People, are you having problems at home? The guy’s been at work just four weeks, and already you want him, as famous Carson guest Frank Sinatra might say, dead, dead, dead. Granted, Johnny was the don of late night, despite those cringe-inducing Aunt Blabby skits. And yes, Jay needs some work. His questions can be loopy and predictable, and that goofy cackle has to go. Also, he could be far less indulgent when Tom Cruise chirps like a Moonie about his dreadful new movie. But come on. Leno didn’t assassinate Johnny; he succeeded him.
What we have here is a generational thing. There is a dark chasm separating the anti-Jays from the pro-Jays, and it’s called the age of 40. The anti-Jays seem to be taking this change as a personal affront to their generation, as if they are somehow being replaced (which, to a certain degree, they are). When a senior-citizens group visited Leno’s show, the reviews were consistent: “Johnny was smoother”; “I hate the music”; “Jay’s too edgy.” (Imagine if Letterman had won the job.)
Meanwhile, at the very same show, audience members under 40 were acting as if they’d just been released from Purgatory. “Jay’s more modern,” gushed one. “He’s more with the times.” Yani Koutsoukos, 18, put it bluntly: “Johnny Carson got old.” Blasphemy! the critics will say, sucking in their waistlines. Never mind that the numbers seem to support the youth movement. At this point last season, Carson was being watched by 4 million households; Leno’s being viewed by just under 5 million. As for demographics, Leno will never steal Arsenio Hall’s youth brigade. But thanks in part to his hipper guest list, Leno has attracted considerably more young viewers than Johnny did. Otherwise, the only demographic group that watched Johnny more than Jay was people 50 and over. Rabinowitz, Shales and Storm are 57, 44 and 45, respectively. Coincidence?
Basically, the Jay-versus-Johnny discourse centers on three main points: delivery, guests and the supporting cast. For now, let’s concede the monologue to Carson, who mastered it only after several seasons. As far as guests go, clicking on Johnny was too often like watching the Friar’s Club Senior Tour (Please welcome back … Buddy Hackett!). Was Tommy Smothers ever funny? What did Charles Nelson Reilly do to deserve 97 appearances on the Carson couch? At least Leno’s guests aren’t ossified. He welcomes rockers, writers, even economic wonks. The chin-tuggers love that Leno didn’t get Tony Randall’s reference to George Abbott, a Broadway producer. But this is a quid pro quo deal. Would Carson ever have hosted Blue Man Group, a performance-art trio that harmonizes by munching Cap’n Crunch?
Then there’s the matter of Ed McMahon, whom people loved the way the Axis powers loved Turkey: as a quaint, bumbling yes man. Ed was a prop, a windup laugh track endlessly shouting, “You are correct, sir!” Leno has reasoned that less chatter with a toady means more time with guests, which is a fine idea. As for the music, say what you will about Branford Marsalis and his extemporaneous jazz stylings. But it would be hard to make a compelling argument that Doc Severinsen’s gassy Vegas revue was in any way contemporary music.
Leno realizes there’s work to be done, especially on his shtik with Marsalis, who sometimes freezes in the headlights. When asked about all the media criticism, Leno says, " I make my life making fun of people. It’s OK." Then he adds, “They only compare me to me or Johnny Carson. Those are some pretty high standards.”
Too high. Maybe, then, we should give the new guy a chance. Those unwilling should answer this: aside from Letterman, who’s a better choice? Regis Philbin? Rick Dees? Howard Stern? Next, consider the recent day that Leno waded through a stack of “Tonight Show” reviews. Too many soft questions, sniped one critic. He’s being too nice, whined another. Leno had to smile. The reviews, written in 1962, were about Jack Paar’s replacement, an awkward nobody named Johnny Carson.
