Stephen Colbert: Beyond Truthiness (7 page)

Colbert spent the first months on the air doing what any good political figure must, solidifying his base. Because his base was initially built on
The Daily Show
, Stewart ran nightly promos for Colbert’s upcoming show. But as
The Colbert Report
expanded its universe, it slowly diverged from Stewart. Stewart mocked the right-wing media, but Colbert
became
the right-wing media. He answered its relentless fear mongering with periodic “Threat Downs” listing the five biggest threats to America and “reminding you to cower in fear.” He answered caustic critics with the series, “Who’s Attacking Me Now?” And he soothed fears of falling behind the news cycle with a regular segment, “All You Need to Know.” “Yesterday, the Kansas Board of Education approved new science standards for public schools that would allow teachers to offer lessons on intelligent design. All you need to know in Kansas? Evidently very little.”

Yet Colbert was still an anchorman at a desk, until he did an interview. Stewart’s political clout was earning him interviews with diplomats, Nobel Prize winners, even foreign heads of state. Stewart slipped a few jokes into each interview but treated eminent guests with respect. Colbert would have none of that. He saw the interview as a chance to use his Second City skills.

“The trouble with the jokes,” Colbert said, “is that once they’re written, I know how they’re supposed to work, and all I can do is not hit them. I’m more comfortable improvising. If I have just two or three ideas and I know how the character feels, what the character wants, everything in between is like trapeze work.” Colbert’s improv interviews became a new art form, pitting him against guests unaware they had been invited to improvise. His “Better Know a District” segment sprung his trap on one unwitting politician after another. Florida Congressman Robert Wexler’s hapless defense of the caribou Colbert wanted to “grind up and put in my tank” was just the beginning.

To interview congressmen in their natural habitat, Colbert began flying to Washington, D.C., conducting a few “Better Know a District” interviews with each visit. He warned congressmen, as he still does with all guests, that “my character is an idiot.” Politicians, however, did not see him coming. Skillful editing, audience laughter, and Colbert’s quickness made congressman after congressman look foolish. Nebraska’s Representative Lee Terry never understood Colbert’s double
entendres
about Omaha’s meatpacking industry.

Some congressmen smiled, others seethed. Massachusetts’ Barney Frank, known in Congress for his caustic wit, scowled as Colbert danced around his sexuality. Frank is openly gay, but Colbert pretended not to know. He asked about the awkwardness of being liberal, Jewish, and left-handed, then added, “there’s something else about you - and this is sort of the elephant in the room I’m not naming . . . you’re a little overweight.” Later, when Frank mentioned his “boyfriend,” Colbert was shocked. “Oh, you’re a homosexual.” He apologized, then apologized for apologizing. Finally Colbert said, “It seems like fewer and fewer people are upset, or frightened by homosexuals. What can homosexuals do to re-instill people with an irrational fear?”

Frank found the question silly and ended the interview. “I like political humor,” Frank said later, “but I found this really strange. His basic interview technique was to pretend he didn’t know things. That wouldn’t be funny in junior high school.”

District by district, Colbert laid siege to Congress. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi warned fellow congressmen: “Don’t subject yourself to a comic’s edit unless you want to be made a fool of.” But Nebraska’s Lee Terry saw his appearance with Colbert as “a way for my constituents to see me in something other than an opponent’s 30-second attack ad.” And the audience response? “I’ve never had as many people, i.e., potential voters, approach me on the street as I have had since my appearance on
The Colbert Report
. As for subjecting myself to a comic’s edit, I would much rather have my words taken out of context by
Stephen Colbert
than by the ‘real’ media. At least with Mr. Colbert, the context is clearly comedy, and the audience gets it.”

Colbert Nation agreed, and “Better Know a District” is still making its way through the 435 congressional districts. It remains a popular
Colbert Report
feature.

Colbert was kinder to studio guests. Those interviews, done without editing, worried him. “I thought that the interviews would be the thing I hated the most.” He knew he would have to be tough on politicos, quick with celebrities, softer on authors and academics. Could he “dial it up” and “dial it down?” “I’m not an assassin,” he said. “Even though my character’s very aggressive and I have a satirical intent, I don’t want them to feel unwelcome.” But he found the challenge invigorating, and nightly interviews soon became Colbert’s favorite part of each “
Report
.” Once he finished his victory lap around the studio, as if the audience was applauding for him, his interviews managed to be both funny and respectful. And with his ratings rising, his show became a vital stop for anyone promoting a book, movie, or policy. They came from all political persuasions - from Al Sharpton and Ralph Nader on the left to Peggy Noonan and Bill Kristol on the right. Regardless of political persuasion, each guest noticed what Colbert himself soon touted, the “Colbert Bump.” After appearing on Colbert, authors sold more books, musicians’ CD sales spiked, and politicians raked in campaign contributions. No Colbert Bump, however, rivaled the one he gave himself as keynote speaker at the White House Correspondents Dinner.

