The War for Late Night_ When Leno Went Early and Television Went Crazy - Bill Carter [185]
So it has come to this: I cannot express in words how much I enjoy hosting this program and what an enormous personal disappointment it is for me to consider losing it. My staff and I have worked unbelievably hard and we are very proud of our contribution to the legacy of The Tonight Show. But I cannot participate in what I honestly believe is its destruction. Some people will make the argument that with DVRs and the Internet a time slot doesn’t matter. But with the Tonight Show, I believe nothing could matter more.
There has been speculation about my going to another network but, to set the record straight, I currently have no other offer and honestly have no idea what happens next. My hope is that NBC and I can resolve this quickly so that my staff, crew, and I can do a show we can be proud of, for a company that values our work.
Have a great day and, for the record, I am truly sorry about my hair; it’s always been that way.
Yours,
Conan
Rick Ludwin and Nick Bernstein saw the statement just before they arrived at the Tonight offices for their desperation pitch to Conan. After reading it they turned around and returned to Burbank.
Right at noon, as the statement hit the official release time, Rick Rosen called Jeff Zucker. “I just want to let you know Conan’s releasing a statement now, and we believe you are in breach of your contract. We’re sending an e-mail to Marc requesting a meeting and—”
Zucker interrupted. “What does he want?”
“What he wants is The Tonight Show at eleven thirty.”
“Well, that’s not fucking going to happen,” Zucker said, not really fractious so much as irritated at how rushed—and public—this affair had suddenly become. “So what does he really want? Money? He wants money.”
“He wants what he bargained for, which is The Tonight Show at eleven thirty,” Rosen repeated.
“Not going to happen,” Zucker said again. “This is not what he wants. This is what Patty Glaser is telling you to say.”
The conversation got nowhere. Rosen said he’d wait for NBC to set up a meeting to discuss the details.
When Marc Graboff heard Zucker’s version of the conversation, it still seemed to him that Zucker made Rosen sound reluctant about this news. Not that it mattered. In the light of Conan’s statement, the die seemed cast.
That was certainly Jeff Gaspin’s view as well. The letter read like a shot across NBCʹs bow and Conan was making NBC look like the bad guys and total idiots. The game had changed. Gaspin had continued to hope for another private meeting with Conan, where the star might have been able to say the things he had in the letter and let them all think about it calmly. He had been prepared to tell Conan: “Look—let’s forget about what’s going on in the press. Let’s just keep going. Just stay the course; do your show. Nothing changes until March 1. We have between now and then to figure this out, and if you don’t want to do it, we can negotiate a settlement. But find a nice way to do it, a way to leave that you are comfortable with. Let’s find something together.”
But the “People of Earth” letter—the manifesto, as NBC came to call it—changed the tone. This wasn’t just Conan saying no; it was Conan saying no, and you’re wrong, and, by the way, go fuck yourselves.
Both Graboff and Gaspin read the statement to mean that Conan was out and out quitting, especially the part about getting the situation resolved and doing a show for a company that “values our work.” When he called Rosen to set