Sick capitalism: society profits from tragedies

Wednesday, January 28, 1998

Sick capitalism: society profits from tragedies

SOCIETY Misguided media, merchants promote morbid fascination
with others’ pain

By Patricia Prevatil

I applaud Michael Daugherty’s enthusiastic appeal to boycott the
issue of Esquire magazine that features an interview with O. J.
Simpson and Simpson’s picture on the cover ("A little moral outrage
goes a long way toward change," Jan. 22). The interview includes a
controversial remark in which Simpson states that if he did kill
Nicole, it would have been because he loved her. This is a glowing
example of trashy journalism, and Daugherty nails Esquire for
attempting to turn a profit at the expense of the victims.
Touche.

Daugherty questions the moralistic as well as the journalistic
integrity of Esquire magazine by asking, "What other articles do
they have in there: Damian ‘Football’ Williams on how best to cave
in a man’s skull with a cinder block? Lawrence Powell on
baton-swinging techniques? Jeffrey Dahmer’s best-kept secrets?"
Daugherty raises these hypothetical questions to illustrate
Esquire’s use of sensational journalistic practices in its attempt
to profit from the murder of Nicole Brown and Ronald Goldman. But
as absurd as his hypothetical examples seem to be, the reality is
that people will do just about anything to profit from the
tragedies of others, as long as there are people who are willing to
buy it.

Take the case of Amy Fisher, the "Long Island Lolita." Fisher
was a teenage girl sexually involved with a married man. When she
discovered that her lover would not leave his wife, she acquired a
gun. Fisher’s attempt at murder failed, but the gunshots disfigured
the face of Mary Jo Buttafuco, and Fisher was jailed. In the midst
of all the media coverage surrounding this event, a very strange
off-Broadway show premiered. It was called "Amy Fisher: The
Musical."

As soon as the media got wind of "Amy Fisher: The Musical" the
show took off. Actors, including one woman portraying Mary Jo and
singing from one side of her mouth in an attempt to recreate the
look of the disfigured woman, were interviewed on morning news
shows in the New York and New Jersey area. Tickets sold as the
teenage Amy remained jailed and Mary Jo, the victim of an
adulterous husband, lay in the hospital.

Our society seems to have a morbid fascination with these
events, which creates a market for the merchandise that goes with
them. The Menendez brothers wrote a book from jail and managed to
get it published. Sadly, most writers who are not murderers have a
much harder time at this. One brother marries a woman (they claim
to have fallen in love through written correspondence); tabloid
television programs broadcast interviews with the new bride.
Perhaps her book is next.

The examples of people profiting from the tragedies of others
are endless. Murderers, and anyone who ever passed them on the
street, sell their stories, which get written as books and then
produced as television mini-series. After Rodney King’s beating, we
saw shops all over Los Angeles selling shirts that read "LAPD – We
Treat You Like a King." And then there’s my own personal favorite,
trading cards of famous serial killers. The list goes on and
on.

Whatever the situation, from the yellow ribbons and
American-flag lapel pins sold during the Gulf War to the Princess
Diana mugs, videotapes, calendars, posters, dolls and glass roses
encased in glass domes with gold-plated leaves engraved with the
date of her death and your name personalized on the plaque, it’s
all the same message: No matter how many victims, no matter who
suffers and no matter how devastating an event might have been,
merchandising still rules.

Last Wednesday evening I watched a magazine-style television
program called "The Public Eye." The episode featured a story on
"The Cape Man," a new musical composed by Paul Simon which is soon
to open on Broadway. The musical is based on a true story, the
murder of two white teenagers by a Puerto Rican gang member. When
the interviewer asked Simon if he felt that it was okay to make
money from another person’s tragedy, Simon replied, "What if I lose
money?" We can only hope.