The End of An Era: The Legacy of David Letterman

NEW YORK: Anna Carugati, the group editorial director of World Screen, reflects on the legacy of late-night host David Letterman, whose final show aired on CBS last night.

It’s with bleary eyes and teary eyes that I write this. I was up last night watching David Letterman’s last show and I know I was experiencing history.

Much has been written, even more eloquently than I can, about Letterman ending his 33-year run as talk-show host, but because of how he impacted popular culture, how he held politicians and celebrities to task, how he elevated the importance and humanity of common individuals, I would like to join the cacophony of praise for Dave.

As a devout fan of Johnny Carson, I saw Letterman’s debut on national television. While Johnny was class and sophistication, Dave was irreverent, somewhat infantile, at times off-putting, frequently silly and always hilarious. I was intrigued by Dave’s style. Remember, I am part of the Baby Boomer generation whose diet of televised comedy was characterized by canned laugh tracks. Watching Johnny, Dave and the other late-night talk-show hosts, the laughter was genuine and in real time—until it wasn’t; the jokes that bombed were even funnier than those that landed well. And Dave brought a level of sarcasm that hadn’t been seen on late-night television.

I didn’t always like Dave’s smirks or grimaces, and I didn’t watch his show every night; I would check to see who his guests were. But his antics were unbelievable: dropping watermelons and other objects out the window, running into the Velcro wall, taking orders at a Taco Bell drive-thru window and giving customers a hard time—the list goes on and on—but his signature, of course, was the Top Ten List. I developed something similar to chronic fatigue syndrome waiting till midnight every night to watch the day’s list.

If his flippant humor and frequent takedowns of ineffective or inefficient politicians and public figures weren’t enough of a reason to watch—Dave keeping it real—as a journalist I was intrigued with his interviewing style. Yes, Ted Koppel on Nightline was grilling people regularly just a few channels away from Late Night with David Letterman, and Ted was a master. But Dave offered me, a reporter who hadn’t chosen a career of investigative journalism, plenty of tools of the trade. From Dave I learned the importance of listening—set aside that list of prepared questions, if necessary, and really pay attention to what the person is saying. (It’s true, isn’t it, that we learn best when having fun?)

But my relationship with Dave became personal; as I’m sure it did for many of his fans. Even though I never met him, he became a part of my life. He was with me on the many late-night feedings with my baby daughter. He offered a balm of normalcy during the interminable days waiting for the results of biopsies. After a crappy day beset with problems, I could always count on Dave to make me feel better.

And after 9/11, when we New Yorkers were numb, absolutely numb from an incomprehensible cocktail of sadness, disbelief, grief and anger, it was Dave’s monologue that consoled us and gave us permission to consider returning to our “normal” lives—although they would never be normal in the same way they were before 9/11.

Now all of us Dave fans have to wonder how we will cope in another “new normal”—one without Dave. I wish Stephen Colbert the very best when he takes over from Letterman later this year. The two Jimmys—Fallon and Kimmel—also do their jobs extremely well. But they’re not Dave. It’s the end of an era, and how lucky I’ve been to witness it.