BEHIND THE CURTAIN BEHIND THE CURTAIN BEHIND THE CURTAIN (24 page)

Chapter Thirteen

The Audience

Jay wanted to keep his studio audience happy, and it wasn’t just because he was a nice guy. He believed they and the viewers at home were as essential to the program’s success as the guests, the band, and even Jay himself.

To David Letterman
, the audience doesn’t seem as important because he sees himself as a comedic artist. Letterman
’s show pages go out of their way to make sure the audience is packed with fans who will laugh on cue. However, David
isn’t playing to them because he believes he is producing art. Or at least, that’s his public persona.

Audience members had an important role at both shows, but the audience experience was as different as the hosts themselves. People who attended both told me
that
The Tonight Show
treated them like guests while
Late Show
regarded them as groupies and even encouraged them to act that way. People had to stand in line outside for several hours at both shows, which was never any fun. At
Tonight’s
Studio 11 in Burbank, all were made to feel welcome. By contrast, at Letterman
’s Ed Sullivan Theatre in New York, prospective audience members can only be there if they’ve passed a test. According to
The Late Show’s
website, “a ticket will only be issued to those individuals who correctly answer a random trivia question about the show.”

Those who get into Letterman’s studio are told they are welcome, but they are not an essential part of the show, as audience sounds could easily be dubbed in. Nevertheless, they are expected to laugh loudly and often because they will be witnessing a rare comedic talent, Or as the Letterman website puts it, “there is no off position on the genius switch.”

Just before Letterman
’s show begins, a staffer conducts a briefing on how the show works and what is expected of the
audience—which is to laugh, or else. Pages closely monitor the
audience throughout the recording, issuing frequent reminders to jump up and clap often. One person told me a page
warned him to applaud with more energy. When he didn’t, he
was moved to another seat out of camera range, presumably where Letterman
couldn’t see him. David
is reported to be cold and
distant during the commercial breaks, leaving his guests alone
at the panel while he retreats to a corner at the back of the stage, where he stands with his arms crossed.

At Studio 11 in Burbank, a comedian warmed up the crowd before the show with some amazing physical antics and bits. Most recently this was the job of the talented Don Reed. I watched his routine many times, and his approach cut a stark contrast to Letterman’s somber pre-show directives. Don put Jay’s audience in the right frame of mind, but his act was also stand-alone funny. He described it this way to the
San Francisco Chronicle
: “I really try to make them laugh and feel uplifted. I feel if you don’t make the audience genuinely laugh, you’re not starting the engine correctly.”

Don was joined every night by Jay, who came out in his denim shirt and jeans. It was a much more informal time than the show, and people were able to see how quick-witted Jay could be without scripts or cue cards. Many told me the pre-show was the best part of their experience, and I could understand why. Jay would tell a few jokes, answer questions, and even invite a few lucky audience members on stage for a photo op. He would start with the perfunctory, “What’s your name? Where are you from?” He then always had a joke ready tailored to the person who came up.

To a group of young, attractive women:

Jay: So did they tell you how these photos work?

Women: No.

Jay: Okay, well, there might be some partial nudity required.

To a young man:

Jay: So what do you do?

Man: I’m an actor.

Jay: Ah, so you live with your parents.

When the show started, Don would continue to be a strong, positive presence from the sidelines, encouraging the audience to be enthusiastic, throwing out show merchandise to the studio fans. During commercial breaks, Jay would banter with his guests onstage or prepare for his next segment.
Occasionally, he would wander into the audience to greet fans.

Jay thought of the studio audience as customers, and customers were always right. If they weren’t laughing at the comedy, then it wasn’t funny—literally. Jay could tell the greatest jokes in the world—by his standards. But if people didn’t react, it didn’t matter. The material bombed, as far as Jay was
concerned.

If a joke fell flat and Jay couldn’t save it with a comeback, it was often edited out before the show was aired. If a pre-recorded comedy sketch was dying in the studio, it was shortened or even taken out altogether. Guests who droned on with boring stories were probably not blathering as long during the actual broadcast.

Jay never assumed his audience wasn’t bright or hip enough to understand his material. He knew people were busy leading their own lives and not always aware of the latest news, the source of his topical humor. Jay described it this way to the
New York Times Magazine
: “You really have to put yourself in the place of the people in the audience. . . . If I see someone who’s not laughing, my instinct isn’t to get annoyed—it’s to figure out why they don’t understand.”

His emphasis on the audience paid off handsomely. Not only did he bring in the numbers, but for many years his show was also the most profitable one on television, taking in 15 percent of NBC profits.

But according to Rob Burnett, David Letterman’s
one-time executive producer and former head writer, Jay was no David
. Burnett dismissed Jay as a mere “wrestler” (Jay once participated in a World Wrestling Federation match as a stunt) and told the
New York Times’
Bill Carter: “There are two parts to the so-called late-night war. One is: Who’s the best? That part of the war is over. Dave won.”

As for the other part, Burnett long contended that Leno beat Letterman in the ratings only because he had more viewers leading into his show than Letterman did. In the 90s, NBC had stronger network programs from 10 p.m. to 11 p.m., especially on Thursdays when
E.R.
aired.

Of course, NBC’s ratings dynasty came to an inglorious end years ago. Meanwhile, CBS prime time has climbed to the number-one spot, giving Letterman those lucky lead-ins. Still, Burnett insisted that, despite CBS’s ratings dominance, NBC affiliates drew more viewers to their 11 p.m. newscasts than CBS affiliates, giving Jay the edge. And when NBC started airing Sunday Night Football in 2006, it attracted a larger male audience than CBS on that one night during the football season. According to Burnett, that somehow gave Jay the upper hand in lead-ins over Letterman for the rest of the week.

