The Rolling Stone interviews - Jann Wenner [140]
But as with most aspects of his career, he did this retiring thing at the right time, the right way. And I look at the mess I’m in now, and I think [as Dumb Guy], “What the hell am I gonna do now?” I have no clue. But Carson just figures it out and carries it off with great skill, grace and aplomb.
One week before he retired, you went on ‘The Tonight Show.’ At the end of the program, you said to him, “Thanks for my career.”
I knew at the time it might have sounded flip, but it’s certainly the case. He’s the only reason I’m here. There have been a lot of people in my life who have been very helpful to me and have really done me favors and helped me in ways I’ll never be able to repay. But if there’s one person to whom I owe the most, it has to be him.
If you’d gotten ‘The Tonight Show,’ would you have dared—as did Leno—to go on the Monday following Carson’s final Friday? Isn’t that a no-win scenario?
No, if the circumstances had been different—by which I mean, if they’d given me the job! [laughs]—sure, I would have done it. This is not to demean what Jay accomplished, but were it I that night, it would have been handled much differently. Because you can’t just turn off over one weekend that six-month period of genuine emotion and interest and care and concern. You have to address that, and I would have done it. Now you could be criticized for trying to make yourself look good by kissing up to Johnny. But there was so much positive feeling about this man that it would have been hard to make too big a mistake there. I’m confident that we would have done a really nice job for that first show. Now, I’m not saying the rest of the week would have been anything. It would have sped downhill immediately.
Some of your former writers are working on ‘The Larry Sanders Show,’ a great neurotic satire of talk-show life. Does this suggest that you are the real Larry Sanders?
Every time I watch that show I think: “Hey, wait a minute! That’s me!” But I don’t know if it really is me or if they have the talk-show machine so well assessed that it looks like me. During almost every episode I think, “Boy, didn’t that happen here once?” They’ve all had an eerie effect on me.
You’re famously brutal about your own performance. For instance, your recent session with Walter Cronkite—while genial to the naked eye—left you greatly unhinged.
I really felt like I had screwed that up, because I was just overwhelmed by the guy. He sits down and you think, “Oh, my God, it’s Walter Cronkite!” So I just yammered all over him and just fumbled it.
Your post-show drill, then, is to come back to your office and review the tape, dwelling on the mishaps?
I have my own little ritual, yeah. But I should. If you’ve got men on base and you can’t drive them in, how come you’re getting major-league money? That’s the point. At this stage, I ought to be able to do a better job. I just felt that not only did I let the show down, I let Walter Cronkite down and I let myself down.
But do you recognize you’re being hard on yourself —
No! No! Why let yourself off the hook? If I fucked it up, I fucked it up. So obviously you come back the next day and try it again. Fortunately, we had Marv Albert on and got right to his blooper reel. Smooth sailing!
Do you buy the notion that awkward TV is good TV?
Yeah, if it doesn’t involve you—absolutely.
To a certain degree, if a guest brings out visible discomfort in you, it’s actually kind of entertaining.
I’ve heard people tell me that many, many, many times. And I guess if you provide yourself the luxury of some distance and a little objectivity, that couldn’t be more accurate. But at the time, you just think the studio is filling up with room-temperature saliva.
Pee-wee Herman was that