by Wendy Walker
KING: So when the director says, “Cut, but I didn’t like the lighting,” he’s acting… You chose it as a profession.
BRANDO: Because there isn’t anything that pays you as much money as acting while you are deciding what the hell you’re going to do with yourself.
KING: So wait a minute, are you saying you’re still deciding?
BRANDO: It took me a long time to decide. You know people who have never decided. I mean, most people—if you ask them what their dreams are—give this guy a Kleenex.
The interview carried on from there as Brando ribbed Larry about perspiring too much. He called him a “darling man” and then continued to discuss the art of acting and making money. He insisted that regrets were not part of his life, that they belonged to the past. And then he asked once again if his bare feet would show up in the shot.
At the end of the interview, which had covered sundry topics including acting and his life in Tahiti, with mostly unexpected answers from Brando, I watched Larry and his new best friend put their arms around each other and start singing. Brando’s crotch was directly in the face of the camera, his legs and bare feet hanging out, a big bulge visible in the front of his pants, and I did nothing. I gave the camera crew no directives and just watched as these two men, arms locked around each other, turned face-to-face, staring into each other’s eyes while they sang. I was convinced there was a whole lot more than coffee in Brando’s cup by the end of that ninety minutes as the two of them seemed to become lost in each other.
Just before we wrapped the interview, they leaned in and kissed on the lips. In my opinion, it seemed almost normal, as if it would have been weird if they hadn’t kissed, they were so close. But apparently, my boss in Atlanta did not agree. The moment the interview was over, I got a call from Tom Johnson saying, “Wendy, why did you let them kiss? How could you let that happen?”
I said coolly, “Tom, you know, I actually forgot to tell them not to kiss. I forgot to say, ‘Oh, by the way, guys, at the end of the interview when you feel like kissing each other on the lips, just don’t do it.’ ” That moment had made television history.
I hung up the phone, thinking that the interview had been magical. It seemed that Mr. Brando was quite happy about it, too, as he proceeded to bring out several iced bottles of fine champagne and some chicken salad sandwiches. And then, once again, he skipped over Larry and the producers as he personally handed every crew member a glass of champagne and toasted with them. He posed for pictures with the cable people, the sound crew, and the camera crew, while Larry and I watched. It seemed that although he was a well-established recluse at this point in his life, Mr. Brando had enjoyed the experience a great deal and he was making sure everyone could feel his appreciation.
He made his way around the room, and although he posed for pictures with anyone who wanted them, he stopped short of signing autographs. He didn’t believe in it. But he looked sincerely happy to have been on the show, once he got into it, and he was not shy about expressing his gratitude. At the same time, it was clear that he was interested in taking care of the people behind the scenes first. If someone didn’t like it, well, he obviously didn’t care.
When the entire crew had sipped champagne and it was our turn, he walked over to Larry and me to toast with us. “That was quite a kiss,” Larry said to Marlon. “Kiss my producer like you just kissed me.”
I stared at him for a moment and closed my eyes as Marlon Brando took me in his arms. As he placed his lips on mine, gone were bare feet, dirty toes, coffee cups, overweight bellies, and perspiration. It was Stanley Kowalski, Terry Malloy, Fletcher Christian, you name it. It was that man kissing me like I had never been kissed before.
For weeks afterward, Larry walked around the set saying, “You know, after I kissed Marlon Brando, I just can’t stop thinking about him.”
I silently nodded my head. He wasn’t the only one.
TREAT ALL PEOPLE LIKE THE “BIG PEOPLE”
Al Gore was on our set recently, and I watched him walk from one side of the room to the other, shaking hands and greeting each and every person there, from the highest level executives to the entry-level secretary. Just like Marlon Brando did. And on the other side of the coin, we recently had a huge guest who was a severe disappointment. He and his publicist were so disrespectful to the entire crew, we all felt very let down.
