It is that time at night when the news is over and some smily-toothed character is guessing tomorrow's weather. At that moment insomniacs all over America grab for the TV schedule to check the late and late late movies. Every weekday night, 260 weekday nights a year, some 8,700,000 of them decide against the films in favor of spending their last waking hour and 45 minutes with Johnny Carson.
What they see is a trim, agreeable fellow whose all-American good looks at 39 are just this side of boyish, whose doubletakes are this side of coy, and whose laughter and breakups are infectious. He likes to start slowly with an easygoing topical monologue, maybe kidding the Mets ("The only team that has to fight back from a three-run lead"), or poking fun at the New York World's Fair's doldrums ("They've got a belly dancer at the Moroccan Pavilion now, but she has a cobweb in her navel"), or satirizing TV ("The television business is tough, as I was saying just the other day to my waiter, Jim Aubrey").
After that, he settles down to talk to guests ranging from Bob Hope and California Governor Pat Brown to book-plugging authors and bust-pushing starlets. Like aspirin, the ingredients are all known—story-topping sessions with fellow comedians, the all-out effort from the unknown singer, back talk from Bandleader Skitch Henderson. And, like aspirin, it is fast-acting, pain-relieving, and generally pleasant.
From Caffeine to Sanka. The formula was first compounded by Jack Paar, and when Paar decided to call it quits three years ago, he pointed to Carson as "the one man who could or should replace me." For Carson, it was a tough assignment. Paar's emotionalism had made the show the biggest sleep-stopper since caffeine. By contrast, Carson came on like pure Sanka. But soon his low-key, affable humor began to prove addictive. Paar generated new interest, but Carson is watched.
Today Carson's average 8,700,000 audience tops Paar's highest rating by 300,000, and his estimated $19 million in sponsor billings this year will edge Paar's top by $4,000,000. Carson makes it look so easy that others have been prompted to get in on the act. ABC has been running a competitor, Nightlife, for almost three months, and Westinghouse Broadcasting Co. syndicates Merv Griffin, a cheery-faced former singer who was once mentioned as a Paar replacement. The net effect of both shows to date on Carson's: nil. His New York area rating is five times their combined total.
Mitey Master. What makes Carson click where others clank? Besides having a pleasant, offhand personality, he's on top of his show all the time. He can neatly put a restraining ring through the nose of a bore, guide and sharpen the performance of an amateur—like the girls' national skateboard champion who appeared last week. He is a first-rate ad-libber, and has apparently stored away every joke he ever heard.