for rape, and the rest of the troop was being escorted to the county line by a large police contingent. Several were quoted, somewhat derisively, as saying: "That rape charge against our guys is phony and it won't stick."

It turned out to be true, but that was another story and certainly no headliner. The difference between the Hell's Angels in the paper and the Hell's Angels for real is enough to make a man wonder what newsprint is for. It also raises a question as to who are the real hell's angels. Ever since World War II, California has been strangely plagued by wild men on motorcycles. They usually travel in groups of ten to thirty, booming along the highways and stopping here and there to get drunk and raise hell. In 1947, hundreds of them ran amok in the town of Hollister, an hour's fast drive south of San Francisco, and got enough press to inspire a film called The Wild One, starring Marlon Brando. The film had a massive effect on thousands of young California motorcycle buffs; in many ways, it was their version of The Sun Also Rises.

The California climate is perfect for motorcycles, as well as surfboards, swimming pools and convertibles. Most of the cyclists are harmless weekend types, members of the American Motorcycle Association, and no more dangerous than skiers or skin divers. But a few belong to what the others call "outlaw clubs," and these are the ones who—especially on weekends and holidays—are likely to turn up almost anywhere in the state, looking for action. Despite everything the psychiatrists and Freudian casuists have to say about them, they are tough, mean and potentially as dangerous as a pack of wild boar. When push comes to shove, any leather fetishes or inadequacy feelings that may be involved are entirely beside the point, as anyone who has ever tangled with these boys will sadly testify. When you get in an argument with a group of outlaw motorcyclists, you can generally count your chances of emerging unmaimed by the number of heavy-handed allies you can muster in the time it takes to smash a beer bottle. In this league, sportsmanship is for old liberals and young fools. "I smashed his face," one of them said to me of a man he'd never seen until the swinging started. "He got wise. He called me a punk. He must have been stupid."

The most notorious of these outlaw groups is the Hell's Angels, supposedly headquartered in San Bernardino, just east of Los Angeles, and with branches all over the state. As a result of the infamous "Labor Day gang rape," the Attorney General of California has recently issued an official report on the Hell's Angels. According to the report, they are easily identified:

The emblem of the Hell's Angels, termed "colors," consists of an embroidered patch of a winged skull wearing a motorcycle helmet. Just below the wing of the emblem are the letters "MC." Over this is a band bearing the words "Hell's Angels." Below the emblem is another patch bearing the local chapter name, which is usually an abbreviation for the city or locality. These patches are sewn on the back of a usually sleeveless denim jacket. In addition, members have been observed wearing various types of Luftwaffe insignia and reproductions of German iron crosses.∗ (∗Purely for decorative and shock effect. The Hell's Angels are apolitical and no more racist than other ignorant young thugs.) Many affect beards and their hair is usually long and unkempt. Some wear a single earring in a pierced ear lobe. Frequently they have been observed to wear metal belts made of a length of polished motorcycle drive chain which can be unhooked and used as a flexible bludgeon … Probably the most universal common denominator in identification of Hell's Angels is generally their filthy condition. Investigating officers consistently report these people, both club members and their female associates, seem badly in need of a bath. Fingerprints are a very effective means of identification because a high percentage of Hell's Angels have criminal records.

In addition to the patches on the back of Hell's Angel's jackets, the "One Percenters" wear a patch reading "1%-er." Another badge worn by some members bears the number "13." It is reported to represent the 13th letter of the alphabet, "M," which in turn stands for marijuana and indicates the wearer thereof is a user of the drug.

The Attorney General's report was colorful, interesting, heavily biased and consistently alarming—just the sort of thing, in fact, to make a clanging good article for a national news magazine. Which it did; in both barrels. Newsweek led with a left hook titled "The Wild Ones," Time crossed right, inevitably titled "The Wilder Ones." The Hell's Angels, cursing the implications of this new attack, retreated to the bar of the DePau Hotel near the San Francisco waterfront and planned a weekend beach party. I showed them the articles. Hell's Angels do not normally read the news magazines. "I'd go nuts if I read that stuff all the time," said one. "It's all bullshit."

