One more for the road

The last time NBC replaced its "The Tonight Show" host, the behind the scenes wheeling and dealing was interesting enough to make a movie about. The Late Shift, the TV movie about Jay Leno and David Letterman's struggle for Johnny Carson's coveted seat, aired on HBO in 1996, four years after the dust had settled on the debacle. In 2009, however, media moves a bit faster, and the Internet has been lit up for the past few weeks with Youtube videos, non-stop Twittering and Facebook campaigns covering every aspect of the Conan O'Brien-Leno primetime shuffle. Whatever side you were on (for the record, I'm with Coco) the real core of the quagmire was never about Leno or Conan or any of the other late night hosts hopping on the NBC bashing bandwagon. No, the big issue is about bowing out gracefully, and American's frequent failure to do so.

These days, thumbing through TV Guide is like shopping at a shifty, third-rate grocery store: most of the products on the shelves are well past their expiration date. "The Simpson's" just replaced "Gunsmoke" as the longest running TV series, an honorable accomplishment if it wasn't so painfully obvious that the show has long since passed its creative peak. The American Idol franchise/phenomenon is entering its final season with creator Simon Cowell judging, but all sources indicate the show plans to soldier onwards despite Simon's absence. Back at NBC, the same studio suits who couldn't commit to Conan's new style of late night comedy plan on replacing the failed "Jay Leno Show" with yet more episodes of the infinitely spun off "Law and Order." Some say that our culture has finally run out of new ideas, but maybe it's just hard for new ideas to take root when the old ones refuse to step out of the limelight.

The problem of knowing when to quit is by no means a phenomenon unique to television. Movie franchises mill out endless sequels until finally the fans stop caring, and one hit wonder bands from the seventies continue to tour, despite having only one original member. Rather than preserve some sort of legacy, these institutions sink lower and lower until any hint of the original quality is lost. Today, Rocky is remembered more for being a source of crappy sequels than a high caliber American film classic.  If the Beatles had ever reunited, there is a good chance we'd be making fun of their most recent money grabbing comeback tour instead of fondly remembering the profound effect they had on modern music. Perhaps Neil Young said it best when he sang, "it's better to burn out, than it is to rust."

Most unspoiled legacies are the products of tragedy and early deaths, rather than a conscience decision to retire at the right time. For every James Dean who died young and left behind potential and promise, there are a dozen Marlon Brandos who slowly decay in the public eye. It takes a lot of guts to quit while you're on top, but one only has to look at the world of syndicated comics to see the benefits of doing so. Reading the funnies in today's newspapers isn't so funny thanks to the tired gags of Garfield, Cathy, Hagar the Horrible, and countless other comics far past any sort of relevancy.  The classic strips that we remember fondly, like Calvin and Hobbes and Farside, retired before they lost their spark, leaving behind an unblemished portfolio of quality work.

Even though NBC decided to give Leno his old spot back at "The Tonight Show," he's still the one losing out. Odds are good that Conan and his talented staff will go on to pursue some new project. But however many seasons Leno has left in him, it's obvious at this point that his best work is behind him. Sure, the money is still there, but don't pride and quality count for anything these days? Rather than stepping aside and being fondly remembered for the unique touches he brought to "The Tonight Show," Jay Leno is destined to become the butt of jokes, rather than the one making them.