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work for me, how I’m funny. I’ve got to be true to those. People don’t
want to see me change to try to keep up with the latest thing.
What are the biggest lessons you’ve learned over two decades in late-
night TV? A late-night host primer, if you will.
I do have some ideas and principles that I’ve come up with. I said
it at the end of my last
Tonight Show
, and it always gets quoted back
to me: “Work hard, be kind, and amazing things will happen.” It’s a
very simple mantra, but I absolutely believe in it. We live in an era
with things happening very quickly, with people becoming famous for
questionable reasons. But to me, nothing beats hard work. Being true
to what you’re good at. The way you approach the world. I’ve always
worked really hard. I prepared. I wanted things to be good, and I
stayed up all night to try to make them better. I don’t think anything
beats that combination.
Is that how you were able to eventually turn the
Tonight Show
fiasco
into a positive experience?
It was just day by day. I had bad days and better ones. And I’m
fortunate. I married the right person. So I have a great wife and
partner who helped me when I got down. And I have really good
people who support me. And it wasn’t the first time I went through
struggle. When I first took over
Late Night
back in 1993, people were
not happy with what I was doing. No one thought I was going to last
more than a couple of months. I think we were technically canceled
at one moment in 1994. The thing that has saved me throughout my
career was “You go and do your show.” That’s what helped (during the
Tonight Show
situation). If I had gone away at that point seven years
ago, it would have been insurmountable. But the fact that I stayed and
did a show every day helped me. It’s almost the best kind of therapy.
Go out there. Do your work. Try to make people laugh. The old “shut
up and do your job.”
How do you explain that you’re still attracting such a young audience?
I really don’t know. I’m kind of a cartoon character in the same
way that Bart Simpson doesn’t age. I always had this cartoon-ish hair,
and I’m that way in my humor and my movements. So, I do think
I’m an animated figure. I’m very silly around kids. It’s not forced; it’s
just how I am. I’m very physical with my staff – I tackle the guys and
wrestle them to the floor. I imagine that will still be the same years
down the road. I’ve never quite grown up. Maybe that’s something
younger people connect to. If the joke is on me and I’m humiliated,
I’m fine with that. I don’t need to be in the power position in comedy.
I’m really good at looking sad. People think that’s funny.
Do you know what’s next? Is there an exit strategy?
Eventually, I’m told I’ll die. So there is that. But I don’t know
when I’ve ever enjoyed my work more. People say that all the time,
but it’s true. Over the last two years, there’s this great liberated feeling
at the show. We goof around a lot at rehearsal and try to incorporate
a lot of that looseness into the show. I want to take it a day at a time
and keep enjoying it. And at some point – it’s not really up to me,
it will just be obvious – it’ll be time to go. I’ll go out there to do the
monologue, and the audience will start shouting, “You’re too old!
You’re too old!” And that’s when it will be time to either get off the air,
or double-up on those Prozac cookies and stay on another 15.
Whenever I’m done, I would like my legacy... well, I don’t know if
there is a legacy in media anymore. Everyone has such a short attention
span. But last week, I was walking down the street here in Los Angeles
to get a cup of coffee and a guy, who was about 25, shouted from
across the street, “Thanks for making my life better.” That’s as much as
I could ask for. That and real estate. And blue-chip stocks.
PROFILES
Conan and Dick Wolf at The Lark in Santa Barbara
(photo by Grace Kathryn Photography)
