NFL Coaches Quiz: Name the six with 200 or more career wins,
including playoffs. Extra credit for picking the one with the
highest winning percentage. Answers below.
From Norfolk, Nebraska
As a huge Johnny Carson fan, I always knew one day I’d
visit his hometown and when he died this past January, I
collected a few pieces of material to use when I finally made it
out to Norfolk. But from a time standpoint I’m unable to
comment further, today, having traveled from Newark to Omaha
and then on to here, so you’ll have to allow me some time for
reflection next chat. I’m out in Nebraska for about five days and
plan on doing some fun things, including taking in the Wake
Forest – Nebraska football game this Saturday.
The following was thus prepared ahead of time and represents
new material compared to what I wrote upon Carson’s death.
—
Johnny Carson was born Oct. 23, 1925 in Corning, Iowa, one of
three children born to Homer L. (Kit) Carson (no relation to the
Western character), a manager for the local power company.
In 1933, the family moved to Norfolk, NE, where Johnny grew
up as a shy kid. He was an OK student but his teachers also said
he was an underachiever.
Norfolk has been described as a Norman Rockwell slice of
middle America and despite growing up during the Depression,
Johnny had a comfortable childhood.
After serving in the Navy during World War II, Carson picked
up his degree from the University of Nebraska thanks to the GI
Bill and then he got in on the ground floor of television at a local
Omaha station. By 1962, he was replacing Jack Paar on the
“Tonight” show.
From a piece by the New York Times’ Frank Rich, written May
10, 1992, shortly before Carson’s last show.
“Is the ‘Tonight” show the last thing Johnny Carson sees before he
goes to sleep?
“I ask as, I think, a somewhat representative member of the
Johnny Carson generation. You know you are a member of the
Johnny Carson generation if you are 1) young enough to
remember having to beg your parents to stay up to watch Johnny
Carson in the days after he first took over from Jack Paar and b)
old enough to find yourself nodding off right after the
monologue while watching the ‘Tonight’ show now….
“(If) our feelings about Mr. Carson change, he never seems to
change at all. Surely his most surrealistic period was the late
1960s – at least from my vantage point at the time, as a college
student – when he must have been the only Hollywood star
remotely considered cool who never pandered to The Young by
affecting long hair, bell bottoms, an open shirt or tinted granny
glasses. Yet never, even in that polarized time, did Johnny
Carson arouse hatred, in part because, unlike most fixtures in the
show-business firmament, he has never patronized the audience
or sold out.
“While the ‘Tonight’ show is often an orgy of self-promotion, its
host, the cool eye in the hurricane of hype, is not himself a self-
promoter. Mr. Carson has never shilled for the political and
corporate establishment like Bob Hope, and he has never done
commercials away from his own show, whether for a product or
for himself, like that practiced pitchman Bill Cosby. Except for
the odd cameo, Mr. Carson has never lent his talents to a bad
movie or trashy sitcom or his name to a best-selling ghost-
written book. Immensely wealthy as he is, he has never seemed
greedy – a rare feat for American tycoons….
“In truth, the actual content of a Carson show did not matter. At
a time of anxiety, who cares about the color and material of a
security blanket? Alone and exhausted in an antiseptic hotel
room in a strange city, you could turn off the volume of the
‘Tonight’ show and still be tranquilized by a succession of
images as formulaic and reassuring as Kabuki: by the
unchanging reaction shots of Ed McMahon and Doc Severinsen
during the monologue, by Mr. Carson’s strange backward tilt on
his heels while setting up a joke, by the mimed golf swing
leading into the first commercial, by the way he fiddles with
whatever phallic prop comes to hand at his desk (for years a
cigarette, but in these health-conscious times a pencil), by his
raised eyebrows in response to a starlet’s inevitable and inane
breech of taste. Or you could bury your head in a pillow, ignore
the imagery and be lulled by the sounds: the bouncy theme
music, Ed’s obsequious ‘Yessirs,’ the boyish Midwestern tenor
of Johnny’s questions, his hearty laugh of appreciation when an
interviewee scores with a joke of his own. It’s the lack of
surprises that makes Johnny Carson endure.
“There are some unofficial reasons to miss Mr. Carson, too.
Even when he seemed not quite human, he was always humane.
By his choices of guests, and his treatment of them on the air, he
helped establish a kindly hierarchy of stardom that spread to
other media and set a show-business pecking order. He not only
promoted significant and offbeat new talent, whether a Barbra
Streisand in the early 1960s, or an Eddie Murphy in the early
1980s, but also kept the spotlight on retired talent. Mr. Carson
has made a point of keeping a William Demarest or James
Stewart in view after their performing days were over, even as he
instinctively knew when the moment came to give up on passing
sideshows, like Tiny Tim, the troubadour who in 1969 married
Miss Vicki on the highest-rated ‘Tonight’ show ever.
