One of the greatest magic tricks I ever saw unfolded when Johnny Carson invited the illusionist Uri Geller on “The Tonight Show” to bend a spoon with his mind.
This now notorious 1973 episode is best known for Geller’s failures. It has emerged over the years that staff members from “The Tonight Show” consulted with a magician, James Randi, who advised them on how to prepare the props to stymie him. It worked. For 20 excruciating minutes, Geller failed to astound.
The real trick here was not performed by Geller, but by Carson, who deftly played the role of generous host, making something that could easily have seemed cruel come off as kind. He confesses humbly to being a little skeptical, makes a big show of wanting Geller to do well, invites him to return and try again, and as Geller struggles, Carson listens, waits patiently, acts baffled. An amateur magician himself, Carson possessed a quick and cutting wit, but in keeping it restrained, he clarified his greatest gift.
Johnny Carson was a genius in the art of being liked, which is remarkable, considering he wasn’t, on paper, especially likable: A largely absent father, philandering husband, a sometimes mean drunk, a fiercely private figure even to many close to him. He was a talk-show host who didn’t always seem to enjoy talking to people.
At the pinnacle of his fame in the late 1970s, Carson said his best friend was possibly his lawyer, Henry Bushkin, who would later write that he was shocked by this admission, adding that he had never “met a man with less of an aptitude or interest in maintaining real relationships.”
Except the one with the vast American public. In our fragmented media landscape, it can be difficult to grasp just how large Carson loomed over the culture. At the center of late-night for 30 years — he presided from 1962 to 1992 — he is the most influential talk-show host of all time, and possibly the most popular figure in the history of television. Yet for someone so famous, it seemed as if we never really got to know him.
