Confessions of a Letterman Intern

David Letterman inspired my broadcasting career. Twenty years ago, he was an awkward, self-deprecating guy who wore tennis shoes with his blazer and tie. He was edgy, silly, and unconventional compared to the traditions of variety television at that time. He resonated with an awkward high school kid watching at home in Missouri. Carson was still the king of late night, and some guy named Leno filled in for him a lot. But Dave was cool because he didn’t seem to fit in. Yet, when Carson announced his retirement, Letterman was said to be the heir apparent to the Tonight Show.

As a fan, I didn’t want Letterman to move into Carson’s chair. Not because Letterman couldn’t handle it. It just seemed too refined for someone as eccentric and edgy as Letterman. Turned out NBC saw it that way too when they awarded “Tonight” to Leno. It pained Letterman. But it helped to foster that continued edgy, underdog status that led fans like me to follow him to CBS.

Letterman’s historically large deal with CBS was fascinating. He was granted an enormous contract and complete ownership of his own show. A show that could be built from the ground up with no expectations or standards set by a previous host like Carson at NBC. More importantly, Letterman answered to no one. He became his own boss – a dream scenario for an entertainer who always answered to someone else.

For fans at home it was like watching the underdog finally win one. He won by remaining true to his “Late Night” formula. Silly characters, Stupid Pet and Human Tricks, Top Ten Lists all made the trip to the new show. Though Letterman only enjoyed one year atop the ratings heap versus Leno – it mattered not to me and people my age. Ask a high school or college kid at the time who was the “cool” host, or the “funny” host – Letterman won in a landslide.

As a college student in the rural Midwest, I applied to become an intern with my broadcasting hero. I would later discover hundreds of kids a semester applied for one of fifteen spots as interns on the show. Although I presumed I stood little chance, the internship coordinator informed me that Letterman’s show favored Midwesterners. Letterman was a Midwest kid himself, and the show was of the mindset that Midwest kids were generally polite, conscientious, and hard working. It was the most exciting, promising, thrilling moment a young college kid with a broadcasting dream could have.

It took only a few months of my internship to learn a thing about the business of comedy, at least as it relates to Letterman. It was not an epicenter of fun and creativity. Rather, it was an atmosphere of employees who worked for a man many of them never saw and seldom, if ever talked to. Many of his employees seemed to resent his cold distance. He was most certainly guarded and unapproachable. This was not the irreverent showman I came to adore. The wide-eyed enthusiasm I arrived with in New York was quickly dashed.

To be clear, I never witnessed anything inappropriate as it relates to Mr. Letterman. I was not mistreated nor was there any juicy gossip overheard during my stay. The knowledge I came home with regarding Letterman was purely observational. Honest students of “Late Show” and comedy in general have certainly come to the same conclusion. Letterman, we must sadly confess, is seldom funny anymore.

It’s hard to know just when his entertainment value began to decline. It most likely began the day he became his own boss, ironically. Letterman’s personal work ethic he admired in Midwesterners like me seemed to be wanting. He slowly phased out any sketch comedy that featured him. It was a staple of his old shows. The Alka-Seltzer-covered suit he sported before jumping in a tank of water and the Velcro suit that left him stuck to a wall of fabric were no longer. His roving interviews and interaction on the streets of New York became less and less. It was as though the thing that made Letterman so likable – his ability to be silly and laugh at himself – disappeared. He was too important for that now.

Letterman’s personal politics have become so strident and hostile in just the last two years, any conservative feels unwelcome to watch. He would regularly pontificate about the war in Iraq. “George Bush is a dumb guy” jokes were told with such frequency it became rote. When candidate John McCain had the “audacity” to cancel a scheduled appearance in 2008, Letterman blasted McCain with both barrels until Election Day. A tasteless shot aimed at Sarah Palin’s daughter seemed to be the joke that broke the audiences’ back. Letterman, after much public outrage, eventually apologized for the remark. Then, the recent hour-long sit down with Barack Obama. It seemed to be the host’s final admission. Dave’s a pundit, not a comic. He’s not interested in entertaining the masses any longer. Just the partisans.

Letterman’s admission of sex with members of his staff and stories of sex in the office dominated his show in the last week. News of his personal life, his humiliated and injured wife, his six year old son, and his beleaguered employees made a once entertaining show of comedy and variety nothing more than a television tabloid. Ratings, while high, weren’t due to the quality of show being produced by the legendary host. America is tuning in to see a famous man’s life crash and burn around him.

David Letterman has, in fact taught this intern something. He is a cautionary tale of the ultimate success story. Success can be achieved through hard work, tenacity, and staying true to your style. Success can also breed complacency. Success can breed arrogance and narcissism that places your personal needs, wants, beliefs, and desires ahead of all others. Success can ultimately be your undoing.

I wish I could have interned for that edgy, Midwestern underdog at NBC.