Socal Mom by Donna Schwartz Mills

The "Civilians"

The Tonight Show writers insisted that Johnny thought of our endeavor as primarily a comedy show.

I'm just as certain that the talent coordinators would say that we were primarily a talk show.

Of course, they were both right. People tuned in each evening for the monologue -- if they were interested in seeing that evening guests, they would stay on through until the end of the program. It was important to hook them at the beginning, keep them in the material spot, and tease them to the end.

Even though in those pre-Jay/Dave/Jon days we were pretty much the only game in town (despite what Fox tried to throw at us), there was pressure on the talent folks to book the best and most interesting guests. I remember when Pope John-Paul II was about to visit L.A., one of our talent guys was calling the Vatican, in a vain attempt to get him into the chair with Johnny.

In my opinion, the toughest job on the staff belonged to the talent coordinators who specialized in booking our "civilian" guests -- you know, the lady who collected potato chips (yes, I remember the production meeting when the idea was discussed of having Johnny eat a chip -- from a bowl placed behind the desk)... the 5-year-old history buffs... the folks who made their local news for doing something extraordinarily difficult (or foolhardy).

I thought the writers had to read a lot of publications for their material: the L.A. Times, Herald-Examiner, New York Times, Wall Street Journal, USA Today, Variety, Hollywood Reporter daily -- plus the Star, Enquirer, People, Us, Time & Newsweek, Harper's...

...but the civilian talent bookers were subscribing to small town papers from all over the United States, which they culled through in order to find civilians who could be fodder for an entertaining interview. This wasn't easy.

Prior to the Tonight Show, I had been the writer/producer of a syndicated radio program, which required me to interview quite a few pop musicians (some of whom were quite famous). With that experience, I felt qualified to judge Johnny's skill as an interviewer, and I was always impressed. I appreciated his ability to put his guests at ease, elicit entertaining stories AND get laughs -- ALWAYS making his guests look good... WOW.

Yes, he was prepared. After all, he was a professional and I think felt a responsibility to the audience to put on a good show. So the talent coordinators would conduct a pre-interview with each of the guests, celebrity and civilian alike. These would be typed up as notes and delivered to Johnny several hours before taping. The notes were very basic, a couple of pages consisting of the questions asked and paraphrases of what the guest might answer.

The writers also received copies of the notes. They only ever worked with the ones for civilian guests, coming up with possible one-liners off the guest's possible answers.

And the thing that surprised me was that Johnny hardly ever used them - he was a good enough ad libber to come up with great lines of his own -- often better than the ones the writers suggested. I suppose the annotated notes served as insurance -- just in case.

Ten Feet from Greatness

In my four+ years of working on the Tonight Show, I never actually saw it "live." My job didn't require me to be on the stage -- so like most of the rest of the staff, I watched it either on a monitor set up backstage or one in the green room.

I had always heard that on a talk show, "the green room" was where celebrities hung out until their turn on the air.

When I got to the Tonight Show, I learned that few celebrities ever set foot in our green room. Most preferred to wait in their dressing rooms until one of the talent coordinators escorted them out to the stage. So the only people who ever actually used the green room were "civilian" guests -- and staff.

A few, however, preferred to hang out backstage. Sammy Davis, Jr. was one of them. Arnold Schwarzenegger was another. I once watched Tommy Smothers do a spot-on impression of Johnny backstage, while the monologue was being performed. And I could hear Jonathan Winters mutter a crazy little monologue of his own, under his breath, as he stood behind me while waiting for his cue to go on.

Each night, after Johnny hit his mark on stage, the stage managers would set up a portable row of seats in front of the monitor. We staffers would then sidle our way from the back of the studio, up to the monitor to see the show. The guests would pass in front of us on their way to the desk.

One night, a frail Bette Davis was booked, and seated in front of the monitor. We all respectfully kept our distance until she was helped onstage. One of the writers quipped, "When I write my memoirs, I think I'll call it 'Ten Feet from Greatness.'" (I apologize to him now for stealing that title for this post, but hey -- only about five people ever read this thing, so he can probably still use it if he wants to.)

Miss Davis was in fine form that evening, feisty and entertaining. There were other guests booked, but she was on a roll. The other guests were bumped. That may have been her last television appearance.

Carnac the Magnificent

As writers' assistant on the Tonight Show, I was responsible for typing and distributing scripts, communicating our needs to the other departments (art, props, wardrobe, makeup) and preparing the "desk pieces" for Mr. C.

In the case of a photo piece, that would involve cutting up the the script and taping each joke to the back of the appropriate picture. I was also responsible for preparing the envelopes used in the Carnac bit. The writers would submit about five pages of two-part jokes for this; Johnny would select 10 gags he liked the best. He would number them in the sequence he wanted to perform them in. Then, I would type the first part of the jokes onto a numbered sheet - for instance:

1. HEY DIDDLE DIDDLE.

2. PIGGLY WIGGLY.

etc.

The second part of each joke was then typed onto an index card and sealed in its envelope.

