I Think David Letterman Is My Big Brother

During the life of this blog, I've written much about David Letterman. Feel free to search.

As his retirement from the show has drawn ever closer I've thought about what I might say.  Now that the day of his signing off is on us, it feels a bit like now or never.

I've tried to figure out from where my affinity for this quirky, Midwestern born, system cynical, often self tortured guy comes.  It's finally hit me.  I think he serves the role of my big brother.  Some of those traits live in me.

I loved watching Johnny Carson.  His own talent aside, I think what I loved about him was that during my childhood days, on the occasions I was able to sit up late and watch at least the monologue, it was what he said that made my parents and grandparents laugh.  This guy in the TV could make the grown ups in my life laugh...so any guy who could do that was a friend of mine.  Full on laughter was not a hallmark in the normalcy of my life.  It's not that my childhood was sad, hardly. Far too much of our living, then and now, is so much about just getting through the day, rarely is there time for laughter. Life is neither happy nor sad, it just is.  The truth of that may be sad in retrospect, but it's not anything you'd recognize in the moment.  

So, when the "eh" of daily existence is broken by the sound of laughter, you take notice.  I did.

If Johnny Carson belonged to my parents and grandparents, Dave belonged to me and my generation. I remember him on The Tonight Show.  I remember him guest hosting.  I remember the Morning Show, although I only saw it once when I was sick.  But most of all, I remember Late Night.  It debuted in February of 1982, in the final months of my senior year in high school.  

This guy didn't so much make my parents laugh, in part because they were long gone to bed by the time he came on, but he made me howl.  I could not believe the irreverence for the very medium through which he was broadcasting.  Loved it.  

To this day, my mother could tell you of the times they were awoken between 11:30-12:30 by my laughter during my college days. 

This was my "big brother" telling jokes, pulling pranks on the network big shots, with a glint in his eye that said, "do something about it, I dare ya."

Like him, across the years, some of the acerbic has given way to humility.  Lessons learned, failures of varying kinds, the new thing in life you never thought you'd know or see, it changes a person.

As he signs off tonight, I'm thankful that I was able to see the show in person, twice.  Once was as a regular audience member.  The other was seated at the top of the balcony with a member of the crew who gave Kristy and me all access to everything before and especially after the taping, including standing on the stage where music icons performed for Ed Sullivan, and where Dave held court every night.  I also sat at his desk.  We absconded with a few Late Show pencils that Dave would either throw though the window or make notes.

I have some Late Show swag...tshirts, sweatshirts and hat.  What I most covet is what isn't for sale, one of the crew's Worldwide Pants jackets.

I'm thankful that even though his leaving will be a huge transition for him, he does so a man happier than ever.  I get that.  I want my big brother to be happy.

And I want to see him again.  Truth is, he's a helluva broadcaster.

So I'll be watching tonight.  Watching a 33+ year figure in my life move on as all of us who have appreciated his work do the same.

Good night, Dave.  Drive safely.

  

Brush with Greatness - Or, the Day I Sat at Dave's Desk.

Ok, first things.

Are we really on the set of the Late Show with David Letterman, and is that really me sitting as his desk?
Yes.

"How in the world did you get to do that?"
Interesting story.

While it all started a very long time ago when I was at Asbury, for our purposes, let's pick up the story in March, when the family spent spring break in Orlando.
While there, we caught up with an old friend from the Asbury days who lived in the area. Jan was very much a part of our early days in ministry. She and her husband, Reid, worked with the youth. Their son, Deuce, was a part of the group. Jan and Reid babysat, almost newborn, Andrew, almost exclusively. He was our son, but he was her baby.

A job opportunity moved the family to Dallas, and shortly thereafter, I moved to Bemis. A tragic car wreck killed Reid ( a bear of man in stature, but as tender a heart as you'll ever find). I returned to Memphis to participate in the funeral.

Jan and Deuce stayed in Dallas until he was preparing for college, and the program he was pursuing was in Florida, so there she moved.  We only sporadically kept in touch with each other over the years. When Jimmy died, she showed up one day at Saint John's just to hug me, talk with me and see if I was o.k. She and I have always had a bit of a connection.

