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..Gary Dretzka
..Noah Forrest
..Leonard Klady
..R.J. Matson
..David Poland
..Douglas Pratt
..Ray Pride
..Michael Wilmington



It's easy to lose track of the number of late-night talk shows actually on the air these days. There are three on NBC alone, not including the ones that start repeating themselves in the wee hours.

No matter the network, each of the amiable hosts has his own distinct personality, while, to the untrained eye, at least, their formats borrow from the same uninspired template. Certainly, the guests are cut from the same cookie shaper, and, after a certain point, are interchangeable with each other. (And, no, Jon Stewart's increasingly more valuable and timely program isn't included in this mix.)

As someone whose father let him stay up until midnight on school nights to watch Johnny Carson, Steve Allen, Jack Paar, Joey Bishop and, yes, even, Les Crane (my first exposure to Bob Dylan), it's difficult to imagine anyone standing around any water cooler, anymore, discussing virtually any of the celebrities who appear nightly on shows hosted by Jay, Dave, Conan, Craig, Jimmy, Carson and, on most nights, the insufferably self-absorbed Charlie Rose … the exception, of course, being the occasional meltdown by the likes of Courtney Love and Farrah Fawcett.

Thank God, again, for TiVo and other technologies for allowing viewers to create their own virtual networks.

As this column is being written, I'm also watching a newly released three-disc DVD collection, from Shout Factory, which commemorates the contributions made to late-night and primetime television by Jack Paar. I've just seen an impossibly young Bill Cosby describe how a NFL referee might have officiated the Revolutionary War; Richard Burton discuss his fascination with Winston Churchill, and Churchill's love of Shakespeare; Randolph Churchill quarrel with Robert Morley over the word, "hack"; Bette Davis teach Jonathan Winters how to smoke a cigarette; Judy Garland sing and dish the dirt on Marlene Dietrich; and Arthur Godfrey regale the audience with stories about a recent trip to Africa. Coming up are appearances by Woody Allen, John and Robert Kennedy, Richard Nixon, Barry Goldwater, Liberace and a young boxer named Cassius Clay.

The guest roster on Tuesday night's network talkers includes Cedric the Entertainer, Nia Vardalos, Bruce Willis, The Rock, Robert Klein, Johnny Knoxville, Elisha Cuthbert, Tim Robbins, Tracy Morgan, David Spade and several pop groups unknown to anyone over 35. Not bad, really, but each is there specifically to promote a particular project, and none is given enough time to say anything worth repeating. They're programmed to plug, and that's just what the shows' producers want them to do.

And, really, that's the problem in a nutshell.

Since devolving into nightly shill-fests, the talkers have produced far more yawns than surprises. Only the first-time stars seems to have their hearts in the game, and most of them are so blasé about their good fortune that they treat the studio audiences as if they aren't even there. Where's the glitz? Where's the class? Fact is, very few of today's stars care enough for their glamour-deprived fans to dress up for any occasion that isn't staged strictly to honor them or a product in which they have a financial interest. But that, too, is small potatoes.

Between geek-in-the-street interviews, stupid human tricks and film clips, precious little time is left for meaningful chat. It's just plug, plug, plug … goodbye. There's time for one anecdote, maybe, and it's the same one that daytime audiences will hear repeated by the same stars on a dozen other talkers. These aren't dumb or uninteresting people, but … well, that's how they come off to anyone not using the TV merely as a nightlight.

Paar, who died at his Connecticut home on January 24, at 85, wasn't for everyone then, and he probably would have a tough time finding a substantial fan base, now. He employed the word "I" only slightly less often than Rose, found ways to introduce his daughter into way too many interviews, and probably taught Dick Cavett how to drop names.

He was, however, a singular personality, and that still has to count for something. Above all, he worshiped talent and smart, funny people. Whether on The Tonight Show (1957-62) or his primetime variety show, The Jack Paar Program, his guests were given plenty of time to gab, amuse and perform.