HOW DO YOU GREET YOUR DIDDLE DIDDLE?

WHAT HAPPENED ON KERMIT'S WEDDING NIGHT?

(Thanks to all the NBC specials over the last couple of days for running montages of these bits -- I never would have remembered these actual jokes.)

I lightly pencilled in the joke's number in the corner of each sealed envelope and stacked them in order before delivering the entire piece back to Johnny's assistant. Johnny would memorize the 10 lines on the sheet - I don't recall him ever looking at it during the show...

In those days I had a recurring nightmare that somehow I would screw up the order of those envelopes and cause the Carnac bit -- one of the show's most reliable laugh-getters - to fail. One night, that actually happened.

Cross My Heart

It was strange that I even got the job at the Tonight Show, as I'd never watched it much (preferring to go to bed before its 11:30 start -- my, how times have changed). But my sister was a true fan. She's the one who used to sneak downstairs to watch when the rest of the family was asleep. She was also the first in the family to catch on to Letterman -- she just loved that humor. And when I informed her that I would be working for Johnny, she indicated that she thought I'd finally arrived.

This bothered me a bit, because as nice as the new job was going to be, it was basically a secretarial gig... and I had this big chip on my shoulder about being a secretary. I did not go to college to become a secretary. I'd produced a radio show, by golly -- and interviewed one of the Beatles. (OK, it was Ringo, but a Beatle nonetheless). No way was this going to be the apex of my career.

But after three years of freelancing -- which meant a few six-week production jobs interspersed with temping and <ugh!> unemployment, the security of being on the staff of an institution like the Tonight Show was a refreshing change.

More Tonight Show

The news of Johnny's death so upset me yesterday that I wasn't able to do much more than read and watch the tributes on TV - and fight with my husband, who didn't understand why I was so mopey. I was surprised by that too - but that didn't stop me from defending myself.

ME: I used to work for the man.

HIM: You barely knew him.

ME: I talked to him every day on the phone.

HIM (incredulously): Oh yeah?

ME: Yeah. Every day, he'd call and say "This is Johnny. I need to speak to Ray." And then I'd have to track Ray down and get him on the phone. (Ray was the head writer, my immediate boss at the Tonight Show.)

I remember one time when he didn't identify himself and was calling from his car, so I didn't recognize his voice. And I refused to put him through. Finally, he said "This is Johnny Carson, dear. Please let me talk to Ray." So, of course, I did.

HIM: You never told me that before. That's a pretty good one.

And then he let me be. But I ended up Tivo'ing the Dateline special so he and Megan could watch something else. I watched it late last night, and seeing footage of NBC, Studio 1, Fred de Cordova (deceased), director Bobby Quinn (also deceased), and stage managers Kevin Quinn (Bobby's son - nepotism was alive and well there) and Mike Gray (who was a truly nice guy)... well, the occasion of Johnny's death is prompting a lot of memories of that time in my life - not necessarily ones that deal with Mr. Carson, because after all, as a lowly writers' assistant, the exchange described above and in my other post pretty much summed up my personal dealings with our star. 

I need to get this stuff "on paper" and out of the way so I can continue living my very different life today. So the next few posts will be anecdotes from my years at The Tonight Show.

More on Johnny Carson

Shortly after my last post, I received an email from a TV reporter in Sacramento, asking if I would go on camera and talk about working for him.

I declined. Considering how minimal my actual contact was with the man, it wouldn't be appropriate.

She really must have been desperate to find someone.

I am surprised by how really bummed I'm feeling about this. I've been reading the obits on the web and actually cried at some of the video footage on CNN.

Memories of Johnny

My sister just called with the news that Johnny Carson -- my former employer -- has died of emphysema.

I worked as the writers' assistant at The Tonight Show from 1986 to 1990. I quit almost exactly one year before Mr. C announced he would be retiring in 1992. If I had known the end would be coming so soon, I would have stuck it out the last two years, even though by that time my relationship with several of the writers had become rather frosty.

In many ways, it was the best job I've ever had. In other ways, it was a frustrating place to work. Drue, his former assistant, once described her position there as "a velvet trap," and I could relate. But at no time did I feel any dissatisfaction as the result of the actions of Mr. C, who was the most courteous and decent person I've ever come across in Hollywood.

My Dinners with Emmy

When you live on the West Coast, you are used to "live" events that are broadcast after being taped earlier - even when the event originated in your time zone.

They broadcast the Oscars truly live here (with a 6:30 p.m. start time) -- why are the Emmys taped delayed?

Many years ago, in another lifetime, I was privileged enough to be able to attend the Emmys as a staffer on the Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson. I was not a nominee (there is no award category for writers' assistants; as hard as they work, there is no art to that job) - but the guys were nominated in the Outstanding Writing For A Variety, Music Or Comedy Program category, and somehow, I managed to tag along with them.

