OJ and me, cocaine and Postie

Orenthal James "O. J." Simpson

On the flight to Los Angeles in 1994, I sat next to a girl; we had a ten hour chat and her name was Lori; she told me lots of information about what to expect in LA and the words I should never say as I wouldn't be understood: they included queue, brolly, fortnight, spanner and many more.

In fact one person I asked what a fortnight was said it was something from Shakespeare!!

Lori also told me about OJ Simpson; this was around a month after the killing of Nicole Simpson and at the time OJ was on remand having been involved in the slowest car chase in television history.

Living there for seventeen years I got to seeing loads and loads of them; car chases I mean, and not necessarily on TV. 

First of all you see in the sky helicopters hovering, like flies around the inevitable, then when you got close you see a file or two of cop cars and people on the streets waving at the car being chased when they slowed to come off the freeways.

One chase passed our apartment and, as we were watching it on TV, we nipped out onto the balcony, watched the chase pass by and nipped back inside.

They could easily have trapped them there and then as they came up from Franklin Avenue and turned left onto our street, Hillside Avenue.

Another time I was on Sunset Blvd when a chase came passed and I could see the driver closely that time and he was behaving as if he was out on a Sunday afternoon spin in his car.

So when Lori told me how famous OJ was and what a chase was I had no idea.

My wife came over with me in January 1995 and left me there in the hotel with no job, no real money and nowhere to live.

On the first night I went into a bar next to the hotel and had a few drinks. Friendly people in LA especially when they hear the accent. I got to talking to some kind of postmaster and an actor, who he'd introduced me to, told me my first stop was to go to Samuel French Film and Theatre Bookshop on Sunset Blvd which I did the next day.

When the actor left us, the post office guy said he was expecting someone and whilst he got the drinks in a went to the loo.

I was washing my hands when he bustled in with a young fella with a very red face; red faces are usually tourists but this was no tourist; he handed postie a packet and postie gave him some money; they shook hands and the red faced fella left.

'Do you want some cocaine?' said postie. 

'No' I said!

'Well do you have something I can shove some up my nose with?'

I searched my pockets; nothing.

'I got my Harrow Library card' I said.

'Your what . . . hey give it me, real quick.'

I did.

He took my card, put some cocaine on to it and shoved it up his nose; then he put a bit more on and shoved that up the other nostril.

Wow! Here I am in LA, I thought, and I'm offered a trip on the great white way on the first night.

We went back to the bar and I could see that the red faced fella was talking to someone else and as we passed the bar tender, who was collecting glasses, he noticed the white powder on Postie's nose!

He just flicked it off as he went passed and he gave me a look too or, should I say, he looked at my nose.

We got back to the bar and after a few minutes I went back to the loo, took my Harrow Library card and tore it to bits, flushing it down the loo before going back to the bar.

Three weeks or so later I found somewhere to live in a place called Silverlake in Maltman Avenue just off Sunset Blvd; a soap opera queen called Marilyn owned the house and there was an older actor there who kind of took a shine to me. He had retired from something and came to Hollywood to get in to a TV series; his girl friends had told him he was good looking and he should come; so he came; eejit.

He would drop me into various places – as long as I wasn't going after a job, I found out later – and I remember him saying one day that he had to get back as F. Lee Bailey was due to speak in court.

The opening statements in the trial started on my brother's birthday, January 24^th, and the trial ended on my mother's birthday on October 5^th.

By the time the trial finished we really got to know everybody concerned and within hours of the verdict people were selling The Juice is Loose tee shirts outside Grauman's Chinese Theatre. 

In fact Graumans changed to Mann's and back to Grauman's again during this period but you can look it up on Wikipedia – with enormous respect, of course.

At the moment there is a drama series on television in America and in Britain about the OJ case. 

It brings it all back to me; the glove that didn't fit; the blood on the Bronco; Marcia Clark; Bob Shapiro – all household names by the time the trial was over.
'If the glove don't fit, you have to acquit!' 

The white people thought he was guilty and the black people thought he wasn't.

Lori on the plane had told me how famous OJ was but I didn't figure; we arrived in LA about five in the evening and she told me she would like to take me up to Carmel later in the week and gave me her number. 

An air hostess had also given me her number: she said her neighbour was James Woods' manager and if I gave her a call and she would get me his number – I did call her but could never get hold of the manager and as to Lori? 
No I didn't go – I was tempted to go down the greasy path to debauchery and sin twice but decided to leave all that alone with no regrets. 

As I got off the plane that day - even whilst we were still in flight - I knew I was landing in the land of opportunity - I had a girl friend if I wanted one, a manager if I could find him and later a drug buddy if I wished to live that kind of life.
I saw Johnny Cochran a few times as he went to the same movies as me a few times.

Here are some photos of the people who were so familiar to me that long hot summer (from January to October, would you believe was sunny) all those years ago, and the people who portray them in the series -  The People v O.J. Simpson: