The People v. O. J. Simpson: American Crime Story

This TV series was so good that I watched it twice. Then I read the book it was based on — Jeffrey Toobin’s The Run of His Life: The People v. O. J. Simpson.

C.F. Robinson has a provocative analysis at Counter-Currents. He puts together the Toobin quotes that also stood out to me and then analyzes the affair using insights from Lawrence Auster, the Jew who converted to Christianity.

Toobin writes:

* Treating Simpson as the equal of his lawyers fit nicely with the paternalistic approach many mainstream journalists take in writing about race. According to these informal standards, white reporters can write with candor about the intellectual limitations of their fellow whites, but not blacks. Absurdly, black sensibilities are thought to be too tender for the truth. Indeed, it is thought to be flirting with a charge of racism to draw attention to the intellectual limitations of any African-American, especially a prominent one like Simpson. So accepting the idea of Simpson as the peer of his attorneys relieved the mainstream press of confronting the obvious truth about him—that he was an uneducated, semiliterate ex-athlete who could barely understand much about the legal proceedings against him.

* Nicole described herself as a ‘party animal’ and said her personal goals were “to raise my kids as best I can; beyond that I haven’t thought about me.” She added, “I’m sure I will get a goal someday.” It wasn’t until Nicole was in her mid-thirties and divorced that she began to consider entering the business world.

* What was less known — or at least less commented upon in the media — was that most of [high-profile] cases had been lost by women prosecutors with pugnacious demeanors, among them Lael Rubin in McMartin Preschool; Lea D’Agostino in Twilight Zone; and Pamela Bozanich in Menendez. All of these prosecutors came across as aggressive and outspoken, just as Marcia Clark did at her post-arraignment press conference.

* … [B]ecause he could turn anything into a racial issue. Cochran knew that a black defendant could scarcely go wrong crying racism in the downtown Criminal Courts Building, and he exploited that phenomenon with singular determination and success.

* A history professor in Afro-American studies, Gloria Alibaruho, had become a mentor to him. Darden later wrote that when he studied the world of his ancestors, “my eyes opened like slipped blinds and all of a sudden my own life was explained to me. Martin Luther King had taught me what was fair; the Black Panther newspapers screamed at me what was unjust; but it was Gloria Alibaruho who taught me who I was. It was like discovering gravity. It explained the universe to me. So, this is why people treat me the way they do. This is why women grab their handbags when I get on an elevator.”

* A young Russian émigré named Pinchas Kleks arrived on the shores of what was known as Palestine in 1918. At the beginning, he made his living delivering kerosene by donkey. From that modest start, Kleks came to open a gas station, and then he devoted his professional life to running a modest chain of service stations in what would become the nation of Israel. In 1930, Pinchas and his wife had a son, Abraham.

A tall and strapping sabra, Abraham Kleks came of age with the young nation. He graduated from high school and went straight into the Israeli army, where he served as a seventeen-year-old lieutenant in the War for Independence. Shortly after that war was won in 1948, Abraham decided to see the world a little and followed some friends to the University of California at Berkeley. At the Jewish Community Center of San Francisco, Abraham met and fell in love with a girl from Brooklyn. Abraham and Roslyn married, settled in the United States, and a year later, on August 31, 1953, had their first child, Marcia.

Abraham was promptly drafted into the U.S. Army for the Korean War. Thus began nearly two decades of extraordinarily peripatetic family life. Abraham had studied microbiology at Berkeley, and he pursued this interest in assignments at army medical laboratories in Texas and later Washington State. From the army, Abraham joined the Food and Drug Administration, where he moved up the career ladder with jobs across the nation: five years in Los Angeles, four near San Francisco, one in Detroit, one near Washington, D.C., and two in New York City. During that last tour, young Marcia completed her high school requirements at Susan Wagner High School in Staten Island. By this point she also had a brother, Jonathan, six years her junior.

Marcia was a quick-minded, good-natured girl with an extraordinary talent for languages. She mastered Spanish and, after just two months in Israel one summer, gained a fluent command of Hebrew as well. Notwithstanding the frequent moves (or perhaps because of them), she became a great joiner of activities-cheer-leading, school plays, and the like. Her home life was neither especially contentious nor highly religious. To her mother, at least, it seemed that they quarreled no more than most adolescent children and their parents.

A rift between Marcia and her parents began when they moved from New York back to Los Angeles-their final relocation-in 1970. The family bought a house in the San Fernando Valley, and Abraham served as the district director of the FDA until he retired in 1985, while Roslyn worked for a county supervisor. Marcia had little to do in that first year back west. The local high schools required a year’s residency before they would give her a degree, but she had already fulfilled all her course requirements. Marcia wanted badly to get out of the house, but she couldn’t go to college without a high school degree. Amid the tension at home and frustration about school, Marcia developed bulimia, an affliction she would battle on and off for more than twenty years.

