It is a day I'll never forget. Much like my parents remember where they were when former President John F. Kennedy was shot, I'll never forget staring at the television in disbelief as police "chased" O.J. Simpson's white Ford Bronco down the Los Angeles freeway.
I was one of about 10 journalists working at a New Jersey newspaper when all story writing and layout came to a halt. We piled into the managing editor's office to catch a glimpse of O.J. in his Bronco, all the while wondering what would happen next. After all, it was a hard scene to miss as every television station and radio broadcast was after the story.
As we stood there, I could not help but think how annoying it was to flip from station to station and only see that white Bronco. Then when I heard "O.J. Simpson" on the Spanish channel, I knew we would get really sick of hearing his name.
And I certainly have not been let down.
Standing there gazing at the television, all I could think is what a sad commentary this was on today's society. Here I was, standing with people I consider role models, watching a "national hero" drive his career down the tubes. Or so I thought.
After O.J.'s antics seemed settled, my editor asked me to go out to bars, diners and restaurants to get local reaction to this California fiasco. Driving my car across town, a picture of Nicole Brown Simpson's mangled body kept popping into my mind. The tone of Nicole's frantic voice from recorded 911 telephone calls seemed to echo. And I thought, for one brief second, how anyone could do this -- especially O.J. Simpson.
Car chases and murders are certainly not uncommon in our society, but people seem to have become hardened to violence when it is happening in their own backyards. Yet when a national "hero" is thrust into the spotlight for similar charges, the country is in an uproar.
Strolling into an ordinary sports bar, usually I would find fans hovered over the television, cheering on their favorite New Jersey team. Cheers still filled the bar, but instead, the same sports fans cheered O.J. on through what they called "The Big Chase."
And above all the noise, one O.J. fan screamed, "Leave them in the dust, O.J. After all, you're a national hero." Although O.J. is innocent on the murder charges until proven guilty, previous domestic violence charges have certainly tainted my opinion of the football legend and I was expecting to find people who shared my view.
Seeing that I was in a sports bar and O.J. was, after all, an athlete, I decided to venture to the local movie theater where I was sure to find a variety of opinions.
Surprisingly, most Central New Jersey residents out late that night still idolized the football star. Everyone I talked to -- from teen-agers to senior citizens -- still looked at the football star as just that . . . a star.
Several high school students joked about the incident, saying that Nicole must have done something to "piss him off." To them, Simpson was a hero and nothing would change their opinion.
One woman rationalized that O.J. could not have murdered Nicole because he was too funny in Naked Gun 33 1/3. Thinking she was kidding, I laughed at her suggestion and said I didn't think that argument would hold up in court.
The long, hard stare she darted in my direction was enough to tell me she was not kidding and I moved on to the next table. It's a scary world we live in when educated people get confused between Hollywood fiction and reality.
It is impossible to hold public figures to superhero standards, so it's time for Americans to look to real-life heroes who affect our everyday lives. Nurses, professors, American Red Cross volunteers and police officers are all service-oriented employees who can be considered local heroes, but certainly never receive the attention of sports figures or movie stars.
Politicians, teachers and parents are constantly complaining that this generation of children is grasping for role models -- and what are children supposed to think if parents look at O.J. as a "hero" rather than what he is -- a heavy drug user with a violent temper.



