Carson's legend: the genial host of a late-night town square
Johnny Carson won more than the popular vote during three decades as host of TV's "Tonight Show." In his retirement year of 1992 he received his country's highest civilian honor, the Medal of Freedom, from the first President Bush. After Carson's passing on Sunday the present President Bush said, "His wit and insight made Americans laugh and think, and had a profound influence on American life and entertainment."
In the rush of sly or hilarious Carson clips aired this week, we missed one that might have followed last Thursday's second inaugural with its call for spreading freedom. In 1991 various Soviet republics were moving toward freedom, and on his show of Sept. 11 that year, Carson wryly responded with "What Democracy Means to Me." Imagine "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" in the background.
"To me, democracy means placing trust in the little guy, giving the fruits of nationhood to those who built the nation." Who could disagree? Thus he lulls you a little. But then, perhaps in line with his dictum of "never be boring"...
"And, unlike communism, democracy does not mean having just one ineffective political party; it means having two ineffective political parties.... Democracy is welcoming people from other lands, and giving them something to hold onto - usually a mop or a leaf blower.... Democracy means never having the secret police show up at your door. Of course, it also means never having the cable guy show up at your door.... It means that with proper timing and scrupulous bookkeeping, anyone can die owing the government a huge amount of money."
You get the idea. It's the kind of nudge that might make Americans, or even American leaders, "laugh and think," in President Bush's words. Certainly Gov. Bill Clinton got the idea when Carson gave him a drolly long introduction after his notoriously long speech at the Democratic convention.
Carson was an equal opportunity needler, a professional version of the regular in the coffee shop who says whatever funny thing occurs to him. In contrast with some of today's comics, he turned American bedrooms into a kind of town square where folks were not just red or blue, in the current confrontational jargon, but red, white, and blue, and all the colors of humanity.
Carson receives credit for lampooning or harpooning the sins of Watergate. But he wasn't a "political" comedian. If he had been, he met his match during the Vietnam war. British naval commander Louis Mountbatten agreed to be a guest, but said he would not answer questions on Vietnam. Carson evidently tried to get around him.
"Sir, if you were President of the United States, what would you do about Vietnam?"
"I'd tell the British to keep their noses out of it," said Lord Mountbatten.
The current Carson remembrances have understandably celebrated the more overt, if often less pointed, side of his humor. The stockpile of facial reactions, from mocking to thunderstruck, that say as much as words. The expert physical clowning and befuddled play with animals. The dips into what a Nebraska boy like Carson might have called barnyard humor back home.
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