At last Marcia escaped to UCLA. She was still an undergraduate when she met her first husband, a dashing and handsome young man, Gaby Horowitz, like her father an immigrant from Israel. As Gaby used to tell the story, he was driving his Mercedes around the campus when he saw this gorgeous woman-Marcia-and decided then and there he had to meet her. The courtship was brief but intense, and they married shortly after she graduated, without even telling Marcia’s parents first.

Gaby Horowitz made his living as a professional backgammon player while Marcia started law school. The late 1970s were boom years for the game, and for a while Horowitz thrived in the epicenter of the craze. He played occasionally at Pips, a glitzy club founded by Hugh Hefner and frequented by many modest celebrities of the era (including, now and then, O.J. Simpson). But mostly Horowitz frequented the Cavendish West, a haven for serious backgammon and bridge players on the Sunset Strip. Marcia Horowitz became an unlikely regular at the Cavendish, too. She rarely played the game, and instead studied her law books at unoccupied gaming tables. “She was around all the time, a quiet girl,” Buddy Berke, a Cavendish regular, said later. “She was attractive, she was sweet, always very cordial, a lot better with the social graces than Gaby was.”

Gaby was, in fact, a controversial figure in the backgammon world. According to Danny Kleinman, who self-publishes books about backgammon and bridge in Los Angeles, “Gaby was a fine player but, more importantly, a flashy, spectacular player. He looked like Jean-Claude Van Damme, about six-three, and he kept himself in good shape. He was a health-food nut.

“He was a very good player, but he used to cheat. In one case, I saw him move pieces on the board when his opponent’s head was turned. I walked out of the club with him and asked him why he had done it. He gave me his rationale. He said he was a much better player than his opponent, and the only way he might lose was through luck. So he felt he had a right to win and a right to cheat.”

Though Marcia was often present at the club, no one ever suspected her of being involved in Gaby’s cheating. “Everything that I know about Marcia is that she was honest and straightforward,” Kleinman said.

Marcia prodded Gaby to develop a career interest beyond backgammon, and he decided to learn about real estate. He didn’t have much confidence in his English in a professional setting, so a friend of his-a backgammon-playing dentist named Bruce Roman-asked Gaby to join him at Scientology meetings. Marcia never joined the church herself, but she did tag along with Gaby and Bruce on occasion. In 1979, she told her parents she was divorcing Gaby. About a month later, she announced she was marrying Gordon Clark, whom she had met at the Scientology meetings. At twenty-two, he was five years her junior, and an administrator with the Church of Scientology in Los Angeles. Bruce Roman, who was also a lay minister in the church, performed their Scientology wedding ceremony. (Marcia didn’t invite her parents to that wedding, either.)

Gaby’s fortunes went south with the end of both his marriage and the backgammon craze. According to Kleinman, “His cheating became much more extensive and elaborate. He used a variety of methods-manipulation of dice, magnetic dice, electromagnetic boards.” In the spring of 1989, Gaby Horowitz was accidentally shot in the head while he and a friend were examining a gun. In a bizarre coincidence, the friend was Bruce Roman. In the investigation of the shooting, which ended without any charges being filed, Roman’s lawyer was Robert Shapiro. Several people who have seen Gaby Horowitz since his accident say he can no longer walk or talk. Shortly before the Simpson trial, Horowitz moved to Israel. (The Cavendish did not prosper, either. In 1987, the police raided it as part of an investigation for illegal gambling; however, no charges were ever filed against its owner, who was also represented by Robert Shapiro. Nevertheless, the club closed for good in 1994.)

The years Marcia and Gordon Clark lived together were the time that Marcia came of age as a prosecutor. Gordon stopped working for the Church of Scientology, returned to college, and became a modestly successful computer programmer. They had two sons. One day, a few years before the Simpson case, Marcia’s grandfather, Pinchas Kleks, who was visiting from Israel, spent an afternoon on a spectator bench in one of Marcia’s trials. Though he spoke little English and thus could not understand precisely what was going on, the experience of watching Marcia in court ranked as one of the great thrills of Pinchas’s long life.

At the end of 1993, a few months after her fortieth birthday, Marcia Clark made several dramatic changes in her life. She told Bill Hodgman that she didn’t like her administrative job and wanted to return to the courtroom, even if it meant a cut in pay. In December, during a long drive north to the Bay Area to visit friends, Marcia told Gordon that she wanted a divorce. To both Gordon and her parents, she was cryptic about her reasons. “He’s not for me,” she told her father in Hebrew. And then about a month after she split with Gordon, Marcia told her parents that she never wanted to speak to them again. She said they had been icy and unsupportive, and she wanted nothing more to do with them. At just about the same time, Jonathan Kleks, an engineer in Northern California, told his parents that he, too, wished never to speak to them again.

