CBS didn’t just pull the plug—slowly—on Stephen Colbert when it announced its cancellation decision last week. It declared a much more sweeping elimination:
The end of one of the most significant broadcasts of the past three decades of network television: The Late Show.
An entire generation of American viewers has grown from youth to adulthood with a late-night franchise airing weeknights on CBS. For all that time—and through two hosts—it has remained a memorable, news-making, foundational part of American entertainment and culture.
And soon, it will be gone.
The show’s long-term success was far from guaranteed. In the history of American television to that point, no late-night franchise had ever put down lasting roots while competing head-to-head against NBC’s powerhouse, The Tonight Show.
That is, until August 30, 1993, when—amid a frenzy of press and public attention, with crowds packing Broadway outside the already-landmark Ed Sullivan Theater, including a melting butter bust of the host’s head—a new late-night show broke through to begin a run filled with comedy brilliance, controversy, and genuine national history.
The launch was no easy feat. David Letterman almost didn’t come to CBS—and didn’t really want to. It took a grotesquely fumbled transition by NBC away from the undefeated, untied run of Johnny Carson, a determined and then-unprecedentedly expensive courting by CBS, and a last-minute near-change of heart by NBC management—and Letterman himself—to create the circumstances that brought to CBS the only talent who, at that time, could have realigned late night so completely.
Letterman had already established the first enduring second occupant in late-night real estate: NBC’s Late Night, starting in 1982. That show was so innovative that nearly every young comic in show business began idolizing its host.
Letterman had every expectation—and a laughably small financial guarantee—that he would succeed Carson on Tonight. But he was ultimately outplayed by a comedy club colleague—and the most frequent guest on his own show—Jay Leno.
Mainly, he was outplayed by Jay’s hyper-aggressive manager, Helen Kushnick. She shouldered Leno into position, aided greatly by an offer from—yes—CBS.
CBS had just bungled its latest effort to get something going in late night by installing game-show host Pat Sajak in a hapless Tonight imitation so bad that CBS affiliates began walking away from it, signing on instead for a syndicated alternative hosted by hip comic Arsenio Hall.
That was the first domino. Hall was a hit—at one point, a genuine challenge to Carson among younger viewers. CBS was in desperate need of a reboot. The idea: lure away Leno, who was then serving as Carson’s regular guest host. NBC liked Leno, didn’t want CBS to steal him, and gave in to Kushnick’s high-pitched demand for a contractual guarantee that Jay—not Dave—would succeed Johnny.
That move stunned, and deeply hurt, Letterman. Reluctantly, he started looking around. CBS, ABC, Fox, and syndicators all chased him. CBS alone could offer the 11:30 time slot. The deal was all but set.
But some NBC executives in New York believed it was madness to let a talent of Letterman’s caliber walk out the door. A literally last-minute push to keep him at 12:30 on NBC for 18 months until Leno’s contract expired almost worked—despite united opposition from Letterman’s team.
Dave wanted The Tonight Show that badly. He was only convinced NBC’s offer was dodgy when Carson himself told him so.
And so, CBS had its star. A true second-front late-night franchise was born.
The history played out unexpectedly. Letterman dominated for two years. Then Leno’s Tonight Show reclaimed the top spot. But Letterman more than endured. He brought such originality, spark, and fire to the genre that Late Show was always talked about—and often in the headlines.
Letterman feuded with Madonna on Late Show; played along with Joaquin Phoenix on Late Show; apologized to Sarah Palin on Late Show; made John McCain return from the campaign trail to get back in Dave’s good graces on Late Show; admitted he was being blackmailed on Late Show; comforted a heartbroken New York City after 9/11 on Late Show.
By the time Letterman retired and went off into the sunset to grow a beard, Late Show was every bit the cultural institution that Tonight had been. No one questioned that the franchise would go on—just as no one questioned that the previous franchise Letterman created, Late Night, would continue after he left.
Three strong hosts have followed on Late Night. Another succeeded him on Late Show (rechristened with a “The” after Letterman left) and managed to bring the franchise to the top of the ratings in an immensely crowded late-night universe.
That expansion—another show on CBS, two shows on Comedy Central, a fresh franchise on ABC, and others elsewhere—was certainly tied to Letterman’s pathfinding. Once he put a show on the map, the settlement was secure.
Until now.
The changing media universe is largely to blame. Arguably nothing has ever undone an established medium more dramatically than streaming has undone linear television. A once-titanic business has sprung enormous leaks and is sinking.
Even a host with the pedigree of Stephen Colbert—author of one brilliant late-night run on The Colbert Report, and as fearless a comic dissenter as any political era has produced—has been caught in the vortex, after a suspicious nudge overboard.
If this really is the end of The Late Show, it will stand as a singular artifact—and a standout example—of the art of comedy produced by America in the late 20th and early 21st centuries.
And nothing quite like it will ever come again.
Get stories like this in your inbox: Sign up for LateNighter’s free daily newsletter.
I hope that NBC will have a good sense of their legacy in late night, and make every effort to keep The Tonight Show on the air. Given the current climate, it will likely be the only network show left on late night.