If you ask me, when you insist that your guy is an artist, as Burnett did, you have to let the art speak for itself and let the chips fall where they may. You can’t obsess over viewership when your own host acts as if he’s above it.

I think David’s too-cool-for-the-room attitude comes through to viewers. Dave Hinckley of New York’s
Daily News
put it this way: “Not everybody likes Dave. Not even close. Not only does the CBS
Late Show with David Letterman
draw fewer viewers than Jay Leno’s
The Tonight Show
over on NBC, but in any random group of 100 TV viewers, several dozen will say they just don’t like Dave.”

Jay believed pleasing his audience was part of his job. He would advise young actors to be accommodating to their adoring fans even if they weren’t in the mood. “People don’t realize you’re just having a bad day,” he’d say. “Once they hate you, they will hate you forever.”

Being nice to fans comes naturally to Jay, though it also makes good sense. To him, show business is as much about the business as the show, and his primary job was to deliver more demographically correct viewers to the advertisers than Letterman did. Art had nothing to do with it.

Still, ratings were often
The Tonight Show’s
only validation. Neither critics nor Emmy judges ever liked it.
Tonight
received one non-technical Emmy in 1995 for Best Variety Show, while Letterman’s
Late Show
has garnered nine wins from countless nominations. Nielsen doesn’t consult with the Emmys, the press, or the critics when it tabulates ratings, and that’s why I believe Nielsen, with its pulse on the people, is the only judge that counts.

The media has always seen Letterman as the rightful heir to Johnny Carson because they think David’s humor is sophisticated, urbane, edgy, and unpredictable—and, therefore, inherently better. But critics speak from their points of view, not from that of the audience. They love the idea that you never know what David will do next, even though it’s often contrived for the sole purpose of self-promotion. For example, the media couldn’t wait to see what David would have to say about his emergency quintuple heart bypass surgery, his bout with shingles, or his wedding and the birth of his son. When David admitted to having sex with female staffers and being blackmailed, the media went into a tizzy.

David has dealt with these personal experiences by turning them into promotable events on his show, which has resulted in ratings gold. His revelation about his affairs boosted his viewership 38 percent in a week. Letterman does best when his show is about him rather than his written material and his guests. I have no problem with that, but I do take issue with critics and even industry executives who think his antics are comedic genius.

It’s ironic that David’s heavy reliance on contrived events represents the very antithesis of what his hero, Johnny Carson, was about. He became an icon because people genuinely liked him, not his stunts. That’s also why people preferred Jay. To me, the most memorable
Late Show
episodes come off like reality TV because they’ve been staged. I think that’s an insult to viewers, but the press tends to love those episodes.

The media bought into a sixteen-year “feud” between David and Oprah, despite the fact that it was obviously phony. It started when Oprah told
TIME
magazine in 2003 that she felt uncomfortable during two appearances on Letterman. That part was true, but David exaggerated what she said, and he openly taunted her on his show by saying she didn’t like him, which was just shtick. He was badgering her for no other reason than to create an issue, which he has also done to many other celebrities.

In February 2009, actor Joaquin Phoenix appeared on Letterman sporting a long, bushy, and unkempt beard. He appeared to be almost catatonic as he grunted a few monosyllabic responses to David’s questions. People thought Joaquin was serious, and the press bought into it, too. They thought it was a genuine train wreck. Except it wasn’t! To me, Joaquin’s performance wasn’t even believable. He appeared to be struggling to keep from laughing, as David looked more bemused than angry while giving quick, clever responses. Too clever.

And here’s the real giveaway: Joaquin
had filmed a so-called
documentary called
I’m Still Here
that supposedly examined his descent into madness. Wouldn’t it be logical to assume that Joaquin’s odd behavior was only done to promote his film? He was having an apparent meltdown on Letterman, and his film was about being mad. How hard is it to connect the dots? Turns out, the film was eventually revealed to be a fake—a “mockumentary”—by its director, Casey Affleck. And Joaquin made another guest appearance on
The Late Show
admitting his previous appearance was just an act. At David’s urging, Joaquin revealed that Letterman’s staffers were aware of it, though David was not. But Bill Scheft, a Letterman writer, had already told nuevo.net that it was a performance and that David had been in on it: “Dave loved it because he could play along. He could do whatever he wanted with it. And he did, and it was great television.”

Great television? Not if it’s an act. Cynically playing the audience for a sucker is condescending and insulting. Jay never treated his viewers that way because he respected them.

Some time ago, publicists for the publishing industry invited
me to New York to take part in a panel discussion on late-night television. I jumped at the chance to go.
The Tonight Show
had been consistently losing key bookings of celebrity authors to Letterman
, and I thought the panel would give me an opportunity to make a strong pitch on Jay’s behalf.

The Tonight Show
was clearly the late-night ratings winner, even in New York, so it made no sense for the publishers to favor Letterman. Why did they? I suspected three reasons:

1. David was the home-town guy.

2. The publishing industry was based in New York and always
kicked off media tours there.

3. Because of numbers one and two, they probably concluded that Letterman was the top-rated late-night show. Perception always trumps reality—and often logic.

I was the only late-night producer to accept the invitation until a Letterman producer learned I was coming and decided to join the panel. Soon after, producers from three other shows decided to take part. I figured I needed to educate the room about the ratings when the moderator asked us the big question:
What can your show do for us?

Letterman’s producer immediately answered with absolute confidence and conviction that ratings didn’t matter because David was simply the best and everyone in the room knew it. I thought that was presumptuous, but then I realized she actually believed what she was saying and was simply mimicking the accepted mantra she had heard at CBS and had read in critics’ columns. And she was certain everyone would agree with her because she viewed New York publishers as hip, smart Letterman aficionados who “got” Dave.