Michael Hainsworth’s Excellent Adventure to see David Letterman
Pam(aka “Mom”) and I jetted off to New York, New York (the city so nice they named it twice) for no reason other than to catch a last-minute taping of The Late Show with David Letterman. Why take Mom, you ask? Because she’s the only one I know who is as big a fan of The Most Powerful Man In Broadcasting as me. That, and she had 30,000 free air miles to burn.
Wemanaged to get tickets to the show through the CBS/Late Show web site. Unlike most schleps who must wait up to 9 months for tickets, I selected three “cancellation dates” from the site that corresponded with a week off work. When someone receives a regular ticket but cancels at the last minute, The Late Show needs to fill the seat. They call up people who have requested these cancellation tickets just a few days in advance. I requested the tickets on Thursday the 12th at noon, and got a call Friday the 13th at noon asking if I’d like to go to ANY of the three dates I chose (Tues, Wed, Thurs of the following week). Of course, the best day to go is Thursday ‘cos that’s the day they do Know Your Current Events (or Cuts of Meat). Just the miniscule chance of actually playing the game made the Thursday show the obvious choice!
We left Toronto’s Pearson International Airport at 11am Thursday and touched down at New York’s LaGuardia less than 90 minutes later. We grabbed a cab to The Plaza Hotel on Fifth Avenue and West 57th Street at the south end of Central Park. Leaving Toronto was a tough decision for Pam (for all of 60 seconds) because the Beavis household has a new member — George, a Welsh Terrier puppy. My brother Paul, as a result, was shanghai’d into taking care of the lil’ stinker while we were away. As payment for services rendered, he demanded we bring him back “something” from The Big Apple. It became our quest. We figured that, worst case scenario, we’d snag him something from the hotel room’s mini-bar. After getting settled in at the Hotel, we raced along Broadway to 1697 Broadway and to the Late Show with David Letterman’s home, The Ed Sullivan Theater.
2:20 PMAfter speaking to a page outside the theatre doors, we took our place in the line-up that had formed along Broadway. There we chatted with a couple from Pennsylvania who also were on the Cancellation list and had endured a 90 minute bus ride into New York for the show. They were stunned that we actually hopped on a plane to come see Dave. We learned that the wife’s brother had been declined tickets by the show’s staff. When they call you to offer a cancellation ticket, you must answer a trivia question. I figured they’d give you the ticket even if you didn’t get the answer right — but apparently not!
We didn’t actually have tickets, they were waiting for us on a list. While we waited, I went around the corner to The Hello Deli to buy Pam and myself some lunch (and, of course, to meet Rupert Gee, one of Dave’s neighbourhood pals and the focus of one of the funniest Letterman segments ever created). Rupert, an unassuming man, was hard at work behind the cash register taking orders. The Hello Deli is, as you might predict by the shots of Rupert on TV, quite small. Shirts with Rupert’s face on ‘em next to the cash had the worn look of a product nobody wanted to buy. I ordered two sandwiches (a Corned Beef for Pam and the best Chicken Salad Sandwich I had eaten in along time). I then returned to the line up.
3:02 PMWe were herded into the lobby of The Ed Sullivan Theater. The line was split between those who had ordered “Cancellation Tickets” and those who had called the theatre earlier in the day for “Standby Tickets.” They tell you to bring identification with you (to prevent scalpers, I suspect) and while they did ask the people in front of us for it, we were never asked to prove who we were. After receiving the blue tickets (0131 and 0132), we were again herded into another line. It’s here that one of two perky Late Show staffers interview and pump-up the energy level of the future audience members. Four of us were judged to be so excited about the show, we were told we’d be in the front row! The woman placed white stickers on our tickets. Pam and I were about to pee our pants at this point. On our way out, the white tickets had a black line drawn through them by a page at the front door. We we told to return at 4:30 and get in a “special” line on the opposite side of the doors.