Fast forward to Orlando in March, we went out to dinner, and she told me that Deuce, who was now working in NYC with a theatrical production, was getting married--and would I do the service.
She's among that handful of folks in my life that if they ask it, I'm pretty much going to do it. You build up that kind of capital with folks with whom you've weathered life's storms. But I said, "I will, but he's got to ask me," I've got to be back for worship, and, "What are we going to do about pre-marital counselling, because that's a non-negotiable for me?"

Well, the upshot was this--he asked, I said yes, and we did our counselling via Skype. Am I hip, or what?
The second weekend of June was the appointed date. Kristy and I would take flight to NYC, enjoy some time away, I would preside a wedding for a young man I love deeply, a beautiful young woman I was coming to know, and share time with a family that had meant much to me over the years.

During my last "Skype" session I asked Deuce, "Hey, since you're up there in show biz, why dont' you see if you can wrangle me up some Letterman tickets."

His response was, "let me see what I can do."

I didn't think much of it. I wasn't going up there for that, but thought, why not?

Feel free to check my Letterman fandom on this blog. There are posts aplenty.

Deuce called me the day before we were to fly out to ask me what time I was getting to the city. I told him early afternoon. He said that was perfect because I had to be at the corner of 53rd and Broadway at 3:00 p.m. to go to the Letterman show.

No way!

Now, here's the cool part.

We get to La Guardia, taxi into the city - nice hotel, the Fitzpatrick on Lexington between 58th and 59th. Meet Jan, see Deuce, who gives me a piece of paper on which is scribbled a phone number, and the name of "a guy."

We walk the blocks west to the appointed place. I make the call. Goes to voicemail, except it says his voicemail is full, so I can't even leave a message.

We call again. The same thing.

Just down the block is where The Ed Sullivan Theater is located. The was a gathering of folks in front, the audience for the day, and a Late Show staffer wearing her Worldwide Pants jacket, with a clipboard seeming to check off names.

Surely we're on the list. I approach. Gave her our names. Nope.

I showed her the piece of paper with the name and number on it.

"I'm sorry, sir, you're going to need more than that if you think you're going to get in."

Oh well, I thought. I'm this close. It's still cool. This is just not going to pan out.
I called Deuce, told him my problem. He told me to stand by.
Few minutes later, I see a guy walking toward us on his phone. We must have looked like frustrated fans.

"You Johnny?" he asked.

"Yes, I am. And this is my wife, Kristy."

"Nice to meet you," he said. "My name's Martin."

Martin's the name on the slip of paper. "Sorry I couldn't get your call. We don't get good signal down in the control room."

"Oh," I said. "I tried to see if we were on the list to go into the theater, but the lady told me it was a no-go."
Martin said, "We're not going in that way...follow me."

We walked to the corner, turned onto 53rd, in that area where they drop stuff off the roof, across the street from the revival of "Promises, Promises," starring Sean "Just Jack" Hayes and Christen Chenoweth, featuring the powerful music of Burt Bacharach and Hal David.

As we're walking to the side door I asked, "So, how do you know Deuce?"

Martin said, "I don't. We just watch out for each other and do favors. One day he'll be working on a show that I'll have someone who wants to see and I'll give a call. That's how it works around here."

Wow, I thought.

And Martin was the consummate host. As we walked in, the band was rehearsing. There's Paul and crew, working on the day's special music (with Peter Wolf). Technicians and staffers roaming all over the stage.
I was standing in The Ed Sullivan Theater. And that lady who wouldn't even give me the time of day? Still standing outside with the audience. It's about 3:10 p.m.

Martin takes us downstairs to the control room. That's where he works. His job is engineering the stationary lights in the theater. Certain lights come up at a certain time...stuff like that.

Saw the director at his post. They were going through several practice things. And then, they started taping the night's Top 10. It was an on location shoot of Washington Nationals pitcher, Stephen Strasburg. They record it early and Dave is reacting to tape...who knew?

