Paul Krassner, one of Hunter's friends, was then and is now an underground satirist. He founded The Realist and I happened to meet him in New York City when Hunter blew into town for his Hell's Angels book tour. I found him quite the quick-witted, interesting conversationalist at the time and also he was nice to look at. He recalls below that he followed up that meeting with a letter to me, getting my name wrong. I remember it well. It wound up in the baffled hands of another copy editor at Random House. Right here is a follow-up letter I recently uncovered in my archives that carries the story forward. Anyway, here Paul reminisces recently in a excerpt from Abakus:
On a visit to New York in February, Hunter arranged for me to meet him and his copy editor, Margaret Harrell — an attractive redhead, smart and witty — for dinner. Apparently I forgot her name, so it’s possible that I called the publisher and asked for the name of the copy editor. In March, I sent her this letter: Dear Barbara, If you ever decide to try LSD, this is just to offer my services as guide. Incidentally—no, not incidentally — you are one of the most delicious females I’ve ever seen, and since there was already a mild establishment of intellectual rapport, I feel compelled to state my — to de-ulteriorize — my motivation. I would like to make funny, passionate, friendly, cosmic, absurd love with you. Ho hum. I think I’ll attach a questionnaire with this. It is not a form letter, by the way.