He wasn’t Johnny Carson to me.
About
My Friend Johnny
As funny as you would think.
As kind as you would hope.
As generous as you may not know.
Being John’s friend was one of my life’s greatest blessings. I still miss him. I can still hear his laugh. Within these pages, as I recount personal, private memories of my friendship with John, I hope you hear that too.
I’ve lived a Forrest Gump life, blessed with success and encounters I never could have orchestrated myself. Knowing John and living in Malibu allowed me to meet many famous celebrities, athletes, musicians, and politicians, from Princess Diana, Bruce Springsteen, Wayne Gretzky, Mark Wahlberg, Oprah, Jerry Weintraub, David Foster, Usher, Arnold Palmer, Clint Eastwood, Jimmy Hoffa, Tommy Lasorda (who changed my life forever), and seven US Presidents. With every celebrity I met, I noticed five distinct traits, which I also share in the book.
I close by reminiscing on my most memorable encounters with these well-known people, parting the curtain so you can see what they were like when the cameras weren’t on them.
Throughout it all, may you be inspired and entertained, just like my friend John did for his millions of viewers—and his closest friends.
Foreword
by Jay Leno
First, let me say I knew Johnny Carson professionally, not socially. By that, I mean I was so in awe of the man I thought it wise to keep my distance for fear of being perceived as a hanger-on or someone who was trying to curry favor with the boss. My wife and I once had dinner with Johnny at his home with Bob Newhart, and he was extremely gracious. Johnny even invited me to one of his legendary card games, but, being dyslexic, I was afraid to go for fear that I would screw up the game.
Both Harvey Korman and Steve Martin had brought Johnny down to the Improv to see me perform, and he gave me the best advice I ever received. He didn’t approve me for the show, and he told me why. “Your performance is funnier than your jokes,” he told me. “You have the ability to get a laugh with your attitude and demeanor, but your jokes are not strong enough. Next time you go on stage, read your jokes as flat and dull as possible. If it still gets a laugh, you have a funny joke. The next time you tell it, give it all the attitude and performance you can, and you now have a joke that works on two levels. It’s structurally sound, and your performance only makes it better.” From that point on, I made sure every joke I had followed that criteria.
Whenever I would see Johnny, I called him Mr. Carson. “Call me Johnny,” he would say, and I always felt awkward. Growing up in New England, you never called people older than you by their first names. It wasn’t till I came to California that friends would say, “These are my parents, Bob and Agnes.” “How are you, Mr. and Mrs. Manachelli?” I would reply. Calling Johnny by his first name just seemed wrong to me so I was never relaxed around him.
The thing that endeared me to Johnny Carson was his ability to relate to the common man. I remember one time he had Dean Martin on the show and Dean had on a pair of very expensive Ferragamo shoes.
“How much are those shoes?” Johnny asked.
“About three hundred bucks,” Dean replied.
Remember, this was the early seventies, when a really good pair of shoes were maybe $80. Johnny seemed generally stunned by this extravagance, much as I was. Coming from a modest background was a blessing for him because it gave him the ability to relate to the average man. He drove a Corvette, not a Ferrari.
When I got The Tonight Show, I began to understand Johnny even more. I would never compare myself to Johnny, but I think this is the one thing we had in common: the ability to not really fit in anywhere. We were too rich and successful to hang out with regular folks as well as feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed around self-centered Hollywood types. Johnny became my role model—with the exception of alcohol. Johnny did enjoy a drink every now and then.
I tried to follow his example. Like Johnny, I never did commercials, because when you’re on TV every night, nobody wants to see you in the commercials too. Like Johnny, I was very much influenced by my mother. When I got the show, it said The Tonight Show Starring Jay Leno.
My mother, being from Scotland, thought that was showing off. “Starring Jay Leno. Oh, Mr. Big Shot has to put his name on the show, starring Jay Leno.”
I would try to explain to her, “Ma, that’s just the way they do it, starring Jay Leno.”
Finally, on the second week, I changed it to The Tonight Show with Jay Leno.
“Much better,” my mother said.
Over the years, people have written nasty things about Johnny, but in my time I encountered dozens of people who were beneficiaries of his kindness, and these things were always done quietly and under the radar. Back in the early eighties, NBC did a special called Johnny Goes Home. In that special, NBC tracked down the 1939 Chrysler that Johnny’s dad had bought new and had given to him as a gift. Johnny had learned how to drive in that car. There was film of him polishing it when he was twelve and taking it to his prom when he was in high school.
When Johnny died in 2005, I found out that he had left the car to me. I had no indication that he was going to do that, but I was deeply touched by his gesture. Again, as was Johnny’s way, he did it quietly and with no fanfare.
Do I wish I could’ve gotten to know him better? Of course, but he was a private person, and I always tried to respect that. I still enjoy watching old Tonight Shows and marvel at how well they hold up. I tried to follow his model of never taking sides and always putting the joke in front of any sort of political opinion I might’ve had. I think that was the key to both of our successes.
I miss him greatly, and this book is a testament to the Johnny Carson both Howard and I knew.
—Jay Leno, February 2025