The arrival of "The Jack Paar Collection" at my door coincided with news that Jay Leno had just signed a new deal with NBC, intended to keep him at the helm of The Tonight Show through at least 2009. The contract is said to be worth more than $100 million to Leno over the life of the deal.

More power to him. Jay's a hell of a nice guy, and he's made a lot of money for NBC. The ratings speak for themselves.

The DVD's release also coincided with a conversation I had recently with comedian David Brenner, whose 158 guest appearances on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson stands as the record. The 68-year-old Philadelphia native also was a frequent guest host for Carson, and he continues to be one of the most prolific couch-sitters in broadcast history.

Earlier this year, Brenner took over the showroom in the new Westin Casuarina Hotel, which literally sits in the shadow of the Flamingo and Bally's resort, a block off the Las Vegas Strip. While his act is peppered with the kind of observational humor that made him an icon to two generations of stand-up comedians - as well as a best-selling author -- Brenner is at his best when he's commenting on events recorded in that day's newspapers. This obsession with current events has, likewise, precipitated regular appearances on news-oriented shows on MSNBC, CNN and the Fox News Channel.

Brenner's been playing Vegas for more than 30 years. In fact, his first engagement was prompted by the reception he received for his debut performance on The Tonight Show, on Jan. 8, 1971. It was a heady time in the desert, then, as marquees along the Strip still heralded engagements by the day's biggest mainstream attractions, and themed resorts were limited to Caesars Palace and Circus Circus.

"I may have guested on more talk shows than any other entertainer in the country, but now it's even tough for me to get on television, because they're all looking for the flavor of the month," argued Brenner, relaxing in dressing room with a double-dose of Belvedere Vodka, neat. "They don't have characters any more, like Orson Bean, who would go on 'Johnny' and tell stories. He wasn't a national name, but Johnny would have him on just to tell jokes.

"Now, even if he was at the height of his career, Orson Bean couldn't get on a talk show. Same thing with George Gobel, who probably told the funniest joke in the history of the show, 'Did you ever feel that the world's a tuxedo, and you're a pair of brown shoes?' "

Like millions of other night owls, I was watching The Tonight Show the night Gobel delivered that line (and Dean Martin used Lonesome George's coffee mug as an ashtray), and fell out laughing along with everyone else, including Carson. For me, it represents one of the most unforgettable moments in nearly 50 years of watching television.

Paar's edition of The Tonight Show also featured a roster of eccentric entertainers, cast solely for their ability to make people laugh, not to sell products. They included Cliff Arquette (a.k.a., Charley Weaver), Peggy Cass, Dody Goodman, Elsa Maxwell, Hans Conried, Genevieve, Hermione Gingold and Oscar Levant.

"You never knew who would drop in," Brenner adds. "The first night I was on, Jack Cassidy was a guest. I did my stand-up, and walked off the stage. I called a friend of mine, who owned one of the first comedy clubs in America, and he complimented me on the material he had heard me perform … 'that whole chunk on buses.'

"I said, "What chunk on buses? I didn't do anything on buses.' It was something I'd ad-libbed. So, I go to the Green Room to watch the rest of the show, and I hear Cassidy say, 'That kid is going to be a superstar. What kind of material is that?' "

Observational humor had yet to become the coin of the realm in stand-up. Comics still recited jokes or told stories, when they appeared on talk shows.

Then, Brenner continues, "the door flew open, and the producer said to get back on stage. I thought it was because the tape broke and we needed to re-do some of the material. When I came through the curtains, though, the audience was screaming.

"I thought Johnny had told a joke, but it was for me. He shakes my hand, and says, 'We've been looking all over for you. Where have you been?' I said, 'I did good, why should I come back?'"

Shortly after Brenner returned to the Green Room, Jerry Lewis walked in.

"He said, 'I was watching you in my hotel room, across the street. I came over to tell you, you're so good, I'm getting ready to hate you.' Then, he goes out on the stage, in his camelhair coat, and tells everyone how good he thought I was."

