Conan In The A.m.

[Kooperman]

April 4, 2004

Conan's Late Start

By BILL CARTER

In February, Conan O'Brien brought his hit NBC late-night show from New York to Toronto, of all places, as a favor to a city still reeling from the SARS crisis, and for a week twentysomething Canadians went a little crazy, lining up for hours and filling the elegant 1300-seat Elgin Theater with the energy of a rock concert.

Last September, a similarly frenzied New York crowd packed the Beacon Theater on the Upper West Side for the taping of a prime-time special to celebrate Mr. O'Brien's 10th anniversary as host of "Late Night." The audience was treated to the Conan specialties: outrageous characters, wicked, self-deprecating wit and a roster of performers from Jack Black to Will Ferrell.

Then there was the night 18 months ago when Mr. O'Brien scored a critical triumph as host of the Emmy Awards — displaying his highly energized surreal silliness with a brief acoustic version of Jethro Tull's "Aqualung."

But lately things have gone quiet. Conan is back in his office in Rockefeller Center, sitting at his old familiar desk, getting ready to put on another edition of "Late Night" in the 200-seat Studio 6A that has been his home for the last decade. And he can't help feeling, well, a little bummed.

"It was hard to experience something like that in Toronto and go back to 6A," Mr. O'Brien says, with a sort of shrug in his voice. "It's like when you go back to third grade and suddenly you notice the water fountain is like 4 inches off the ground." It's plain that Conan O'Brien, who has always been exceedingly tall but has lately become indisputably big in the world of late-night television, is aching to stretch. "A big question is looming," he acknowledges. "It's the elephant in the room that no one is talking about." He utters the question somewhat reluctantly, knowing that even that could be enough to stir up a lot of unwanted attention. But utter it he does: "What's next?"

The most obvious next step is to be host of a show earlier in the evening — in the coveted 11:30 period, made famous by Jack Paar and Johnny Carson. At NBC, that job is currently held by Jay Leno, who consistently trounces all competition. Until recently, it was possible for Mr. O'Brien and his team to imagine a time in the not-too-distant future when Jay might step down from his throne, and Conan might step up. But last week, NBC announced it was extending Mr. Leno's contract to the end of the decade. The decision has inescapable implications for Mr. O'Brien's career, as everyone around him knows.

Gavin Polone, Mr. O'Brien's manager and long-time friend, puts it in the plainest terms. "There's just no question that he's going to be on earlier than 12:30," he says. "He's going to 11:30. It's going to happen."

There it is: the late-night star at 12:30 is pondering a move to 11:30 (it's really 12:35 and 11:35, rounded off for convenience). If it sounds at all familiar, it's because we've been here before — same time, and yes, same channel. David Letterman starred in the original; after more than a decade as host of the later show, he was blocked from advancing to the main room, the 11:35 show, the franchise, NBC's "Tonight" Show, because NBC decided to give Johnny Carson's chair to a guy its executives believed was a more mainstream — and cooperative — star.

Now Conan O'Brien is getting set for the remake. And Jay Leno is being cast yet again as the man in possession of the prize. Mr. O'Brien has a little over a year and half left on his NBC deal, which means in only a matter of months he's likely to find himself in the precise position that David Letterman did in 1993: choosing between staying in his comfortable 12:35 home on NBC and chasing that hour-earlier dream on other networks.

Mr. O'Brien takes pains to point out the distinctions. "The difference with Dave, which even NBC will admit, is that there was no way Dave could continue to do the job at 12:30 with Jay as the `Tonight' show host, because they were peers. I'm 15 years younger. With me at 12:30, you can still feel there's order in the heavens somewhat."

Still, he is aware of the permutations. "By the end of my contract I will have done the show 13 years, 2 more than Dave did it," he says. "No one at NBC has said: `Here's what we're going to do. Here's the offer.' It's hard to figure these things out in a vacuum. I know I have a great job now. I think it's natural to at some point want to move earlier. I think I've proved I can do a show that I don't think has to exist at 12:30."

Mr. O'Brien and his NBC bosses are heading unavoidably toward a relationship dilemma. After the announcement that he had signed Mr. Leno to a new long-term deal, Jeff Zucker, the president of NBC Entertainment and the man into whose hands this exploding cigar has fallen, said, "Conan is a huge star, and I believe he's going to have a long future with NBC with a lot of tremendous opportunities."

