LETTERMAN: No laughs on the Late Show

David Letterman and Stephanie Birkitt

Having just reflected on all the cultural offenses and mea culpas popping up across the blogosphere, I find David Letterman’s public confession on Late Night both fascinating and distressing.  What a messy combination of power, privilege, and double standards.

My initial reaction was admiration.  In an age of equivocation, Letterman aired his indiscretions candidly.   Rather than dancing around accusations, he addressed them head on and owned his affairs.   He even admitted, “a towering mass of Lutheran, Midwestern guilt.”  After an initial ratings boost, CBS has decided to quell the public’s fascination but pulling the plug on his confession, removing it from countless YouTube links.   Better to protect their plainspoken host, then let his comedic candor spread.

Of course, Letterman’s public confession was occasioned by blackmail.   A respected producer at CBS News, struggling to pay alimony, resorted to rather desperate measures.   He wanted $2 million or he would divulge Letterman’s sexcapades with his employees.

This ugly plot demonstrates the high cost of celebrity.    Thanks to a combination of wealth and fame, celebrities are unfortunately targets of all manner of threats and unwelcome advances.   Kudos to Letterman for taking the situation to the police.  They dealt with his accuser efficiently and effectively.

Yet as the story has evolved, I find my admiration turning to disdain because the other side of celebrity is the power to abuse it.   It is too easy for celebs to surround themselves with “yes men” and women.   So many people are so eager to get their foot in the door as writers, as managers, as on-air talent, that it is far too easy to exploit their desperation.   Celebrity can have an intoxicating whiff whether it is found on late night television, in a sports arena, or at a mega church.

Television comedy is almost exclusively a man’s world.   Look at the writing and producing credits and you will find a boys club only rarely invaded by a talent like Tina Fey.   Pages, interns, and writers’ assistants are bound to be subjected to all manner of testosterone.   Part of that can be blamed upon the far ranging artistic freedoms necessary to create comedy.   Comedians must learn not to edit themselves (as in the case of Letterman’s tasteless jokes about Sarah Palin’s daughter).    A judge even dismissed a case of sexual harassment in the writers’ room at “Friends” on the basis that such randy behavior was part of the job!

But what about writers and producers editing their interpersonal behavior?   How about deciding not to exploit those who work long hours for little pay?  And what about resisting the advances of those eager to get ahead?  It is not easy, yet some comedians manage to go the distance:  remaining faithful to their spouses, grounded in their self-assessment, resistant to self-immolation.

I will not speculate on how Stephanie Birkitt has ended up getting so involved with  older men who create television programming.    Maybe she likes older men.  Maybe she likes access to power.  Maybe she’s learned a few lessons in what will become a more painful process.   I can only hope that if my daughter decides to enter the world of comedy, she doesn’t consider her brain, her creativity or her virtue a joke.

David Letterman is a comedic icon.   I am a lifelong fan.  But that doesn’t excuse his behavior as normal, acceptable or humorous.   We all make mistakes.  But there’s nothing funny about this episode of the Late Show.  What do you think?