by Bruce Watson
Colbert doubts that grief played much of a role in his decision to become a professional funnyman. “There’s a common explanation that profound sadness leads to someone’s becoming a comedian, but I’m not sure that’s a proven equation in my case,” he told The New York Times. “I’m not bitter about what happened to me as a child, and my mother was instrumental in keeping me from being so. She taught me to be grateful for my life regardless of what that entailed, and that’s directly related to the image of Christ on the cross and the example of sacrifice that he gave us.”
But the Stephen Colbert who speaks frankly about that 1974 loss of his father and two brothers said nothing about losing a third brother. His faith tested again, he strode into the new century with his persona firmly fixed. The grim nod. The pursed lips. The rigid, pointed finger. Still, Colbert the sketch comedian found time to pursue more side projects.
During the early Bush years, Colbert was busier than ever. His Daily Show work was getting him attention and jobs. He did voice-over work on cartoons and a video game, appeared on Law and Order and Curb Your Enthusiasm, and hosted two mockumentaries, one a rehash of his old stories and the other an On Air Guide to Getting on the Air. Then, in December 2002, NBC hired Colbert and Stewart to write a sitcom pilot. Set in Colbert’s beloved South Carolina, the show was designed to both eulogize and satirize the South, adding gay characters and ethnic jokes to some vague Mayberry R.F.D. send-up. NBC thought the script was “too vague” and canceled the project. Then, in 2003, Daily Show viewers were startled to see Colbert “searching for Mr. Goodwrench” in commercials for General Motors. Colbert was not proud. “I don’t think I can sell out any more than Mr. Goodwrench,” he admitted. “I reached an apogee of pimping.”
That same year, Colbert teamed with Sedaris and Dinello to write his first book, Wigfield, subtitled, The Can-Do Town That Just May Not. Wigfield struggled mightily to amuse readers and skewer small towns. The story was told by a purported journalist, Russell Hokes, whose literary tour of Wigfield was a hodgepodge of interviews, oral histories, newspaper articles: and first-person reporting. The message was simple: Small towners are hopeless hicks. That message did not go down well in 2003, as small-town America prepared for war in Iraq. Despite its authors’ fame and their nationwide tour in a stage version, Wigfield sold poorly.
But Colbert’s side projects were mere distractions, given his growing reputation on The Daily Show. “Whenever any of his stories ran,” former correspondent Bob Wiltfong remembered, “there was a huge reaction from the audience. The feeling among the rest of us was, ‘Why is this guy still on the show?’”
Common enemies and a sense of being the sharpest wits on the set cemented the friendship between Colbert and Stewart. They rarely saw each other away from the set, but on camera the two men played off each other like the best comic duos. Colbert accentuated his earnestness with new and distinctive mannerisms - the tilt of the head, the pregnant pause, the slow, measured pacing towards the camera. Though each report was tightly scripted, a Q-and-A segment following Colbert’s opening allowed him to pursue a private goal, that of getting Stewart to break up on camera. “I knew the piece was good if he couldn’t look at me when we were at the desk together,” Colbert said.
Stewart and Colbert were ideal alter egos. “Jon deconstructs the news,” Colbert said. “He’s ironic and detached, while I falsely construct the news, and I’m ironically attached.” Other Daily Show correspondents, however, found Stewart and Colbert too attached to each other. “Jon and Stephen were always very friendly and chummy with each other,” said Wiltfong. “It always seemed like a world we couldn’t get into. . . . Jon just doesn’t let many people in, and Stephen was one of the few.”
Colbert, however, remained above the jealousy and even the celebrity of his fame. As America careened towards war in Iraq, he was too busy studying the media to worry about private feuds. And when the war came, bringing with it spoon-fed news from embedded reporters, Stewart and Colbert became anchors of ironic protest. “Senior Military Correspondent” Stephen Colbert proved Saddam Hussein was still alive by running a clip of Groucho Marx in the 1933 film, Duck Soup. He mocked the futile search for weapons of mass destruction (WMD) by claiming inspectors had found “perfume, Drano, Prell (for moderate to oily hair), and salsa - Tostitos mild, I believe.” And when Bush officials finally testified that they had found no WMD in Iraq, Colbert called the announcement “the non-smoking gun we’ve been looking for.”