The network has so far courted Mr. O'Brien as best it can. Nobody on either side will confirm, but neither will they deny, that in the event of some misfortune befalling Mr. Leno, Mr. O'Brien has a Prince of Wales clause. Mr. O'Brien wants to create comedy shows through his production company and NBC is already steering business his way — particularly one promising comedy pilot starring Macaulay Culkin. And Mr. O'Brien had only to ask once to do a prime-time Christmas special this year.

But these are side dishes, and everybody knows it. "The production company is fun," he says. "But it's never going to be the passion that the show is. I've got the bit in my teeth with this show and I'm very determined to take it as far as it will go."

When and where he will take it are the questions of the moment. Mr. O'Brien turns 41 this year. By the time the new Leno contract runs out, Mr. O'Brien will be almost 47 — about the same age that Mr. Letterman was when he decided he was too old for post-midnight. If he stays at NBC, he will have done a 12:35 show for a television eternity: 17 years.

In their fondest dreams, Mr. O'Brien and his team, which also includes his executive producer, Jeff Ross, and his agents from the Endeavor talent agency, would have liked NBC to draw up a formal plan of succession: say, three or four more years and then Conan gets the "Tonight" job. But that scenario would essentially have involved NBC's asking Mr. Leno, whose show is bringing in more profits than any show except "Today," to set himself up as a lame duck.

"It's hard for me emotionally to say: how can Leno deserve to be there, when I deserve to be there? I don't feel that in my bones," Mr. O'Brien says. "My agents can say that — and they do. But I have no control over them. They're Rottweilers that I bought. Their job is to attack. My job is to say: dear me. But I don't expect things that are unrealistic."

Mr. Leno said last week that he thinks very highly of Mr. O'Brien: "I know he's really good. What he does he does great." He also said that there shouldn't be much distinction between 11:35 and 12:35 now that viewers can easily record shows and play them when they like. Given his reputation for a work ethic to shame a boatload of galley slaves, it is not surprising that NBC doesn't seem to be contemplating Mr. Leno's retirement — ever. As Mr. O'Brien jokes: "Jay may decide he wants to do the show until 2025. Jay could say: my brain will be in a jar and we'll wheel it out and I'll do the monologue."

But Mr. O'Brien's team has no intention of waiting around to see, especially after last week's news. "I was a little surprised by what NBC did with Jay," Gavin Polone says, referring to both the length of NBC's commitment and the fact that it was made without first locking Mr. O'Brien in. But, Mr. Polone says: "Conan has a lot of great choices ahead of him. NBC has probably only a lot of anxiety ahead of them."

He sees late-night opportunities everywhere. "I think Fox has to offer," Mr. Polone says, an easy prediction since the Fox network made a serious run at Mr. O'Brien two years ago. "I believe CBS might have to offer," he continues, speculating that Mr. Letterman might be ready to step aside by early 2006 — a prospect Mr. Letterman's close associates discount as extremely unlikely. "And ABC obviously has to offer," he says. Just two years ago, ABC's executives were so eager to land a successful 11:35 entertainment show that they were willing to dump the much honored "Nightline" if Mr. Letterman would take its place. "Nightline" eventually won a reprieve, but ABC's guarantee to continue the news program runs out just around the same time that Mr. O'Brien's contract comes up for renewal.

"You might have three companies that need new jetliners at the same time, and we'll be the only company actually building a jet," Mr. Polone concludes. "Other people may be building washing machines. But why go to a company offering washing machines when you need a jet?"

Some late-night fans can already hear jet-like noises coming from the direction of Comedy Central, where Jon Stewart has burnished a reputation for smart, topical comedy on "The Daily Show." If the network late-night wheel swings again, Mr. Stewart, who is 41, would seem to be positioned alongside Mr. O'Brien in the line for the next 11:35 ride.

Mr. Stewart re-upped last month for four more years at "The Daily Show." The president of Comedy Central, Larry Divney, asserted that no network can steal Mr. Stewart away until 2008. But: Comedy Central is owned by Viacom, which also happens to own CBS. Presumably if Mr. Letterman surprised the world and decided to step down, the CBS chairman, Leslie Moonves, could dial some familiar numbers. "If Les called could he get Jon away?" Mr. Divney said. "That's a good question."

