The War for Late Night_ When Leno Went Early and Television Went Crazy - Bill Carter [86]
Zucker had assumed the job of chief executive of NBC Universal a year earlier, when Bob Wright retired. GE’s chairman, Jeff Immelt, had said at the time that NBC’s struggles had actually enhanced Zucker’s reputation with the board of directors. “The board and I particularly liked the way that Jeff has handled tough times,” Immelt explained. “He never got down. He always drove the company harder, inspired the team to do better.”
That was all well and good in 2007, before another year with the NBC network locked in the ratings cellar and before the best-laid late-night plan of 2004 for the seamless transition from Jay to Conan—all completely the inspiration and personal handiwork of Jeffrey Zucker, CEO—took a turn downhill and, in the nightmare scenario with Jay at ABC, headed for the edge of a ravine.
It was time to run another scenario by Jay.
Every three months or so Zucker was still making his pilgrimage out to the Burbank dungeon, shining up Jay as best he could, trotting out NBC’s latest version of an attractive alternative to hosting The Tonight Show.
He offered him the Bob Hope deal: permanent employment with the network, high-profile specials—maybe even a road named after him in Burbank. Jay didn’t even think twice. A few times on TV a year, after being on every weeknight? Not happening.
Zucker came back a short time later with what seemed like a more promising solution: a big show every Sunday night, in prime time or maybe in late night, like his own version of SNL—but with a different S.
“Once a week is death,” Jay said. Not only would every good topical joke have been done on the other shows all week—anathema to Leno—but the process of making that kind of show would have made him go boing like an overwound watch.
“The idea is you write jokes literally until it’s pencils down,” Jay said. “If you do it once a week, then you’re writing jokes twenty-four hours a day and you go batty. And every time you put your pencil down you feel incredibly guilty that you’re not doing a joke. It has to be every day.” For one thing the forced regularity of jokes delivered daily relieved some of the pressure to perform on some extraordinary level. “It’s a little like a newspaper versus a magazine,” Leno explained. “Your standard doesn’t have to be quite as high when you write a story every single day.”
The answer really boiled down to what it had always boiled down to: “I tell jokes at eleven thirty at night—every night.”
Back in his New York office, Zucker continued to play a game of Rubik’s Cube with the parts of the NBC Universal empire, looking for the key that would make the colors line up for Jay. There had to be a way, without reaching all the way to the bottom for that last trick in his bag. He was holding out as long as he could, hoping he would never have to unload that one.
Zucker wasn’t surprised the first time the whispers circulating around the corners of NBCʹs Rock Center executive suite reached him—with no names attached. Would NBC consider, for even half a second, the outrageous? Pay off Conan, wish him well, and keep Jay? That was not the last trick in Zucker’s bag; and for many reasons—at least 45 million of them—he didn’t waste any time responding to the rumors.
On his next trip west, Zucker tried to address Jay’s baseline concern of telling jokes every night in late night. He offered him a real weeknight late-night show—on cable TV. Jay could have a traditional comedy talk show on the USA Network (owned by NBC Universal, of course), which had the biggest audience in all