The Kleks were thunderstruck, heartbroken. They had become very close to Marcia and Gordon’s older child, who was four at the time his parents separated. They had less of a chance to know the Clark’s second boy, who was just a baby. They figured the crisis-whatever its mysterious origin-would blow over. It never did. Abraham took to making surreptitious visits to the older boy’s nursery school to spend a little time with him. Once he brought Roslyn with him. When Marcia learned of it, she denounced the school director in front of a roomful of people. Abraham called Marcia to tell her that her mother was undergoing major surgery in September 1994, the time of jury selection in the Simpson case. Marcia never called back.

Gordon was shocked and bitter about the separation. When the Simpson trial began, Marcia’s sudden celebrity gave Gordon the opportunity to take a very public form of revenge. By coincidence, on February 24, the same day Marcia said she had to leave court during Rosa Lopez’s testimony, Gordon filed a motion in their divorce case to change their custody arrangements. The actual adjustment he sought was rather minor and reasonable: increased visitation while Marcia was working late on the case. But in his accompanying affidavit, Gordon portrayed Marcia as a workaholic and a neglectful parent. “I have personal knowledge that on most nights she does not arrive home until 10 P.M. and even when she is home, she is working,” Gordon wrote in the document, which his lawyers knew would quickly become public. In contrast to Marcia, Gordon said, he always made it home by 6:15 P.M. “While I commend [Marcia’s] brilliance, her legal ability and her tremendous competence as an attorney, I do not want our children to suffer because she is never home and never has any time to be with them.” It was this affidavit-made public just after she said she had to leave court to be with her children during Lopez’s testimony-that made Marcia’s personal life a matter of public controversy.

Professionally powerful, Marcia was personally fragile. Gordon thought she drank too much. She smoked more than she wanted to-long greedy pulls on strong European cigarettes. The years of bulimia had exacted a painful price. Extreme tooth decay is a common side effect of bulimia, and in her original divorce petition with Gordon, Marcia said, “Within the last two years I have suffered a medical/dental catastrophe for which I initially borrowed $16,000.00, $14,000.00 of which is still unpaid. In addition, it was necessary to withdraw $26,000 from my pension plan, in order to finish my dental work.” Money stresses compounded the ugliness of the divorce. At the time of their separation, Gordon’s earnings amounted to a little more than half of Marcia’s $96,829 yearly salary, so he could not be counted on for major support.

The shattered relationship with her parents caused Marcia additional worry. She knew that her parents were actually supporting their son-in-law’s efforts to obtain more time with their grandchildren. (Since the spring of 1994, all of the Kleks’ contact with the children had been through Gordon.) An acute student of public relations, Marcia knew that a public disavowal by her own parents would greatly compromise her image as a heroic working mother. Throughout the trial, in addition to all her other anxieties, she feared above all a public denunciation from her parents.

At times, the compounded stresses of ending a long marriage, trying the Simpson case, and enduring the indignities of unsought celebrity nearly drove Clark to the breaking point. At the supermarket one day, as she bought some Tampax, the grocery bagger quipped, “I guess the defense is really in for it this week.” At another time, during Denise Brown’s testimony, the National Enquirer published topless photographs of Clark from when she had been on vacation years earlier with Gaby Horowitz. She was so humiliated that one day she actually began sobbing quietly at the counsel table in Judge Ito’s court. She scribbled a note to Scott Gordon, the prosecutor who was seated next to her. “I’m losing it,” Clark wrote. Darden noticed her distress and subtly shifted his position so that the courtroom camera would be directed away from Marcia. Thinking fast, the roly-poly Gordon jotted Clark a response: “The Enquirer was going to run the same pictures of me, but Greenpeace wouldn’t let them do it.” Clark smiled, and that crisis, at least, passed unnoticed by the public.

* Purdy went on to say that shortly after he married a Jewish woman a few years before, Fuhrman had painted swastikas on Purdy’s locker.

* Through all the jury controversies, the one constant was the prosecution wanting to shed black jurors, the defense seeking to evict whites.

* This, to Cochran, was evidence of a racist conspiracy against O.J. Simpson. That Cochran would make this absurd claim in an environment in which, according to Harris, information from the press was leaking through to jurors shows just how calculated a gesture it was. From the Todd Bridges trial to the Michael Jackson investigation—from the O.J. Simpson case to the civil suit filed by the white trucker Reginald Denny—Cochran found a handy white vendetta to denounce in every case. Dreading, as always, the ordeal endured by Time magazine when it ran its darkened photo of Simpson on the cover—that is, being called racist—the mainstream press mostly reported Cochran’s denunciations without comment…

But Ito felt he had to follow up, so after bringing Harris back in to flesh out her allegations, he decided to interview the remaining jurors in his chambers, one by one. For the lawyers, this was an extraordinary (and rare) opportunity to get a glimpse of the jurors and their state of mind in the middle of a trial.