“In a more modest way, Mr. Carson also played a role in
determining the country’s political priorities. He has credibility,
which is why it was commonly (and correctly) believed that
when his jokes turned on Richard Nixon during the Watergate
scandal, the country would follow suit. Perhaps Lyndon B.
Johnson’s departure from office was assured as well once Mr.
Carson declared the Vietnam War ‘stupid and pointless’ in a
widely publicized interview conducted by Alex Haley for
Playboy magazine in 1967; certainly George Bush should be
grateful that the steady barrage of ridicule directed his way from
Mr. Carson’s corner will end five months before Election Day….
“Johnny Carson…was the perfect jester for a nation that still
believed in the old American majority and could still be unified
by it, at least at bedtime. He was white, male, Protestant and
moneyed in a country that looked for those characteristics in
politicians and movie stars. When that establishment fell into
disrepute in the late 1960s, shattered by the conflicts of race and
the Vietnam War, Mr. Carson proved better at building a new
consensus than most politicians of his day. Without trying to
remake his own reassuring establishment personality – without
trying to become a ‘Carsenio’ – he routinely welcomed
performers slightly outside the mainstream to his show, not just
blacks, but also female comedians in the days before they were
widely accepted and even the occasional recognizable
homosexual, like Truman Capote….
“Shortly after Mr. Carson announced his retirement last year, a
pair of personal tragedies prompted him to take an extended
leave of absence from the ‘Tonight’ show: the death of his
friend, the actor Michael Landon, by cancer, and the death of his
son Rick, a photographer, in a car crash. On the night he
returned to the show, July 17, I tuned in to watch, wondering if
he might break precedent and acknowledge his personal sorrows.
I was hoping at last to find some personal connection with him,
not in the least because I was engaged in my own hospital vigil,
for my mother, who had been fighting a losing battle for her life
following a car crash two weeks earlier.
“To my amazement, however, Mr. Carson came out and did his
usual, upbeat monologue and then went on to entertain some
typical guests. I was about to give up on him when, in the hour’s
final minutes, he abruptly addressed the audience to thank it for
the letters of condolence it had sent. ‘These have not been the
most happy several weeks,’ Mr. Carson said, his mouth going
slightly gummy. Then he showed a picture of his son – ‘I’m not
doing this to be mawkish, believe me’ – so that his audience
could see that the young man looked nothing like the driver’s
license photo that had widely accompanied news articles about
his death.
“ ‘Luckily,’ Mr. Carson continued, ‘he left some marvelous
memories for the whole family, and that’s what you hang on to.’
He leaned back in his chair, his tongue smacking in an
uncharacteristic gesture, and, still in control and very much the
WASP patriarch, he asked the audience to ‘forgive a father’s
pride’ as he ended the hour with a slide show of his son’s nature
photographs, the last of which was of a sunset.
“It wasn’t a revealing episode, exactly, yet it was a stellar
performance in keeping with the great, 30-year Carson tradition.
Once again his reassuring presence, unshakable no matter what,
had the effect of relieving an audience’s anguish without leaving
any psychic aftertaste.
“That night Johnny Carson failed, as always, to invade my
dreams. But isn’t that the real secret of his longevity? When he
tucks us into bed, his role is to soothe, never to provoke. It was
not the first troubled night that I joined a grateful nation in
thanking Johnny Carson for a gift far more precious than dreams:
deep and untroubled sleep.”
—
From Raymond Siller, a former writer for Carson, as told in an
op-ed for the Wall Street Journal following Johnny’s death.
“Johnny Carson had built a formidable reputation based on his
keen observation of that day’s news events. He never told his
writers what subjects to choose. It was up to each man to harvest
a crop of jokes from the dailies, which Johnny himself would
stitch into an eight-minute routine. That first day, three hours
after I sat down at my typewriter, I’d sweated out the required
four pages of monologue. One joke out of my 16 would make it
on the air.
“Five minutes before the taping, I paced in the hall outside the
studio. Suddenly Johnny appeared. He opened the studio door.
Then, glancing back at me, he cleared his throat to speak to his
new writer. I couldn’t wait to hear the wisdom the late-night
king was about to impart.
“ ‘There’s no business like show business…Bulls—!’ …
[13 weeks later…]
“By now I had become comfortable at the Carson show, but felt
an obligation to honor the promise I’d earlier made to Dick
(Cavett) to go back to work with him if he got a new show. But
first I asked for a goodbye meeting with Johnny.