None of the outside options seem all that clear-cut to Mr. O'Brien — at least at the moment. "There may be possibilities, but are they viable?" he says. "NBC at 12:30 is still better than a lot of things. Following the `Tonight' show is still better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. There is the curiosity to take the show earlier. But if going to another network for more money still means being seen by fewer people, what are you doing? Then it's just an ego thing."

In the last contract season, Fox came at Mr. O'Brien with a deal he acknowledges would have "put me financially in the same league as the other guys." The round, fat number of $25 million a year has been mentioned. Mr. O'Brien settled for about a third as much to stay at NBC. "I'd like to make more money, like everybody else," he says. "But it's more important to do this well and be in a situation where I can do it well. So if the Pax network offers me $60 million next year to do a Christian talk show, and the $60 million is guaranteed, a lot of people would say: `Look, go take the 60 million and if the show goes under, you're fine.' I would say I'm not fine. I'm a really rich guy who doesn't get to do the thing he really loves, cause it got canceled after four weeks."

Far more important to him is the fear that he might be on the shoulder waiting for the road to clear when a member of his own generation zooms by. "If NBC said, `Listen, Conan, Jamie Kennedy is going to do the `Tonight' show and we really want you to continue at 12:30.' Or `Carrot Top is going to get the 'Tonight' show'; well, I'd be out the door. No offense to Carrot Top."

Mr. O'Brien means no offense to any parties — particularly the guy whose job he really wants. "I like Jay and I wouldn't want to do anything with NBC that I wouldn't be able to tell Jay I was doing," he says. "I do not want to manipulate my way into this job. I do not want to do anything that I couldn't comfortably say to Jay Leno I was doing."

Statements like this are made all the time in show business. What makes it a bit different with Mr. O'Brien is that he is, his show's staff members and his NBC bosses acknowledge, an almost shockingly nice and normal human being to be caught up in the ego-and neurosis-driven business of late-night. This is true even though he, more than any of the others who have dispensed humor into American bedrooms past midnight, has every right to be bitter, twisted and full of bile.

There was a night, after all, just as he was finishing up his first year, when Mr. O'Brien sat on the floor of Jeff Ross's office listening to Gavin Polone on the speaker phone delivering the gut-wrenching news that the network, reneging on a previous oral promise of a one-year contract extension, was instead offering a "week-to-week" renewal. Nothing like that had ever been done to a television star before — not even Lassie.

At that point the NBC hierarchy was disposed to write off Conan as a loony failed experiment. A comedy writer for "The Simpsons," he had been plucked from obscurity, like Lana Turner at a soda fountain, by Lorne Michaels, the man who created "Saturday Night Live." Mr. Michaels had the novel idea that a new face might be able to make it in late night.

John Agoglia, then NBC's chief deal-maker, made little secret of his doubts about Mr. O'Brien — and especially his then-sidekick, Andy Richter, whom nobody at NBC got in the least. NBC later relented, though only to the point of giving Mr. O'Brien 13-week renewals. One night, NBC actually ordered Mr. O'Brien canceled, only to rescind the order the next morning, a night he didn't know of until years later.

"I swear I've made my peace with all of it," he says, taking the high road. "I got an unprecedented break, and I went for it. It wasn't easy. I took my lumps. I have no problems with any of it." But Mr. O'Brien has been studying carefully recent events in late-night — and all the while he's been fingering the scar.

"I have watched a lot of people launch late-night shows since I launched mine and I don't think any of them have been as good." (Hello, Craig Kilborn; that means you, Jimmy Kimmel.) "And they got harsh criticism. But their networks stood behind them steadfastly. I feel my first week of shows are still better than a lot of these other shows that have come along since, and they've had 10 times the network support I had.

"I don't have any complaint with anybody finding fault with me as a performer in the first two years of the show because there was fault there and I'll take it." Here Mr. O'Brien's affable demeanor takes a turn. "But NBC made it more difficult than it had to be. That 13-week renewal stuff is unprecedented in the history of show business. I'm a forgiving person. I tend to let things go and move on. But if John Agoglia somehow fell to the bottom of a coal mine and I was the only one who knew about it, I'm not saying I wouldn't alert the authorities, but I might take my time about it, maybe wait a week or two — provided he had plenty of fresh water."

