How I Helped OJ Get Away With Murder

Everyone wanted to be around O.J., even presidents. Even presidents wanted to meet O.J. Just weeks before the murders, in the spring of 1994, one of the Riviera Hotel executives came over to O.J. after a golf game and asked if he wanted to play golf with the president the next day.

O.J., in genuine confusion, replied, “The president of what?”

“The president of the United States.”

“Oh! That president. Sure.”

So the next day, sure enough, O.J. and President Bill Clinton played golf. I was disgusted when O.J. told me this, because I despise the Clintons. O.J. and I argued about it a bit. He said, “Mike, if you met him you’d like him.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

With characteristic diplomacy and social ambition, O.J. said: “Mike, no matter who is in the White House, it’s always good if they’re your friend.”

I remember him telling me that he’d made a putt that impressed Clinton, and that O.J. had cracked, “That’s why they call me the Juice.” Then Clinton made a putt and said, “That’s why they call me the Prez.”

O.J. told me that Clinton had waxed enthusiastic about Anna Nicole Smith, who had a small part in one of the Naked Gun movies. He had drawled, “I saw her and I said, ‘There goes the White House.’”

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