But last week it looked as if the nation just might be drawing a line when it comes to the public rehabilitation of O. J. Simpson. His neighbors in tony Brentwood and Manhattan wanted nothing to do with him. Some members of his Riviera Country Club made it known he’s not welcome to golf there. His former high-powered agents, International Creative Management, dropped him. Pay-per-view companies backed away, Former sponsor Hertz rushed to correct rumors that it would hire him back. He may even face trouble in getting a sequel published to his best-selling book, “I Want to Tell You.”
This shunning is hardly surprising. Polls show most Americans still believe that he’s a murderer (including 26 percent of the nonwhite community), so commercial interests risk little in giving him a pass. But the ostracism presents a special dilemma for Simpson, the former football hero, broadcaster and pitchman who, by all accounts, thrives on and craves public approval. His lawyers say he watches television constantly and steams in frustration at the negative portrayal of him–not to mention what it may do to his earning power.
Last week he tried to talk his way back into America’s hearts, and failed. Ignoring his lawyers, he agreed to a no-holds-barred interview with NBC, an event that was destined to bring much of the television audience together for the second time in two weeks. But he backed out the day it was scheduled, after nine of his lawyers converged on him to advise that anything he said could be used against him in civil suits claiming wrongful death.
It was hardly the PR kick Simpson wanted. Yet Simpson’s need to chat didn’t stop. He called The New York Times’s television reporter, Bill Carter, to talk about the canceled NBC interview and his feelings over the trial. It was, as the Times admitted, an opportunity for him to vent without facing interviewers “who he felt had been prepared to ‘retry’ him.” It was also an opportunity to put his foot in his mouth. He laughed as he talked about reports that legal bills had exhausted his finances. “I still have my Ferrari, I still have my Bentley, I still have my home in Brentwood and my apartment in New York,” he told the Times. He also said he’d like to debate prosecutor Marcia Clark, and, raising eyebrows of spousal-abuse groups, added: “I’d like to be able to knock that chip off Marcia’s shoulder.” And, most chilling, he suggested that NBC anchor Tom Brokaw had been “sharpening knives” preparing for the interview.
The civil suits, filed by Nicole’s family and Ron Goldman’s divorced mother and father, are the real ball game. If he loses, Simpson could face damages in the millions of dollars, potentially enough to bankrupt him. It’s unclear whether he’d be able to retain his cars. “No one wants him left with a penny, that’s for sure,” said John Q. Kelly, a New York lawyer retained by the Brown family. Which leads back to the one benefit Simpson gets from canceling the NBC interview: his words have just grown even more valuable.
