The recently released book Love Johnny Carson: One Obsessive Fan’s Journey to Find the Genius Behind the Legend, by Mark Malkoff with David Ritz, checks in at over 400 pages. But it still comes across as lightweight. It is artfully executed, tells a compelling tale, and could stand as the definitive compilation of Tonight Show memories. But it lacks meaningful conclusions and analyses. As the title suggests, the book doesn’t aspire to anything beyond fanboying. If you, too, “love” Johnny Carson, you’ll find it entertaining. But if you’ve followed Carson’s career closely, you’ll likely feel disappointed in its superficiality. True fans will find mostly well-known facts. The behind-the-scenes insights fascinate, with on-the-record sources named, but they’re in short supply. What the content lacks, however, the form provides: concise, clearly organized stories, arranged chronologically.
Carson’s raging successes are well chronicled. But his four marriages, battles with alcohol, and other character faults are given short shrift. Instead, the author dishes up rehashes of famous Tonight Show episodes from on- and backstage, gleaned second-handedly from Malkoff ’s podcast interviews with staffers. But he provides only a peek behind Carson’s multicolored curtain. The book held my interest because I also love Johnny. But after so many pages, I would’ve liked some dots connected.
For a more tangible document, one that portrays Carson three-dimensionally, a better choice would be Henry “Bombastic” Bushkin’s book, simply called Johnny Carson (2013). Unlike the unabashed Love letter, Bushkin’s remembrance—from the vantage point of Carson’s close pal and personal attorney—offers an intimate, firsthand look behind the scenes. We see the troubled yet triumphant soul, not merely the wisecracker we waited up late to watch on TV. We plunge with him and female fans into his Las Vegas suite swimming pool, share celebrity hijinks, and learn more in the first chapter than the newer book teaches us in its entirety. Bushkin’s recounting portrays a three-hundred-sixty-degree flesh-and-blood human being. It works better because it reveals a side of the legendary star previously unseen.
Love Johnny Carson may aim low, but it’s a breezy, pleasant read. It’s credible, well done, and worth the purchase price or a trip to the local library. Just don’t expect to know Carson any better than you did before you started the journey.
Actually, if you’re interested in a satisfying examination of a talk show host, I highly recommend Letterman: The Last Giant of Late Night (2017), by Jason Zinoman, the first comic critic in the history of The New York Times. It succeeds where the recent Carson book fails. It’s a deep, three-dimensional dive into the ecosystem of David Letterman’s personality and career. It’s based on insider interviews and comments from celebrities, and it includes relevant diary entries from show cofounder Merrill Markoe, along with insights pronounced by the subject himself. It’s not syrupy, fawning, or contrived like Malkoff’s hagiography.
Zinoman expertly connects disparate events, internal as well as external, and brings the face of the unlikely superstar into sharp focus. He analyzes and identifies key features of Letterman’s background, reveals his inner feelings and motivations, and nails his quirky character.
Unlike the lightweight Carson tome, Zinoman shares anecdotes that peel back layers of complexity. Readers gain a greater understanding of a man plagued by his fame and tormented by delusions of inadequacy. By the time you close the book, you will have inhabited conflicted writers’ meetings, scoured dressing room closets, and evaluated insecure psyches. It’ll keep you up past midnight, the same way both of these two late night legends used to.