MISSOURI COMMENTARY: `CRIME OF CENTURY' WITH US AGAIN

At long, long last the Simpson case is before the jury. Down to the very end, when Simpson fooled Judge Lance Ito into letting him deliver his well-rehearsed, "extemporaneous" profession of innocence, the principal figures in the case came off as, for the most part, as colossal bumblers. This is not the first "Crime of the Century." This is not the first time that an inept judge was overwhelmed by the news media.

The Simpson trial was, to be sure, big news. It merited conspicuous coverage. But it did not deserve the absurdly elaborate, round-the-clock treatment it did receive. It was as if there was no sense of good judgment or restraint.

The contemporary journalistic theory seems to be that if the public is interested in a current news happening, it is quite impossible to have too much coverage. Enough is never enough. More is always better. Mega-hype is the rule. This philosophy is an ugly aspect of journalism because it sets up a sort of reciprocal hysteria between the news presenters and the news recipients. The purpose is to get the public sufficiently transfixed so as to justify even more media excess.

The Simpson case, of course, is not the first tine we have undergone such a frenzy. Charles Lindbergh was a national hero who far eclipsed O.J. Simpson as a public personality. Within minutes of the announcement of the kidnapping of his 24-month-old son on March 1, 1932, the LIndbergh estate was invaded by thundering hordes of reporters, photographers, office boys and sob sisters. William Randolph Hearst, Jr. set up on "command post" on the premises so as to better deploy his troops.

The general manager of the United States declared that the only story that might rank close to it would be if "America should go to war." The Herald Tribune stated, "There's absolutely no limit on space for this story." The American assigned 20 reporters to the case and its president, with Hollywood flair, said that he "would be present in person on the Lindbergh stage."

News executives sometimes explained that they were providing this coverage out of deep sympathy for the Lindberg family, not out of any venal notion of increased circulation. It was, of course, a ludicrous claim. The two Hearst papers in New York alone printed 300,000 additional copies. JOurnalistic lunacy reached its apex when journalist Arthur Brisbane interviewed Al Capone in his jail cell to get Capone's "expert" advice on how to solve the case.

The six-week trial of Bruno Hauptmann in tiny Flemington, N.J., in 1935 was a madhouse. It was as if Judge Ito had an earlier incarnation. The judge allowed the press literally to run wild. Flashbulbs exploded, and swarms of reporters roamed the courthouse behaving like vultures ready to strike.

Then there was the Sam Sheppard murder trial in 1954 in Cleveland. Sheppard was accused of viciously beating his wife to death in her bed. The case was, like the Simpson trial, based circumstantial evidence. MOre than 50 newspapers sent reporters and photographers. Radio and television crews were in abundance.

The New York Times ran news articles spelling out the horrid journalistic excesses of the Sheppard trial. The judge expelled all but a few citizens from the courtroom to make more room for the media. Judge Edward Blythin, described as a "kindly man," called special recesses from time to tie to facilities camera work. The press ran the courtroom.

The 1969-1971 Charles Manson trial also repeatedly went off the rails. Charles Manson and three female co-defendants were on trial for seven brutal murders. It was also hyped as the "Crime of the Century" and lasted longer than the Simpson trial.

One of the memorable glitches was President Richard Nixon's declaration to the press that Manson was "guilty, directly or indirectly, of eight murders without reason." Nixon's press secretary sought to "clarify" the statement before it got on the wire. Too late. Banner headlines. Manson himself held up before the jury the headline "Manson Guilty, Nixon Declares." Judge Charles Older had a brief fit. He asked each juror to swear that Nixon's remarks wouldn't affect his/her ability to be fair. One juror said he "hoped" he could be impartial but he wasn't sure. Hope was good enough for a browbeaten, Ito-like judge desperately wanting to avoid a mistrial.

After the Simpson verdict comes in, the system of justice in America will in time return to normal. Day in and day out, courts function, the police do their job, lawyers represent their clients and the journalists report the basic facts. The aberrational excesses of this latest "Crime of the Century" shouldn't cause us to despair. The sins of the Simpson case will not destroy America's system of justice.

~Tom Eagleton of St. Louis is a former U.S. senator from Missouri.