Merely conducting these inquiries unsettled the prosecution, because the judge’s questions might raise the racial issue to jurors who may not have been affected by it. But as the jurors trooped through Ito’s chambers during the third week in April, it was clear that they had done plenty of thinking about race without Ito’s help.

The white jurors reacted to the racial issues with some hesitancy. Asked about racial tensions, Anise Aschenbach, a sixty-year-old white woman, said, “Well, I don’t know. Nothing has been said that I could pinpoint where that really is a problem, so I don’t know.” And several black jurors detected no animosity from anyone. (Cochran never let up on his charm offensive, though, especially in the intimate setting of Ito’s small office. One black juror took the opportunity in chambers to ask if the judge could get the jurors a copy of the movie Bad Boys, a thriller starring a pair of handsome young black actors. “Good movie,” Cochran volunteered.)

The real news of these sessions was that several African-American jurors were furious, especially the men. That the black men were suffering was hardly surprising. Though it was not well known outside of Southern California, the Los Angeles sheriffs had a reputation for racism that matched that of the LAPD. Worse, the training for all deputy sheriffs involved a peculiar procedure that required new recruits, as their first assignment, to spend two years as guards at the L.A. county jail. According to a widespread belief in Los Angeles, the sheriffs then spent the rest of their careers treating civilians like inmates. Since African-American men were disproportionately represented among the residents of the county jail, it is probably understandable that the black men on the jury chafed at the deputies’ attitude at the hotel. Willie Cravin, one of the black jurors, told Ito simply that “some of the black jurors are treated like convicts.”

But Cravin was a happy camper compared to Lon Cryer, a forty-three-year-old black telephone company employee. Cryer said he had been enraged one time when a female deputy had told him to get off the patio of the hotel when she allowed several white jurors to remain. As a result, Cryer said, “I’m to the point where I don’t really trust anybody involved here. I mean, no disrespect to you, Your Honor, I don’t even trust you, sir. I mean, I don’t trust anybody.” The experience with the deputy, Cryer said, reminded him of some other things.

“Tell me about that,” Ito prompted.

“About police and—well, I—you know, I have no problems with police officers myself, but it kind of reminds me of why so many black men in America have such a problem with being confronted with white police officers in situations like when they are operating their cars, and they become very defensive about it, and it just kind of made me realize that those situations do exist, and you don’t really have to be doing anything for them to take it upon themself to be harassing toward you.”

One can scarcely imagine a monologue more likely to alienate the prosecutors in the case. But Clark and Darden made no effort to remove Cryer, and Ito completed his examination of the jurors without finding reason to dismiss any more of them. In the end, the notion of a prosecution conspiracy to eliminate hostile jurors was absurd. If anything, the prosecution probably should have been more aggressive in ferreting out the biases of potential and sitting jurors in the case. (After all, several months later, on the day the verdict came in, it was Lon Cryer who showed his support for the defendant in the most dramatic way.).

C.F. Robinson writes:

Los Angeles claims to be the most diverse city in the world. This could be true – but in its civic culture, the regional English accent, and the backgrounds of much of its white population LA is an extension of the American Midwest. H.L. Mencken called the city “Double Dubuque.”[1] To further emphasize this idea, Nicole Brown Simpson’s father was from Kansas. Walt Disney was born in Illinois and grew up in Missouri. Ronald Reagan was from Illinois. Johnny Carson was born in Iowa and raised in Nebraska. John Wayne was from Iowa, as was Crystal Cathedral minister Robert Schuller. The woman who witnessed OJ Simpson fleeing the scene, Jill Shively, had roots in Indiana.[2]

Most importantly, the man who professionalized the Los Angeles Police Department, William H. Parker[3] was born and grew up in South Dakota. Parker cracked down on corruption, and worked with the Police Union to give the LAPD’s officers civil servant protections. Toobin writes,

Parker’s model for his force was the Marine Corps, and so the police became tantamount to an army of occupation for those in the city who did not share Parker’s ethnic heritage.[4]

Parker’s vision for the LAPD was that of the ultra-professional Sergeant Joe Friday (Jack Webb) played on the fictional TV show Dragnet. While Parker’s vision was Midwestern in its high-trust, orderly, and fair-minded way, there is probably nothing that the LAPD can do to not seem like an “army of occupation” for Los Angeles’s blacks. Midwestern whites are quite different from African-Americans and are less tolerant of black behavior than other white American groups.