Walking back up from the basement we'd pass these suited guys with secret service looking communication devices, "Dave's private security...he's had a pretty rough year."
"Oh, right."

We walked up to the balcony, where at the very top was a station for the motion light engineer. Next to him was two seats behind a table..."you all will sit there."

And there we were, not in a regular seat, but with the crew. Very cool. Our view from the top was actually more appealing than a floor seat because once the show starts, the cameras and other equipment block the view from below.

By this time, it's about 3:40 p.m. "Can I get you all anything?" he asks. "No, we're good."
And we sat there, watched the band finish rehearsal (they are a great band), crew was rushing around.
Audience entered little after 4:10 p.m. and everyone's pretty much seated by 4:15 p.m. As they walked by us to take their seats I think they thought we're with the production. Kinda funny.

After a few minutes of sitting with our newest friend, Kristy says, "Is that a space heater I smell?"
Sure enough, this guy had a little space heater at his feet.
"Dave likes it cold." I had heard that before. So I asked, how cold is it?
"49 degrees, always."
You've got to be kidding. Now being up top it wasn't that cold, but it was chilly.

Warm up comedian came on and tried to be funny. He introduced the band and they come on stage one at a time. It's about 4:27 p.m. when Dave is introduced. He runs across the stage, grabs a mic, says hello, yucks it up the crowd. The clock is seconds away from 4:30 p.m. He abruptly says he has to go, runs off stage and the theme hits right at 4:30 p.m.

The experience is very different, as I would have expected. It's a very technical thing, a television production. It's the necessary work that happens never seen on the television that makes all things appear fluid, natural and entertaining. Lights, applause signs, watching what the band is doing when they are off camera--watching what Dave is doing when he's off camera.

But it was such a kick. Up high in the theater was really the best view. Harry Connick, Jr. was a guest. Jayden Smith was as well, and I found him a disrespectful - not like his dad at all. Peter Wolf was the music guest and by the time he came on and did his number, I could have done it along with him, because we heard it rehearsed before air about 5 times.

Some observations about Dave - when he's not on camera, he is out of his jacket. Takes it off and throws it. One of his little minions has to keep up with it and make sure he has it back on before he back on camera. While he talked with Harry during the commercial, at other breaks he was away from the desk and talking with what looks like a team of 4 or 5 writers.

He's on stage and at his desk not once second longer than the camera demands. At the close of the show when he says, "good night,everybody,"the band hits the theme and only plays about 15 seconds of it until camera is off. Dave was handed a house mic and said, "Thanks for coming, enjoy New York, we'll see you next time," and that was it, he was gone.

I imagined the words, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Dave has left the building."

The show was over, and pages were escorting the audience out of the theater rather quickly. Folks were polite and didn't seek to linger.

But Kristy and me? We were with the production, don't you see, so we stayed right where we were.
After the audience filed out our secondary host said, "I'm going to take down to Martin, he's on stage."
You know that circular staircase that's one Dave's left as he sits as his desk--we came down it.
And then in one defining moment, there we were, on the stage of the Ed Sullivan Theater.
Just standing there like we were meant to be there. That stage, in Dave's care now, but much bigger than Dave.

I thought about the people who've stood on the very spot I was standing--giants in the entertainment business.
Elvis.
The Beatles.
Every comedian of note from the 50's forward.
Every singer and band of note from that time forward.
I'm telling you, surreal doesn't capture this. I wasn't expecting this at all, and I went from getting up one morning in my own bed in Memphis, to standing on the stage of The Ed Sullivan Theater that afternoon.

And while I standing there, Alan Kalter's hanging around yucking it up with a couple of his guests, Paul's still at the keyboard working on something. The stage is not that big, it's actually a pretty small theater as theater's go. And there I am, like I'm supposed to be there.
"Go over to the desk," Martin said, "and I'll take some pictures."