The next day, the freshman comic got $10,000 worth of job offers, including gigs in Las Vegas. Less than three weeks later, Brenner was back on The Tonight Show.

Leno's Tonight Show is as different from Carson's, as Carson's was from Paar's. Indeed, after Tonight moved its home base from New York to L.A. -- and was trimmed from 90 minutes to an hour, with Johnny appearing only three or four nights a week -- it became only a shadow of its former self, as well. It's also worth noting that the gap between Paar's mostly-talk format and Steve Allen's gag and skit-oriented concept was huge.

Before the misnamed "Best of Carson" repeats began to cut into the time allotted guest hosts, it was fun to see who would sub for Johnny during his increasingly frequent vacations. It is a practice neither Leno nor Letterman is likely to resuscitate, short of another medical emergency.

Too bad. Both of the hosts could benefit from a firmly enforced vacation schedule, and it probably would be delightful to see what someone else could do behind the desk, especially if that someone was a woman or minority.

"This is how I read it," Brenner responded, when asked his opinion on the subject. "One, they love it so much, they don't want to take a night off. Or, two, they're afraid there's some young kid - or, older guy - out there, who's going to come on and blow it apart.

"Then, someone might say, 'That's who should have done the show.' Next thing they know, they lose the show … encroachment."

Highly unlikely, but, as Stephen Stills once observed, "paranoia strikes deep, into your life it will creep."

According to Brenner, he was asked to guest-host the show 75 times, and, among those men and women who substituted more than once, his stints were the highest rated. (Frank Sinatra's one-time engagement came in first.)

"If I was on for several nights in a row, the ratings would be through the roof," he recalled. "One night, producer Freddie DeCordova came over to me, and said, 'This is a very rare thing. Johnny wants to talk to you.'

"Now, when I came in that day, they had told me that my ratings the night before were higher than Johnny's. I thought, 'That's it.' I was new at it, and thought maybe I was too good, because you can't be too good."

One doesn't have to be a member of the Friars Club to know how sensitive stars can be when an upstart invades their territory.

"On my way to the office, I thought, 'OK, it's been a great run, and I loved doing it,' and I loved Johnny," Brenner adds. "As he went through all these compliments, I waited for the 'but …' He said, 'You were really listening to the guests,' and I said, 'I learned that from you.'

"He said, 'I hear that your ratings were better than mine,' and I said, 'Yeah, that's what they told me.'"

So, now he's really waiting for the anvil to drop.

"He says, 'I called to thank you for bringing all those new fans to my show,'" Brenner says. "That is the difference between Johnny Carson and anyone else who's ever sat in a chair and had that kind of a desk in front of him."

Brenner, who's been married twice and has three children, claims that he voluntarily removed his name from the competition to be Carson's replacement.

"I had a custody battle that flared up in '91, and I was only allowed to work 50 nights a year," he said. "So, I decided to take myself out of the running. I don't regret that decision, because I won custody and saved my son's life 4½ years later."

If he had beaten the odds and gotten the chair, Brenner probably wouldn't have been as determined to win the Iron Man prize as Leno and Letterman appear to be.

"One time, on 'Letterman,' we were chatting during a commercial break, and Dave mentioned how tired he was," said Brenner, who was the last comedian to work live on The Ed Sullivan Show, on the same boards where Letterman's desk now sits. "I've never lived for show business. It doesn't run in my blood. Only blood is in my blood.

"I said, 'You know, Dave, I've got this reputation where I only work six months of the year and travel the rest. Why don't you just take off six months, a year? Take off, man.'"

Brenner then offered to sit in for Letterman, and sign a contract that stipulated that the night the host walked back in, he'd walk away from the Late Show stage.

It never happened. And, although they're friends (and, like Carson, Jay blurbed Brenner's new book), Leno hasn't seen fit to invite Brenner to sit beside him on the Tonight set. Here's one intriguing idea that went from brainstorm to non-starter in a heartbeat.