Treating everyone the same says so much about who you are in your heart. Have you ever been with someone who was rude to the waiter, nasty to the grocery checker, or impatient with the sales clerk? How does it make you feel about your friend? Maybe he or she is not the great person you thought they were.
Treating others like you want to be treated is a universal spiritual concept because, in spiritual terms, we are all connected. It’s that simple. It’s not about making someone else like you or say nice things about you. It’s all about how you feel on the inside and how much respect and love you radiate to the people around you. Energy is constantly moving, and we live in a universe where “what goes around, comes around,” and “you reap what you sow.” Regardless of how you say it, when you act negatively toward someone else and disrespect them, the bad karma will come back to you, just like a boomerang!
Some of the most profound lessons in life are extremely simple and are not at all new or revolutionary. Treating everyone as an equal is one of those simple lessons. I will always remember Jackie Onassis’s habit of looking me in the eye when she spoke with me, a private secretary to one of her family members. You just never know who these wonderful people will be, the ones who walk into a room and treat everyone the same. Just because someone gets paid a higher salary or has more power in their field does not make them a better human being.
Being kind to others is the same Golden Rule that we learned from our grandmothers, our mothers, and now we are passing it on to the next generation. If everyone treated people the way they wanted to be treated, there would be no violence or wars. I am not suggesting you become a doormat or a yes-man, but there is usually a kinder and gentler way of stating what you want that includes considering the feelings and desires of the other person.
People who treat everyone with respect know that we are all equal, that we were all born naked, and we will all die the same. No matter who we are. So if you are in a higher position than someone else and you take the time to treat them with respect, it will absolutely make their day! And it will make yours.
CHAPTER 18
Know When to Hang Up Your Nightly Suspenders
On Monday, June 28, 2010, I called Bill Maher’s office and spoke to his assistant. “Sarah,” I said, “I need to speak to Bill privately. I’m sorry I can’t tell you what it’s about, but it’s very important.”
Now, Bill is not a guy who’s just sitting around waiting for people to call him. In fact, he’s very hard to book on the show because he’s so incredibly busy with his own show, his books, his stand-ups, his documentaries—his everything. And he prepares endlessly before he comes on Larry King Live because, at heart, he is a perfectionist. That makes it tough to get him to commit to a specific date for our show. So I really wasn’t sure he would call me back since I couldn’t leave a detailed message.
But an hour later, when I was in the car driving to Los Angeles and stressing, my cell phone rang. The voice at the other end said, “Hi, Wendy, it’s Bill Maher.”
“Thanks so much for calling me back,” I said. “I have to share something with you that only a handful of people know about. My staff doesn’t even know yet, but I’m taking you into my confidence. I need you to say not a word. Pinky promise?”
Pinky promise? I couldn’t believe those words just came out of my mouth, and I was mortified. But I moved on as if my stupid twin had said that. “Tomorrow night,” I continued, “Larry is going to make a very important announcement, and I want him to be with someone who really cares about him. That would be you. I know this is really short notice, but is there any way you’d consider doing this for him?”
“I take it this has something to do with his future?” asked Bill.
“Yes, but no one knows that.”
“Well, I’m supposed to be shooting a pilot for a show tomorrow night. I don’t think I can do it, but let me see. I just doubt I can move everything around.”
“Thanks for even considering it,” I said, resigning myself to the fact that Bill couldn’t do it.
I met Larry at Spago Restaurant in Beverly Hills that night, just the two of us. He had decided to leave his nightly show in the fall, and we were meeting to talk about it. I could understand why it was time. Consider that Larry King Live airs 365 days a year. Each week, we do five new shows, and on the weekends, we repeat the best of the week, unless there’s breaking news, and then we all come in and create a brand-new show. Going from that to doing four specials a year on CNN (what Larry was going to do next) would certainly give him a chance to breathe, to spend time with his beautiful family, and to do some things he always wanted to do—like interviewing more athletes and working for Major League Baseball. Things like that.