My phone was dead. I didn't bring a camera--didn't know all this was going to happen. So the picture you see if from Kristy's phone. I'm not sitting in Dave's chair. Nobody does but Dave. It's taking away and covered right after the show. It's just a basic office chair, and it's set for him at the desk on camera.
What about Dave's desk? Not really a desk, no surprise, more like an L-shaped table.
Underneath to the left is Kleenex, a gallon pump bottle of Purel, a trashcan and other miscellaneous things. Pretty utilitarian, actually.

The desk mic is real. I picked it up, looked at it. Put it back. Nobody yelled at me.

"Where's Dave's pencils?" Kristy asked. There were not any on the desk.

"Just a minute," Martin said, and he walked over the where the Producer's station was, grabbed a handful, and handed them to her.

You know what they say on them?

"The Late Show" No. 2

We sat at the desk several minutes before getting up.

Kristy talked with Alan Kalter a bit, seems like a really pleasant guy--you know, like a guy who's really glad he's got a gig.

And let me tell you...it was COLD.
"Man, it really is cold down here."
"Yeah," Martin said. "Dave doesn't like to be hot. It's 49 all the time whether we're dark or on the air. When the lights aren't on you can see your breath."
I believe it.
"He didn't really seem to interact very much with the audience," I said.
"Dave doesn't like people very much," Martin replied.
I can see that.
Anyway, we walked backstage where just offstage by Dave's desk is Dave's coffeepot. Coffee just for him, brewed from a Mr. Coffee like in anybody's home.

Backstage looks more like a theater backstage than a studio, and that's what it is.
He shared some of the challenges of retrofitting a theater for television production. Kinda cool.
We walked around a bit more, passed Sid McGinnis, guitarist--head nod was all that was necessary being the cool musician he is, I dig it, then out the backstage door.

Alan Kalter hung around to shake some hands and chat up the lingering fans and then looking up to the sky he said, "wow, what a beautiful day," and then headed west on 53rd on foot. It's New York.

I shook Martin's hand and thanked him profusely for his hospitality.
I'll never see this guy again. And I'm here to tell you, this guy modeled hospitality and graciousness to people he'd never seen before better than any church I've ever served or been in.
It was extraordinary.

And all because of this unspoken "code" between folks in productions in NYC.

There's a sermon in there somewhere, and it's not too hard to find.

Late Night II

My feelings on who should have gotten The Tonight Show when Johnny retired are well documented in this blog. Johnny wanted Dave. Dave earned it. But Jay got it.

That's a life lesson. Life's not always fair. And true enough, as much as many of us still have a hard time imagining anyone but Johnny in that chair, NBC owns the program, and can do with it what it chooses.

And the company has been making a lot of choices lately...and as it is with any choice we make in life, we have to live with the consequences of it.

What Late Night II has brought, however, is a revisiting of Late Night I.

Letterman has said more publicly about Jay in the past two weeks than he has in almost 20 years. Whatever comic amusement there may or may not be about this whole deal, I thought last night's extemporaneous rant came about as close as anything proving life's principle that unresolved conflict always resurfaces.

But it may be something other than that. In some strange way, I'm wondering if this whole mess with Conan has been cathartic for Dave. When Whoopi came on the other night, as she was taking her chair beside Dave, she could be heard saying, "Don't you feel vindicated?" He blew it off, but you have to wonder.

Here's last night's take. To keep the clip down to about 5 minutes, CBS edited out about 90 seconds that was really good stuff in which he recalled his taking leave from NBC....he recalled the head honchos coming to his office to tell him that he wasn't getting The Tonight Show, and Dave reacting by saying that it was clear there was no longer a place for him at NBC, and then looking elsewhere. When this spiel started, you could tell he was only going to say a couple of things...start his little comedy bit and move on...but his internal editor wouldn't kick in...and just when you think he's done, here come's some more.

Maybe the Mayans are Right about 2012?

A few thoughts about things going on--

"Reality" TV - Being the "Law and Order" fan that I am [yes SVU and CI among them, although I cannot even begin to talk about CI right now without Goren and Eames---it's just too painful, but that's for another time] I was watching last week's episode involving an "Octomom" character and some "John and Kate" wannabees lusting after the prospect of a TV show. Being the plot line to a "Law and Order" episode is a good barometer for how far afield things have gone.

