I’ve received another e-mail from someone who is acquainted with John Pecorelli, the journalist I recently compared to the late Hunter S. Thompson. Her message paints a colorful picture of what the U of U’s resident gonzo, a guy I knew only by reputation and my own assumptions, has been up to in recent years. I’m going to reprint this message in full below the fold for anyone who may be interested. Sensitive readers be warned, though; there is some naughty language toward the end.

Dear Jason,

 

I can only assume that you are writing about my friend, John Pecorelli, in your web blog.

 

Ok, if it’s the same John Pecorelli who went to the University of Utah–or some equally bland school–it’s the same guy. And, yes, he’s still out there.

 

I found your observations about John pretty amusing, but maybe there’s more to the guy than you think.

 

I first met John in Des Moines, Iowa, of all places. He was writing about Slipknot, I was a bored writer stuck in Iowa at the time and we instantly bonded over our equal hatred of …well everything… and love of pills.

 

In light of Hunter’s death, especially since at the time I was surrounded by writers and editors who knew him personally and worked with him, and going back over his stuff, well it’s great, no kidding, but what’s different from then to now… is that there was room for someone like that to make their name. Today, it’s so much different. If a young Hunter walked through the doors of most major magazines they wouldn’t even give him the code to the bathroom door. The days of fantasizing or even having the balls to do “gonzo” journalism are far gone.

 

John, however, still is full of acerbic, wonderful wit. I look forward to our 2 a.m. phone calls about whatever crap is going on and then bitching about it incessantly–or until one of us passes out. He is to this day one of the few writers who still has the drive to seek out the untellable stories, to hang with the people no one will talk to, to take a few punches to his jaw so much that he has to get a root canal, and then still road trips to Mexico for a healthy supply of pills. John is one of the few reporters to this day who has the desire to really pull out the great story. And that is what is completely lacking in this current environment and our profession in general.

 

I have no doubt John challenged tenured professors into heated arguments and won. I have no doubt that he had the will to do things that made other writers cringe. What makes me cringe is there’s no audience for the kind of work that John does anymore–and that’s investigative, living-it, in-depth reporting and writing that no one seems to value.

 

And that is just fucking sad. We need to grow some balls people.

 

Molly

I’ve exchanged a couple of e-mails with Molly since receiving this note, and she’s even offered to forward my name to John himself. I have no idea what I’ll say to him if he does contact me, considering I never actually knew him, but this could turn into something interesting. I’ll keep you posted about any further developments…