Wednesday, September 26, 2001
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Wednesday, September 26, 2001 |
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Growing up Late Night By BILLY MURPHY When I was in the ninth grade, I had a fight with my mother. Though it was the 70s, the fight was not over my misplaced mood ring. I simply fought her every night over staying up to watch "The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson." Finally, she relented and struck this deal with me: I could stay up and watch Johnny Carson on school nights, but the first morning she had trouble getting me out of bed, the deal was off. I graduated from high school without missing another episode. Too bad colleges don't give advanced degrees in Late Night TVology because I have the required hours for my Ph.D. It was not only Johnny Carson. My senior year in college, the same year David Letterman began his NBC show, I chose a roommate simply on the basis that he owned a TV set. My former roommate had graduated, thus with seniority I was given first choice of prospective incoming students. I asked the dean of students if he could find one that was bringing a television, preferably a 25-inch. Growing up horizontally, lying watching Carnac and Aunt Blabby and the rest of the Mighty Carson Art Players, I was in heaven. The weight of the world was lifted from my mind... when I could hear it. My family snored. My family snored loud. There were seven of us and we lived in a small, 1,000-square-foot house with 7-foot ceilings. Thus, when 2 parents and the remaining 4 kids were snoring, I could hardly hear the TV. I would have to a lay on the floor within inches of the screen. It wasn't til the waning years at home that I got to watch Carson in color. My dad had thought color TVs were a fad (like microwave ovens later). The show was hosted by an always impeccably-dressed Carson. And Carson never wore a suit; always a sportcoat with matching tie and slacks. Letterman, master of the anti-talk show, the simulated late night show was the master of non-fashion. No matter what the fashion trend, Letterman always seemed to look as comfortable in his clothes or hair (or his skin for that matter) as your 300-lb. Aunt Myrtle in a girdle. When it comes to Jay Leno, or Emperor Chin as I call him, I don't recognize him as a real, late night talk show host. Though I have watched his show for the guests that frequent his couch, everything about his show & persona seems forced. A good stand-up comic does not a talk show host make (See also, Roseanne, Jenny Jones, Howie Mandel, Joan River, Arsenio Hall, et. al.). But even Jay is better than sleep. Since Johnny Carson has long retired, David Letterman has become the king. I only hope I am as half as productive after the first of my many scheduled bypass surgeries. Conan O'Brien easily is the the clown prince of the late show air waves. I wonder what the future brings, who the next Johnny Carson will be. It would be only fitting of me to say that there will never be another and that "they don,Äôt make them like they used to." Because, at my age, what do I have left to hold on to, except nostalgia for my past? [Visit Billy Murphy on the Internet at http://ebilly.net.]
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