My first year on the show (1986!), we had an older writer (his resume went back to Caesar's Hour) whose wife was too ill to attend, so he asked me if I would be his guest. He gave me my own ticket and parking pass, and I met up with him and the rest of the writing staff there. I begged my hairdresser friend to come into work on a Sunday to do my hair, and makeup, and drove out to Pasadena (where the show was held) in my little 1984 Tempo. I had a friend who had been working on the telecast, and spent most of the Governor's Ball searching for him, and while I was craning my neck trying to find him, I walked smack dab into Tom Selleck (and may have gotten lipstick on the front of his shirt. Sorry about that, Tom).

Gary (the writer) found us a table to sit at with JoAnn Worley, who shrieked hello's to people exactly the way she did when she was one of the stars of Laugh-In. I did eventually find my friend; most of the big stars had moved on to the cool parties. Kyle and I gossiped about the show while we watched Dennis Weaver and his wife boogey-ing on the dance floor...

The following year I attended the Emmys in style, as the only single writer on the staff didn't have a date and asked me if I would join him. We were just friends, and I know I wasn't his first choice -- but he and his partner had decided it was de riguer to arrive in a limo, and so we did. However, I think even the limo companies have a pecking order, and the vehicle we traveled in had seen better days; it rattled badly and the upholstery was worn.

This time, I felt like an old hand at the Emmys. It was a hot day (typical for L.A. in September) and it felt ridiculous wearing evening clothes at 3:00 in the afternoon. I was more vested in the outcome that year, I guess because this time I was actually the "date" of one of the nominees. We were seated in the same section as the other nominees in that category: the writers from SNL, the Tracey Ullman Show, and the Tony Awards. (BTW - out of 55 writer nominees in that category, only five were women. "Women just aren't funny," is the explanation I would hear from the Tonight Show guys. Maybe we're not - or maybe we just don't find jokes about large breasts as hilarious as they all did.)

Once again, we did not win - that honor went to the staff of the Letterman show (which was the hot hip comedy program of the time).

The 1988 television season was gravely interrupted by a six-month WGA strike. The Tonight Show didn't even receive a nomination that year, despite the fact that we were one of the first programs back on the air, due to a separate settlement between Carson Productions and the Guild.

But we were back in 1989. After the strike ended, Mr. Carson had done some housecleaning on the writing staff, and four longtime writers were let go. However, the episode that was submitted for Emmy consideration had included their credits, too - and when the nominations were announced that summer, they included four men who were no longer on the staff.

The former head writer, my ex-boss, called me. He did not have the stomach to attend, and he asked me if I would like his tickets. I thanked him and invited Gareth (whom I had met that year) to accompany me.

A couple of weeks before the show, one of the younger writers - an alumnus of Harvard Law School - was frantic. He had friends from out of town who he wanted to impress - and he asked me if I would call Hal Goodman and Larry Klein to ask if they were using their Emmy tickets. Hal and Larry had been on Johnny's staff since the 1960's. I told this guy that if he wanted to call them, he was welcome to do so -- I felt tacky doing so.

A few days later, a different writer - the former head writer's partner - called me and offered me his tickets.

I could have given those tickets to the guy who asked me to call Hal and Larry. I thought about it, but the fact that he asked me to do his dirty work angered me. I had a very bad attitude as a production assistant, at least from the viewpoint of writers who wanted to feel more important because they had an assistant. I would do anything necessary to get the show on the air, but I balked at personal requests. There were TEN writers on the staff; if I agreed to do the personal crap for any of them, that is all I would end up doing. So when one of them called me on HIS DAY OFF to ask me to make him a reservation at Spago, I refused. And when this one asked me to call a fired writer to swipe his Emmy tickets, I also refused. And when another writer gave me his tickets out of the blue, I decided to put them to good use.

There were several other women who worked on the show as assistants - women who put long hours into making sure our show was a success and cared about it and NEVER got to share in the glory. Gareth was busy on Emmy night (another post for another time)... so I brought along three of my female colleagues.

You should have seen the reaction of the guys on the writing staff when four secretaries sat with them in the nominee section. Instead of being pleased that we wanted to cheer them on, they seemed to think that having us there took away from their glory. Most of them refused to talk to us. That was OK during the broadcast, but this year, the Governor's Ball was a sit-down dinner with assigned seating - and they were stuck sharing a table with us.

To make matters worse, we were seated at some kind of overflow table outside the main ballroom... and they had lost (again! -- this time to SNL). So they weren't in a good mood. This was the first year Fox broadcast the show, and the photographers were paying special attention to the stars of Fox programs. So when one of them came by our table to take a picture of the Tonight Show secretaries (one of us was a beautiful, leggy blonde and was obviously trying to score with her), the new head writer scoffed loudly "There's four people who deserve to have their picture taken."

It was never the same with them again. The guy who had wanted me to call Hal and Larry about their Emmy tickets simply stopped talking to me. I was working for the guy, would bring him his mail every day, and he would look right through me. This went on for nine months - until I finally became so unhappy at the atmosphere there that when I had an opportunity to move on, I took it...