Lorne Michaels had all of the ingredients for Saturday Night, now he had to figure out how to mix them together. (Part I is on page 79.)
The scheduled air date for the first episode of NBC’s Saturday Night was October 11, 1975. Just about every-one—from the executives to the crew—didn’t see the show lasting an entire season…except for Lorne Michaels. He reassured his worried cast and writers on the 17th floor that their grandchildren would be watching reruns of the first episode in history class. But no one was convinced. And the chaos of the final week leading up to the premiere didn’t help matters.
By the time Saturday rolled around, Michaels had no lighting director (he had fired two already); the antiquated sound system had broken down; and instead of the brick wall they were promised for a backdrop, they had a ton of uncut bricks piled in the middle of the floor.
While Michaels was busy ordering script changes and settling various arguments, Ebersol brought news that the network had ordered the show’s celebrity host, George Carlin, to wear a suit and tie—the embodiment of everything Saturday Night was against. (Carlin compromised by wearing a sport coat with a T-shirt underneath.)
A lot of thought went into the best way to begin the show. Michaels wanted people to know from the get-go that they were seeing something different. His solution: Begin with a “cold opening.” When the clock struck 11:30 p.m., viewers were pulled immediately into a sketch featuring Michael O’Donoghue and John Belushi as, respectively, professor and student.
O’Donoghue: “Let us begin. Repeat after me. I would like…”
Belushi (in a thick foreign accent): “I would like…”
O’Donoghue: “…to feed your fingertips…”
Belushi: “…to feed your feengerteeps…”
O’Donoghue: “…to the wolverines.”
Belushi: “…to thee wolvereeenes.”
This goes on for a few minutes until O’Donoghue clutches his heart and keels over. Belushi sits there, shrugs, then grabs his heart and keels over. The puzzled audience is left hanging for a moment, and then Chevy Chase enters wearing a stage manager’s headset. He looks at the two figures lying on the floor, then breaks out into a big grin and says to the camera: “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!”
…every year, but never more than three times a year.
The show didn’t go off without a hitch, but despite a few miscues, they had pulled it off—within the allotted budget—a feat that impressed the skeptical NBC brass.
The ratings for the first few episodes were considerably better than those for Tonight Show reruns (although still not enough to pull in major advertising dollars), while the initial reviews were a bit mixed. But a big boost came from the highly touted TV critic Tom Shales:
NBC’s Saturday Night can boast the freshest satire on commercial TV, but it is more than that, it is probably the first network series produced by and for the television generation.…It is a live, lively, raucously disdainful view of a world that television has largely shaped. Or misshaped.
Younger viewers agreed. Here was a show that actually made fun of television. Dick Ebersol referred to it as “the post-Watergate victory party for the Woodstock generation.”
As much as kids loved the show, grown-ups hated it. Johnny Carson echoed a lot of aging comedians’ views when he described the Not Ready For Primetime Players as a bunch of amateurs who couldn’t “ad-lib a fart at a bean-eating contest.” It was a completely different brand of comedy than they were used to. Comedians like Bob Hope and Milton Berle made their audience comfortable, then made them laugh. By mocking the establishment, Saturday Night made some viewers uncomfortable. Just to make fun of politicians in general wasn’t enough, this new show singled out specific politicians, particlularly presidents, and ridiculed them. All of a sudden, the revolution was being televised.
The first season belonged to Chase. Because he anchored “Weekend Update,” he got to say his name every week, and he was the only one who did. The show opened without naming any of the cast, so Chase’s tagline, along with his clumsy portrayal of President Ford, thrust him into the spotlight. He alone was nominated for an Emmy Award and then was named “heir apparent to Johnny Carson” by New York magazine. The other cast members were jealous—especially Belushi—creating an intense air of discord backstage.
The Bayer Aspirin Company trademarked the brand name Heroin in 1898.
But it didn’t matter. Chase left shortly into the second season to pursue a woman (he married her) and a movie career in Hollywood. He later called his departure one of the biggest mistakes of his career. Michaels, on the other hand, realized that the show had an amazing potential to make stars, so he added the cast members’ names and pictures to the opening credits. Meanwhile, ABC’s Saturday Night Live was canceled, so Bill Murray was available to replace Chase in 1976.
The ensuing season saw the cast, writers, and crew start to really come together. Recurring characters like the Coneheads and the Bees (which Belushi always hated) were quickly becoming household names. Catchphrases like “Jane, you ignorant slut” and “No Coke, Pepsi!” were becoming part of the national lexicon.
In the first season, Lorne Michaels had to search long and hard for willing hosts and musical guests; in the second season, they were calling him. When stand-up comedian Steve Martin first watched the show in a hotel room, he was blown away. “They did it,” he said to himself. “They did the show everyone should have been doing.” And then he made it his goal to be a part of it, which he did in the second season. He has since gone on to host SNL more times than anyone else.
Another part of the show’s success: drugs. “From the beginning,” say Hill and Weingrad, “grass was a staple of the show, used regularly and openly.” Cocaine was also used, although by fewer people and behind closed doors. One of SNL’s early masterpieces, a sketch called “The Final Days” that chronicles Nixon’s downfall, was written by writers Al Franken and Tom Davis while they were on LSD. Drugs found their way into the sketches, too, something that some cast members, most notably Chase—who once demonstrated the proper way to “shoot up”—would later regret. But it was just this kind of humor that made Saturday Night so popular with the youth culture.
Percentage of (dead) people who were cremated in 1975: 7%. In 2000: 26%.
By 1977 Belushi and Aykroyd were the show’s big stars, and they often flexed their muscles by threatening to quit if they didn’t get their way. Meanwhile the women—Radner, Newman, and Curtin—were feeling alienated by the drugged-out and sexist behavior of the men. Michaels was running himself ragged trying (unsuccessfully) to keep everyone happy, while Ebersol was under constant pressure from the network to curb the controversial subject matter.
In 1978 Chase hit it big with his movie Foul Play. Aykroyd and Belushi knew that movie careers were waiting for them as well and left after the fourth season to make The Blues Brothers. Instead of replacing them, Michaels hired only one new cast member, comedian Harry Shearer (who, years later, would add his vocal talents to The Simpsons).
In his quest to find the next big star, Michaels devised a billing called “featured player.” Because they didn’t have full cast-member status, he didn’t have to pay them as much. He tried out band member Paul Shaffer (of David Letterman fame), writers Al Franken, Tom Davis, and Don Novello (Father Guido Sarducci), as well as Brian Doyle-Murray (brother of Bill), and Peter Aykroyd (brother of Dan). The result: A disastrous 1979 season.
Bill Murray and Gilda Radner, who dated on and off during SNL’s previous years, now couldn’t stand each other. In fact, Murray couldn’t stand anything about the show—the writers, the cast, his parts—and spent most of his time launching tirades. Laraine Newman and Garrett Morris were both battling depression, drug addictions, and the realization that Hollywood didn’t want them. Lorne Michaels was also exhausted, and when contract negotiations broke down for a sixth season, he quit.
Things looked bad for Saturday Night Live. Could it get worse? Turn to page 309 for Part III of the story.
The footprints on the moon will last forever… or until a meteor hits them.