The War for Late Night_ When Leno Went Early and Television Went Crazy - Bill Carter [175]
In the war room Conan’s team divided up the press contacts, strategizing how best to get Conan’s message out. Polone was unrelentingly aggressive in pushing to plant attack stories against NBC. He also pronounced from the first meeting that they would win a settlement with the network. “We are going to get a lot here,” Polone told the others. “We are going to get everything we want.”
Polone had spent his entire career haggling over contractual details. He didn’t really care what impact his outspoken style might have on negotiations. It was just something he had to do. This did not come as any secret to the NBC side, which regarded Polone as a bomb thrower from the start. If Zucker’s feisty but warm relationship with Ari Emanuel and the overall intelligence of a classy agent like Rick Rosen encouraged the NBC side to believe they might win Conan over, the presence of Polone struck them as the unstable explosive element in that mix.
Friday evening, after Conan wrapped his show for the night, he joined his support group in the conference room. One crucial element remained unclear to him: How much flexibility did he even have with this contract? NBC had put out the argument that nothing in Conan’s deal prevented them from taking this step. On the face of it, that was true, at least to the extent that the deal he signed to host The Tonight Show had no specific language that included time-period protection. But the legal side was examining that issue more closely.
As he and his team discussed it that evening, Conan found himself trying to see if he could slip that 12:05 suit on. What would it feel like? He figured he had time to let the notion marinate; NBC had assured him nothing was imminent. He could ponder his options without pressure.
As the group was breaking for the night, Rick Rosen asked Jeff Ross if he wanted to grab some dinner. They took themselves to the Brentwood Restaurant and Lounge on South Barrington in Brentwood Village. Neither man was much of a drinker, but the last two days had left them both fried to cinders. So Rick ordered a vodka. Jeff began doing tequila shots. They ordered dinner, started to mellow out.
Just before nine p.m. Rosen’s cell rang. He checked the readout: restricted number. Rick had a loose rule not to answer his cell when he didn’t know who was on the line, but things were so fluid he decided he had better pick this one up.
“Hello, Richard,” a voice said. Jeff Zucker often used the formal first name affectionately when he greeted someone. After some pleasantries Zucker asked how everyone was doing.
“Not good,” Rosen said
“Well, have you seen tomorrow’s New York Times yet?” Zucker asked. “Let me read you something.” He proceeded to share an update on the Conan situation, already available online, which included a reference to overt interest in Conan from the Fox network, expressed by an unnamed executive, as well as an assertion from representatives of Conan that the star had not accepted NBCʹs plan and was not likely to anytime in the near future.
“Let me explain something to you,” Zucker said. “I want a fucking answer from you. If you think you are going to play me in the press, you’ve got the wrong guy. You’re a representative of Conan O’Brien, aren’t you? And you’re talking to the press?”
“I haven’t spoken to The Times at all,” Rosen replied, getting a bit heated himself. “I didn’t make this comment.”
“Well, I guess we know who did, don’t we?” Zucker replied, not quite saying the name Gavin Polone. “I want an answer from Conan and I want an answer quickly. You know I have the ability to pay him or play him, and I could ice him for two years.”
Rosen chose to ignore that little shot across his nose.
“Well, Jeff,” Rosen said, “we’re going to give you an answer when we have thought about it. If you want an emotional answer, I’ll give you an answer now. If you want the answer after we’ve thought about it and