Come another election year – “Indecision 2004” – Colbert was back in full political mode. His evolution from sketch comic to caricatured correspondent was complete. His reports from the field were funnier, drier, more distinctive than those of Steve Carell, Samantha Bee, or Ed Helms. Colbert was clearly second-in-command at The Daily Show,” dwarfed only by his co-anchor. The cacophony of the campaign made humor a daily requirement, thus turning 2004 into “The Year of Jon Stewart.” Suddenly, Stewart was everywhere - on magazine covers, 60 Minutes, even Crossfire, where his blistering attack became an Internet sensation. Colbert stayed in Stewart’s shadow, filing report after report - his future waiting in the wings.
With America mired in a controversial war, cable news became a verbal mosh pit. Bill O’Reilly, Sean Hannity, Rush Limbaugh, Laura Ingraham, and others were openly insulting guests and spewing false facts, causing the ghost of Edward R. Murrow to spin in his grave. Who would take these high priests and priestesses of punditry down a notch?
Periodically throughout 2004, The Daily Show previewed a new program, The Colbert Report. The clips showed a strident Colbert shouting, sneering, and not just adjusting his glasses, but ripping them from his face. In his nastiest voice, Colbert announced, “Tonight, I sit down with top newsmakers and tell them to SHUT THE HELL UP!” Colbert denounced guests as being an “Idiot!” or a “Jackass!” and he played off O’Reilly’s “No Spin Zone” by suggesting a “No Fact Zone.” In a supposed interview with the Dalai Lama, Colbert asked, “What the heck do you know about world peace, baldy? SHUT UPPPPP!” More Colbert Report segments aired, but Stewart called them “previews of an exciting new Daily Show spin-off that’s already been canceled.”
America, however, needed The Colbert Report. The election had hardened the divide between the so-called red states and blue states, and the partisan bickering was left to caricature itself. “Shut up” became not just a Colbert joke, but an attention-getter. Right-wing pundits became best-selling authors and full-blown celebrities. If only Colbert could break out of parody. If only he could embody the strength and virility of Stone Phillips, Geraldo Rivera’s sense of mission, and the crusading warrior spirit of Bill O’Reilly. Such a caricature would be more than the high-status idiot Colbert had played since his time with Second City. This evolving egomaniac would mock all that Stewart and Colbert saw as being wrong with America and its flaming media. Pompous, full of himself, oblivious to facts, the emerging Colbert would be a hybrid of many different media personalities. Such a character just might find an audience.
“I used to make up stuff in my bio all the time – that I used to be a professional ice-skater and stuff like that. I found it so inspirational. Why not make myself cooler than I am?”
Mention George Orwell and the title of his dystopian novel on totalitarianism will soon follow. Fears of “Big Brother” are still invoked whenever government surveillance is mentioned, yet 1984 remains a work of fiction. It is another Orwell work, “Politics and the English Language,” that describes our current state of affairs.
In that essay, Orwell argued that “the English language is in a bad way.” Language matters, he said, because it links rhetoric to reality. When rhetoric is detached from reality, the consequences extend far beyond the classroom and the reading room. “Now, it is clear that the decline of a language must ultimately have political and economic causes,” Orwell wrote. “. . . [B]ut an effect can become a cause, reinforcing the original cause and producing the same effect in an intensified form, and so on indefinitely. A man
may take to drink because he feels himself to be a failure, and then fail all the more completely because he drinks. It is rather the same thing that is happening to the English language. It becomes ugly and inaccurate because our thoughts are foolish, but the slovenliness of our language makes it easier for us to have foolish thoughts.”
By 2005, America’s media landscape resembled Orwell’s drunk. Ugly language was daily fare. Foolish thoughts were passed off as gospel, and each person had his own set of facts. Best-selling memoirs were found to contain invented scenes, and major publications, including The Atlantic and The New York Times, admitted to publishing fabricated stories. A new online encyclopedia, Wikipedia, allowed anyone to amend any article with little fact-checking. A billion blogs filled the Internet, each blogger holding fast to some hometown version of truth.
Nearly half of all Americans did not believe in evolution, and an equally shocking number thought global warming was a hoax. No one seemed to trust anyone, except the one source each trusted, whom no one else trusted. Was all truth relative? Were scientific theories, even those endorsed by the scientific community, just maybes? Were facts, as Ronald Reagan once misstated, just “stupid things?”
