INTO THE SPOTLIGHT: JIM AMORMINO : THE O.J. SIMPSON MURDER TRIAL : Managing the Mob at the Door

Shortly before 11:30 a.m., the lunchtime crowd starts to gather outside the Criminal Courts Building. There are the usual throngs of reporters and photographers, the O.J. Simpson supporters, the camera-toting tourists.

And in the middle of the mob is Jim Amormino, a longtime Los Angeles police officer on his weirdest LAPD assignment yet: ushering Simpson’s high-powered defense team through the media gantlet in front of the courthouse before and after the day’s proceedings and twice more at lunch break.

“OK, everyone stay behind the rope,” Amormino tells about a hundred people waiting for Robert L. Shapiro and co-counsel to leave the building for lunch recently. “They’re on their way.”

Amormino draws this duty for the most arbitrary of reasons: Simpson’s attorneys simply prefer to enter and leave the courthouse through the front door, even though they have the option of using a back entrance to avoid the crowd of reporters and spectators. Although Johnnie L. Cochran Jr. and F. Lee Bailey occasionally slip out the back unnoticed, Shapiro almost always takes time to greet the crowd on the courthouse steps.

And so Amormino is there, even in the pouring rain, walking over from Parker Center four times a day to play traffic cop and tour guide.

“I want to shake hands with the ‘dream team,’ ” Kim Brobst, a tourist from Tamaqua, Pa., tells Amormino as the noon recess nears. “I came a long way for this. And I want to see Marcia Clark.”

“The district attorneys don’t come out this way,” says Amormino, who looks more like an attorney decked out in a designer suit than a police officer. “Usually, they eat lunch in their office. They work long hours. . . .”

“I’m going to ask you a stupid question,” Brobst continues. “Does the ‘dream team’ take O.J. out for lunch?”

“No, no,” Amormino says with a laugh. “He is escorted back into the jail cell. He can’t leave.”

He shrugs and tells another visitor: “I guess I’m just the resident O.J. expert.”

It’s been like this since Simpson’s preliminary hearing: Tourists schedule a visit to the Criminal Courts Building like a trip to Disneyland. The media wait along the path for a rare chance to ask the defense team about the day’s events. And the O.J. supporters line up to shout words of encouragement as the famous attorneys make their way to and from their chauffeur-driven cars, idling along the courthouse curb.

At first, police patrolled the area sporadically. But after reporters started pushing and shoving to get interviews with the lawyers, the LAPD decided it needed to keep a closer watch on the area.

Amormino, 42, who works in the department’s public affairs unit coordinating golf tournaments and other LAPD events, is often joined by at least one other uniformed patrolman on the walkway. The officers usually arrive at the courthouse at least 15 minutes before the attorneys leave or enter the building.

Some days, especially when it rains, Amormino wishes the defense team would just use the back door. “I’ve ruined a couple pairs of shoes,” he says.

A 22-year veteran of the department, Amormino is no rookie when it comes to crowd control. He worked the opening and closing ceremonies of the 1984 Olympics. He was part of the security efforts when Pope John Paul II came to town in 1987.

But nothing compares to this.

“I have seen so many strange people,” Amormino said. “I’ve seen guys out here in military garb. I’ve seen people wearing O.J. faces. I’ve seen people dressed up as Nicole. We see a lot of religious people out here. We see a lot people both pro and con Simpson. We have seen some skinheads. A lot of loner types. . . .”

By noon, the crowd has grown to more than 200.

Brobst and her friend Donna Chickirda, who is also from Tamaqua, stake out their positions in front of the pack to get the best camera angles.

Five minutes later, Shapiro, Bailey, Cochran and Simpson’s friend Robert Kardashian come down from the ninth floor and wait in the courthouse lobby until their drivers bring their cars around from the rear parking lot.

The lawyers emerge, one at a time, into the glare of television camera lights. Shapiro pauses to tell reporters that he’s pleased with the day’s proceedings.

Amormino stands by, like a Secret Service agent. “OK, everyone stay on the sidewalk,” he tells the crowd as it pushes its way toward the curb.

Within a few minutes, the lawyers are whisked away.

“A lot of people, but not too bad,” Amormino says, watching the crowd disperse. “At 1:30, we’ll do it all over again.”