Once upon a time long ago, there was Johnny Carson

To anyone under the age of 30, Johnny Carson is probably as relevant as Fred Allen or Edgar Bergen were to those of us born after World War II.

Indeed, just the idea of a time before Netflix, DVRs, DVD players and videocassettes -- a time when if you wanted to watch television, you had three choices -- seems almost ridiculously primitive.

In the early '70s, as I recall, if you weren't ready to fall asleep when the news ended at 11:30, your choices were the CBS Late Movie, whatever second-rate talk show ABC was trying or the gold standard -- the Tonight Show on NBC. Cities with more than three stations usually had an old movie or repeats of an old show, but most people watched NBC and Johnny Carson.

Here's Johnny.

At least during my lifetime, I'm not sure anyone ever epitomized the concept of "cool" as well as Carson did.

In his opening monologues, he told America every night what mattered and what didn't, what was worth taking seriously and what was worth laughing at.

Legendary film director Billy Wilder nailed it when he said why Carson meant so much:

"By the simple law of survival, Carson is the best. He enchants the invalids and the insomniacs as well as the people who have to get up at dawn. He is the Valium and the Nembutal of a nation. No matter what kind of dead-asses are on the show, he has to make them funny and exciting. He has to be their nurse and their surgeon. He has no conceit. He does his work and he comes prepared.

"if he's talking to an author, he has read the book. Even his rehearsed routines sound improvised. He's the cream of middle-class elegance, yet he's not a mannequin. He has captivated the American bourgeoisie without ever offending the highbrows, and he has never said anything that wasn't liberal or progressive. Every night, in front of millions of people, he has to do the salto mortale [a circus parlance for an aerial somersault performed on the tightrope]. What's more, he does it without a net. No rewrites. No retakes. The jokes must work tonight."

On the rare occasions that it didn't work, Carson was often just as funny in his reaction.




His tenure as "Tonight Show" host lasted 30 years, spanning presidents from John F. Kennedy to the last year of George H.W. Bush's administration. His first guest was Groucho Marx and his last was Bette Midler.

I hadn't watched him much for a few years, but I reacquired the habit in 1992 when I was living in Anaheim, Calif., and working as a sportswriter. Most of my work was in the evenings, but I was usually home by 11:30 and reclining on my sofa in the living room watching Channel 4 out of Los Angeles.

Johnny and Bette

I watched Carson and then usually switched over to HBO or played a videocassette. By 2 a.m. or so, I would either wake myself and go to bed or just fall asleep on the sofa. It was the last time in my life I lived alone, but I didn't truly feel alone till Carson went off the air.

I gave Jay Leno a chance, but it wasn't the same. Where Carson's monologues always had a point of view, Leno always seemed like he was balancing his jokes so that no one would be offended.

I don't watch late-night television anymore. I don't think I could endure the incessant commercials, and I'm usually too tired by then anyway.

Besides, there's no Johnny Carson anymore.