When The Colbert Report was first conceived, Daily Show producers considered it a passing skit. But shortly after the 2004 election, Colbert began to worry. “I thought, ‘Well, I’ve been through two election cycles here; I’ve been here a long time. I still love it but I’m not sure how much longer I’ll love it.’” He still wanted to work with Stewart, but how?
Stewart, capitalizing on his skyrocketing celebrity, had contracted with Comedy Central to create a new show. So together with his head writer, Ben Karlin, Stewart began to see The Colbert Report as something more than a skit.
Cable TV’s prevailing pundit, Bill O’Reilly, had just been accused of sexual harassment. Having settled out of court for an undisclosed sum, O’Reilly was unrepentant and the case was hopelessly muddled. Who knew whom to believe? Who would ever know? And was there no limit to celebrity ego?
In January 2005, as the nation braced for a second Bush term, Stewart and Karlin approached Doug Herzog, president of Comedy Central, to propose a spin-off of The Daily Show. The pitch was brief. It took Herzog just a few minutes to see the possibilities. Stewart, Carlin, and Colbert spent the next few months hammering out the details of The Colbert Report. The dozen clips already aired on The Daily Show were a start, but they seemed too strident. A sniping pundit telling everyone to “shut up!” might be funny for a moment, but he couldn’t carry a half-hour show.
Colbert’s character would have to be broader, deeper, more farcical. He would have to take himself sooo seriously that no one else could take him seriously. Shamelessly waving the flag, drenching his stage in eagles, bunting, and other symbols of freedom, he would be a living symbol of the simple-minded people who claim exclusive rights to the words “truth,” “patriot,” and “American.” He would be angry, but not for long; critical, but only in jest. He would be, as Colbert said, “well intentioned but poorly informed.” And above all, while mastering the current political jargon, he would have to call attention to its distortions. Was a former sketch comedian up to such a role?
The Colbert Report was announced in May 2005. It would, said Comedy Central president Herzog, be “our version of the O’Reilly Factor with Stephen Colbert.” For those unfamiliar with the name, it was explained as Colbear, with a soft ‘t’. And Repore, with a parallel ending. The Daily Show promos featured Colbert sneering, “It’s French, bitch,” but that idea was cut. Too mean. The Colbert Report would debut in October, the press was told, for an eight-week trial run.
Colbert went to work finding role models. He was already in awe of O’Reilly, who he called “Papa Bear.” “I’d love to be able to put a chain of words together the way he does,” Colbert said, “without much thought as to what it might mean, compared to what you said about the same subject the night before.” But no show could survive with only one model, so Colbert also watched Hannity, Ann Coulter, Michael Savage - a whole murder of crowing cable pundits. And while he watched, the American rhetoric grew still more strident, more Orwellian.
“Conservative asshole!”
“Liberal fuckhead!”
“Fuck you!”
“No, fuck you!”
“Would everyone please just shut up, SHUT UP, SHUUUUTTTTTT UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!”
On October 17, 2005, a day on which nothing of even the slightest importance occurred, Stewart closed The Daily Show with a promo for an upcoming program “with our own Stephen Colbert.” The camera cut to Colbert at his desk.
“Stephen, we’re really excited about the show tonight,” Stewart said.
“Me, too, Jon. I really feel like I’m going to make a lot of money doing this.”
Moments later, viewers who stayed tuned saw a different Colbert, one who seemed injected with testosterone. Gone was the stern, earnest correspondent. Buried deep was the sketch comedian. Stepping – no, leaping - to the front was the president of Colbert Nation. Commanding the camera by approaching it from askew, Colbert revealed his top stories. The last headline said it all: “Finally, a new television show premieres and changes - the - world! Open wide, Baby Bird, ‘cause Mama’s got a big fat night crawler of truth. Here comes the Colbert Report.”
The now familiar opening showed the once shy, nerdy fantasy fan giving the American flag a full-body, Iwo Jima wave, all but bitch slapping the camera. Cut to Colbert at his desk. Sure, his name was on the set, he began, and it was overhead, on the screen in front of him, on chaser lights, on either side of the desk, it shaped like a giant “C.” But this was not about him. The Colbert Report was dedicated to the heroes. “And who are the heroes? The people who watch this show. Average hard-working Americans. You’re not the elite. You’re not the country club crowd. I know for a fact that my country club would never let you in. But you get it. And you come from a long line of it-getters. You come from a line of folks who say somethings – got – to – be – done. Well, you’re doing something right now. You’re - watching - television. And on this show, your voice will be heard - in - the form of my voice.”