The insidious nature of that which is elevated into consciousness of popular culture is that after awhile you can't remember when it wasn't around. It becomes the normal. This whole Balloon Boy thing shows how pathetic things are - and after there's some jail time for somebody in this family, I wouldn't be surprised if they show up on TLC or some such not too far down the way. What family seeks this?

By the way, there is no amount of cash out there to have "The Preacher's Family" TV show. For one, it would be very boring. And two, it ain't nunya business!

-------

David Letterman - OK, this one is touchy for me. I've been a "Dave" guy since 1982. I feel like John Stewart in his admiration for what Dave brought to the comedic, late night table. He was Johnny's pick to succeed him on "The Tonight Show." That's about all you need. One of my very first posts on this blog four years ago was on this point. I'm not a Leno guy. Never was. I'll lament the death of NBC late night and prime time another day.

When I first heard of Dave's, uh, problem, I was saddened, but not shocked. I thought about the times I've had to sit through "It is Never OK," a video prepared for clergy to train them on what is proper and what is not about clergy/laity physical relationships, and I'm thinking, "Dude, you're the boss (which then had me reflecting on Adam Sandler's SNL Digital Short, "Like a Boss," which really didn't help matters).

It's about the abuse of power and the many ways that manifests itself, including sex. And on this point, my boy Dave is wrong, wrong, wrong. That he is himself a victim to an extortion attempt is criminal. Had this not happened, the other would have likely never been known, at least not as it is now. And truthfully, this really isn't our business either. It is the business of Letterman, his wife and son, the women involved, Worldwide Pants and CBS, and we get to be little voyeurs watching another tragic story unfold in front of us. And whether we ever got to know any of the sordid details or not does not matter. It's still wrong.

_____

Pop culture is fraying...

Political discourse has a venom I've not seen before...

Civility is the rare commodity...

The distance between the have's and have not's is widening and the middle is falling into the abyss at an ever increasing rate...

We have men and women on the battlefield without clarity as to a mission plan...

healthcare is, well what I expected (see previous post)...

Churches are straining to maintain ministry...

The pressure to keep the pillars of systems, secular and religious, viable is reaching a breaking point...

The Titans are winless (oh, wait, I don't care--that's another story, too) . . .

The pressures realized at the macro level are ever constant to many of us at the micro level every day what with family systems hanging on for dear life...

It all seems a bit much, doesn't it?

I'm not typically one to propagate apocalyptic notions, and I don't think I'm being paranoid (but even if I am, like the old saying goes, it doesn't mean they're still not out to get ya), but something's gotta give.

And then, as it happens--this Sunday is Reformation Sunday. It's the occasion of remembering Martin Luther's particular moment of rising to the occasion. To find within himself the resolve to stand against the religious powers of his day and to proclaim, among other things, "Here I stand, I can do no other. God help me. Amen."

It is his masterwork hymn that has sustained the Church these 500 years, and on which we may yet find solace in the insanity of life and courage to persevere. Read these lyrics as a statement of faith, not an old hymn. I can't read them without EIN FESTE BURG running in my head, but get through it and see if by the end you know afresh wherein to place trust, hope, and guidance.

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing; Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing: For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe; His craft and pow’r are great, and, armed with cruel hate, On earth is not his equal.
Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing, Were not the right Man on our side, the Man of God’s own choosing: Dost ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is He; Lord Sabaoth, His Name, from age to age the same, And He must win the battle.
And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us, We will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us; The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him; His rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure, One little word shall fell him.
That word above all earthly pow’rs, no thanks to them, abideth; The Spirit and the gifts are ours through Him Who with us sideth; Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also; The body they may kill: God’s truth abideth still, His kingdom is forever.

