Remembering Friday Nights with Johnny

            Nearly fifty years ago when I was a little boy growing in suburban Memphis, my favorite night of the week was Friday.  That was the night Mom and Dad let me stay up late with my buddy Johnny.  Johnny was Johnny Carson, host of the Tonight Show which came on Channel 5 in Memphis at 10:30 p.m.  When I was ten years old, it was very exciting to be up at 10:30 p.m.  Even though I was not allowed to leave the house at that time of the night, I felt very sophisticated being up late with Johnny and his cool friends Ed McMahon, Doc Severinsen, and a sexy movie star such as Dyan Cannon or even (OMG!) Raquel Welch.

            True, I was wearing my pajamas and was propped up on the sofa in our family living room.  And while I was “drinking,” unlike Ed McMahon, my drink was chocolate milk.  But I felt like I was in some cool night club in New York City with Johnny and Raquel and my other friends.

            While Johnny Carson was a TV star, he never came across like he was from New York or Hollywood.  He came across as being from middle America, just like me.  There was a reason for this.  He was from Nebraska.

            His humor was mainstream.  And he was hilariously funny.  Johnny Carson was one of those gifted comedians who could actually make you laugh without saying a word.  Some Hollywood bimbo sitting on the couch next to his desk would make a ridiculous remark, and Johnny would just look directly into the camera, totally deadpan, saying nothing.  And it was devastating funny.  His “silent take” was something that by Johnny’s own admission, he learned by watching the great comedian Jack Benny, who could also make an audience laugh uproariously just by looking at them.  (The only modern comedian I know who can do this is Jon Stewart of “The Daily Show.”  I suspect he learned this growing up watching Carson.)

            Johnny had many routines.  My favorite was “Carnac the Magnificent.”  Carnac was an “omniscient soothsayer” who could “divine the answers to questions that were hermetically sealed in envelopes.”  Carnac would hold the envelope up to his forehead, then give the answer, and then open the envelope and read the question.  It would go something like this:

                        El Paso.                       

                        . . . What’s one of the three options of a Mexican

                        quarterback? 

                        Dipety-Doo.                       

                        . . . What do you get on you dipety in the

                        morning?                       

                        Roe v. Wade                       

                        . . . According to Vice President Quayle, what are the

                        two options for crossing the Potomac River? 

            By themselves, the jokes made absolutely no sense.  But within the context of Carnac the Magnificent, they made me laugh out loud.

            Johnny Carson was the King of Late Night for 30 years.  Consequently, I spent Friday nights (and, as I grew older, many other nights of the week as well) with him through my childhood, my college days and my early adulthood.  When I was in my thirties, I rocked my babies to sleep at night while watching Johnny’s monologue.

            Johnny left the Tonight Show in 1992.  On the night of his last show, I was on a business trip, and I watched Johnny’s farewell monologue while sitting on a bed in a hotel room in Louisville.  It was just like the Friday nights of my youth, except I wasn’t wearing footie pajamas.

            Elvis once famously said, “Never do an encore.”  And Johnny didn’t.  Like Elvis, he left the building, in this case the NBC studios in Burbank.  Like Joe DiMaggio, he went out at the top of his game to a very reserved, dignified and private life.

            I have thought about Johnny over the last few days as I watched the news reports about the late night soap opera involving Jay Leno and Conan O’Brien and David Letterman and other pretenders to Johnny’s throne.  I occasionally watch Letterman, but not that often.  I haven’t watched Jay Leno in years, and I have never watched a late night show starring Conan O’Brien.  I hardly know who the guy is, although I did read in the newspaper that NBC is about to give him $30 million dollars after firing him.  I wish I could get fired for $30 million dollars.

            But while I no longer watch late night TV, I have a DVD containing many of Johnny’s “Tonight Show” performances from his very first show in 1962 to his final one 30 years later.  And every once in a while, when I am battling insomnia at around 10:30 p.m., I pop that DVD in and spend a little time with my friend Johnny.  It brings back great memories.

            Johnny was, is, and will always the King of Late Night.  Long live the King!