The annual dinner for presidents and reporters dates to 1920. Down through the decades, guests have included Frank Sinatra, Bob Hope, James Cagney, and Barbra Streisand. Yet only with the presidency of Ronald Reagan, veteran of Hollywood roasts, did the correspondents’ dinner itself become a good-natured roasting. Rich Little, Jay Leno, Conan O’Brien, and even Jon Stewart, before
The Daily Show,
had
stepped to the podium to make lighthearted fun of the president. The atmosphere was formal - black tie - but the rules were unwritten. A comedian could mock a president’s personality but not his policies. Sarcasm was okay, satire was not. Either no one explained these rules to Colbert or he ignored them. And because his conservative caricature was less known than his
Daily
Show
correspondent, it’s possible the Correspondents Association thought the earlier Colbert would show up. When it was all over, when President George W. Bush was done seething and Colbert hailed as “one of the great satirical wits of our time,” the journalist who invited Colbert admitted he hadn’t seen much of
The Colbert Report
.

Many Colbert fans admit he was not at his best that night. Some jokes fell with a thud, others glanced off the audience. The silence between jokes was awkward. But tens of millions of Americans had waited a very long time for that moment. By April 2006, George W. Bush had been president for five years, and to a growing number of disgusted citizens, those five years had seemed like an eternity. In the wake of 9/11, with its shock and sorrow, Bush had led a relentless and reckless march to war. Then came the “shock and awe” of the Iraq invasion, the arrogance of power – “Democracy is messy!” - and Bush’s macho “Mission Accomplished” speech amidst a bumbling aftermath. Oops, there were no weapons of mass destruction. “Those weapons of mass destruction have got to be somewhere,” Bush actually joked. “Nope, no weapons over there . . . maybe under here?” Oh, and that yellow-cake uranium Saddam bought in Africa? Never mind. Abu Ghraib and the tortured prisoners? “Just a few bad apples.” Further denials were followed by Katrina and assorted gaffes, foreign and domestic.

Just weeks before the dinner, Bush had claimed, “I’m the decider, and I decide what’s best.” Would no one stand up and give this man the mocking he deserved?

Before the dinner, the entire Colbert family, including Lorna Colbert, met Bush at a private party. “We actually had a very nice conversation beforehand about the nature of irony,” Colbert remembered. “The president was charming and lovely. The president’s mother went to the same school as my wife. He was extremely nice to my Mom. I have beautiful pictures of the two of them together that night. Nice guy.”

But once Colbert stepped to the podium, it was “no more Mr. Nice Guy.” His mock praise dug deep. Colbert lauded “my president” for being consistent. “He believes the same thing Wednesday that he believed on Monday, no matter what happened Tuesday.” Colbert pretended to be appalled at criticism of White House personnel changes. Bush was not “re-arranging deck chairs on the Titanic. This administration is not sinking,” Colbert pleaded. “This administration is soaring. If anything, they are rearranging the deck chairs on the Hindenburg.”

While most cameras fixed on Colbert, one stayed riveted on Bush. It showed him leaning back in his chair, lips pursed, occasionally chuckling but mostly looking as if he had that proverbial poker up his ass. A White House aide saw the president “ready to blow.” But Bush remained calm, dignified, presidential. When the roast was finished, Bush stood along with the rest of the head table, and shook Colbert’s hand. “Well done,” he said as the comedian passed.

Sitting down, however, Colbert sensed something wrong. No one in the audience would look at him. Some were embarrassed, others shocked, only a few bemused. “Colbert,” one White House aide said, “crossed the line.”

When the dinner ended, Colbert had no idea what he had unleashed. Exhausted, he went back to his hotel, slept, and headed home to Montclair. The following Monday morning, he met with his writers to plan another show. Noticing that he seemed blasé about the dinner, one said, “Have you looked at the Internet?” Writers began sending him links to the Web sites that were taking
Colbert v. Bush
viral. He read a few but found them mixed and asked not to be sent any more. The mainstream press had little on his speech, and what little they had was mixed. “Colbert was not just a failure as a comedian, but rude,” said the
Washington Post
. Most newspapers ignored the speech, however, leading some in Colbert Nation to denounce a “media blackout” as payback for Colbert’s criticism of reporters. No such blackout existed. Reporters on deadline simply found it easier to characterize the evening by describing Bush’s own performance alongside a Bush impersonator.