3:14 PMPam and I returned to Rupert Gee’s Hello Deli. I just HAD to get a picture of Rupert and me holding my ticket. Rupert seems to give everyone this odd look as if he knows you know he’s famous, but he realises he’s not a Big Ass Star. The look is that of a humble “are you going to ask me for a picture?” Of course, I did. He was quite accommodating, and as we parted ways, said “enjoy the show.” Very polite. I felt like such a dumb-ass for bothering him.
4:09 PMAfter walking around for less than an hour, we found ourselves back in front of the theatre, only to find (to our horror) that the line-up had already begun in our “special” side. We got in line with the couple we had met earlier (butted in line, actually, by chatting them-up). The wife took a photo of Pam and me standing under the Late Show marquee holding our tickets, and I did the same for them. We knew we would lose our tickets once we got in the theatre (the staff retrieve them for some unknown reason) so I took a picture of mine. As we waited to be herded into the theatre, the same two perky Late Show staffers examined the Special Front Row line up and pulled four couples out to interview them. We knew they were being interviewed for those prized seats in which people are selected for Know Your Current Events by Dave himself. The staffers picked a few kids, an All American Mid-West looking couple, and a girl from Sweden. She ended up being the only one picked by Dave to be on the show. If you click on the picture to the right, you can actually see the orange shirt of the girl’s friend who Dave had stand up, too. Pam and I went from being just happy to be at the show (hoping to not get a bad balcony seat), to being thrilled to get a first-row seat, to being disappointed that we weren’t actually on the show. It was quite hilarious how our expectations changed.
4:45 PMOur expectations changed again. As we were herded into the inner lobby of the theatre, it became apparent that the 60 or so people chosen for “first row” seats were about double the number of actual front row seats. Then, a special-special line became apparent to us. The staffers were pulling out more than just excited fans for the first two rows, they were pulling people out to line the additional isle seats near the Know Your Current Events people. We were really worried now that we weren’t going to be in the front row as expected. Our expectations went from being disappointed about not being chosen for the Know Your Current Events segment, to just hoping we’d be in the front row, to just hoping we’d get a good seat at all! As the staffers again rallied us to build our excitement level, other employees started to come and go, opening the main theatre doors — but only a crack. I swear it was a joke to them, because every time the door opened an inch, we’d all scramble to get a look at the auditorum! After a lesson on how to applaud (and how not to hoot), we were herded into the Shrine That Is The Set. I got the best seat on the house. I ended up sitting in the middle section, second row, isle seat — directly across from Dave himself. The camera and floor director’s position was just off to my left enough to be in direct view of Dave. During the monologue, my view was obstructed by Tony “Big Ink” Mendez’s butt.
5:15 PMThe warm-up guy, Eddie Brill, walked out and introduced the members of the band. He reminded us not to hoot, and not to heckle. Then, before Mr. Big Shot himself came out to talk to the audience, clips from “Dave Talks to Kids” played. Mr. Brill pointed out that the staff and crew of The Late Show was in a good mood because today was their last day before a two week vacation. This wasn’t the last show, though — they taped Friday’s show at 8pm. It seemed quite apparent at the end of the show that the crew just wanted to get the day over with. 
5:33 PMDave runs out on stage. He bolted out so fast and towards me, I thought he was going to end up in my lap. He appeared to have a cold — his nose was a lil’ stuffed up, it sounded. We really hoped he was going to ask the audience if we had any questions. He didn’t. Watching the clock (which read 11:33pm) it was apparent Dave wasn’t going to chat for long. He appeared pasty — it was the make-up, I assume. But once the cameras were on and the lights were lit, the appearance was gone. The wizardry of television make-up, I guess. Dave thanked us for coming to see the show, and announced he had to go back stage to “take his medication.” As he turned around, The CBS Orchestra started to play the opening theme — and the monitors played the ferry sequence.
Yes, the theatre is cold. But, you eventually don’t notice as your eyes scan every inch of the theatre. My biggest surprise was how small it actually is. Everyone says that about television sets. Dave was about 15 feet away from me (if he had chucked a pencil at the camera, it would have struck me in the head). The colours are much more subdued in real life than on The Big Show. It’s the lighting, I’m sure. Another element that makes the set look much bigger is the camera angles — when Alec Baldwin strolled on stage, the camera was low and angled upward, giving the impression that he’s bigger. He is a big guy, but the entire set looks huge.