In the World of What Should Have Been & Would Be If I Were King--"The Tonight Show, Starring David Letterman"

Ok, let me just say from the outset, I'm no fan of Jay Leno. Oh, I'm sure he's a nice guy. At least that's what we hear from everyone, how "nice" he is. My problem, other than that he's an awful interviewer, and he generally seems to be trying too hard to get a laugh, and he keeps pilfering other shows' talent and ideas, is simply this - David Letterman should be at that desk and not Jay.

It's all water way under the bridge, I know, but since this is my place to be relevant or mundane, I choose the latter - and with this rant, I commence. Plus, I'm on vacation, so what do you want from me!
Was their anything more awkward on the night of the first Tonight Show following Johnny Carson's death, to hear Jay attempt to be somehow appreciative of Johnny's career. Hey Jay, what about on the night of your first Tonight Show in '92, and you refused to thank Johnny in life? It was tacky. It showed no class.

I'm just saying....

Was their anything more poignant than on the night of the first Late Show after Johnny died, to hear Dave's true appreciation of Johnny's talent (still star-struck and awestruck), tell jokes in his monologue that Johnny had written for Dave, and celebrate his mentor's unique contributions to poplar culture? I have that Late Show recorded from back in January, and I can't make myself erase it. Dave captured Johnny's spirit that night not through trolling Don Rickles out one more time, but through music. Johnny always fancied himself a drummer in the lineage of Buddy Rich. So, why wouldn't you pay tribute through Doc, Tommy and Ed playing "Here Comes That Rainy Day." In the language of that time (and with all due respect to my high school jazz band teacher, Jackie Thomas, who, I swear, talked this way all the time because he was time warped in the 60's), "Cool, man, it was a monster, crazy!"

Affairs of network politics are not my thing. To be sure, Dave doesn't need Jay's Tonight Show, and why would he want it--it's (insert remarkably crude phrase most guys learned as teenagers when wondering whether or not to ask a girl out who had previously been involved with someone else). He had earned Johnny's Tonight Show, and it was denied him. But make no mistake, NBC screwed him, and you always got the sense that they did it to Johnny, too.

Ironically, the man who would be king of late night has been able to do with his successor, Conan, what was denied the true King of late night - name an heir.

I grew up with Johnny Carson, as we all did - and my rebellious side was honed on the work of Letterman. Much has been said of Johnny's career. I can't think of him without thinking of my grandparents. When I'd stay with them, there was no greater treat than to be able to stay up at least for Johnny's monologue, enjoy some popcorn and a Diet Rite, and listen to my grandfather laugh. I mean, good belly laughs (and he had quite a belly). Anything that could make him do something I never saw him do, must be magic, and I wanted in to share the moment with him.

Dave came later for me. His late night show premiered at the start of my senior year in high school. It was so different. So fresh. Dave was the "anti-Johnny," only being Johnny was all he ever aspired to. Throughout his tenure at NBC, and then in the move to CBS, there was always an implict appreciation given to the art of television and for the pioneering work of those who'd gone before in that medium.

With Jay, you've got a standup comic who's really never been more than that. There's nothing wrong with standup. I love it. It's just that standup is what happens during a show. It isn't THE show. As a guy who comes from behind the curtain and does six minutes of primo material, Jay was actually really good. You stretch that into an hour, it gets tired.

Dave's act has surely changed over the years. He doesn't come out from the behind the desk as much. He puts his other minions up to the physical comedy. I miss that from him. But a more acerbic wit you will not find, still.

His first program after the 9/11 attack was among the most powerful hours of television he's ever produced. A guy who makes a living making you laugh, talked openly about the absurdity of such a notion as the nation was in shock. There will be a time to laugh, but not now. So, he talked about what our lives, NYC, the nation endured.

Back in the day, folks fretted coming on his show because he was perceived as mean. What that was, I think, was an effort to keep folks honest. You never get the feeling that Dave's too "wowed" by Hollywood. So, if you show up on his show with attitude, your tail is his, and he won't have any trouble handing it to you on national television. But if you show up to have some fun and have a little humility, he'll make you look like a star at his expense.

A lesson he's learned, no doubt, from the master of the craft.