For all the talk about Southern whites “oppressing” blacks, there is an underappreciated Midwestern white hostility to blacks that must be examined here without silly, politically correct judgement. During the US Civil War, units from the Midwest were hostile to blacks in a way the Confederate Army was not.[5] Year after year, in terms of whites-to-blacks in prison ratios, the Midwest states lead.[6] In Los Angeles, whites got their Midwestern civic leaders to provide a professional police department, and backed the police up in racial incidents – such as acquitting the police involved in the Rodney King beating despite the enormous media pressure to convict.

The anti-black hostility is probably related to the fact that Midwestern whites are the ultimate producing class. In following their cultural and racial impulses, they built the great Northern Cities, developed the industries, and turned burning deserts into wheat fields. They are orderly, polite, and concerned about others – they’re Minnesota Nice.

The ways of white Midwesterners must be contrasted to America’s black population. While the slave origins in the United States of blacks are entirely related to economic production, they are not a self-starting producing class. The problem is that black productivity doesn’t make up for black social costs. By the end of 1865, whatever economic benefits blacks had produced were consumed in the fire and blood of the Civil War. In the time between the Civil War and the “low speed chase,” black populations were moved around America like a hot potato — a municipality stuck with a large population, like Detroit today, went to ruins. By 1995, blacks in the Los Angeles had already caused a number of race riots, and were in the midst of a crack-cocaine fueled violent crime wave expressed culturally through the Compton School of Rap-Music. Essentially, Midwestern whites tire of black pathology quicker than others.

Also, from a Midwestern perspective, blacks, as a group, also have a lack of self-awareness about how their behavior appears to others. Furthermore, as a group they have an inability to practice self-control. The problem, wrote the late Lawrence Auster (1949 – 2013),

“…[I]s the relative intellectual and moral passivity of blacks. While there are many decent, upright black people, there is a notable failure on the part of blacks effectively to resist the bad people in their communities. The result is that the bad people—the orators, the hustlers, the corrupt, the despots—always seem to rise to the top. That is why black countries, and black-run cities in America, are the way they are. There are good people living in those places, but for the most part they are only good in their private, familial sphere. They are not actively good in the social and political sense and thus rarely take leadership or succeed in creating a civilized political order. The number of morally courageous and principled blacks who actively resist the corruption and racialist conformism around them is very limited; in fact, such upright and intelligent blacks often separate themselves from the black community when they recognize how unwelcome they are in it.[7]”

With the above statement in mind, in Los Angeles, the white, progressive Midwestern civic order, which the LAPD was part of, was at fierce odds with the black community. LA whites are saw the police’s truncheons as a protective shield. Blacks felt the police were the enemy. Thus the minds of most of the blacks in LA were closed from day one of the trial to hearing any evidence collected by the LAPD. Because the trial was expected to be so long, a process was in place that allowed exemptions for jury duty were allowed based on professional “hardship.” The hardship exemption “acted like a vacuum cleaner for educated, white, and male jurors”[8] leaving blacks as the plurality on the jury. The case was thus fought out with the most polarized members of the black half of LA’s Two Solitudes being in the position to decide. After the verdict, a black juror raised his fist in a Black Power salute to OJ…

…the OJ Simpson Trial proved that the pro-black “civil rights” metapolitical narrative was the most powerful of the revolutionary social arrangements coming out of the 1960s. “Civil rights” allowed an irresponsible black jury to be picked, allowed Johnny Cochran’s antics to be tolerated by the LA government, and saved an obviously guilty man from prison. This narrative, this institution, this semi-religion would remain powerful for the next two decades. Indeed, in 2012 a black president would be re-elected based partially on claims of police misconduct and racism as spurious as that directed against the LAPD in the OJ Simpson case. Yet when human institutions appear to be most powerful, they usually have already taken a mortal wound. High water means a receding tide. The OJ Simpson verdict was a mortal wound for “civil rights.”

The enormous, still-growing pro-white movement that influenced the 2016 election has sprung up seemingly out of nowhere. Yet this movement didn’t come out of nowhere. It arose in part because the white response to black behavior during OJ Simpson Case.

To explain further, the “civil rights” revolution of the 1960s was not a lasting victory of blacks over a prostrate, vanishing enemy such as the US Cavalry’s victory over the Sioux. It was a new social arrangement based upon an unwritten contract between two races, and the contract requires the consent of whites to exist at all. The contract, very simply put, is the following:

  • Black pathology is assumed to be due to segregation and other legal barriers arrayed against blacks by whites.
  • Whites would take down those barriers. In turn, blacks would behave like whites, or at least participate in civics in a virtuous way.
  • Part of the adjustment of black behavior is that blacks must justly evaluate evidence in a trial.