“ ‘I understand you’re gonna be leaving us.’
“ ‘Yes, I am.’
“ ‘You’re going back to Dick’s new show opposite me.’
“ ‘Dick gave me my first shot as a writer. I promised to come
back if he ever got another show.’
“ ‘I understand. (SMILING) Well, tell Dick I wish him luck…
(WINKING) but not that much.’
“A classy thing for Johnny to say. And he took me back five
years later, after I moved to L.A. to write for Bob Hope. I
missed the pressure and challenge of Carson’s daily monologues
and sketches….
“Johnny was serious about the show. Off-camera, he’d banter
back and forth with humor and small talk, but we quickly got
down to business. He was disciplined, with a low tolerance for
incompetence. His eye was on the ball no matter what was going
on in the bleachers….
“The supermarket tabloids that reported on Johnny’s divorces
missed his visit to his grade-school teacher in Nebraska on her
100th birthday. Or his donation of a million dollars to a Nebraska
Cancer Center. Or when he helped out the widow of Ray
Combs, who hosted ‘Family Feud’ and had done standup
comedy on ‘The Tonight Show.’ …
“He wasn’t so coy that he didn’t realize he was a star. But he
wasn’t full of himself, either. Each audience had a distinct
personality, and there were nights when they laughed at nothing.
The stare back disturbed him. He recalled in all seriousness
when the monologue once went down the dumper three nights
straight he was ready to quit the business.”
—
Larry Miller, comedian / writer, from a piece in The Weekly
Standard.
“I loved the guy, and I mean, first, as a fan. I feel sorry for the
younger folks who never saw him, who too often have to absorb
their entertainment today in cynical bites, and think humor
means anger and audacity and graphic descriptions of this and
that. They will never know what it means when you take talent
and hard work and mix it with grace, joy, class, respect, and
forbearance.”
[Miller relates his third or fourth appearance on the ‘Tonight’
show. His friend told him he needed a better outfit, so Miller
went to a fancy Beverly Hills joint and he was hooked up with a
double-breasted Armani suit. The day of the show, his agent,
Tom Stern, went with Miller. They picked up the suit at the store
and drove to NBC.]
“Now I’m always early for things, so there was plenty of time to
walk out onstage while the studio was empty, and run the
material, and check my notes, and have some coffee, and get
made up….
[The show began]
“I watched Johnny’s monologue from backstage, and then
strolled back to the dressing room, the picture of calmness, ready
to roll. I took my sneakers and casual pants off during the first
guest, and put the white shirt and tie on, and the dress socks and
the shoes, and watched the intro for the second guest in my
underwear. (A good comic never puts the suit on too soon: It
wrinkles.) Then, cool and happy, I unzipped the bag from the
store, took out the jacket, and stared at the other side of the bag
for a few seconds.
“There were no pants.
“I turned to Tom, and said, ‘No pants.’ On the TV in the
background, the second guest came out and shook hands with
Johnny. Tom ran out to find Jim (the segment producer)…
“I picked up the phone in the dressing room and called the store,
and when the salesman came on I repeated my new mantra, ‘No
pants.’ He found them in the back and said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll
bring them right over.’
“I hung up and looked in the mirror at my fancy new shirt and tie
and boxer shorts, and the high socks and wingtips, and wondered
how the Armani jacket was going to look over the pair of beige
painter’s pants I had worn to the studio. I was grateful the
salesman was going to try and bring them over, but, please,
Beverly Hills to Burbank on a Thursday at 5:33 P.M.? There
was no way. By missile, in the middle of the night, it’s still 20
minutes to Burbank. But I’ll tell you, I don’t remember being
scared. In fact I was as calm as a vat of whiskey. Of course,
maybe I was just in deep shock….
“Now Jim came running back with the wardrobe guy; they had
found a pair of very nice black dress pants which went with the
jacket. Jim had a big smile of victory, and it made me feel
ungrateful and churlish to point out there was just one tiny
problem: The pants had, apparently, last been worn by William
Conrad, and were at least 75 inches in the waist. We looked at
each other: Jim, the wardrobe guy, me, and Tom. The wardrobe
guy said, ‘Try them on. I can nip them in the back.’ I did, and he
could, but the nip was two and a half feet long. I don’t want to
judge, but I think that’s too long for a nip.
“I took them off and we all glanced up at the television as Johnny
went to commercial. ‘Okay,’ Jim said, ‘Johnny’s going to do
one more segment. Let’s get you behind the curtain. If the pants
don’t get here in time from the store, you’ll go out in these.’…
“I got behind the curtain, and the guy holding it didn’t even blink
when he saw me in my underwear and Jim holding a pair of
enormous clown pants. After all, this was the same guy who had
pulled the curtain for Tiny Tim….
