I could not say what David Letterman meant to the rest of the world. I can only try and articulate what he meant to me.
In the early days, he (and the Beastie Boys) seemed to speak directly to my teenaged soul. I can remember Axl and I discussing the previous night's Top Ten List the next day at school, when we weren't busy writing down color-coded lyrics to "Paul Revere" and "No Sleep Till Brooklyn."
Sardonic, absurd, non-conforming, self-deprecating, and more than a bit of a goofball -- wait, are we talking about Dave or 17-year-old me? Even so, he somehow managed to come across as hip and cool. (OK, yes, we're definitely talking about Dave.)
In the NBC days particularly, the surprise element of the show was off the charts. One article I read put forth the idea of how enormous Letterman would have been on the internet and Twitter has such things been around/popular then. I cringe at using such a cliche, but you literally never knew what was going to happen. It made for must-see late night TV.
One of my favorite parts was when Letterman took the show to the streets of Manhattan and somehow magically made you feel as if you were there, a part of New York, the center of the world. The show lost something as those escapades became rarer, eventually all but stopping.
It's easy to forget how the late night landscape looked when Letterman, having been passed over to succeed Carson, made the jump to CBS. ABC was airing "Nightline." Prior to 1993, I think CBS had a late night movie offering in that slot. Arsenio was around in syndication. But for the most part, no other talk show had been able to sustain for any considerable length of time opposite "The Tonight Show." (Remember "Into the Night Starring Rick Dees?" Me either.)
I would argue that Letterman's move and success spurred a significant shift in late night programming, for better or worse. Pretty soon every Tom (Snyder), Dick (Dietrick), and Chevy (Chase) around were joining the party.
All this is not to say Dave and I didn't have our issues, or that I was always a faithful viewer. I hadn't been for awhile. Heck, I fell asleep during the finale and had to watch the rest of it the next day on DVR. Staying up until midnight and waking up at 7:00 when you're seventeen is slightly more exhilarating than staying up until midnight and waking up at 5:00 when you're forty-two.
And I think we all remember the Bone/Letterman online Top Ten Contest feud. (Top Ten Little Known Facts About Santa Claus? My entry: Doesn't believe in HIMSELF.) Unfortunately, it was overshadowed by the far-less-criminal Oprah/Letterman feud.
In recent years, the surprise element was not nearly what it once was. The show became less funny to me. But at the same time, Letterman became more real, more human. (This is something Leno never quite managed, in my opinion, and I suppose maybe never wanted to.)
Letterman made very public mistakes, he had serious health problems, he became a father. He cared and talked about world events and politics. And I always thought his interview skills to be excellent, far and above any of his late night contemporaries.
As he sort of became the elder statesman, it seemed like he appealed to a wider audience. At least within my test group. Because while I didn't watch nearly as often, my Mom became one of his biggest fans. I know she would not have even considered watching him in 1989.
"That David is so silly, isn't he?" she would say with much affection. Rupert Jee and Jack Hanna were two of her favorites. And anytime Regis and Letterman were on together, it was the highlight of her month.
I wonder what she'll do now, what she'll watch, as she doesn't seem to care for or get any of "those kids on there now."
I can hardly remember a time when there wasn't a David Letterman on television. For thirty-three of my forty-two years, there has been. And then it hits me, I'm not writing about what his show meant to me. Instead, in all selfishness, it's about what his retirement signifies: The inescapable passing of time.
And all you can do is remember, and say goodbye. To the gap-toothed smile, the tossing of pens at cameras, and those years of your life.
"And I wonder when I sing along with you / If everything could ever feel this real forever / If anything could ever be this good again..."
In the early days, he (and the Beastie Boys) seemed to speak directly to my teenaged soul. I can remember Axl and I discussing the previous night's Top Ten List the next day at school, when we weren't busy writing down color-coded lyrics to "Paul Revere" and "No Sleep Till Brooklyn."
Sardonic, absurd, non-conforming, self-deprecating, and more than a bit of a goofball -- wait, are we talking about Dave or 17-year-old me? Even so, he somehow managed to come across as hip and cool. (OK, yes, we're definitely talking about Dave.)
In the NBC days particularly, the surprise element of the show was off the charts. One article I read put forth the idea of how enormous Letterman would have been on the internet and Twitter has such things been around/popular then. I cringe at using such a cliche, but you literally never knew what was going to happen. It made for must-see late night TV.
One of my favorite parts was when Letterman took the show to the streets of Manhattan and somehow magically made you feel as if you were there, a part of New York, the center of the world. The show lost something as those escapades became rarer, eventually all but stopping.
It's easy to forget how the late night landscape looked when Letterman, having been passed over to succeed Carson, made the jump to CBS. ABC was airing "Nightline." Prior to 1993, I think CBS had a late night movie offering in that slot. Arsenio was around in syndication. But for the most part, no other talk show had been able to sustain for any considerable length of time opposite "The Tonight Show." (Remember "Into the Night Starring Rick Dees?" Me either.)
I would argue that Letterman's move and success spurred a significant shift in late night programming, for better or worse. Pretty soon every Tom (Snyder), Dick (Dietrick), and Chevy (Chase) around were joining the party.
All this is not to say Dave and I didn't have our issues, or that I was always a faithful viewer. I hadn't been for awhile. Heck, I fell asleep during the finale and had to watch the rest of it the next day on DVR. Staying up until midnight and waking up at 7:00 when you're seventeen is slightly more exhilarating than staying up until midnight and waking up at 5:00 when you're forty-two.
And I think we all remember the Bone/Letterman online Top Ten Contest feud. (Top Ten Little Known Facts About Santa Claus? My entry: Doesn't believe in HIMSELF.) Unfortunately, it was overshadowed by the far-less-criminal Oprah/Letterman feud.
In recent years, the surprise element was not nearly what it once was. The show became less funny to me. But at the same time, Letterman became more real, more human. (This is something Leno never quite managed, in my opinion, and I suppose maybe never wanted to.)
Letterman made very public mistakes, he had serious health problems, he became a father. He cared and talked about world events and politics. And I always thought his interview skills to be excellent, far and above any of his late night contemporaries.
As he sort of became the elder statesman, it seemed like he appealed to a wider audience. At least within my test group. Because while I didn't watch nearly as often, my Mom became one of his biggest fans. I know she would not have even considered watching him in 1989.
"That David is so silly, isn't he?" she would say with much affection. Rupert Jee and Jack Hanna were two of her favorites. And anytime Regis and Letterman were on together, it was the highlight of her month.
I wonder what she'll do now, what she'll watch, as she doesn't seem to care for or get any of "those kids on there now."
I can hardly remember a time when there wasn't a David Letterman on television. For thirty-three of my forty-two years, there has been. And then it hits me, I'm not writing about what his show meant to me. Instead, in all selfishness, it's about what his retirement signifies: The inescapable passing of time.
And all you can do is remember, and say goodbye. To the gap-toothed smile, the tossing of pens at cameras, and those years of your life.
"And I wonder when I sing along with you / If everything could ever feel this real forever / If anything could ever be this good again..."