Although it has taken some time to recognize this, the OJ Simpson verdict voided the “civil rights” contract. In the 1990s the pro-white movement, such that it was, was very small – unusual people in the hills and dales. In 1995, the pro-white movement had little, if any, support from educated, civically-minded middle-class whites. After the OJ Simpson case, things quietly changed. The tiny white advocacy movement began to get the support of solid citizens. Magazines like American Renaissance got more dedicated subscribers. The website stormfront.org started up during the trial, it is now one of the top 10,000 websites on the internet. The OJ Simpson verdict was delivered on October 3, 1995. In the November 1995 issue of American Renaissance, Jared Taylor wrote,

On the day of the verdict, the AR office received the following message from a mainstream conservative who is not a subscriber: “Today I moved a little further to the right. Tomorrow I will go shopping for a good rifle and a good handgun. Never before have I felt so alienated from blacks or so doubtful of their ability ever to participate as equals in our society.” This man, like so many others, was chilled at the sight of blacks celebrating the acquittal of the man who killed Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman.[14]

This sentiment was not unique. In an article about how American Renaissance subscribers, “saw the light” on racial matters, Terrence Silva of Columbus, Ohio wrote,

My racial consciousness had been quietly forming for years before I became fully aware of the fallacy of egalitarianism and the folly of integration. What pushed me over the edge were the differing reactions of blacks and whites to the O. J. Simpson verdict.[15]

Dawn H. of Ventura, California expressed similar ideas,

I watched much of the trial on television. Mr. Simpson was obviously guilty but he got away with it because he was black, rich, and could afford to hire the best lawyers who blatantly used race to deflect attention from the evidence. As I watched blacks cheer the verdict, I realized that these people hate us. And they hate us because we are white.[16]

Lawrence Auster wrote a great deal about the OJ Simpson Trial’s aftermath. One of his email exchanges with a reader on the matter was published and said,

My [black] friend and I were at work together on the day the verdict came in from the O.J. Simpson trial. As soon as the verdict was announced he started dancing and cheering. I had already become extremely dismayed at the fact that this, supposedly educated man, a man I cared for, would believe that O.J. was framed. When he celebrated the acquittal, I was stunned. My good friend had just celebrated the acquittal of an obvious murderer. He was not just happy about the not guilty verdict. He was ecstatic. I could never reconcile this event with the loving, caring man I thought I knew.[17]

Lawrence Auster himself said,

After the Simpson verdict, the [mainstream media] line was, “Two Americas across a chasm, not understanding each other.” The assumption was that the two races had two different points of view. This implied that the blacks had a rational point of view. The problem was that they didn’t. They just had a racialist, resentment-driven, pro-criminal attitude that was unappeasable, not appealable to by reason, and that would justify any crime against whites as payback. This was the deep black “attitude” that whites “failed to understand.”

So the way you respond is by identifying the actual black attitude, showing its irrationality and worthlessness, and saying that whites make a fatal error by entering into “dialog” with blacks in which it is assumed that the blacks are rational actors like the whites, whereas in fact they are not rational, but have what is essentially a criminal mentality, wherein they identify with and support criminals, especially anti-white criminals (even if they are not criminal themselves).

Of course, the “civil rights” idea is not yet dead and gone. The government still funds the Equal Opportunity Office, the 1964 Civil Rights act is still on the books, and there is still a park with a stone idol of Martin Luther King Jr. in DC. Yet “civil rights” is off the moral high ground. Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman may be the price for the coming white Promised Land.

Here are some other excellent selections from Jeffrey Toobin’s book:

* Crowds began forming in Compton, a small, heavily black city just south of Los Angeles. The numbers were small at first, just a few dozen people drawn to the spectacle by what they had seen on television. Cowlings turned off the Artesia, traveling less than a mile south on the Harbor Freeway, and then west on I-405, the San Diego Freeway. These moves confirmed what Cowlings had told the police; though he still had a good thirty miles to go, he was en route to Simpson’s house in Brentwood. The San Diego Freeway took Simpson through Torrance, a community not at all like nearby Compton. Mark Fuhrman, in his distinctive style, once explained the difference. His taped interviews with aspiring screenwriter Laura Hart McKinny contained the following description: “Westwood is gone, the niggers have discovered it… Torrance is considered the last white middle-class society.” The reaction to the Bronco was different in “the last white middle-class society.” No supporters lined the highway, and O.J. and his helicopter entourage passed through without fanfare. In Inglewood and at the edge of Watts, the largely African-American communities to the north, the spectators returned. They were shouting encouragement at this point. “Go, O.J.!” many screamed. “Save the Juice!”
The helicopters had to pull back briefly when the Bronco, curving gently north along the contour of the Pacific Ocean, passed by Los Angeles International Airport. The scene on television became even stranger for a moment when the cameras from the choppers showed several jetliners landing beneath them. Their airspace clear, the helicopters then resumed the chase as the Bronco moved into the densely populated West Side. Hundreds of people lined the overpass at Venice Boulevard, another area with a heavy minority population. Several people held up encouraging signs, and many were yelling in support of O.J.
Knowledgeable television broadcasters had been speculating for some time that Cowlings would leave the San Diego Freeway at the Sunset Boulevard exit, since it was the most direct route to Simpson’s home in Brentwood. Yet notwithstanding the advance notice, the crowd of people at the Sunset exit was modest, perhaps a couple of dozen. That area, of course, is the edge of Bel-Air, perhaps the wealthiest and whitest community in all of Los Angeles. Only a handful of the people there turned out to cheer for O.J.