Only when the Internet lit up did the press follow. Reporters watched the footage online. A few sloughed off their lack of coverage, saying Colbert had bombed, but all admired his courage. Beneath the headline, “Stephen Colbert Has Brass
Cojones
,” the
San Francisco Chronicle
wrote: “Stephen Colbert of The Colbert Report just made himself about 500 times more of a national treasure and cemented himself as one of the most fearless satirists of this generation (instantly outpacing Jon Stewart, who, you get the feeling, wouldn’t have had the nerve to go as far as Colbert did) by way of a savage and hilarious roast/takedown of President Bush who was seated not eight feet away. Have you heard? Did you see? You simply must. It was a revelation.”

As revelation, as iTunes bestseller, as gatherer of millions of YouTube hits, Colbert’s performance had nailed the president and his endless war. Six months later,
New York Times
columnist Frank Rich called it a “defining moment” of “the ‘
Colbert’
election, so suffused is it with unreality, or what Mr. Colbert calls ‘truthiness.’”

Colbert took the White House dinner in stride. On the next
Colbert Report
, he aired clips of his Hindenburg joke and shots of the audience straight-faced. “The crowd practically carried me out on their shoulders,” he joked, “although I wasn’t actually ready to leave.” But the bump Colbert had given himself sent him soaring beyond truthiness. By 2007, his audience was growing as quickly as his reputation. Here was a comedian who transcended mere comedy, a satirist with the
cojones
to take on anyone, and a media genius whose innovative use of TV skewered America’s celebrity-sated culture. After one decade on small stages and another in the shadow of Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert “got it.”

“Hey America, are you thinking what I’m thinking? You soon will be.”

Colbert Nation is both larger and smaller than it seems. Larger because the nation Stephen Colbert addresses four nights a week has more viewers than ever. Smaller because Colbert Nation is geographically compact. Colbert can cross it in twenty minutes, and he does so each morning and evening.

Stephen and Evie still live in upper-middle-class Montclair, New Jersey, where they moved in 2000. Their children attend Montclair public schools. Madeleine is approaching college age, John is starting high school, and Peter will soon head to middle school. None look much like their father, each having Evie’s brown hair and large eyes. Colbert does not let his children watch either
The Daily Show
or his own. “I truck in insincerity,” he told
60 Minutes
. “With a very straight face, I say things I don’t believe. Kids can’t understand irony or sarcasm, and I don’t want them to perceive me as insincere.”

The same contrast between Colbert on- and off-camera frequently catches Montclair residents off guard. Few recognize him as the blathering idiot he plays on
The Colbert Report
. Blending into his town, Colbert teaches Sunday school, works out in a gym, and attends local plays and charity benefits. Everyone who meets him is surprised to shake hands with a soft-spoken gentleman. “I think they always want to meet the guy who’s going to show up and tell jokes,” Colbert said. “But if I’m asked to do something that isn’t specifically a performance, then I have to be very specific that he’s never going to show up.”

Stephen Colbert, the prattling fool, does not live in Montclair, New Jersey. He lives only in Colbert Nation. So each morning, when Stephen Colbert - good father, good citizen, and good Catholic - drops his kids off at school, heads for the gym, and then heads to work, he must consult his character en route. The drive from Montclair into Manhattan takes the two Colberts through the Midtown Tunnel, then north a dozen blocks to West 54th Street in Hell’s Kitchen. There, in a three-story brick office building, just around the corner from The
Daily Show
headquarters, this Stephen Colbert, who greets his staff, is the serious and sober one, not the joker, not until the camera goes on.

With a cast of one and a crew of eighty,
The Colbert Report
is an efficient machine. Colbert likes to call it “the joy machine,” and its parts are already in motion by the time he arrives at 11:00 a.m. His writers, an intelligent and intensely ironic crew, mostly in their late twenties and early thirties, have spent the morning eating cold cereal, perusing headlines, and scanning TiVo clips. Writers meet formally at 9:30 a.m. to pick the day’s top stories.

