Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Altoona Mirror, May 20, 2015

If anyone's perspective on David Letterman is limited to the past 10 years or so, it's reasonable to wonder why his retirement is a big deal.
That same limited context might reduce Paul McCartney to a Kanye West collaborator who also did the insipid "Silly Love Songs" that radio plays too often.
Those who find significance in Letterman's departure from television know the role he's played in shaping late night talk shows over 33 years.
The funny thing is it all started at 11 o'clock in the morning. NBC gave Letterman a show in 1980 and wedged it into the daytime schedule. The network soon discovered that viewers wanted game shows at that hour. If they tolerated a talk show, it was a traditional and benign lovefest, like those hosted by Mike Douglas and Merv Griffin.
The experimental chaos of Letterman's morning show was a square peg that lasted just 19 weeks. But it earned Letterman a well-paid seat on NBC's bench while the network looked for a better fit.
That came in 1982 when "Late Night" debuted in the 12:30 a.m. slot after Johnny Carson's "Tonight Show." Then the fun started.
The limited guest pool led the Letterman staff to take chances. Howard Stern, then an afternoon DJ in New York, got his first national TV exposure on "Late Night." So did Dr. Ruth Westheimer, an elfin Jewish grandmother who giggled while offering sex advice on local radio. Andy Kaufman's weirdness found a home.
Brother Theodore, a bizarre Greenwich Village performance artist, was sometimes the lead guest. So was Harvey Pekar, a Cleveland file clerk who turned slices of his life into comic book narratives. People who did local cable access shows were invited. So was Alba Ballard, who made costumes for her parrots.
Letterman wore a coat and tie and smiled nicely, but there was always an edge. When actress Nastassja Kinski showed up with strangely vertical hair, he wouldn't let it go. "What happened there?" he finally asked her. A lottery jackpot winner who always wore a derby was a guest, leading Letterman to ask, "Now how does this work: Do they give you all the money at once, or just enough to buy the hat?"
The show literally had a different vibe. Carson's production company limited "Late Night" to four musicians, so Paul Shaffer was hired, then he recruited a few of the city's top session players, all of whom were fluent in Stax and Motown.
The real genius of "Late Night" was the "found" comedy. The studio and its surroundings became a playground for elevator races (called by Marv Albert and Bob Costas). Letterman wandered the halls and crashed the set of the local "Live at 5" news to interrupt or poach guests. Watching "Late Night" was like being in a secret club.
"More fun than humans should be allowed to have," Letterman liked to say. "Wake the kids and phone the neighbors."
He opened a window and used a bullhorn to order hot dogs from a sidewalk cart. He called the pay phones on Sixth Avenue to see who might answer. He struck up a phone friendship with a woman visible in an office across the street.
When they left the studio, they crushed things with a steamroller or dropped them off a five-story tower. A scan of the Yellow Pages led to remote shoots to find New York royalty -- businesses with names like Mattress King and Parking King, with Letterman usually asking if His Majesty was on the premises.
People brought their dogs in for "Stupid Pet Tricks." Viewer mail was answered weekly. Staffers and studio technicians became celebrities, none bigger than Chris Elliott, a former tour guide whose odd personas included The Panicky Guy, The Guy Under The Seats and Marlon Brando.
Actor Calvert DeForest became Larry "Bud" Melman, sort of an all-purpose mascot after he proved to be perpetually uncomfortable in front of live cameras.
The unsung hero of the early days was Merrill Markoe, who was Letterman's girlfriend and head writer. Letterman was never as funny as he was when Markoe was providing the ideas. Hunt down the "Late Night" clips on youtube for proof.
The show had an 11-year run on NBC. The network chose Jay Leno over Letterman as Carson's successor, which led to the 1993 move to CBS and 11:30, direct competition with "Tonight."
As the show became more mainstream, it became less interesting. Nobody can innovate forever. Letterman got older and became less engaged with the show. The monologue filled with redundancies. Letterman rarely left the studio, then even stopped leaving the stage, dropping the audience participation bits that highlighted his ability to ad lib.
His memorable moments at CBS came as a broadcaster rather than an entertainer -- returning to production after 9/11, coming back after heart bypass surgery, enjoying late-life fatherhood, and confessing to affairs with subordinates after an extortion plot made his indiscretions public.
There have been fewer reasons to wake the kids and phone the neighbors in recent years. Some guests still interested Letterman, and he did well with them. On the other hand, CBS kept sending in the stars of "The Big Bang Theory" and it was obvious Letterman has never seen the show.
Letterman retires just weeks after his 68th birthday. Late night is different now. It's not as much about doing a good show as it is producing clips that will go viral the next day.
Seth Meyers, who has the 12:30 show on NBC, recently did a piece where he was behind the scenes at Yankee Stadium, harassing the organist and taking over the public address system. It was the kind of thing Letterman would have done 30 years ago. Those don't work if the perpetrator is a senior citizen.
It seems like CBS is not unhappy with the change that will take place when Stephen Colbert takes over on Sept. 8. The switch should give them a chance to better compete with NBC's Jimmy Fallon, whose freakishly giddy style is posting killer ratings.
When Letterman does his last show on Wednesday night, it will end a late night lineage that started with Steve Allen, then continued with Jack Paar and Carson. All three were guests on Letterman's shows; all three are now gone.
It's a different TV universe, and it's definitely time for Letterman to pull the plug on his long run.
The show may seem mundane these days, but be assured there was a time when it really was more fun than humans should be allowed to have.
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John Mehno has followed David Letterman's TV career since the morning show and was part of the studio audience seven times -- three at NBC, three at CBS and an anniversary special at Radio City Music Hall).


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