At dinner, Larry told me, “During this twenty-fifth anniversary week, I just interviewed the biggest business man, the biggest music phenomenon, the biggest head of state, and the biggest athlete: Gates, Gaga, Obama, and LeBron James. It doesn’t get any better than that. Let’s leave on a high.”
We didn’t say much else at dinner, but because of what was about to happen, I had a good excuse to eat a pizza of my own and eat half of Larry’s, too, before the evening was through. This was going to be a huge change and I could hardly take it all in.
The next morning, I woke up to find a voice mail message on my cell phone. It was from Bill Maher. “I’m on the set of my pilot and I’m still moving things around. I’m hopeful I can make it to the studio by the start of the show. I just have one more major thing to move. I’ll give you an update in a few hours.”
I could hardly believe it. How cool was Bill Maher? But we still had to book an alternate show in case he didn’t show up. Remember, my staff knew nothing about Larry’s decision and they didn’t understand why I was freelancing and calling Bill Maher to do the show. I said nothing but I kept my fingers crossed. I knew Bill was really trying to make this happen and he understood that Larry really needed him.
I waited to hear from Bill, but in the meantime, Larry and I had a difficult day ahead. Our first stop was to meet with Bert Fields, Larry’s longtime attorney, and Rick Rosen, Larry’s agent, who brought Christian Muirhead with him to consult. Together we all prepared the statement that Larry would read on the air that night. It was important to him that he relay his sentiments accurately and in his own words. I came up with a suggestion. “How about if you say, ‘It’s time to hang up my nightly suspenders.’ ”
Larry liked that a lot and we got to work crafting the rest of the message. When we were through, our next stop was lunch with CNN president Jon Klein at the Grill, a noisy, fun place in Los Angeles where you can feel the buzz of people brainstorming and making deals. Larry and I got there first and when Jon walked in, he said to me, “Wendy, you look great.”
Larry said deadpan, “You don’t have to tell her that anymore, Jon.”
It got a laugh. Then, while we were eating, I got the call. “Hi, it’s Bill. I’ll be there.”
How could I possibly thank him? I could only imagine what kind of juggling it had taken to pull this off for Larry. Bill hadn’t moved a mountain; he had moved a pilot—which is a lot bigger. And he didn’t want a thing from us. Most of all, he didn’t want us to make a fuss over him. “It may not be the best show, though,” he warned me, “because I’ve had no time to prepare.”
I didn’t care if he talked about gardening for the hour. Just knowing that Larry would not be sitting there all alone to make his important announcement was all I wanted. I called Allison Marsh who is in charge of booking and said, “Cancel all the other guests. Bill will do the hour.”
Larry, Jon, and I went over the plan for the announcement. Now I had to tell the staff before Larry went on the air—the hardest part. Larry’s staff is loyal, skilled, and very accomplished. I know it sounds like a cliché but we’ve been a family for years, and there’s been very little turnover because everyone loves working on the show. Just like there was only one Johnny Carson, there is only one Larry King. The staff, Larry, and I have gone through everything together: marriages, births, deaths, surgeries—all the ups and all the downs. Telling the staff would be the toughest part.
When I arrived at the CNN bureau in Los Angeles, I closed my office door and called in my second in charge, Carrie Stevenson, who’d been with the show longer than I had. When I took the job in 1993, she was already interning there, and sixteen years later, I’d never had a bad day with Carrie. She never lost her cool, she was always “up,” and she worked so hard. When she was in charge, you knew she would always pull it off beautifully.
When I told her the news, I felt instantly better because it was unlike me to keep any information from Carrie or from the rest of the staff. I’d been dreading this moment, but now that I’d told Carrie, I was ready to tell my other direct reports, the people who reported to me on a daily basis. No one had been told formally as yet, but the Los Angeles staff was getting the drift that something was up because Barbara Levin, a lovely woman from Public Relations in New York, was there, and so was Jon Klein.
