I was 20 years old when Johnny Carson left the "Tonight Show," and I felt like the world was ending. To be specific, it was after he left, and Jay Leno took over. Instead of the big-band intro and the curtain parting for Johnny, it was a nebulous, tuneless modern jazz composition and about 500 computer-animated curtains before Mr. Big Face came out. The universe had shifted out of balance.
Until then, I hadn't realized how good Carson was. Truth be told, he was an average stand-up comic, and many of his jokes were downright lame. When it came to interviews, though, he was peerless. He had a way of reassuring nervous guests, even if it was their first time in front of a national audience. He never was nasty, or attempted to put himself front and center. Instead, he coaxed them into presenting themselves as well as they could. You always came away with a sense of the subject's personality, instead of Carson's.
The same year that Carson left, Governor Bill Clinton was elected president. Although I considered him a dishonest braggart, it didn't surprise me when he won. The Baby Boomers, having burned and pillaged their way through American society, were bound to have one of their own in the White House. But there was something about the "Tonight Show" transition that was unexpectedly jarring.
In retrospect, my discomfort probably sprang from a real generational shift. When I was growing up, I blamed the Boomers for screwing up a lot of things, but I comforted myself by thinking of the previous generation, which was still very much with us. Presidents Reagan and Bush were from that generation, as were my grandparents, all four of whom were alive then. Being young, I thought the Boomer takeover was always someday in the future. But when Johnny disappeared behind the curtain, that day had arrived, at least to me.
