I grew up with late night television. You grew up with late night television. A lot of us who are baby boomers grew up with it. But let us be honest—it has long since been dead. Late night television basically ended when Jay Leno and David Letterman finished their runs. To be even more precise, it really ended when Jay Leno came back and kicked Conan O'Brien off the air. That was the last straw. I probably watched for the last time right around then. I am not unaware of what has been on since, but really—who has the time for it? The entire format is gone, and it is not coming back.
The truth is, the late night model was born in the mid-1950s. Steve Allen invented it, Jack Paar fine-tuned it, and Johnny Carson perfected it. Carson’s reign was the standard. Millions tuned in every night. At his peak, Carson pulled 17 million people on average, with a high of 45 million. That was not just television, that was cultural gravity. But gravity eventually weakens, and by the time Leno, Letterman, and then Conan came along, the cycle was already in decline. The format was stretched thin, copied endlessly, and parodied. From Merv Griffin and Joan Rivers to Chevy Chase and even the Larry Sanders Show, everybody knew the formula. And when the formula becomes predictable, it becomes stale. By the time Colbert, Fallon, and Kimmel took over, the genre was just recycling its own shadows.
The numbers tell the story. The current late night shows—Colbert, Kimmel, Fallon—each pull around a million viewers a night. Of that, maybe 200,000 fall into the so-called “demo” age range of 25–54 that advertisers want. Compare that to Carson’s 17 million, or even Letterman and Leno routinely getting five, six, or seven million, and the drop-off is astounding. Even more astounding is the cost. Colbert’s show alone cost CBS about $100 million a year to produce. He was paid $15 to $20 million himself. The show carried a staff of 200. And with all of that, it was losing $40 million a year. And here is the kicker—that was considered the most successful of the three late night shows. So if the best of the bunch is bleeding that much money, what does that say about the rest?
Some people point to Donald Trump’s election in 2016 as the moment when Colbert salvaged his numbers by turning his opening monologues into nightly anti-Trump therapy sessions. For a while, that worked. Disaffected Hillary voters tuned in for the catharsis. The other shows followed suit, loading up on political jabs. But over time, the very thing that gave them a temporary bump ended up driving away the other half of the country, and also alienating the viewers who just wanted a laugh before bed. Politics crowded out humor. It became predictable. The shtick got old. And the audience withered further.
Meanwhile, something else happened. Podcasting and streaming matured. I have been podcasting since before there was even an iPod. Back then it was nothing more than streaming audio over dial-up connections, before compression technology made it manageable. It was rough, it was crude, and it was fun. But I could see the future even then. What once required a million-dollar studio setup could now be done on a laptop. I know, because I paid for those early setups. Then the cost fell to a hundred thousand dollars. Now, with an iPhone, a couple of good microphones—I use Rode equipment, for example—you can be producing professional-quality audio and video for under ten grand. That is the full circle I have lived. From million-dollar studios to studios in your pocket.
And here is the irony. The networks are still trying to justify these $100 million productions with massive staffs, when individuals working out of spare bedrooms are producing shows with bigger audiences and stronger loyalty. The Fox “Gutfeld!” show is a perfect example. Different formula, lower overhead, and far more profitable. Gutfeld runs with a staff of 30, not 200. His viewership runs 2 to 3 million per night, with 400,000 in the demo. Twice the audience of Colbert, Fallon, or Kimmel. And yet his total available audience is smaller, since Fox News is only in about 60 million homes compared to 300 million with the big three networks. That comparison should embarrass every executive at CBS, NBC, and ABC. But they will keep pretending it is still 1954.
I do not worry about those executives. They have their problems. My world is different. When I record audio or video, my audience is not 17 million, or even one million. My audience is my clients, my prospective clients, my friends, and the people who care about the kinds of ideas I talk about. That is the entire point. When I record, I am speaking to a select number of people. Half of them may never tune in. The other half might occasionally check in. And maybe a handful will consume every single episode. That is fine. That is success. It is efficient, effective communication. It builds relationships. I do not need the illusion of mass-market fame. I need clarity with the right people.
That is where late night television missed the boat. They kept chasing scale in a world that moved toward niches. They wanted giant stages, giant sets, giant staffs, and giant paychecks. And they justified it all with giant losses. Meanwhile, the real world was moving toward targeted voices, long-form conversations, and specialized content that cost a fraction of the budget. Joe Rogan is an example. He is not the only one, but he is the most obvious. He does good interviews with good guests. He does not need a monologue or a comedy band. He has a conversation. And he draws millions—more than the legacy shows combined—at a fraction of the cost.
To me, that is the great democratization of communication. When I started, it was unthinkable that you could run a show without a studio, engineers, soundproof walls, and broadcast infrastructure. Now you can set up in your living room with a good directional mic, eliminate background noise with software, and reach your audience instantly. Anyone who insists it still takes millions of dollars and 200 employees is either delusional or clinging to an old paycheck. For the rest of us, the barriers are gone. The excuses are gone. The opportunity is wide open.
So yes, late night is over. It is done. It will not come back. ABC and NBC might try to hang on, but they would be better off walking away. The future is not in trying to revive a 1954 idea. The future is in people with something to say, saying it directly, without middlemen, without bloated staff, and without the illusion that bigger is better. You build an audience, or you already have an audience. That is the truth. And if you know your audience, you do not need millions of strangers to validate you. You just need to be consistent, authentic, and worth listening to.
That is what podcasting and streaming have given us. Freedom from the gatekeepers. Freedom from the networks. And freedom from the dead weight of an outdated format. I watched late night television grow, peak, and die. And I have been around long enough to see what came after. The new model is leaner, smarter, and more personal. And unlike the old shows, it is not going anywhere.