Lawyer Of The Century -- Johnnie Cochran On Johnnie, L.A. Cops, Johnnie, Shapiro, Johnnie And, Oh Yes, O.J.

Johnnie L. Cochran Jr. sits in a dim corner of his Seattle hotel room and absent-mindedly tugs at a Band-Aid wrapped around his right index finger. He chuckles when reminded of his former client's famous finger cut and how it may or may not have happened in some nondescript hotel room, not unlike this one.

Cochran, 59, can afford to see the humor. He won the Trial of the Century, in many ways much more than O.J. Simpson did. His client list now includes some of the biggest civil paydays on the horizon: the Oklahoma City bombing, the ValuJet and TWA air disasters. Thanks to CNN, he is probably the most famous trial attorney in the world.

And his finger? He cut it signing his book, "Journey to Justice" (Ballantine, $26). A record number of books signed at that particular bookstore, he quickly adds. He's signed so many books already that he wears a black wristband some admiring reader gave him.

His Seattle appearance yesterday was his third stop on his 35-city tour and his wrist is already sore. That's evidence things are going well.

Simpson, meanwhile, is back in a Los Angeles court facing a wrongful-death suit brought by the families of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman, the murder victims Cochran convinced a jury Simpson did not kill. Simpson's days as marginal but jovial actor-pitchman-handshaker are over, and niggling doubts, like that finger cut, persist.

In fact, yet another recent tell-all Simpson trial book,

"American Tragedy" (Random House), says that Cochran started to have doubts about Simpson because he couldn't or wouldn't adequately explain the cut.

Absolutely false, says Cochran. "After he explained everything, we were fine. Everything O.J. told us checked out."

How about recent reports, including from Simpson's longtime friend Robert Kardashian, that Simpson's attorneys "redecorated" his mansion to ingratiate Simpson with the predominantly black jury?

The accounts claim photographs of white people were replaced with black people and a famous poster depicting a young African-American girl trying to gain admittance into a school in the South was taken from Cochran's law office and installed in a prominent spot in Simpson's home so touring jurors couldn't miss it.

"We never did that. Never. An absolute lie," Cochran says, his rapid speech shifting into higher gear. "What was on O.J.'s walls wasn't important to me. . . . I wanted jurors to see that little pathway O.J. was supposedly able to get through."

How about reports he badly flunked a polygraph test? No comment, says Cochran, citing attorney-client privilege.

Think Cochran is tired of the second-guessing? He seems to revel in it.

Impeccably dressed as usual, in a suit, tie and cuff links that likely cost more than a normal person's monthly salary, Cochran smoothly skates from detail to detail, shifting attention to this and away from that. Nod your head yes and he seizes the moment; see, I'm right! He ticks off moments and names from the trial so fast, with such detail and such easy charm, that it's as though he's still working the jury.

Ah, the jury. The one that needed only three hours to dismiss the prosecution's "mountain of evidence"? The one many feel Cochran played "the race card" with?

He smiles. This one's too easy. There was no race card, just a "historical and credibility" card, he says.

"If you lived in L.A. and knew the history of the LAPD, and you were shown that two detectives (Mark Fuhrman and Philip Vannatter) were liars, how much time would you need to find reasonable doubt? That's why I called those two the `disciples of deception.' "

The defense team relied heavily on a jury consultant with a computer model that showed the ideal Simpson juror. That juror was a middle-aged African-American woman who had had contact with law enforcement. That juror, they believed, wouldn't exaggerate Simpson's past battering of his wife and likely had a brother, husband, son or friend who had been roughed up by the LAPD in the past, the defense reasoned.

Cochran calls it the best jury he ever picked, but denies he simply was looking for a jury who would acquit based on Simpson's race and the LAPD's sorry record. He says he just wanted a jury capable of believing police are capable of planting evidence.

During the trial, Cochran and other defense attorneys secretly referred to an elderly white juror as "The Demon." He laughs about that now. Why not? She voted not guilty, too.

In Los Angeles yesterday, Simpson's civil attorneys complained that the jury that will begin hearing the case next week has too many whites on it and African Americans were being dismissed by the plaintiffs' attorneys simply on race.

In many ways, Cochran acknowledges, he had spent three decades preparing for the Simpson case.

He was already a legend in L.A., especially within its black community. He took case after case alleging police brutality and abuse and often won $1 million-plus verdicts.

That's what Cochran's book does best: describe why he goes after the police, how he got so good at it and why African Americans in L.A. feel it is entirely possible that evidence was planted, even against a popular former athlete and personality such as Simpson.

In fact, based on his career, it is hard to imagine Cochran doing any other defense than attacking the LAPD. He calls watching Fuhrman return to court and taking the Fifth Amendment against self-incrimination the defining moment of his career.

Between 1978 and 1980, he left a lucrative practice to become the third-ranking official in the district attorney's office. He had direct oversight of police abuse issues while supervising current D.A. Gil Garcetti. Few cases resulted in police officers being charged.

He also worked with Judge Lance Ito when Ito was a deputy prosecutor. He was an unofficial mentor to Chris Darden (whom he now calls "a young Hamlet," among other slams).

Cochran's book is short on details about Simpson's defense and trial, other than revealing his suspicion that co-counsel Robert Shapiro secretly tried to tape-record conversations and was kept on by Simpson only to prevent him from leaking information.

Shapiro immediately went on national television after the verdict and accused Cochran of blatantly playing the race card. Cochran leaves no doubt how he feels about Shapiro, comparing him to Kato Kaelin, Simpson's dimwitted house guest.

Much of Cochran's book is self-serving, even by autobiography standards. He relentlessly portrays himself as a selfless street-fighter for justice. True, say his critics, but he has made millions for his trouble. He is an incorrigible name-dropper, sprinkling references about his high-school pal, Dustin Hoffman, and famous clients such as Michael Jackson.

Shortly after his book tour ends in mid-December, Cochran will turn his attention to his slate of high-profile cases, including another one of note against the LAPD. This one involves the beating of white truck driver Reginald Denny by black rioters after the acquittal of police in the Rodney King brutality trial.

This time, Cochran is arguing that police didn't make enough of a presence to ensure Denny's safety in the black neighborhood.

"I've never said the LAPD shouldn't have a presence; I just said they shouldn't beat up everybody," he says, smiling.

Until then, he will sell books, lots of them, do a little TV, which he loves, and stir discussion on race relations, his passion. Along the way, he will continue defending Simpson, or more specifically, the not-guilty verdict many haven't come around to believing.