All factions of my family were what we called
“40-hour-a-week families”, which means, you needed to work 40 hours a week in
order to make ends meet. That status
meant my sister and I normally rode the bus to my grandparents’ house from
school every day, sometimes meant that we spent the night if it was late, and
spent a whole lot of nights during the summer when school was out. My granddad worked second-shift (3pm-11pm) at
Steelcase from about 1977 until he retired.
When he got home sometime around 11:17 or so, we would be waiting
up. We’d make him a plate or a bowl of
whatever supper we’d had, and we’d watch The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson.
Watching Johnny Carson shows with my grandparents created
some of the most lasting memories of my childhood. Sometimes, when I get that faint flash that
triggers a moment – a one-liner, a name mentioned on the news, that theme music
- it literally stops me in my tracks, and I close my eyes and try to hold onto
it for a second. Just a second longer
with them, hearing my grandmother belly laugh at Buddy Hackett, or my granddad
say that “That Richard Pryor is one funny son of a bitch…”.
Then they’d go to bed after that hour of winding down after
work. But I was 10, and jazzed up. You
gotta be kidding, “go to bed”…I just watched the funniest thing ever! What a thing this was, television on late at
night…celebrities, music, people *standing there telling jokes*! I mean, holy cow – for me, I wanted
more. And I got it at 12:30.
If Carson was for me and my grandparents to watch together,
Letterman was something for just me. The
guy had a face for radio – and low and behold, that’s where he’d started! I played “DJ”…I looked funny…I was kind of a
clown, even at 10…and these people he had on, they were people I *knew* - Bill
Murray, Christopher Reeve, Siskel and Ebert...and the music from the band –
there was a drummer that had a mullet – and it was current music, not big band
swing - it was everything a budding sarcastic, movie-centric 10 year old girl
needed to be a hit the next day. And I
soaked it in like a sponge. I loved that
he’d give the camera these looks like – what the hell am *I* doing here?! Letterman was smug, and self-deprecating, and
he wore t-shirts with suits and ball socks for crying out loud…he threw pencils
at the camera! He threw TV’s off the top
of the building! He had a bit where a
guy lived under the audience! He had a
bit called “Network Time Killers”! He
had people doing nutty things and called it “Stupid Human Tricks”…I mean, who
calls the people “stupid”, and they still come on the show! Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. Subversive.
Brilliant. I would mock interview
myself in the mirror, appearing on Letterman…”yes, Dave – can I call you Dave?
– I am from Asheville, North Carolina”.
I grew up with that guy, staying up way too late for a 10-18
year old during the 4 nights a week that the first-run shows ran. To be honest, I’m not sure many people I knew
in high school watched Late Night with as much – appreciation- as I did.
Oh, I’m sure they liked it. But
the daily grind didn’t reflect it that much I guess. So I thought I might be the only one who got
the necessity of a personal daily Top-Ten list.
And maybe I wasn’t, but I don’t know.
Then I went to college. And there
were others. Other geeky looking,
late-night TV revering, kooky joke telling people. I found them at the radio station (well,
duh). And we all just sorta – knew. We knew the secret. There were microphones! We eventually all gravitated toward each
other, and created amazing things. One of those guys got a ticket to
Letterman’s first show on CBS – a rather large group of us were very, very
jealous. My buddy Matt and I did a morning radio show, 3 hours a day, 5 days a week from August through December of 1994 – and we were obviously shaped by everything David Letterman did. We did a top ten list (“Top Ten Good, Great, and Delicious Things About ‘The Appalachian’ – the ASU newspaper) and got some mean looks from the faculty advisor. We then mocked said faculty advisor by saying everything was “good, great and delicious” (something a non-profit station wasn’t supposed to say about things to keep from sounding like we were “promoting” them). Witty banter. Bits with guests doing impressions or characters. ALL ripped off from Letterman. Then, a few of my other Broadcasting friends approached the TV faculty advisor about doing a TV talk show. We all worked positions on other shows produced by the university – the stuff is already there – “give us a couple of hours during the week, and we’ll do it all ourselves – it’ll be good for us!” They pitched it as a “Letterman-style sit-down talk show, set in Matt’s dorm room, with guests sitting on his bed”. They were reluctant at first, but they agreed. So we did it, and it was awesome. Matt showing his movie soundtrack collection and one-liners about each one, lord-a-mighty a character called “Afro-Jack”, an unlikely fitness-video guru, cut-aways to audience members stunned faces…ALL ripped off from Letterman. We were a hit, and holy cow – High Country Cable in Boone decided to run it on their local public access cable channel. Good Lord. Don’t these people in charge of things talk to each other?! We’re troublemakers! Rabble-rousers!
It was, aside from the joys I have as a wife and mother now, the best time of my life.
I think I will just watch tomorrow night, alone, and say some private goodbyes. Probably shed just a few tears, mostly for the loss of his presence. He was there when I needed him most - in late hours for the beginning of my self formation, even later in hours of self reflection - and was likely the number one reason I went into that radio station the first chance I could. David Letterman is my TV hero, and I have a lot to thank him for. I’m sorry I never got the chance in person, but I will just mock-interview myself in the mirror later. Maybe that will suffice.