Outburst finished, Mr. O'Brien stresses that this apparently weighty psychic baggage will not be a factor in future decisions. "I really am past all that. It's all good. They treat me really well." By they he means Mr. Zucker — and especially the NBC chairman, Bob Wright, who supported Mr. O'Brien earlier than most others, and with whom he has forged an unusually close personal relationship. "I would walk across broken glass for Bob Wright," Mr. O'Brien says. "He did the right thing with me and it worked out. I'm very happy to do anything Bob Wright asks me to do."

Surely the biggest request Mr. Wright is likely to come up with is: Conan, will you stay?

On the couch in Jeff Ross's office, where he first heard about NBC's one-week contract offer, Mr. O'Brien flops down, his stilt-size legs draped over one armrest. Toronto, the prime-time special, those are now dimming memories: the adoring crowds, the booming high-ceilinged laughs, the guy who held up a sign that read: "I took Conan for my Confirmation name."

Mr. O'Brien knows he could have been at Fox for more than a year already. Possibly, he could even have been at CBS. ABC's run at Mr. Letterman coincided almost precisely with the final days of Mr. O'Brien's last negotiation with NBC. "At the last second, CBS called: `We'd like to talk to Conan.' Of course my agents started howling, yipping, and flipping." CBS was looking for protection if Mr. Letterman bolted. But Mr. O'Brien had none of it. "I told my guys he wasn't going, and I don't want to be the stick for CBS to hit David Letterman with. I have undying respect and admiration for the man."

The connection with Dave goes well beyond the fact that Conan is host of the show that Mr. Letterman created. "I started watching Dave's morning show and was really interested in comedy," Mr. O'Brien says. "Then it's like: Yup, that's my guy. He got to me at that age when you can really affect people. When they're between 15 and 22. You make an emotional connection, sort of the way Led Zeppelin made an emotional connection with people at a certain age, and for the rest of their lives all they want to do is put on a Led Zepplin record. It's the same thing in late night. I think I've grown a generation of people who think our show is their show."

We are entering the prime of Conan O'Brien — and he knows it. "It sounds smug, but I just know time is on our side. When I went in front of that Emmy crowd it was like they had marked my height when I was about 4 years old. Then it's 10 years later and 6-foot-4 Conan walks in, and they're shocked. Because their frame of reference is always Letterman or Leno. I don't think young people were shocked at all."

The onstage Conan, once geeky, often trying too hard, needing support from Andy Richter, has been replaced by the confident performer who does it all alone, who saves bad material with physical shtick, who can use his intellectual gifts to elicit both humor and information from an interview segment. The offstage Conan brims with the same élan. "I have infinite confidence that I'm good at this. If you cut my legs and arms off, I'd go out there and put on a good show."

Jack Paar, the first host to make the "Tonight" show a phenomenon, befriended Mr. O'Brien several years before his death. "He wrote me a letter and he just told me he liked my style," Mr. O'Brien says. "He told me to marry a nice girl, get a nice dog, and a lot of blue shirts. All of which I have since done. And he said: `Just think what I could have done if I had your hair.'

"And he was right. I think aside from John Davidson, I have the best hair on television. So if I keep doing good shows and the hair stays, it will all work out."

Conan pauses, then adds, "Let's just hope it gets ugly and then we'll all have fun."

http://www.nytimes.com/2004/04/04/arts/tel...print&position=

[desdemona]

I gotta tell you this story........... I set the alarm and got up one night in march to watch conan o'brian so I could catch the allman brothers performance, can you imagine? lol (that's how obsessed I am), anyways, they didn't play til the end of the show of course, I kept falling asleep, well the performance was great and afterwards conan o'brian shook hands with everyone in the band, lmao, he appeared very leary, and almost scared when he approached gregg allman,(who was wearing a short sleeve shirt that showed all his tatoos),I don't think he was ever that close to a real hipster before, it just hit me as so funny, I didn't realize til that moment how young this guy is, well just a comical observation, what we grew up with and find comfortable can be intimidating to the next generation.

Edited April 4, 2004 by desdemona

[Kooperman]

des, God invented VCRs so we wouldn't have to set the alarm for the middle of the night in order to watch TV.

[desdemona]

well I dumped the vcr for the dvd player, I definitely need the combo but what can I say, not on my list, guess I'll just have to suffer. I have to admit I never did use that feature though, I hated playing with the settings on the vcr, they're so tiny, and hard to see, laying on the floor, trying to figure out how to set it, cuz who knows where the instructions are now, lol but thanks for reminding me, another reason to get the vcr, dvd, combo

Edited April 4, 2004 by desdemona