Newsweek was relatively circumspect. It offered local color, flashy quotes and "evidence" carefully attributed to the official report but unaccountably said the report accused the Hell's Angels of homosexuality, whereas the report said just the opposite. Time leaped into the fray with a flurry of blood, booze and semen-flecked wordage that amounted, in the end, to a classic of supercharged hokum: "Drug-induced stupors … no act is too degrading … swap girls, drugs and motorcycles with equal abandon … stealing forays … then ride off again to seek some new nadir in sordid behavior …"

Where does all this leave the Hell's Angels and the thousands of shuddering Californians (according to Time) who are worried sick about them? Are these outlaws really going to be busted, routed and cooled, as the news magazines implied? Are California highways any safer as a result of this published uproar? Can honest merchants once again walk the streets in peace? The answer is that nothing has changed except that a few people calling themselves the Hell's Angels have a new sense of identity and importance.

After two weeks of intensive dealings with the Hell's Angels phenomenon, both in print and in person, I'm convinced the net result of the general howl and publicity has been to obscure and avoid the real issues by invoking a savage conspiracy of bogeymen and conning the public into thinking all will be "business as usual" once this fearsome snake is scotched, as it surely will be by hard and ready minions of the Establishment.

Meanwhile, according to Attorney General Thomas C. Lynch's own figures, California's true crime picture makes the Hell's Angels look like a gang of petty jack rollers. The police count 463 Hell's Angels: 205 around L.A. and 233 in the San Francisco-Oakland area. I don't know about L.A. but the real figures for the Bay Area are thirty or so in Oakland and exactly eleven—with one facing expulsion—in San Francisco. This disparity makes it hard to accept other police statistics. The dubious package also shows convictions on 1,023 misdemeanor counts and 151 felonies—primarily vehicle theft, burglary and assault. This is for all years and all alleged members.

California's overall figures for 1963 list 1,116 homicides, 12,448 aggravated assaults, 6,257 sex offenses, and 24,532 burglaries. In 1962, the state listed 4,121 traffic deaths, up from 3,839 in 1961. Drug arrest figures for 1964 showed a 101 percent increase in juvenile marijuana arrests over 1963, and a recent back-page story in the San Francisco Examiner said, "The venereal disease rate among [the city's] teen-agers from 15-19 has more than doubled in the past four years." Even allowing for the annual population jump, juvenile arrests in all categories are rising by 10 percent or more each year.

Against this background, would it make any difference to the safety and peace of mind of the average Californian if every motorcycle outlaw in the state (all 901, according to the state) were garroted within twenty-four hours? This is not to say that a group like the Hell's Angels has no meaning. The generally bizarre flavor of their offenses and their insistence on identifying themselves make good copy, but usually overwhelm—in print, at least—the unnerving truth that they represent, in colorful microcosm, what is quietly and anonymously growing all around us every day of the week.

"We're bastards to the world and they're bastards to us," one of the Oakland Angels told a Newsweek reporter. "When you walk into a place where people can see you, you want to look as repulsive and repugnant as possible. We are complete social outcasts—outsiders against society."

A lot of this is a pose, but anyone who believes that's all it is has been on thin ice since the death of Jay Gatsby. The vast majority of motorcycle outlaws are uneducated, unskilled men between 20 and 30, and most have no credentials except a police record. So at the root of their sad stance is a lot more than a wistful yearning for acceptance in a world they never made; their real motivation is an instinctive certainty as to what the score really is. They are out of the ball game and they know it—and that is their meaning; for unlike most losers in today's society, the Hell's Angels not only know but spitefully proclaim exactly where they stand.

I went to one of their meetings recently, and half-way through the night I thought of Joe Hill on his way to face a Utah firing squad and saying his final words: "Don't mourn, organize." It is safe to say that no Hell's Angel has ever heard of Joe Hill or would know a Wobbly from a Bushmaster, but nevertheless they are somehow related. The I.W.W. had serious plans for running the world, while the Hell's Angels mean only to defy the world's machinery. But instead of losing quietly, one by one, they have banded together with a mindless kind of loyalty and moved outside the framework, for good or ill. There is nothing particularly romantic or admirable about it; that's just the way it is, strength in unity. They don't mind telling you that running fast and loud on their customized Harley 74s gives them a power and a purpose that nothing else seems to offer.

