The Chris Moeller Archives

Johnny Carson 1925-2005

Johnny Carson was the coolest guy on the planet. He was the entertainment giant of my childhood, a dominant cultural influence, an iconic character, a grandparent of sorts. Nightly television lends itself to feelings of comfort and familiarity more than any other part of our popular culture, and Carson was there almost every night.

The first family trip that I remember taking was to southern Texas in 1979 or 1980. I was 4 or 5 years old. At that time, Grandpa and Grandma spent their winters near Brownsville aboard an Airstream motor home. They didn't have room for the whole family to stay with them so we slept in the nearby Airstream of friends. My brother and I were shown to our bedroom by our parents. We turned the dial on a tiny black and white television, and there was Johnny coming out from behind that unusual striped curtain to the strains of that iconic theme song. At home, he was still just a face on television-- not as interesting as Bugs Bunny or the Muppets. But that night, after an evening with Grandpa and Grandma's retired friends and no other kids around, I watched Johnny Carson, the premier television talent of their generation, for the first time in my memory. For some reason, I've always remembered that flickering image of Johnny's "Tonight Show" on that tiny black and white box.

Letterman was God the Son, but Carson was God the Father. He was the comic in the culture. The news was dry and boring to a kid. Carson made it fun. He made you laugh. He was a portal to adult ideas and adult conversation. On the nightly news, President Reagan was the guy next to the helicopter, waving and cupping his ear, under Dan Rather's voice. On Carson, Reagan was a character. He was Carson with a wig and red makeup on his cheeks. It had more honesty.

In adolescence, as he was that night in the Airstream, Johnny would become the personification of "vacation." If you were watching Johnny, that meant you had been allowed to stay up late, and Dad, to my eternal indebtedness, let us stay up late quite frequently. We watched Johnny mostly on Friday nights, during Christmas break, and then all summer long. He was Act One of Two each night. We settled in with Johnny before Dave. Dad showered and went to bed during the late local news, but Aaron and I stayed up several hours later, shaping our cultural identities.

Johnny was on our Sylvania TV the night Steve Martin brought a blanket and popcorn and watched the clip of his latest film on Johnny's couch. He was on the Sony the night Judge Wapner came by the show to settle a small claims suit brought by David Letterman against Johnny for having his ugly truck towed, or "stolen," from a Malibu street. He was on the night George Preston appeared to talk about his Lincoln Highway gift shop in nearby Belle Plaine, Iowa, and kept banging his hand down on Johnny's desk to punctuate his point. Before long, the studio audience was clapping along in unison with the elderly man still oblivious and Johnny trying to keep from breaking up. He was on when Jimmy Stewart would read his poetry, and when Garry Shandling would perform his stand-up act, sending my brother and me into fits of hysterics.

Often, Johnny was just "background" while Aaron and I played APBA, the legendary baseball board game. But he was ALWAYS on. I didn't watch an episode of Ted Koppel's "Nightline" until I was a sophomore in college. As of 2005, I couldn't even tell you what our local CBS affiliate was airing opposite Carson during those years. In high school, the party show was "Letterman" or "Saturday Night Live," but we always watched and respected Johnny too because Dave respected Johnny, and because we were each assessing our departing childhood for the first time and we recognized that the Iowa-born entertainer had been a large part of it.

To this day, I have Johnny's last 11 shows on videotape. He wrapped up the run of his show to enormous press attention in 1992 after 30 years on the air. So many tremendous guests came on to say good-bye in those final few weeks-- Bob Hope, George Burns, Clint Eastwood, Dave, Elizabeth Taylor, Bob Newhart, Liv Ullmann, Shandling, Teri Garr, Martin Short, Robin Williams, Mel Brooks and Tony Bennett (who had both appeared on the first show,) and, of course, there was that now-immortal appearance by Bette Midler, which today stands as the historic peak of the television medium. Johnny's goodbye was the greatest exclamation point ever put on a show business career, and Carson knew better than to tinker with it after his retirement.

Johnny was cool because he understood the concept of showmanship. He was grounded by a modest Midwestern upbringing. He generously gave the spotlight to his talented guests. If they looked good, he knew that that made him look good. He exuded class. He dressed well. He was polite and courteous, which seemed to make him universally beloved by old ladies. He was the last man in our popular culture that could get away with winking. He appeared on television as only mostly harmless because of his slightly devilish smile. In it was the hint of boyish mischief, and it allowed him to bridge the generational gaps during a period of enormous cultural change in America. Johnny was sweet, funny, and enormously entertaining. I hope to be just like him when I grow up.

posted by CM @ 6:35 PM