Last of Letterman

As I mentioned in my previous post, David Letterman inspired me and I'm a late-night TV junkie. Naturally, I watched with great interests as the icon ended a 33 year broadcasting career, five years longer than I've been alive.

Dave would be the first to tell you he never measured up to his idol and mentor, Johnny Carson, but his finale ran circles around Carson's send off.

The end began  with most living former presidents and Obama declaring "Our long national nightmare is over." Quintessential, self-deprecating Dave through and through. Letterman ended the intro by approaching our president and asking if he was "being serious?" Must have been one hell of a victory lap for a boy from small town Indiana.

The legendary Hoosier's last monologue was hilarious and had the feel of a viking funeral. The man has rightly been criticized for obviously being often disinterested in his own the last decade or so. Him being so engaged and in the moment on this night provided a stark, refreshing contrast from curmudgeon Dave. For my money, he was better than the competition even when he was flying on autopilot, but when he was invested in a segment or show, his generation never came close to providing an equal.

The final Top Ten list was read not by Dave but by something resembling his top ten all-time favorite guests.  Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Tina Fey stole the bit, saying "Thanks for letting me take part in another hugely disappointing series finale" (Ha! That look on Jerry Seinfeld's face!) and "Thanks for finally proving men can be funny" respectively.

Several montages and retrospectives showed Dave at his best with kids, providing atrocious , though hilarious, customer service at a Taco Bell drive-thru window and others encapsulating Dave's irreverent charm.

Then came the long anticipated and dreaded farewell speech. He spent nearly 11 minutes deflecting praise of being the most influential comedian of his generation to everyone else who works on the show. His behind the scenes, day-in-the-life vignette showed that Dave's a talented broadcaster in front of the camera, but none of it gets done without the work of all of those behind the scenes.

While he was appreciative, one could sense he was a bit relieved, if not exhausted, by the three-decade long grind of making an episode almost every week night. He'll miss it, but he knows its time.

He became vivacious though as he thanked his wife and son. One could tell he was ready to be a full-time dad, one far older than most.

After all the thank yous and goodbyes, he ended his broadcast career by introducing the Foo Fighters and succinctly saying, "All right, that's pretty much all I've got. The only thing I have left to do, for the last time on a television program: Thank you and good night."

I'm told Letterman exploded into the American consciousness all those years ago. He was going out not with a whimper but a bang.

The Foo Fighters (my favorite band) ripped into an extended version of perhaps their most popular and best song, "Everlong". They once cancelled a South American tour date to fly up and perform it on Dave's first episode back after quadruple bypass surgery. His relationship with the band and the deep personal meaning the song carries with him was underscored by the barrage of still shots fired off in rapid succession, condensing an entire 30-year, 6,000-episode career into a mere five minutes, the Foo's performance thrashing in the background. Overwhelming and perfect.

As surely as the sun will rise at dawn, David Letterman would be there to make us laugh and tuck us in at every weeknight at 11:30 P.M. With that bang, in that instant, that certainty ceased to be. An era ended; an entire generation no longer has a standard bearer to carry the comedy torch.

Being a late-night junkie, I measure time and define eras by TV hosts who work the late shift more than most. For me personally, it was the last (non-animated) vestige of my youth no longer on TV. I always enjoyed when my Mom would let me stay up late to watch Leno or Letterman (or she just fell asleep before making me go to bed). I didn't always get the jokes, but they almost always made me laugh. Sadly, I'll never get to do that again.

But with every era that ends a new one is born. Maybe Letterman's replacement, Steven Colbert, or Jimmy Fallon will be to me what Leno and Letterman were to my parents in their 30s and 40s. Maybe the whole late-night talk show formula will be unrecognizable, catering to YouTube clips instead of an hour of television. Either way, it will be exciting to watch what transpires.

But for now, I'll feel just a tad melancholy that the only way Dave will make us laugh from now on is through his legacy and not his company.