Ed McMahon: The ‘Hey-o’ goes silent

Ed McMahon, 1923-2009

Ed McMahon, the man who filled a singular — and odd and often thankless — role in TV history, has died at age 86. In the ’80s and ’90s he was known to younger TV audiences as a game show host, commercial pitchman, Publishers Clearing House award presenter, parade announcer and, with Dick Clark, producer and host of various TV shows.

But, of course, from 1957 to 1992, McMahon starred in his most famous role: perennial sidekick and second banana to Johnny Carson, who would rule as television’s biggest star. Starting in 1957, McMahon was the announcer for “Who Do You Trust?” a game show hosted by Carson broadcast out of New York City. When Carson took over NBC’s already-famous “Tonight Show” in 1962, he brought McMahon with him as announcer and sidekick in an unequal partnership that lasted for 30 years. McMahon’s famous intro (“Heeeeeeeeeeere’s Johnny!”) is  one of TV’s most famous catchphrases.

By the time I was old enough to watch the “Tonight Show,” in the 1980s, Carson and McMahon were already legends — so long-running and historic was the show and their repartee that it seemed more like lore than actual comedy. It verged on cliche. Make no mistake: until the very end, Carson and McMahon were enormously popular. Audiences  still tuned in in droves, but Carson, ever the master of timing, knew it was time to step down.

So my generation never knew Ed McMahon in the prime of what he did: act as the audience’s surragate on the “Tonight Show.” He was the announcer, sure, but he was also the guy who laughed at the jokes — particularly when no one else would — and who suffered as the butt of the jokes, seemingly happy, just as any of us would be, to be the target of such a master and gentle comedian. And McMahon set the standard as talk show sidekick — perhaps the most bizarre job in television. Not the star, not the clown, not even, really, the master of ceremonies, McMahon’s official duties almost defied description because he didn’t seem to have any. He was just there so Carson (and other guests) would always have someone to play off of. And according to Carson, he was brilliant at it. Have a look:

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Again, by the time my generation came around, the partnership between McMahon and Carson was so cemented in TV legend that it was calcified. Phil Hartman and Dana Carvey made hay with a spoof of “Tonight” on “Saturday Night Live” that reduced McMahon to a buffoon, and there’s no doubt that the character of Hank Kingsley on Garry Shandling’s fictional “Larry Sanders Show” was based on McMahon. That the Kingsley character (as brilliantly embodied by Jeffrey Tambor) was a petulant neurotic, both craven and egomaniacal backstage and bombastic on-stage didn’t help the real-life McMahon’s image.

In the last few years, McMahon’s life had become tabloid fare. He broke his neck in 2007, later saying the injury made it hard for him to work, leading to money problems and the public embarrassment of having the bank foreclose on his Los Angeles home. In February, he entered the hospital for pneumonia, the latest in a string of ailments.

Ever the pitchman, even in declining health, McMahon made commercials for Cash4Gold and FreeCreditReport.com earlier this year. But there was an air of sadness about these spots — the gaunt McMahon seemed desperate.

So I’m going to remember the Ed McMahon of the ’70s — the man who turned second banana into a thriving broadcasting and production career and who made making the other guy look good look easy. Anyone who craves the spotlight should have an enabler as genial as Ed.