* Local reporters broadcasting live from Sunset found a stark racial division at the scene. The whites, a minority of the revelers, were curiosity seekers-“looky loos” in the LAPD phrase-who had come simply to experience the bizarre scene. The African-Americans, on the other hand, had mostly come to show solidarity, and their chants and shouts made their feelings clear. “Free O.J.!” they repeated again and again. Interviewed on KCBS, one of them said, “I feel that the black people ought to come together. They’re trying to make us extinct.” A woman then added, “First it was Michael [Jackson] and Mike Tyson and Rodney King. I’m calling for the unification of the black race!”

* The grand jury met in the downtown Criminal Courts Building-a fact of considerable significance in one of the biggest controversies of the case. Since the murders had occurred in Brentwood, prosecutors theoretically had the right to try the case in the Santa Monica branch of superior court-and thus to have access to that court’s substantially white jury pool. The differences in the jury pool between Santa Monica and downtown were dramatic: in Santa Monica, 80 percent white and 7 percent black; downtown, 30 percent white and 31 percent black. (Latinos and Asians accounted for most of the remainder in both areas.) Why, it has long been asked, did prosecutors choose to try a popular black celebrity in front of a heavily black jury pool?

…It was Gil Garcetti who muddied the waters on the downtown versus Santa Monica issue. Shortly after Simpson’s arrest, Garcetti told several reporters that he wanted the Simpson trial held downtown because a verdict rendered there would have more “credibility” than one in Santa Monica. He said a downtown jury would contribute to the “perception of justice” surrounding the case. These remarks were typical of the elliptical way the participants in the case discussed race in its early stages, but Garcetti’s message was clear: A downtown jury would have substantial African-American representation, and its judgment on a black American hero would be respected. In addition, as a Democrat elected with substantial African-American support, Garcetti had to pay homage to his base, and trying the case downtown was one way to do it. Even more important, Garcetti lacked the stomach for the kind of fight an effort to conduct the trial in Santa Monica would have provoked. He would have had to argue that he wanted to be in Santa Monica because he wanted white jurors-a politically unpalatable prospect, especially on a issue where he was probably doomed to lose anyway. Garcetti’s coded remarks about “credibility” and the “perception of justice” came at a time of, and as a result of, the prosecution’s first blush of confidence after the Bronco chase. At that point the D.A. and the prosecutors on the case had no doubt about their ability to win the case, wherever it was tried. There seemed little harm in the district attorney’s boasting about his concern for the sensitivities of a crucial constituency.
In fact, Garcetti’s remarks would backfire dramatically. Once the case began to turn against the prosecution and racial issues emerged at the center of the trial, reporters began pestering Garcetti with questions about why he had decided to have the case tried downtown-i.e., why he had given up the opportunity for a much “whiter” jury. (Of course, if he had tried to keep the trial in Santa Monica, these same reporters would have demanded to know whether his attempt to keep the case away from downtown was “racist.”) In answering these questions long after the original decision to go downtown, Garcetti fell back on the truth: that the earthquake damage to the Santa Monica courthouse and other factors had tied his hands. But because Garcetti’s past remarks suggested that he had made a choice to go downtown, the issue dogged him. It was a classic example of the phenomenon of a lawyer’s “spin” returning to haunt him. But Garcetti’s answer-his last answer, anyway-was the truth: The Simpson case could never have been tried anywhere except the dreary and decaying Criminal Courts Building in the civic heart of downtown Los Angeles.

* Dershowitz was just completing a book called The Abuse Excuse-and Other Cop-Outs, Sob Stories, and Evasions of Responsibility. In it, he wrote that a whole series of excuses-such as the “battered-woman syndrome,” the “abused-child syndrome,” and the like-were “quickly becoming a license to kill.” Some of these excuses, Dershowitz wrote with disdain, reflected “politically correct” sentiments that sought to apply different criteria of culpability to people from disadvantaged groups. “In effect,” he wrote, “these abuse excuse defenses, by emphasizing historical discrimination suffered by particular groups, seek to introduce some degree of affirmative action into our criminal-justice system.” The Simpson case seemed to fit right in. On Monday, June 20, 1994-the day the haggard Simpson mumbled his not-guilty plea in court-Dershowitz expounded on this thesis when he appeared in his legal-expert persona on public television’s Charlie Rose. On the broadcast, Dershowitz speculated that the Simpson case “may end up not with a bang but a whimper. I mean, this may end up in something like a hung jury. It may end up in a plea bargain.” Indeed, Dershowitz went on, the Simpson case might wind up having sinister implications. “It may end up with a terrible message. It may end up with a Menendez- or Bobbitt-type verdict, which will send a message out, ‘Gee, you can get away with this kind of stuff.’”