When Colbert arrives, the place shifts into high gear. In his
Lord of the Rings-
studded office, which also includes a lightsaber given to him by George Lucas and a signed photo of Democrat George McGovern. Colbert meets with his head writers to discuss the evening’s show. Once the day’s headlines and horrors have been channeled into ongoing segments: “Tip of the Hat, Wag of the Finger,” “Cheating Death,” “Better Know a . . .” or any of a dozen more segments, the writers go to work. Scripts are due at 1:00 p.m., at which point some jokes will be revised, others jettisoned or saved for another day. Any late-breaking news will be added.

All
Report
employees agree that the twelve-hour days and deadline pressure make for a grueling “joy machine,” but they also agree that Colbert is an ideal boss. Keeping his character in the wings, Colbert remains congenial throughout the afternoon, lending his timing and intellect to each developing skit. Everyone on the set, a.k.a. “the eagle’s nest,” is astounded by his knowledge. Fueled by his childhood book-a-day habit, Colbert remains a devout reader who retains prodigious quantities of raw information about Catholic saints, song lyrics, American history, Tolkien trivia, and more. But co-workers are equally astounded by how down-to-earth this superstar remains.

“There are a lot of unhappy people in comedy,” says Tom Purcell, the
Colbert Report
executive producer, “and sometimes you get a very radioactive vibe. But Stephen has an excellent way of treating people.” Writer Peter Grosz adds that Colbert is “amazingly easy to write for because he has an incredibly open mind. He wants to hear all ideas and has lots of faith and trust in his writers, and he expects that anything coming out of your mouth is going to be something worth listening to.”

By 5:15 p.m., when the show is ready for rehearsal, Colbert prepares himself to become HIMSELF. “You can’t be ‘Stephen Colbert” all day because he’d be a terrible executive producer,” he says. “Right before they call me for the show, I have a special button that I push on my side that releases the gas.”

Alone in his dressing room, Colbert checks his tie in a mirror. If the show’s guest has arrived in the Green Room, he’ll visit to warn that his character is “an idiot” and to just play along. Then he heads out to meet the studio audience. Already warmed up by a producer, the crowd explodes when Colbert appears. He talks for a few minutes, not in character, then sits inside his trademark C-desk for a run through. By 7:00 p.m., the show is ready for taping. Cameras lurch into action, and Colbert pivots to catch each at a different angle. Blaring credits roll to the dissonant notes of “Baby Mumbles” by Cheap Trick. All attention is on Colbert. These days, it often takes a full minute for the crowd to stop chanting “Steee-Phen! Steee-Phen! Steee-Phen!”

For the next two hours, with takes and re-takes, Colbert Nation is neither a metaphor nor a concept. It is as real as each laugh, as united as each ovation. When the taping is finished, Colbert heads home, listening to music as he drives back through the Lincoln Tunnel, back to Montclair, back to his home where Evie and the kids are waiting.

Though time is said to “wait for no man,” it sometimes seems to stand still on
The Colbert Report
. Each half-hour passes quickly, but the show itself seems ageless. When first asked to do headline humor on
The Daily Show
, Colbert resisted, wanting his character to be “eternal.” But “eternal” seems to be the goal of his own show. Headlines change, spoofs come and go, but a
Colbert Report
from 2006 looks remarkably like a
Report
today. The set has not changed, nor has the format or the host.

Jon Stewart is aging gracefully, his hair graying a little each year, but even though Colbert’s hair began to gray shortly after he took on the show, it is now as dark as it was on
Exit 57
. As he approaches fifty, Colbert is slightly leaner, his face more seasoned. Yet he still exudes energy on camera, racing around the set, bursting with joy, coyly eyeing the camera as if still a boy competing in his family’s “humorocracy.” Some see stagnation in the day-to-day sameness of
The Colbert
Report,
but within the familiar framework, Colbert remains a master of improv.

In the years since his Bush bashing made him a phenomenon, Colbert has broken down television’s so-called fourth wall between performer and audience. Colbert might well have rested on his laurels. A partial list of his awards include two Emmys, two Peabodys, Associated Press Celebrity of the Year (2007), two
New York Times
’ bestselling books, a Grammy, numerous honorary degrees, and, for some reason, a spot on
Maxim’s
100 Sexiest Women (number sixty-nine).

Instead of stagnating, however, Colbert has kept viewers guessing about what he might do next. The sheer fun he has on camera is part of the show’s appeal. As if living by Second City’s improv strategy – “Yes, and . . .” – Colbert is open to all suggestions. And as if following his family motto, “Never refuse a legitimate adventure,” he continues to delight viewers with one adventure after another. He rode a bobsled with the U.S. Olympic team, sung with Willie Nelson and Paul McCartney, and let Jane Fonda climb in his lap and nibble his ear. He challenged actor Sean Penn to a “meta-free-phor-all,” issued “green screen challenges,” invited viewers to use his image in their own videos, and taught Bill Clinton how to Tweet.

