THE PURPOSEFUL TOURIST

By BARRY HILLENBRAND/OXFORD

Like a lot of other American tourists, O.J. Simpson came to England hoping to sample a few things he says he can't get at home: civility and fair play, for starters. And perhaps a touch of class--a genteel reception at the Oxford Union would be a welcome contrast to Simpson's pariah status in the U.S.

But not all went according to plan. The first casualty was civility. When Simpson arrived in London last week, he was greeted at Heathrow Airport by a shoving horde of photographers and jeers from protesters shouting "Murderer!" The former running back retreated behind an offensive line of British bobbies, who escorted him to a car that bore an uncanny resemblance to his famous white Bronco.

The trip was arranged by Max Clifford, a London p.r. whiz who, with one wave of a press release and two calls on his mobile phone, can transform the dreariest story from an M.P.'s jilted mistress into tabloid gold, earning big headlines--and even bigger bucks--for himself and his clients. "O.J. can't get fair press coverage in America," said Clifford. "So he's here in England, where the press is much more objective."

On the first day Clifford slotted in a few tabloid journalists for quick "exclusives." The results were anything but objective: "His dark eyes stared into mine," wrote the Sun's Amanda Cable, "and I felt a shiver go up my spine. Suddenly he leaned forward, touched my arm and roared, 'You're trying to ask me if I've been laid since my trial!'" Not exactly. Cable had asked whether he had been "dating."

Simpson was more subdued on Monday when he journeyed to Manchester for his interview on a new evening television show featuring former daytime hosts Richard Madeley and Judy Finnigan. They asked well-prepared questions about the case, and as soon as Simpson launched into equally well-prepared answers, the hosts began to badger him with more questions. Yet the only real surprise was registered by O.J. when the segment ended abruptly after just 12 minutes. "Oh, Jesus," muttered a befuddled Simpson. Next stop was the Oxford Union, the world's most famous student debating society. "We have a tradition of asking hard questions," says Paul Kenward, president of the Union. "No holds barred." American journalists were barred, however--at Simpson's request.

For his appearance at Oxford, Simpson dressed in a black Donna Karan jacket, a white shirt, a gray sweater vest and a gray-and-black-striped Armani tie--creating a faux morning-coat effect that made him look like an extra from Four Weddings and a Funeral. After receiving a warm round of applause from the 1,000 students crammed together on the brown leather benches of the elegant 1871 Union Debating Chamber, Simpson tried a few quips, only to be interrupted by Fiona Maazel, an American at Oxford for her junior year abroad. "You can make your jokes, but this isn't funny," she said. "This is serious. Your wife was murdered. Your history of assault and abuse makes this an insult." The audience was stunned and embarrassed. Maazel was escorted out of the hall.

Good humor and grace under fire count for a lot in Oxford debates, and Maazel's attack helped Simpson win over the crowd. He stayed cool. He spoke about his time in jail. He said he had discovered new meaning in the Bible and learned from the Book of Job. The questions from the students were probing but not hostile. Simpson responded in droning detail, revealing nothing new. He said he had declined to testify because his legal team believed it would only prolong the proceedings.

Asking clever questions is also part of the Oxford Union tradition. Nick Howard, son of Home Secretary Michael Howard, asked Simpson what sort of reception he thought he would receive from God on Judgment Day. Well, replied Simpson, "I haven't exactly been monogamous." Otherwise, his conscience is clear. "In terms of these murders," he said, "I feel at peace with myself."

In the end the students were satisfied, even charmed, by Simpson. "I went in hostile because of the domestic-violence thing," says student Jane Labous. "But basically he exonerated himself." Which is also what Richard Nixon did in 1978 when he made his first university appearance after his resignation at the Oxford Union. Like Simpson, Nixon said his conscience was clear. And like Simpson, the disgraced President hoped a kind and courteous reception in England would begin to turn the tide of public opinion at home. For Nixon, it worked. In Simpson's case, the jury may be out for a very long time.

--With reporting by Ian Van Every/Oxford

With reporting by IAN VAN EVERY/OXFORD