I got on a conference call with my direct reports: Carrie; John Gilmore, an impressive journalist in Washington; Allison Marsh, my arm in charge of booking; and Greg Christensen, a funny and solid producer who is in charge of the Los Angeles staff. As I explained what was happening, it felt like I was breaking up with them. It was a day that we all knew would come at some point, and at the same time, we never really thought it would. But as Carrie got the entire staff to call in to our conference line, they knew something was going on. Once our staff members across the country were conferenced in from Washington DC, New York, Denver, Atlanta, and San Diego, I told them all, “Hi, everyone, Larry wants to speak to you before the show starts.”
In his softest and most heartfelt voice, Larry said, “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought and I decided the fall will be a good time to end the nightly show. I’ll still be doing specials on CNN, but this will give me time to do other things I’ve always wanted to do, especially spending more time with the family.”
Choking back tears, I said, “Well, Larry, I know I speak for everyone on the staff when I say we’re all really proud of you. You’re an icon, we love you, and it’s been an honor working on the show.”
“I never had to do anything like this before,” Larry said. Everyone was sniffling when John Gilmore in Washington spoke up in his beautiful Irish brogue, “Larry, we love you and it’s been a privilege to work on the show.” Larry started to sniffle along with the rest of us. In the end, the staff took the news like I knew they would as they put aside their sorrow and turned their undivided attention toward the evening’s show. Larry went on his Twitter account and tweeted a message that he was ending the show, while Jon Klein put out a statement to the entire CNN network.
Of course, the news spread quickly and it became breaking news on CNN before we even went on the air. Larry put on his suspenders and prepared for the show that night, later telling a reporter that his announcement call to the staff was one of the saddest ten minutes of his life. We left the offices and walked into the makeup room beside the studio and I nearly cried when I saw Bill Maher getting ready. I held back my tears, though, as I looked into Bill’s eyes, and said, “Thank you. It’s so perfect that you’re here.”
He smiled at me. It was showtime.
KING: Good evening. Before I start the show tonight, I want to share some personal news with you. Twenty-five years ago, I sat across this table from New York Governor Mario Cuomo for the first broadcast ever of Larry King Live. And now, decades later, I talked to the guys here at CNN and I told them I’d like to end Larry King Live, the nightly sh
ow, this fall. CNN has gracefully accepted and agreed, giving me more time for my wife and me to get to the kids’ little league games.
I’ll still be part of the CNN family. I’ll be hosting several Larry King specials on major national and international subjects, and we will be here until a replacement is found. We’ll be here into the fall. Tomorrow night, in fact, Elizabeth Edwards is our special guest.
I’m incredibly proud that we recently made Guinness World Records for having the longest-running show with the same host in the same time slot on the same network. With that chapter closing, I’m looking forward to the future, what my next chapter will bring.
But for now, for here, it’s time to hang up the nightly suspenders. Until then, we’ve got more shows to do, and who knows what the future’s going to bring.
Bill Maher is the Emmy-nominated host of Real Time with Bill Maher on HBO, stand-up comic, best-selling author. We called him in today in view of this announcement and asked him if he’d come on as an old friend. Thank you, Bill.
MAHER: I’m honored you would ask me to take over the desk, Larry. Thank you so much. I’m ready to step in at a moment’s notice. Do you want to finish the hour or would you like me to take over right now, Larry?
I am reminded of what my father, who was a broadcaster, said the day Mickey Mantle retired. “Say it isn’t so,” he began the broadcast.
KING: You put me in that class?
MAHER: Mickey Mantle? You are the Mickey Mantle of broadcasters. Mickey Mantle played eighteen seasons. You played more than that.
KING: I did the twenty-fifth anniversary week. We had Lady Gaga. We had Bill Gates. We had President Obama. We had LeBron James. I’m flying home from that week and I’m thinking to myself, I’ve done fifty thousand interviews. I’m never going to top this. I want to move on. I want new horizons. I want to try other things.