Free The War for Late Night by Bill Carter Page B

a gala event at the Waldorf-Astoria: The Museum of Television and Radio held a dinner to honor Tom Brokaw on his impending retirement as the anchor of NBC Nightly News . OʹBrien enjoyed a warm friendship with Brokaw and happily signed on as one of the hosts for the affair.
    As the celebrity-fest was drawing to a close, O’Brien and Ross quietly invited Marc Liepis, the longtime NBC publicist assigned to their show, who had also attended the dinner, to join them for a nightcap. It was a signal of their great affection for Marc, an engaging, sweet soul of a guy as well as a dedicated Conan loyalist, much more of the show than of the network. The three men, still in their tuxes, repaired uptown to the famous Bemelmans Bar in the Carlyle Hotel, trundling in out of the February cold, lightly dusted with snow, like iconic characters in a sophisticated thirties movie of Manhattan nightlife.
    They settled into one of the mocha-colored leather banquettes under the gold-leaf ceiling, across from the black granite bar with the famous murals by Ludwig Bemelmans arrayed behind it, and ordered a round of martinis. Unrecognized in the discreetly dim lighting, Conan stretched out his crane-like legs and leaned back to relax. The white-jacketed waiter arrived with the drinks. Piano music played softly under the conversation. Conan casually told Marc that he and Jeff had some news. But it was something Marc had to keep to himself—for a while.
    “I’m getting The Tonight Show ,ʺ Conan said, just a trace of how-about-that in his expression. Liepis, eyes widening, popped to attention: What did he mean he was getting The Tonight Show ?
    Conan explained the approach from NBC, the promise that Jay would be asked to step away after a last long-term deal, and his own commitment to NBC that he would wait his turn in exchange for the assurance that the show would be his. He also emphasized that Jay didn’t know about it yet.
    Liepis was astonished—and overjoyed. He had long been a believer in Conan’s talent, and more than that, he just liked the guy, his integrity, his decency. Liepis had trouble believing Jay Leno would ever consider walking away from The Tonight Show . But if Conan was satisfied it was happening, he was satisfied. He was also flattered to his shoes to be included in the intimate circle that shared this gratifying moment.
    Marc and Jeff Ross toasted Conan. All three of them understood how far Conan had come; they didn’t have to mention it. But it clearly colored the satisfaction evident in Conan’s face.
    Of course, they agreed, they would need to be hypervigilant about keeping the secret. A slip, even around the office, could put the whole arrangement at risk. They decided they needed some code, some word or phrase the three of them could turn to if they needed to communicate about the still-private plan.
    Conan had an idea: Instead of saying “Tonight,” they would say “Anderson Cooper 360” every time they wanted to refer to the show in question. Cooper’s nightly newscast with that title had recently begun its run on CNN. They toasted Anderson Cooper as well.
     
    Back at NBC, Graboff had his back-channel answer. He next set a meeting with Rick Rosen in his office at Endeavor to go over the terms. Sitting on Rick’s couch, Graboff spelled them out: Conan would extend his own deal for the 12:35 show through to the end of the new agreement they were drawing up with Jay. The separate, specific deal for a new contract for The Tonight Show would be drawn up later, after they were sure Jay had signed on. Conan’s representatives would no longer engage with Fox or ABC or anyone else who came knocking about Conan’s future. As far as money went, well, Conan would have to stay at his 12:35 salary until he moved up, and then he would get “a little bump.” After all, the Late Night show didn’t attract anywhere near the revenue The Tonight Show did, so NBC could hardly afford to pay Conan some extravagant sum just