The War for Late Night_ When Leno Went Early and Television Went Crazy - Bill Carter [94]
“I couldn’t insult Conan that way,” Jay said, in explaining how he had declined the Letterman bookers. But he made certain they knew he would love to do it any another time, when the damage to Conan—and the chances of igniting a PR backlash against himself—would be dissipated. After all, it looked as though he would be off television for months.
On October 18, 2008, NBC seized the attention of the nation with the biggest edition of Saturday Night Live in fourteen years: a guest appearance by vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin, with Tina Fey on hand to perform her devastating impression of Palin. The show would attract 17 million viewers, a stunning number, far more than all but a few of the prime-time shows on all of television that week—or any week.
For an event of that magnitude, Jeff Zucker had to be a presence. He would often turn up backstage during the live broadcasts on Saturday night because of his close friendship with Lorne Michaels. For Zucker it was a fun diversion just to sit in on the production of a live show. But this was more like a command appearance. The event had national significance.
Many of NBCʹs top executives, some in from the West Coast, circulated in the long hallway that led back from Studio 8H. With security forces, Palin handlers, and VIP guests everywhere, the atmosphere crackled with tension and excitement. Zucker, however, floated through the scene with aplomb, greeting people, talking about the expectations for Palin’s appearance, acting the part of host. Shortly before the countdown to the live show, when Zucker intended to repair to his natural habitat, the control room, he gathered a few select executives for a private, hushed conversation.
“Don’t tell anyone this,” Zucker told the little group. “But Jay’s interested in ten o’clock—and we think we’re going to be able to make a deal.”
His listeners had to restrain their surprise. To one it seemed near incredible, virtually a 180 from what they had been hearing to that point: that Jay wouldn’t do prime time; that he wouldn’t know how to take on the cops or Dr. McDreamy or whoever else the other networks would throw at him.
Zucker seemed more than positive; he almost oozed self-satisfaction. But he repeated his warning. “We have to stay quiet about this until it’s done.”
Staying quiet clearly meant keeping this news to the tight circle Zucker had just informed—and not, say, leaking word to anyone connected to Conan O’Brien. No one was surprised by that stricture. They all knew there was reason to have concern about how Conan would react. But the deal had not been completed. Everyone in television knew of endless numbers of occasions when agreements hatched behind closed doors never came to fruition.
For Zucker, holding off on informing Conan of his intentions only made sense. This was his final play with Jay. Why disrupt Conan if, in the end, nothing would come of it?
Zucker had made his pilgrimage to Burbank several more times, armed with new research from Alan Wurtzel. Jay did not embrace even this idea without initial resistance. “I don’t need phony research,” Jay first told Zucker. “I have research that shows I was number one since 1994. My research shows over a billion dollars in sales.”
But over the course of several meetings, Zucker had been able to make an impression. The ten p.m. hour had become the place where dramas went to die, he argued. ABC kept shoveling show after show into ten p.m. holes—October Road, Cashmere Mafia, Big Shots, Eli Stone, Life on Mars, and on and on—succeeding only