A modest beginning, but what followed would forever be Colbert’s trademark. With little fanfare, he introduced Tonight’s Word: “Truthiness.” “Now I’m sure some of the word police, the ‘Wordinistas’ over at Webster’s, will say, ‘Hey, that’s not a word.’ Well, anybody who knows me knows that I’m no fan of dictionaries or reference books. They’re elitist, constantly telling us what is or isn’t true, or what did or didn’t happen.” Colbert moved on to the routine he would soon perform just a dozen paces from the president of the United States: “More nerve endings in your gut than your brain. Look it up in your gut.” He gave examples of Bush decisions that, if you thought about them, were absurd, but if you felt them, seemed like right moves. “The truthiness is, anyone can read the news to you. I promise to feel the news at you.” And a lexicon was born.
Others had tried to sum up the slippery nature of truth in the cable age. “Factoids.” “Tabloid truths.” “Bullshit,” as in the 2005 bestseller, On Bullshit. But Colbert had come up with a term - the term - that would endure. And he had coined it just two hours before taping his first show.
During the 4:00 p.m. rehearsal, the “Word of the Day” had been “truth,” which Colbert planned to contrast with those annoying “facts.” But he decided “truth” was not “dumb” enough. “I wanted a silly word that would feel wrong in your mouth,” he said. Thinking for a minute, he had it: truthiness. And like the lie that, as Mark Twain said, “gets halfway around the world before truth puts on its boots,” truthiness began its march through American culture.
Most newspapers praised Colbert’s debut. “A hilarious send-up of TV news’ puffed-up pundit class,” said the Philadelphia Inquirer. “Occasionally brilliant, occasionally loopy, definitely entertaining,” said the Houston Chronicle. A few did not get the joke. “It feels like a weake
r extension of The Daily Show, judged the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. But truthiness was here to stay. Rarely has a recent coinage been so quickly and universally embraced. Journalists began using truthiness whenever truth proved less than, well, truthy. The word surfaced on ABC’s Nightline, USA Today, The Washington Post, Newsweek, CNN, MSNBC, Fox News, the Associated Press, Editor & Publisher, Salon, and The Huffington Post. “We live in the age of truthiness,” New York Times columnist Frank Rich observed. And in January 2006, the American Dialect Society agreed, naming truthiness its Word of the Year. Runners-up included “Katrina,” “podcast,” “intelligent design,” and “disaster industrial complex.”
Lexicographers noted that truthiness was not a new word. Unbeknownst to Colbert, it had been used sparingly since 1824. But the word fit the times and became immortal. By 2010, it could be found in several dictionaries, but the Wordinistas at Webster’s still left it out of their dictionaries. The authoritative Oxford English Dictionary, however defined truthiness as “the quality of seeming or being felt to be true, even if not necessarily true.” The OED noted the word’s use in the nineteenth century, but gave “U.S. humorist Stephen Colbert” credit for its popularization in “the modern sense.”
Comedy Central had expected to wait out the eight-week trial run to consider the fate of The Colbert Report, but truthiness, combined with Colbert’s sassiness, made the show an instant hit. The Daily Show had taken six years and “The Year of Jon Stewart” in 2004 to amass its nightly audience of 2.5 million. But from the first week of the Report, some 80 percent of Daily Show viewers stayed tuned to Colbert. Just two weeks after the debut, Comedy Central renewed the show for a year.
“I want to thank Comedy Central for picking up the show,” Colbert said. “This says really good things about you guys. You clearly ‘get it.’” Some thought Colbert’s caricature could not carry a half-hour show. Colbert himself worried about seeming too critical or partisan. “I don’t think he’s necessarily a Republican or Democrat,” he said of his character. “He is part of the ‘Blame America Last’ crowd.” Colbert had known strident conservatives in Charleston, at Hampden-Sydney, even at Northwestern, and he knew they weren’t much fun to be around. As the lone presence before the camera, Colbert knew that however loony he might seem, he would have to be likable. “If you try to maintain your humanity when you do the jokes, and not play on tragedy, or cynically dismiss people’s beliefs, then I think people will, hopefully, respect your attempt to stay civil.”