The War for Late Night_ When Leno Went Early and Television Went Crazy - Bill Carter [7]
Williams, freshly turned fifty but still youthful looking with his close-cropped hair and lean frame, walked out and greeted the crowd, promising them a fun night with the great lineup that NBC had assembled. He mentioned the big names, leaving out Seinfeld, who was the evening’s surprise. Then he got right to business. One of the men this night was all about, he announced, was the guy about to take his place beside the names of Allen, Paar, Carson, and Leno on the shortest of short lists in television’s pantheon, the next great host of The Tonight Show: Conan O’Brien.
With his long-legged, loping stride, O’Brien took center stage to warm, enthusiastic applause. Conan, now forty-six years old (like Letterman, Leno, and Seinfeld, his birthday was in April), fit and relaxed in an unbuttoned blue suit, his pompadour of red hair adding even a couple more inches to his six-foot-four height, loomed high above the fans clapping for him in the orchestra seats. After a few thank-yous and a little salute to the Roots—“an amazing band”—Conan settled into his routine, beginning almost conversationally:
“As you know, folks, I’ve been very busy out in Los Angeles preparing for the June first premiere of The Tonight Show. I have just thirteen days left,” he said, his voice starting to rise, adding a note of mock exasperation. “I don’t have a second to spare. But I definitely wanted to fly across the country and be here tonight for one very important reason. . . .” He took a beat, maybe half a second, setting the fuse.
“I wanted the chance—just once—to go on before Jay Leno!”
The laughter rolled down from the balcony and through the orchestra, hitting a crescendo before igniting spontaneous applause. It was a full ten-second laugh, one born of the audience’s awareness of just what the ten p.m. relocation of Leno meant for O’Brien. It was a joke crafted with precision for the occasion—and it killed.
“It feels real good,” Conan said, extending the joke. Then he shifted into his ultra-high-pitched mock Jay voice for a little coda: “He went, ‘Uh, what’s he talking about?’ ” And Conan was rewarded with a rebound laugh almost as long as the original.
O’Brien let that settle before moving on. “It’s great to be here, ladies and gentlemen, seriously. I am so proud to work at NBC, one of the world’s oldest and most respected”—pause—“nonprofit organizations.” (Another appreciative laugh.) “Of course the theme of tonight’s event is the history of comedy on NBC. So once we get to 1998, feel free to take off.” The lower register of the laughs that greeted this shot included a chorus of ooohs at O’Brien’s brazen evocation of his network’s futility since that year.
Feigning nervousness after launching that grenade, Conan scanned the front rows. “Where’s Zucker?” he asked, knowing exactly where the smiling NBC boss was sitting. “Oh, this is going well,” Conan said, shifting into his Ernst Stavro Blofeld impression, with pinched-in face, beady eyes, and, of course, imaginary cat in his lap. “Petting the white cat,” Conan said in his evil genius voice. “Get him off! Get him off! He’s being mean to me!”
In total command of the audience, Conan did about an eight-minute-long monologue, with steady laughs throughout. He had hit only notes that would resonate most effectively with this particular audience—and it paid off for him. He was bathed in applause as he wrapped up. Then NBC allowed him to serve as the introducer of the night’s “surprise guest,” a man Conan described as “one of the pillars” of the NBC comedy tradition, as well as “one of the best things ever to happen to NBC.”
That was Jerry Seinfeld, of course, and the audience was appropriately surprised—and thrilled—to see him. Jerry, looking sharp if slightly older (he had just turned fifty-five) than in his sitcom days, with a thinner thatch of hair and a couple of extra pounds, delivered his five sparkling minutes in a routine about the peccadilloes of married life. The centerpiece was his version of marital discussions that take on the flavor of “a game show where you’re always in the lightning