This is how one television icon began to diffuse what could have been -- should have been -- a career-ending scandal.
And while it happened four years ago, a lot of guys seem not to have learned any lessons from him.
David Letterman was never a jock. And was never a politician. But he hasn't had to quit his job even though it could have happened that way.
Back in 2009, Letterman was being blackmailed into paying someone hush-up money. The blackmailer threatened to reveal that Dave had had numerous sexual relationships with women who worked for him -- relationships he was having while living with his longtime girlfriend and eventual wife Regina Lasko. Now, Hollywood scandals are cheap, we know, but Letterman, who still struggles in the ratings against Leno, surely didn't need this publicity. Not only had it been a big deal that he'd finally married Lasko -- their son Harry was almost six when the couple "went legal" -- but these days, workplace sex politics can be complicated, even for the boss. He might have been opening himself up to possible lawsuits just by getting involved with his employees.
Had this been an episode of Matlock, Dave would have confronted the blackmailer, killed him accidentally with a hockey stick ("hit somebody!"), and tried to cover up his crime and blame it on Paul Shaffer.
Dave could have just paid the blackmailer off. Until of course he came calling again.
He could have done nothing, let the whole thing explode, and either deny deny deny or no-comment no-comment no-comment and then finally admit the whole thing to Oprah later on.
But Dave did none of these things. He called his lawyer as soon as the blackmailer made his initial threat. The lawyer contacted the Manhattan D.A.'s office. Eventually, after several direct meetings with the man, Letterman appeared before the Manhattan Grand Jury to give evidence so that the Jury could issue a warrant for the blackmailer, who was arrested.
The day of the blackmailer's arrest, Letterman taped his "confession" about the events of the previous three weeks. If you watch it, you realize how brilliant a performance it is. It is the best diffusing of a public relations nightmare since Tylenol managed to avoid going under after the cyanide crisis of the 1980's. (And that, by the way, is literally the textbook on how corporations avert catastrophes, though obviously some of them haven't read it lately.)
As Ryan Braun, and before him Lance Armstrong, have stood before the microphones and emphatically denied any wrong-doing in the area of performance-enhancing drugs, and as they and so many others who have denied and denied and eventually admitted guilt, I keep thinking of Dave's confession. As so many politicians who have come before us denying any hanky-panky only later to admit some fault, I keep thinking of Dave's confession.
The obvious first key to Letterman's success with this mess is that he got out in front of it. Not only did he go right to the authorities, but when it came time for the truth to come out, he was the one who got to tell his story first, not the tabloids. It's so much easier to handle the consequences that way. A couple of baseball juicers have made admissions after getting caught, which is not quite getting out in front, but those who "confessed" -- Andy Pettitte comes to mind -- have managed to escape the sharpest scalpels of the baseball writers (who, as I have said, are a sanctimonious group to be sure.)
By telling the story first, Letterman also got to cast his blackmailer in a critical light, mocking his ambitions to turn his information into a movie script and tell-all book. Most of the confession is spent telling of the blackmail situation; Dave reveals the substance of the blackmail near the end, and while it is surprising, the audience is behind him by this point.
But the most important key to the genius of this confession is that Dave remains Dave. He stays very much in the same persona that he always has had since his first morning talk show thirty-plus years ago. He is self-deprecating, a little caustic, and full of "Lutheran Midwestern guilt." He learned very well from his mentor, the late Johnny Carson, who had his share of private ups and downs over the years. His use of the term "hinky" causes continued convulsions in the audience. He's got them, and despite the seriousness of the circumstances, he knows they're his. So by the time we get to the sex, he's already been forgiven, and when he tells them the allegations are true, they are applauding. You'd think he'd done some kind of jedi mind trick. Here is a man who has cheated on the mother of his child, a woman whom he'd finally married, a man who is having sex with his employees (according to what I've read, there is no specific policy at Letteman's company that prohibits sexual relationships between managers and employees, though CBS supposedly requires that "suppliers" like Letterman's company are supposed to follow protocols of the network, which Dave surely did not do). And they are cheering him.
But Ryan Braun stood before a microphone last year when his appeal for a suspension was awarded and declared that his victory against Baseball was a victory for all who have been falsely accused. (Braun tested positive for PEDs, but because the collector's handling of Braun's sample did not supposedly follow protocols, the test was tossed out.) Many came to his side and supported him. Now they all have egg on his face as he accepts a 65-game suspension because his name was linked to a designer drug lab in Florida, Biogenesis. Lance Armstrong threatened to destroy people if they revealed his PED use, and he insisted for eons that he was clean. And there he was on Oprah saying, yes, I did them, and he has become a symbol of all that is arrogant about today's athlete. As some commentators have said recently, it's like they lie so much they really believe somehow it's true. And was it a year ago that Anthony Weiner tried to claim that his cell phone was hacked as a way of explaining the pictures of his member? Or Larry Craig talking about a wide stance in a bathroom? You get the idea.
I've always loved Dave, from way back in those early NBC days, but as I've got older I'm not usually watching much tv at all, and yes I've gravitated to the slightly younger generation of Stewart/Colbert (who are on a bit earlier, too). I've spent little time watching much tv regularly anyway. (As a parent, I'm used to not getting the first choice of viewing, and I also canned cable tv, preferring the streaming option.) I feel pretty crappy for Harry, and for Dave's wife, and even the women who got involved with Letterman; those kinds of workplace situations are not easy to manage even for people who are not committed to other people, as Dave was. I can't dismiss the idea that I'm not happy about what Dave did, because he was in a position of power with the women he was having sex with. But make no mistake; Dave should have won an Emmy for this performance. This is a model of how one handles scandal.
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