Colbert’s biggest gamble, however, came in 2009, when he took the
Report
to Iraq to perform for American troops. Colbert allowed the army to put him through a very basic, Basic Training, but even that was not sufficiently adventurous. “If you really want to be in the military,” General Ray Odierno told him before a crowd of soldiers, “you’re going to have to get your haircut like these guys out here.”

Static emerged offstage, followed by President Obama on a big screen. “If Stephen Colbert wants to play soldier,” Obama declared, “it’s time to cut that man’s hair.”

Game for anything that would get a laugh, Colbert sat still while the general’s buzzing clippers mowed off his hair. For the next several weeks, the crew cut served as a reminder of the Iraq adventure and made Stephen Colbert seem still more human.

Each
Report
may look the same, but many contain transformative moments when “Colbert the caricature” becomes “Colbert the marketing genius.” Blending TV with the Internet, social media, and his own vivid imagination, Colbert continually challenges his “nation” to take action. Some actions scale the heights of the human ego.

A few months after
Colbert v. Bush
went viral, Colbert learned of an online contest to name a bridge across the Danube River in Hungary. Early voting had “The Chuck Norris Bridge” in the lead, but then Colbert told his fans to vote to name the bridge after him. A week later, with only 1,774 votes, Colbert gave more explicit voting instructions. Overnight, Colbert Nation poured online and moved him into second place with 438,039 votes. He then added a link to his own Web site that bypassed the hurdle of the Hungarian language.

“I think if we hit 100 million votes, I get to be prime minister,” he told his nation. A week later, the “Stephen Colbert Bridge” had some 17 million votes. Colbert then called off the campaign, noting that 17 million “is 7 million more than there are in the country of Hungary.” The Hungarian government, however, refused to go along with the gag, changing the rules to allow only names of dead Hungarians. Colbert pretended to be outraged, but later hosted the Hungarian ambassador on the
Report
. “He made me an honorary citizen and invited me to speak at their parliament,” Colbert said. “That’s when I realized we had something special with our audience.”

In subsequent years, Colbert Nation has gone online to append Colbert’s name to a Michigan hockey team, and the “Combined Operational Load-Bearing External Resistance Treadmill (COLBERT)” on the International Space Station. The treadmill was a compromise offered by NASA after Colbert handily won its online contest to name a room on the space station. Colbert has also lobbied for himself, talking guests into appending his name to an airliner, a spider, an eagle, a beetle, and a gift shop in Alabama. His unbridled ego is contagious. Almost everyone wants in on a Colbert joke. Everyone except Wikipedia, that is.

Founded in 2001, Wikipedia was still struggling for acceptance in July 2006, when Colbert took out a laptop and showed viewers how easy it was to alter the site’s content. The online encyclopedia, whose wiki technology allows anyone to edit any entry, seemed the perfect target for truthiness. “I love Wikipedia,” Colbert announced. “Any site that’s got a longer entry on ‘truthiness’ than on Lutherans has its priorities straight.” He then introduced the “Word of the Day,” “Wikiality.” Slapping his laptop’s keyboard, Colbert pretended to change Wikipedia’s entry on George Washington to read that the first president had not owned slaves. If enough people agree on “Wikiality,” he said, it becomes reality. “What we’re doing is bringing democracy to knowledge.” He then told his nation to log onto Wikipedia, search “elephant,” and add that the number of elephants in Africa had tripled in the last six months. “It’s the least we can do to save this noble beast. Together, we can create a reality we can agree on - the reality we just agreed on.”

Colbert’s wiki campaign broke down another wall, the wall between television and the Internet. Most TV shows had Web sites, but Colbert was the first to send viewers to sites other than his own. When Colbert Nation crashed Wikipedia’s servers, Wikipedia responded by locking its entries on “elephants,” blocking access to entries about Colbert and his show, and banning the user name “stephencolbert.” Colbert backed off, only to return a few months later to announce that someone had broken through: Wikipedia’s entry on elephants read, “Thanks to the works of Stephen Colbert, the population has tripled in the last ten years.”

Colbert later urged viewers to amend Wikipedia’s “Warren Harding” entry by adding that Harding had been a “secret negro president.” In 2011, Colbert Nation amended Wikipedia’s “Paul Revere” entry, adding “pealing bells” to his midnight ride, as Sarah Palin had recently claimed.