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Johnnie the Great
by John M. Curtis Copyright March 29, 2005
Like the late Johnny Carson, Cochran was equally amusing—and comfortable—mangling words as he was coining cute slogans. He laughed heartily at himself while simultaneously entertaining and delighting his audience. There was never a dull moment with Johnnie in the courtroom. In the O.J. trial, his charm was accentuated by the abrasive style of lead prosecutor Marsha Clark. It was the perfect match-up, watching Johnnie tap dance over the DA's “mountain of evidence.” In the end, jurors couldn't say no to Johnnie. Cochran had clever ways of unnerving seasoned prosecutors, falling prey to his disarming charm and sense of humor. He had the jury—and indeed the entire courtroom—eating out of his hand. Those uncanny special talents, sometimes called “charisma,” enabled him to wipe the floor with better-credentialed lawyers from prestigious law firms. Born in Shreveport, La., Oct. 2, 1937, Cochran was the great-grandson of slaves, grandson of sharecroppers and son of an insurance salesman. His family moved west to San Francisco in ‘49 and Los Angeles in ‘52, eventually graduating Los Angeles High in ‘55, where he honed his debating skills. On to UCLA and more debating, graduating in '59, eventually finishing L.A.'s Loyola Law School in ‘62. Cochran's upbringing, especially his father's high expectations, created his insatiable appetite to be liked. He was encouraged by his father, Johnnie L. Cochran Sr., “to reach our fullest potential. And he [Dad] seemed to think our fullest potential was a little fuller than we did,” wrote Johnnie in “A Lawyer's Life,” a personal memoir written after the O.J. trial. At UCLA, Johnnie was influenced by the writing of black liberationsist W.E.B Dubois, who, among other things, wrote about “two-ness.” Growing up black and especially making it in a predominantly white profession, influenced Cochran's thinking, especially about the ubiquitous role of race. “The concept of ‘two-ness' has eternally intrigued me,” Johnnie wrote in his first memoir “Journey to Justice,” years after working as a civil rights attorney. He couldn't escape blackness, commenting, “We were never viewed as just teachers, doctors, lawyers, scientists and writers. We were perceived as black doctors, lawyers, scientists and writers.” Fighting black persecution, especially by the police, became a full-time job. After a two-year stint with City Attorney's Office, Cochran went into private law practice in ‘65, specializing in police abuse—ironically, the year of the Watts riots. Johnnie figured out that the City of Los Angeles had the deep-pockets needed to advance a successful career as a civil rights lawyer. According to his first memoir, Johnnie grew suspicious of police practices, especially abuse he saw precede the Watts riots. In 1966, he took on the case of Barbara Deadwyler, whose husband Leonard was stopped and shot dead, while en route to the hospital for her pregnancy. When the jury found Deadwyler's death accidental, it taught Cochran a bitter lesson. “I had learned that prosecutors and law enforcement officials, convinced of their own righteousness, would do anything to make the system yield the ‘right result,'” Johnnie wrote in “Journey to Justice.” After representing former Black Panther Elmer “Geronimo” Pratt in ‘72, Cal State football star Ron Settles in ‘81, 13-year-old sexual assault victim Patty Diaz in ‘92 and pop star Michael Jackson in 1993, Cochran was ready for O.J in ‘95. He used his past experience and cases to put the LAPD on trial. Cochran's success as a trial lawyer stemmed from his winning personality. No matter how you disagreed with outcome of the O.J. case, you couldn't help but marvel at how Johnnie pulled it off. “He could walk into court and charm the pants off the jury,” said retired criminal defense attorney Leslie Abramson, the lead counsel who represented Lyle and Erik Menendez. It's difficult to bottle or capture the essence Johnnie Cochran, a person of such captivating energy, that even his worst critics stood in awe. “Not only did we play the race card, we dealt it from the bottom of the deck,” said Cochran's co-counsel Robert Shapiro on national TV following the O.J. trial. Whatever caused Shapiro's sour grapes, he should have graciously applauded along with everyone else. Johnnie didn't “play” the race card, he “lived” it his entire life, making him one of the nation's greatest attorneys. About the Author John M. Curtis writes politically neutral commentary analyzing spin in national and global news. He's editor of OnlineColumnist.com and author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma. |
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