I was in the opening sequence. Y’know the shot where, after the credits, a camera on a boom sweeps across the crowd? There’s me, clapping like a trained seal! I heard myself, too. I’m a loud guy when I need to be, and I was among the few early laughers. Sure, nobody else can pick me out, but I swear I can hear myself laughing and booing. Fine. Let me have my delusion. It was suggested I yell something out to identify myself to my friends, but hey — I’m Canadian. We don’t do that sort of thing. Even when Alec Baldwin mentioned his wife was in Toronto shooting a movie, I didn’t hoot. I didn’t clap. I was polite.
One of the most interesting parts of the show was the commercial break. Being a media guy, I was watching everything but the show. And during the breaks, as the band continued to play and the monitors showed clips from previous shows, Dave’s expression went from Mr. Wacky to Mr. Serious. Rob Burnett, the show’s Producer, walked to the desk with the head writer (a Canadian, eh?!) and the three of them were “in conference.” Dave’s assistant, Laurie, brought Dave fresh coffee. I could read his lips as he said “this coffee’s cold!” but I couldn’t make out anything else he said. It was so strange to see him get that serious — it was as if he was landing planes at Newark or launching the Space Shuttle. As the band wrapped up and the commercials ended, we were motioned to clap again and Dave came back with Alec all wacky again.
There was only one edit. Musical guest Dwight Yokham went on and on. After the third refrain, the floor director gave him the wrap-up signal — but not before Dave puffed out his cheeks, bugged his eyes, and gave the floor director a look of, “Jezus, another chorus?!” When we watched the show back at the hotel, Dwight was faded out after the second chorus and the commercial rolled.
Duringthe commercial before Dwight, we watched the crew tear down part of the set to make way for his band’s equipment. The skyline comes apart in sections and is on wheels. As the set rolled away, I saw a raised storage level about 15 feet up against the far back wall. It was very odd to see the Hosey Cow! That and a few pieces of furniture gave backstage the effect of being a “Comedy Archive.” The cow wasn’t funny as it sat there on its shelf. It was just a cow.
Also odd? Seeing Kenny The Stagehand actually laughing. In every comedy segment featuring him, he’s always very low key (and always has a cigarette in his mouth). I first saw stagehand Pat Farmer walking along Broadway hours before the show. It, too, was odd to see ‘em wearing glasses and walking around. How strange it must be to be a quasi-television celebrity.
6:32 PMFollowing the commercial break, Dave chatted with Dwight for a few minutes, then said good night. The band played the closing theme for no more than 15 seconds and the monitors went black. Dave stepped out from behind his desk to say thank you to the audience, then vaulted back stage.
6:35:10 PMSecurity and CBS Pages pounced on us. We were ordered out of the theatre by the side doors, and no pictures allowed. It was rather disappointing to be turfed so quickly. Two young girls, who announcer Alan Kalter waved to during his introduction before the show, were hustled onstage by Alan afterward and — OHMYGOSH — permitted to sit in Dave’s chair for a photo with him. I’m so damn jealous. I attempted to take some clandestine photos on the way out, but in the darkness of the actual stage (the seats were lit), the photos didn’t turn out. All 300 or so audience members then found themselves standing out in the bright street, dazed by the whirlwind experience. All the friends we made in the line prior to the show all went their separate ways, and Pam and I turned to each other and said, “I can’t believe we just saw Dave.” The absurdity of racing to New York and blowing a bazillion dollars to see a T.V. show was no longer with us — we were just amazed that it happened at all.

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And please explain to me why David Letterman didn’t meet Canada’s foremost business broadcasters who adds business news and entertainment newscasts to come up with busintainment.
You could have done a business segment on his show and made him laugh every night
Actually, Gary, this was two years before I moved into television. I was hoping to snag an interview with The Big Guy but they were pretty wise to that ploy…