This week was David Letterman's last on TV, after being on it nonstop since about 1982. It's also the first week I ever paid any real attention to him. In 1996, when I was ten, I saw Independence Day, and President Bill Pullman's daughter tattles on her dad to her mom, saying "Daddy let me watch Letterman." I didn't know who Letterman was, but if he was name-checked in Independence Day, which at that time for me was the coolest movie that could every possibly exist, he must be important.
I think I tried to stay up and watch some of this mysterious Letterman person shortly after, but either couldn't stay awake late enough, or found him to just be an average adult man, who looked like a teacher, in a suit saying things I didn't care about.
In high school and college, I religiously watched Conan O'Brien, who, I would later realize, did exactly what Letterman did with that same show--innovated and pushed the envelope as hard as he could. Conan carried the legacy of what Letterman did with the Late Night franchise as well as it could be carried. But this was the late nineties/early oughties, when envelopes had been pushed for a while. Letterman was Conan starting in 1982, doing things on TV that no one had ever seen before.
Awash in nostalgia as we all have been recently, I went back and watched some clips of Late Night era Letterman. I was only dimly aware until recently that he started the show currently helmed by Seth Myers until 1993, when he got his current show, Late Show on CBS. The only Letterman I've ever known has been a tired, slightly bored, stiff, cranky old man who seemed way more beloved than his show-to-show performance seemed to merit. But watching YouTube clips of his NBC show from the late 80s was revelatory.
The first thing that leapt out was how fast his mind worked, and how his guests seemed genuinely excited to try to keep up with him. He exuded energy in a way that seems light years away from the guy I've seen for the past ten or even fifteen years. Generally I don't like energetic comedic personas, from Dane Cook to Kevin Hart to Jimmy Fallon. But where Dane Cook's energy is (was?) fratty, and Jimmy Fallon's is saccharinely ingratiating and designedly viral, Letterman's seemed to come from a genuine overabundance of comic mania, of critical intelligence. He had a lot to say and a lot of entertaining ideas to communicate, and wanted to make sure it all got out there.
Watching the montage that ended the series as the Foo Fighters played "Everlong" brought out just how different his show was from the current crop. It truly is from a different era. There are so many tactile experiences in the highlights, so many things happening, so many spectacles, events, real, tangible things taking place out in the world. If Jimmy Fallon does the Tonight Show for another thirty years, I have a hard time picturing him producing a clip package with this much real, out in the world stuff happening. People are much more detached and isolated now. It was striking to see how engaged and part of the world Letterman and his show were through these images.
In my sampling of 80s/early 90s era Letterman clips, I also noticed how many regular people he had on. One episode he had on the entire population of a tiny town in Iowa that had recently been removed from the map because they were too small. He had two very old ladies on to talk about their town, giving them plenty of air time and not rushing them at all. He would have bag boys on and other people from regular jobs, and not exactly mock them but share them as being part of the fun world he created.
I see no real tactile engagement with the world from the current crop of late night hosts, and certainly no dialogue with the middle class. In a way it's appropriate that Letterman is retiring now, since the middle class doesn't exist anymore either. His audience is gone, and now so is he.
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