…No law, or even any ethical rule, prevented Dershowitz from accepting the assignment. (Shamelessness is a moral, rather than a legal, concept.) As Dershowitz himself cheerfully noted in his memoir The Best Defense, “Almost all of my own clients have been guilty.” In the Simpson case, Dershowitz was an observer one day, an advocate the next-a shift that reflected, as Anthony Kronman, the dean of Yale Law School, once aptly put it, “the indifference to truth that all advocacy entails.” Lawyers live by such distinctions, even as they fuel public cynicism about their profession.

* In 1970, Fuhrman joined the marines, then served in Vietnam as a machine gunner. He thrived in the service until his last six months there. As Fuhrman later explained to Dr. Ronald R. Koegler, a psychiatrist, he stopped enjoying his military service because “there were these Mexicans and niggers, volunteers, and they would tell me they weren’t going to do something.” As a result of these problems, in 1975 Fuhrman left the marines and went almost directly to the Los Angeles Police Academy.
Fuhrman excelled at the academy, finishing second in his class, and his career at the LAPD had a promising start. His early personnel ratings were high. One superior wrote, “His progress is excellent and with continued field experience he would progress into an outstanding officer.” But in 1977, Fuhrman’s assignment was changed to East L.A., and his evaluators began to show some reservations. “He is enthusiastic and demonstrates a lot of initiative in making arrests,” a superior wrote at the time. “However, his overall production is unbalanced at this point because of the greater proportion of time spent trying to make the ‘big arrest.’ ” Dr. Koegler wrote, “After a while he began to dislike his work, especially the ‘low-class’ people he was dealing with. He bragged about violence he used in subduing suspects, including chokeholds, and said he would break their hands or face or arms or legs, if necessary.”
Fuhrman was moved into the pursuit of street gangs in late 1977, and while his job ratings remained high, he reported that the strains of the job affected him. “Those people disgust me, and the public puts up with it,” he told Dr. John Hochman, another psychiatrist, referring to his gang work. Fuhrman said that he was in a fight “at least every other day” and that he had to be “violent just to exist.” In just one year, he said, he was involved in at least twenty-five altercations while on duty. “They shoot little kids and they shoot other people,” he told Dr. Hochman. “We’d catch them and beat them, and we’d get sued or suspended… This job has damaged me mentally. I can’t even go anywhere without a gun.” Fuhrman explained, “I have this urge to kill people that upset me.”
The stress of police work took such a toll that in the early 1980s, Fuhrman sought to leave the force. His lawyers asserted that in the course of his work, Fuhrman “sustained seriously disabling psychiatric symptomatology” and as a result should receive a disability pension from the city. To get that pension, Fuhrman waged a protracted legal battle. The extensive case file documenting his efforts, replete with detailed psychiatric evaluations of the officer, was paradoxical. In all of Fuhrman’s own briefs, he was portrayed as a dangerously unbalanced man; as one of them put it, Fuhrman was “substantially incapacitated for the performance of his regular and customary duties as a policeman.” In the city’s answers, however, he was called a competent officer, albeit one involved in an elaborate ruse to win a pension. Dr. Hochman observed, “There is some suggestion here that the patient was trying to feign the presence of severe psychopathology. This suggests a conscious attempt to look bad and an exaggeration of problems which could be a cry for help and/or overdramatization by a narcissistic, self-indulgent, emotionally unstable person who expects immediate attention and pity.” In either case-whether Fuhrman was a psychotic or a malingerer-the picture of him was an unattractive one. Fuhrman lost his case and, as a result, remained on the force.

* For a time, only O.J. demurred. He liked Cochran, had even talked to him several times since the murders, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted him as his lawyer. It is one of the richer and more revealing ironies of the case that only O.J. Simpson-“I’m not black. I’m O.J.”-failed to understand the preeminent place of race in his own defense. Simpson was himself so alienated from the world of his fellow black Angelenos that he alone failed to recognize what was obvious to whites and blacks alike: that Johnnie L. Cochran, Jr., had been waiting his whole life for this case, and this case had been waiting for Johnnie Cochran as well.

About Luke Ford

I've written five books (see Amazon.com). My work has been followed by the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, and 60 Minutes. I teach Alexander Technique in Beverly Hills (Alexander90210.com).
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