The War for Late Night_ When Leno Went Early and Television Went Crazy - Bill Carter [38]
Michaels had a keen feel for the psychology of talent, and he recognized that indefinable urge in talent to move on even when nothing specific was impelling them to do so. Still, he implored Conan to stay; he loved the guy’s writing. Conan didn’t offer any ultimatums, such as insisting that he be added to the cast, because he still knew that was not right for him. What was right, he still couldn’t say. But he parted with Michaels on excellent terms and pondered his next move. He had some money because he rarely spent any, so he decided to hit the road.
Not long after word got out that he had left SNL, Conan got a call from Al Jean. Like many young comedy types, O’Brien had been bowled over by the early years of The Simpsons on Fox. He was keenly aware of Jean not only as a famed Lampoon alum, but also as one of the top Simpsons writers. Jean, who had just taken over as show runner, was, in turn, well aware of Conan’s reputation on SNL and invited him to take one of the rare slots that had opened up on the writing staff. Not having done that kind of formal scriptwriting before, Conan temporized for a moment, but this was The Simpsons, after all, and he had to give it a shot.
Soon fans of the show, who were acute observers of even its smallest details (trained, as they had been, to look for the most subtle sight gags and throwaway lines), began to notice that some of the episodes they were enjoying most bore a writer’s credit with the odd name of Conan O’Brien. Conan soon had gained a reputation as a spinner of gold, never more so than in his script for “Marge vs. the Monorail,” an elaborate gag-filled quasi-takeoff on The Music Man, always cited by fans and critics as one of the classic episodes in the show’s long history.
Thanks to his impressive work on The Simpsons, Conan’s name circulated around Hollywood studios as potentially the next great creator of sitcoms. His manager (and Greg Daniels’s) at the time, Howard Klein, called to tell him that the Fox production studio Twentieth Television was beating down his door to sign Conan to an overall deal as a writer. (Studios secured hot writers by committing them to deals in which they would be paid simply to sit in a room and develop ideas for shows.) Conan suggested that he and Klein meet to discuss the offer.
In the meantime, hanging out with Lisa Kudrow, who was beginning to land parts in shows like Mad About You, Conan only felt the tug to perform ever stronger. He found himself getting edgy, angry even, at the prospect of restricting himself to writing. Kudrow suggested they might do some kind of Nichols and May improv act together, but then the Groundlings called with an offer to bring a bunch of alums together for a special show, people who had been associated with the troupe in some way. Conan qualified because he had finally taken some classes with them and at one point had been on track to get into the company. He enthusiastically signed on.
The show was impromptu and nerve-racking, because he had never really performed improv on a big stage before. But Conan loved it extravagantly. That night “the nickel dropped” for him. He realized he would rather make no money at all doing this than make several hundred thousand a year working as a Simpsons writer.
When OʹBrien had his meeting with Howard Klein, he decided to reveal to his manager what he had really been thinking about for a long time. “I really don’t think I want to sign myself up to a long-term thing as a sitcom writer,” Conan told him. “I think I need to start performing.”
It seemed to Conan that the mere mention of that word caused Klein’s face to fog over. And after some hemming