“ ‘I think you better put on the pants,’ said Jim. The star being
interviewed was wrapping up his last story, and Johnny was
laughing. I held a finger up and tried desperately to remember
what my first line was. They went to commercial, the band
kicked up, and Jim said, ‘Okay, I really think you have to put on
the pants.’ I finally remembered my first line, and Jim said,
‘Larry, please put on the pants.’ Well, I had no choice, and I
pulled them over my shoes as the band came back from
commercial, and my heart sank a little as I buckled the front and
felt the tent-sized piece of material in the back. I was going to
look like Quasimodo in a jet pack. And then….
“Suddenly something crashed, someone screamed, and around
the corner came poor, dazed Tom shouting, ‘I GOT THE
PANTS. I GOT THE PANTS.’ The only reason Johnny and the
audience couldn’t hear him was because the band had just
blasted out their last big, long, brass lick. We all looked at each
other like Easter Island statues. The only one who took it in
stride was the guy at the curtain.
“A low moan started in my throat, became a shudder, and ended
in a shrug. I ripped the fat pants off as fast as I could and
grabbed the new ones just as we heard Johnny saying, ‘Our next
guest is a very funny young man…’ I pulled one leg on and
started the other, ‘…who’s been with us before…’ The other leg
went in and I stuffed the shirt down. ‘He’ll be appearing at The
Punchline in Atlanta on the 25th…’ I clipped the pants, looked at
the belt in my hand and threw it away hard, stage right, and heard
Jim mutter, ‘Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus.’ I started buttoning the inner
button on the double-breasted jacket, and missed it, and tried it
again, and missed it again, and the stage hand started pulling the
curtain and put his hand on my shoulder. ‘So please welcome…’
I growled at the inner button and abandoned it. ‘Larry…’ The
hand began to push, and I closed the jacket and fastened the outer
button. ‘…Miller!’
“I guess I love this business and always have, and maybe we’re
all a little nuts, and maybe you have to be, but all I remember is
strolling around that curtain without a care in the world and
having a great time and a great set, and when I bowed and waved
goodbye, that’s when I turned to Johnny, and that’s when he
waved me over to the couch for the first time.
“It was pretty great. I shook his hand, which was even better,
and he said, ‘Good stuff,’ which was the best of all, and I shook
hands with the other folks on the couch, and Ed (who I loved as
soon as he smiled at me), and then they went to commercial.
And as the band started playing, Johnny leaned over and said,
‘Funny. Funny stuff.’ (Can’t you just hear that sharp rhythm of
his saying those short phrases?) And I said thank you and then
he picked up a pencil and started tapping it on the desk to the
music – remember how he used to do that? – and then we came
back from commercial, and he wrapped it up, and the band
played, and the credits rolled. And he came around the desk, and
I guess I was looking down at my suit, kind of amazed at how
close it had all been, and I saw him coming over, and I shrugged
and said, ‘New suit.’ And he said, ‘Sharp.’
“You all know how good Carson was. In an era that seems to
grow coarser each day, he radiated manners. Everyone used to
say that Walter Cronkite was the most trusted man in America
when he was on, but I think it just might have been Johnny
Carson. I know who I’d trust more, and I sure know who was
funnier.
“There’s an old Jewish saying that every man’s heaven or hell is
determined by what people say about him after his death. It’s a
good thought, and if it’s true, Johnny Carson is soaring very,
very high.
“I guess Ed is supposed to lead us now in shouting, ‘How high is
he?’ Johnny would have a good line for that one.
“One thing’s certain. I’ll bet God just waved him over to the
couch.”
—
From a 1983 interview:
Johnny Carson: The trouble is when you start to discuss comedy,
it becomes awfully dull. Once you try to explain why something
is funny, it’s not funny.
(At Johnny Carson Park): It’ll be a nice place to come and feed
the squirrels. And if I ever have any financial reverses, it will be
a nice place to come and eat the squirrels.
—
Dick Cavett: [After a trip home to Nebraska, Johnny told Cavett
about a reunion with an old teacher and driving a car his father
had owned 40 years earlier.] And as he told me this, he began to
tear up. We were all so conditioned to think that he had no
feelings somehow.
—
Carson’s generosity is legendary back home in Norfolk. From an
AP story by Joe Ruff:
“It had been almost a decade since Carson last visited Norfolk,
but he never forgot his roots. He donated nearly $5 million to
causes and organizations in Norfolk and millions more to the
University of Nebraska, his alma mater…
“Three years ago, after the town’s senior center failed to raise
$250,000 for a new roof, Carson got word of the shortfall and
sent a check for $100,000.