Beyond that, their position as self-proclaimed outlaws elicits a certain popular appeal, however reluctant. That is especially true in the West and even in California where the outlaw tradition is still honored. The unarticulated link between the Hell's Angels and the millions of losers and outsiders who don't wear any colors is the key to their notoriety and the ambivalent reactions they inspire. There are several other keys, having to do with politicians, policemen and journalists, but for this we have to go back to Monterey and the Labor Day "gang rape."

SIGNIFICANCE

The chief importance of the observations of Hunter S. Thompson regarding the California Hells Angels as they existed in 1965 is that his work represents the preservation of a historical artifact. The characterizations of the bikers and their community by Thompson is akin to a prehistoric insect being encased in amber, as the modern, multi-national, and highly structured Hells Angels bear very little resemblance to the undisciplined rowdy rabble depicted here.

Thompson refers to an unspoken identification that he perceived as existing between the Hells Angels and the lower strata of male American society, each possessing the same limited talents and abilities. The bikers were only a sample of these millions of losers and outsiders. This is a far more difficult relationship to imagine as existing today between biker gangs and society, given the widespread negative publicity such gangs have attracted, primarily through high profile prosecutions for drug trafficking, murder, extortion, and other serious crime.

A second, purely journalistic significance to Thompson's work is the fact that his fresh, candid perspective was due to what today would be inconceivable—unfettered, daily access to the Hells Angels membership. This access gives Thompson's work a breadth of perspective that is reflected in his scathing criticism of both the police attitudes towards the Hells Angels and the loser that he sees as the dominant component of Hells Angels membership. The richness of Thompson's narrative is a product of the closeness of his associations with his subject.

Thompson's use of the term "outlaw" to characterize the Hells Angels membership was not the first example in American journalism of this usage. The Hollister biker incident in 1947 was labeled an outlaw occurrence at that time. However, the description of the Hollister participants as outlaws was a reflexive usage of the term, unsupported by any analysis of whom or what these rowdy, drunken persons represented. In contrast, Thompson's description of the outlaw mentality of the Hells Angels in 1965 was both timely and prescient. It was clear that the Hells Angels perceived themselves as beyond the reach of conventional society and its laws; it is equally beyond question that "outlaw" is today the accepted label for all such motorcycle organizations. In 1965, the term conveyed a notion of non-conformist, unconventional behavior, linked to the freedom of the open road; the modern outlaw motorcycle gang is associated with little beyond criminality.

Thompson also clearly articulates a viewpoint that has remained the mantra for the public relations arms of the organized motorcycle gangs today—that their membership is not a threat to anyone, that they are, at heart, simply like-minded motorcycle enthusiasts, and that as Thompson describes it, the police-inspired fears of bikers are just a "big con."

Thompson supports his thesis of the Hells Angels as an overstated threat to society from a number of angles. In addition to his derisive attitude concerning the sophistication and capabilities of the membership, Thompson sees the bikers fundamentally as striking a pose, with the club colors, patches, and paraphernalia all calculated to create an image of rebellion, when in fact the bikers yearn for societal acceptance. Thompson describes the motivation to become a Hells Angels member as apparently mindless, the banding together of men who are motivated by a perverse loyalty to one another, as if these people had no greater imagination to do anything else.

A compelling irony to Thompson's work is the fact that he lived long enough (he died in February 2005) to observe the rise of the Hells Angels and other gangs, such as the Detroit-based Banditos, from local aggregations to powerful, multi-national, chapter-based organizations that are linked to the international criminal world.

FURTHER RESOURCES

Books

Dubois, Judith. Media Coverage of Organized Crime: Impact on Public Opinion? Ottawa: Research and Evaluation Branch, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, June, 2002. Available at: 〈http://www.rcmp-grc.gc.ca/ccaps/media_e.htm〉 (accessed November 2, 2005).

Thompson, Hunter S. Hells Angels. New York: Ballantine Books, 1966.