Remembrances of Things Past

Yesterday, O.J. Simpson died, and it was covered widely across the news.  As I've mentioned here, I worked on the Naked Gun movies, in which he appeared, so I figured I should write something .  Though I wasn't terribly anxious to.  That's because they were among the most joyous work experiences I've ever had, and some of my fondest memories.  (As I've noted previously, they even stuck me in couple of the films as butts of jokes.)  And the trial and whole situation just sucked the joy out of that.  It became so difficult to watch those movies for me, and even think about the work.   Enough time has passed, so that the situation isn't as bad as all that any more -- but it's still achingly sad.  And I'm not even remotely involved in what actually is sad about it, just tangentially from afar.

However, I did write about the subject a least somewhat here a decade ago when the  mini-series The People vs. O.J. Simpson was on TV.  I didn't have any interest in watching it, though did decide to add some thoughts.  And I figured I could just repost much of what I wrote back then, with a few tweaks and minor additions, rather than go through it all again. 

As I wrote -- when the real court trial was on, and so many people in the country were mesmerized by it all, the public glued in front of the TV, and it was the Conversation Topic of the Day for months, I just didn't watch any of it either.  Maybe a couple minutes total, but that's all.  I didn't watch the "Dancing Ito" sketches on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno.  There was absolutely nothing "fun" about it for me.  It was just so profoundly sad on every conceivable level.

In no way is my reaction meant as "O woe is me."  Not even remotely.  I'm a far-distant bystander.  My point is merely how deep the tragedy went.  And how much it impacted, beyond the attention-grabbing value, beyond what is so obvious and so gut-wrenching to those who it actually, literally pummeled .

During the whole period, people would ask me, "You worked with O.J., do you think he did it?"  I could only stare at them and say that I had no earthly idea.  I got along fine with him, he wasn't someone I'd want to become friends with because he was involved in so many projects, always busy flying around, and somewhat distant, but, no, he didn't strike me as a mass mass murder.  Did he do it?  How on earth would I know?  Beyond that, I really didn't talk about things connected to the trial. 

I, of course, crossed paths with O.J. a bit.  It was part of the job, notably have to get information for the press kit I was writing.  But I'm not sure he even knew my name. I think it was something like, "Hey, man."  Not because it was me, I don't think he bothered to learn pretty much anyone's name, other than those at the top.  We only had two extended conversations:  one in his trailer, dealing with the press kit, and one sitting on the set, which oddly dealt with his family.  At one point, he brought up how his wife seemed to want to get together, but that wasn't anything he was interested in.  Whether his story was true, I have no idea.  But that was the conversation.  It hasn't aged well with time.

The only thing I ever really commented about the trial was my observation whenever I'd hear people debating O.J. Simpson's innocence or guilt, and there would be people almost gleefully proclaiming his innocence, based purely on the reputation of the Los Angeles police department and its poor history with racial matters.  To be clear, my reaction wasn't about these people's opinion -- I completely understood it, and the gross unfairness of the judicial system and well-publicized transgressions of the L.A. police -- but it was their near-mirth and utter certainty defending him and hope that O.J. got off. My thought at such moments was always a simple question: "Would you feel the same if the person killed was your sister?"  One day, I mentioned this to a friend of mine.  A few weeks later, he called to tell me he had been with a crowd of people, all of who were "rooting" for O.J., certain he had been railroaded and hoped he was acquitted.  He said that he brought up my question -- and it stopped the conversation cold.  Absolute, total silence.  The mirthful certainty, the aggressive desire for acquittal completely disappeared.  Again, to reiterate, I have no idea if he was innocent or guilty, though I have my opinion. It's just that one's thought on the subject should be based on the facts, whether believing him innocent or guilty.

Having said all this, there was one personal thing that did ever so lightly touch me and was such a shame.  It's that I'd become friendly over the two movies with O.J.'s assistant, an absolutely lovely, wonderful lady.  She'd been with him for many years, and was totally devoted to him and her job.  I only heard her name mentioned a few times in the news, but I'm sure if I paid closer attention I'd have heard it more.  Though she of course wasn't directly involved in the tragedy, I knew that her life was devastated, and what she'd seen as a lifetime career was over, and it was heart-breaking to me.  I did try to reach out to her at one point, letting a little time pass into the case.  But I never reached her -- I left a phone message of support, but I'm sure she stopped answering her phone, and I wouldn't be surprised if she even stopped listening to her messages.  I miss being in touch with her.  Really nice lady.

There was also one big laugh that did come from it all.  I was working on another movie with much of the same team that make the Naked Gun films when the verdict came down.  As you might imagine, the production stopped as the announcement neared.  And when "innocent" was announced...well, I'll just say that when you're sitting around comedy writers who know the people involved really well, the phrase "gallows humor" was never more apt.

Also, I have kept the one "keepsake" I have of the time.  During those days, O.J. was involved in many businesses, one of which is that he was on the board of directors for the company that made Swiss Army watches.  He had one, and I commented how great I thought it was.  He reached into his gym bag (and no, I doubt it's that one, I'm certain he had many), and he grabbed a box with a new watch, which he gave me.  For all the connections the case holds in my mind, I've held on to the Swiss Army watch.  I like it too much.  And still use it on occasion.

And as that watch ticks away, time passes.  (Thus endeth the poetic portion of this article...)  And I watch the movies, and enjoy them.  And I enjoy thinking about the work and talking about it.  But the films, while wonderfully funny, still aren't as innocently funny to me as once, and the memories still can't help have a shading.  But happily, so many of those memories are great.

So, while I did go on length here about the experience, I leave more detailed analysis of the crime and trial to others.  Me, I'll stick with the movies.