“Carson also helped fund a cancer center, library, an arts center,
a museum and a learning center at a local community college.
“In November (2004), Carson gave $5.3 million to the University
of Nebraska Foundation, which he earmarked for the school’s
theater department….
“In a 1982 NBC special titled, ‘Johnny Goes Home,’ which
documented a return trip to Norfolk, Carson described growing
up in the town as ‘an era that gave you a direction in your life.’
“ ‘Everyone gets a little homesick, especially if you have fond
memories of your early years, and I do,’ he added.”
—
From Carson’s last monologue, May 22, 1992.
“Now it’s a farewell show. There’s a certain sadness among the
staff, a little melancholy. But look on the bright side: you won’t
have to read or hear one more story about my leaving this show.
The press coverage has been absolutely tremendous, and we are
very grateful. But my God, the Soviet Union’s end did not get
this kind of publicity. The press has been very decent and honest
with me, and I thank them for that…
“The greatest accolade I think I received: G.E. named me
‘Employee of the Month.’ And God knows that was a dream
come true.
“I don’t like saying goodbye. Farewells are a little awkward, and
I really thought about this – no joke – wouldn’t it be funny,
instead of showing up tonight, putting on a rerun? NBC did not
find that funny at all….
“Here is an interesting statistic that may stun you. We started the
show Oct. 2, 1962. The total population of the Earth was 3
billion 100 million people. This summer 5 billion 500 million
people, which is a net increase of 2 billion 400 million people,
which should give us some pause. A more amazing statistic is
that half of those 2 billion 400 million will soon have their own
late-night TV show.
“Now, originally, NBC came and said, what we would like you
to do in the final show, is to make it a two-hour prime-time
special with celebrities, and a star-studded audience. And I said,
well, I would prefer to end like we started – rather quietly, in our
same time slot, in front of our same shabby little set. It is rather
shabby. We offered it to a homeless shelter and they said, ‘No,
thank you.’ I am taking the applause sign home – putting it in the
bedroom. And maybe once a week just turning it on.
“But we do have a V.P.I. audience – V.P.I. audience? We could
have had that, too. What I did was ask the members of the staff
and the crew to invite their family, relatives and friends, and they
did; with some other invited guests. My family is here tonight;
my wife, Alex, my sons Chris and Cory. My brother Dick and
my sister Katherine, a sprinkling of nephew and nieces. And I
realized that being an offspring of someone who is constantly in
the public eye is not easy. So guys, I want you to know that I
love you; I hope that your old man has not caused you too much
discomfort. It would have been a perfect evening if their brother
Rick would have been here with us, but I guess life does what it
is supposed to do. And you accept it and you go on.”
Johnny’s last words that evening.
“It has been an honor and a privilege to come into your homes all
these years and entertain you. I bid you a very heartfelt good
night.”
—
Top 3 songs for the week of 9/11/71: #1 “Go Away Little Girl”
(Donny Osmond….LT’s favorite) #2 “Spanish Harlem” (Aretha
Franklin) #3 “Smiling Faces Sometimes” (The Undisputed
Truth)….#4 “Ain’t No Sunshine” (Bill Withers) #8 “Take Me
Home Country Roads” (John Denver…still like this tune) #10
“Maggie May” (Rod Stewart)
NFL Coaches Quiz Answers: Six have won 200 in their careers,
including playoffs.
Don Shula…347 (328 regular season), .665 winning %, overall
George Halas…324 (318), .671*
Tom Landry…270 (250), .601
Curly Lambeau…229 (226), .623
Chuck Noll…209 (193), .572
Dan Reeves…201 (190), .536
All of the above had winning percentages of better than .500 in
the playoffs.
Jerry Rice
With the great one now retired, here are a few of his NFL
records….career leader in touchdowns, 208; most touchdown
receptions, 197; most total yards – 23,546; receiving yards –
22,895; most pass receptions – 1,549; most seasons with 1,000 or
more yards receiving – 14; most games with 100 or more yards
receiving – 77; most consecutive games with one or more
receptions – 274; most consecutive games with one or more
touchdown receptions – 13; and most seasons with 50 or more
receptions – 17….along with countless others.
*We note the passing of Bob Denver, Gilligan, at age 70.
Next Bar Chat, Tuesday. The editor goes to the football game
and checks out the zoo. [Will he find yak?]
**And I just went to the Elkhorn Valley Museum here in Norfolk.
Great Carson exhibit. Now to find some local beer.