"I reminded Jay that January 8, 2001, would mark the 30th anniversary of my first appearance on The Tonight Show, and it was going to fall on the same day as the debut," Brenner recalls. "I suggested he tell the audience, 'Ladies and gentlemen … 30 years ago, tonight, on this very show, a young kid walked out on this stage and did his first stand-up on television. He became a big star, who you all know and love … he's a very good friend of mine … please welcome, David Brenner.'

"I would walk out … hit the spot, and do my very first Tonight Show monologue … verbatim. I have it somewhere, and it's still funny."

According to Brenner, Leno told him, 'Let me run it past the staff.' But, it was an idea that went by the wayside."

Ironically, Brenner also suggested to Garry Shandling a way to turn this kind of incipient paranoia into an episode of his HBO sitcom.

"I went to see Garry Shandling, when he was here in Las Vegas," he says. "After the show, I went backstage. Garry says, 'Oh, my God, it's David Brenner. I love you … you're my favorite comedian. I tape everything you do. I study you. Do you see any of you in my act?'

"I said, 'Frankly, I'm looking for a little bit of you in your act.' He got all white, but I said, 'I'm kidding. It's all right. You're the only guy who's stolen my hands and my smile. Everyone else is just stealing my lines.'"

This was Brenner's idea for a show:

"You go on a vacation. I substitute host for you. After a couple of nights, my ratings are through the roof, and you get paranoid … so, you come back to get me off the show, because you're afraid I'm going to take your place.'

"He says, 'I love it. Let me talk to the producers.' I never hear back from him, but they do the show, with Jon Stewart.

"It was my idea, but they used Stewart. That's the nature of the business."

Brenner claims that he and Dick Clark also tried to sell a show, Triplex, about the home life of a comedian whose upstairs and downstairs neighbors include several wacky friends and relatives. It didn't fly, because, he was told, "No one cares what a comedian does at home." Really?!?

In 1976, seven episodes of another sitcom, Snip -- inspired by Shampoo -- were shot and five had already gone through post-production, before NBC censors decided American audiences weren't ready for a gay hairdresser in their living rooms (they were seen in Australia). Soap, with Billy Crystal playing a gay character, would launch on ABC a year later.

Considering Brenner's three decades of experience in the world of broadcast and cable television, you'd think he'd be on retainer at the Museum of Television & Radio. But, you'd be wrong.

Museum planners once invited him to participate in a forum, in New York, but it was because he had once made a documentary on Ingmar Bergman, and the museum was opening an exhibit on the Swedish director's television work. After graduating from Temple University, and serving in the army, Brenner enjoyed a successful career as the writer/producer/director of 115 television documentaries. He headed the documentary departments of both Westinghouse Broadcasting and Metromedia Broadcasting, and won an Emmy.

Even at 68, Brenner -- who's currently dating one-time figure-skating champion Tai Babalonia - could pass for a gent 15 years younger. He doesn't expect any miracles, though. Neither does he anticipate hearing about many more overnight successes, from the ranks of stand-up comedians.

"Ray Romano was the last guy to get discovered with one shot," Brenner observed. "He was on the road for 14 years, mastered the trade of stand-up comedy and was brilliant at it. He had agents and managers who couldn't do anything for him.

"Who did it? He went on Letterman, and, after his performance, Letterman asked him to come back to his office, because he thought there was a sitcom in the material about his domineering parents, his wife and twins, and asked if he could pitch it.

"It took Letterman, a comedian, to realize this could be a sitcom. But if someone my age went in with something like Ray's show now, he couldn't get in the door."

I imagine, though, that Johnny Carson would find some resistance, as well, if, at 78, he decided to end his retirement and reclaim his desk and timeslot.

For information about Brenner's show and books, go to www.davidbrenner.net.

- by Gary Dretzka

April 8, 2004


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