From The Archives: Everyone Watched That White Bronco
In June 1994, everyone's eyes were on Los Angeles
I was sixteen, winter break. It was a time of sleeping in and going to movies every other day. One of those mornings, I went outside to a damp morning. The paper was there, wrapped in clear plastic. I opened it up and skimmed the headlines. George Herbert Walker Bush made appointees to his cabinet. The Reagan legacy. There was a small article, one of those teeny tiny articles you never notice. It said that O.J. Simpson was arrested for hitting his wife. What a jerk, I thought. Then I read the funnies.
That memory came back to me one June week in 1994. I just turned twenty-two. Every Tuesday night, in a writing workshop with my creative writing teacher I’d taken a class with that semester. I came home feeling intimidated. These people were so talented, so together. They were funny and smart. I was a mess. The hours had been cut at the library. Everyone was feeling tired, crabby, and overworked. I tried getting a new job, but my heart wasn't in it. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. I loved books and writing. Other than that, I wasn't sure. I felt silly and so inexperienced.
On June 12th, Nicole Brown Simpson watched her daughter Sydney perform a dance recital. She had to see her ex-husband, OJ, but all in all, it went fine. She then went to Mezzaluna Trattoria, a restaurant in LA, with her family. One of the waiters there was Ron Goldman, a sometime model who wanted to open his own place called Ankh. The Browns had a lovely dinner, and then Nicole went home. The children went upstairs. Nicole's mother, Juditha, lost her glasses, so Nicole called Mezzaluna and asked if anyone had seen them. Sure enough, they were in the gutter. Goldman volunteered to bring them to Nicole's house. Grateful, she thanked him. He went to his place for a shower, changed, and then went to Brentwood with the glasses.
These details would be repeated countless times the next year. We learned it was prescription eyeglasses Juditha Brown had that night. Ron Goldman had a white shirt and black pants for his uniform. There was endless speculation that Ron and Nicole were lovers. How was it any of our business? No idea. But it was discussed over and over.
The weird thing about this was this: My cousin graduated high school that week. She was going to UCLA, right near Nicole Brown Simpson's home. Suddenly, I wanted to tell her no, it's unsafe there. Stay here. Go to Davis (She was also accepted there), where it's safe. Nothing happens in Davis! (Thirty years later, her son is finishing his freshman year at Davis)
OJ was everywhere that week she graduated. I had to turn the television off and write an assignment for my workshop. The assignment was to write a letter. I wrote to one of my best friends about my jury duty stint (someone started singing “God Bless America” when we were all dismissed) and promised her 90210 gossip; I was called media-obsessed by one of the people. Oddly, I didn’t mention I felt so ashamed. Maybe I wasn't a writer. If I wasn't a writer, what was I? All the work shoppers were going to Big Sur to see the Henry Miller Museum. I wasn't invited. I couldn't have gone because of Sericea's graduation and work. But it stung. I won't lie. It stung like hell.
I tried to keep busy. I went to the mall to get a graduation gift and a Father's Day gift. I bought my father the new Bob Woodward book. I remember going by a TV screen where there was a crowd. I later learned they were reading a note by OJ. I remember being irritated because Guiding Light was being preempted.
I came home and then got dressed for the graduation. I felt so exhausted. I took a shower and dressed. I had the TV on the volume low, with a friend of OJ’s reading a letter to reporters.
When I went to my cousin’s house, the television was on, muted. There were reports of a white Bronco going down an LA highway. OJ was there with a friend of his. All they could show was the white Bronco. Is this news? Everyone was talking about that white Bronco when we went to the graduation. People had mini TVs watching the white Bronco. After taking a break from worshipping Henry Miller, I wondered what the people in my workshop would think about this. They thought I was media obsessed? Look at this, boys and girls.
My cousin graduated and went to Grad Night. I was still awake when OJ surrendered to the police. I sat there, wondering what was going to happen next. I remembered I hadn't written anything for my workshop yet. I thought about not going; what was the point? Yet I sat down at the computer. I put it on DisplayWrite4. I started writing one word in front of another. Maybe I wasn’t going to be one of the cool kids; maybe I was media-obsessed. But I wouldn’t let anyone tell me I wasn’t a writer. I wrote late into the night while all eyes were on that white Bronco.
I love this post. I love how you effectively combine a historical event with a personal story. It is riveting and interesting. I’m sharing it. “it pre-emoted “guiding Light” - LOL, I would love to read more about your journey from that writing workshop to being a writer today.