Hunter S. Thompson, reality TV star.

It almost happened.

A month before the creator of "gonzo" journalism committed suicide in February 2005, he met with producers about starring in a reality TV show.

And why not? Thompson's charisma and crazy antics had helped him survive countless moments of fear and loathing, and his 67-year-old body had withstood countless amounts of drugs and alcohol. His life was legend -- framed in the weekly cartoon strip "Doonesbury" as Uncle Duke and portrayed on screen by Bill Murray and Johnny Depp.

Along with Thompson's enormous egomania, he had something to say that touched off the admiration of a reading generation, from his magazine profiles and reports from the 1970s campaign trails, most famously for Rolling Stone, to "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," which became a staple on college campuses -- first as a testament to rebellion, later as required reading. With Tom Wolfe and Gay Talese, he's most often linked with the "new journalism" that dabbled in personal and fictional expression.

In "Outlaw Journalist: The Life and Times of Hunter S. Thompson," due July 7, biographer William McKeen takes pains to be even-handed -- something Thompson rarely ever considered -- and to explain why even the writer's rants had literary fire and genuine insight.

One of Thompson's contributions, notes McKeen, was a Rolling Stone profile titled "The Second Coming of Muhammad Ali" in 1971. It showed what Thompson could do without his wild persona, Raoul Duke, front and center in the story. Ali's presence was such that Thompson felt compelled to step aside for his subject.

Most assignments, though, evolved into process stories, which would become Thompson's trademark, drugs et al.

"People didn't turn to Rolling Stone for real news anyway," McKeen writes. "Hunter's fan base was such that his name as a cover line on any subject was a draw."

That became his fame and his curse. He had celebrity but could never hold on to money; he had respect among his peers but most readers didn't take him seriously. Thompson despised Garry Trudeau's take on his persona in "Doonesbury" because he felt that people expected that guy, not the guy he wanted people to see.

Yet Uncle Duke was who fans craved, and Thompson often obliged. His outrageous behavior ran the gamut from wearing a blond wig in public to running up thousands in expenses on unsuspecting publications. Then there was that "sex machine" in his room in Key West ...

That Key West apartment on loan from pal Jimmy Buffett was a refuge during his divorce from his first wife, Sandy, who endured what amounted to years of servitude and infidelity as Thompson's wife. Sandy and Hunter eventually settled on sprawling Owl Farm in Aspen, which became the longtime home base for the Louisville, Ky., native.

Considering his contradictory and confounding subject, McKeen gives a clear-eyed, detailed accounting, from Thompson's rebellious youth to his revolutionary writing career. The founder of gonzo journalism never did write the "Death of the American Dream" book that was so often on his mind, but he found other projects, many accidentally, along with long droughts of failures to launch.

Thompson managed to stay just one step ahead of financial ruin. For this he blamed an array of people, including those who had picked up the tab for thousands of dollars in "expenses" that included drink and drugs and vacations with friends and family.

But in the end, what they wanted was a tale as told by Hunter S. Thompson. His political savvy and savage disregard for those politicians he detested (Richard Nixon, Hubert Humphrey) became the stuff of envy on the campaign trail. McKeen describes how the weirdo in the back of the bus, snubbed by the "serious" journalists along the 1972 presidential campaign trail, began to rush to see what he'd write next. Editors would reach out to reporters on the road and ask, "Why aren't you writing stuff like that?"

Years of living on the edge finally took its toll, and Thompson became a tortured soul in a failing body -- Sandy ventures that he was tortured by missed potential rather than ill health.

Thompson shot himself in the head with a .45 caliber handgun while on the phone during a seemingly benign conversation with his second wife, Anita, and with his son, Juan, and grandson in the house.

After calling the sheriff, Juan stepped outside and fired a three-shot salute with his father's shotgun.

McKeen fires another shot for Thompson with "Outlaw Journalist."

The new documentary "Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson" by Alex Gibney opens in limited release Friday.