A few minutes later, he stands up and comes over to my side of the table. "We're switching seats," he says. "The sun is getting into my eyes."
Friends insist the egotist is just a character.
"He's in the entertainment business. He's doing a shtick," said Bob Guccione Jr., Gear magazine editor, who invited Kilborn to guest-edit the September 2001 issue. "He's shy, without being reticent. And there's not sort of arrogance. I know many people who are arrogant, who are full of themselves, and have had glory for so long that they believe it. He doesn't."
Even though his boss is David Letterman, Kilborn doesn't adhere to the self-mocking style that his mentor made famous, which has inspired O'Brien and Jon Stewart.
"I grew up on traditional talk shows, and I don't care for the over-the-top, in-your-face comedy," Kilborn says. "I like Johnny Carson a lot. I thought he was smooth. I'm tired of the self-depricating, nerdy thing."
One-man show
One reason Kilborn might come off as aloof and cocky is that he does so many things himself. There's no band, no sidekick, and no recurring characters on his show. He doesn't do remotes and rarely performs skits. It's all about the guy with just a desk and an attitude.
Often his desk chats are about Minnesota. Kilborn, who grew up in Hastings, is obsessed with Minnesota sports. A few years ago he bought a satellite dish just to watch Timberworlves games. One of his favorite desk chats came after the New York Giants crushed the Vikings in last year's playoffs.
"It was great. It was unbelievable," he says, remembering that night's show. "You should get a copy of that. You didn't see that? I could quote you on some of it, but I don't know if I want to." Then, almost immediately, he's re-creating the bit, about how his perfect life-the perfect job, the perfect glutes-but the Vikings kept disrupting his Shangri-La.
"I enjoy being able to extract laughs just telling personal anecdotes," he says. "There's satisfaction in saying, 'Hey I just talked about something and entertained people for two minutes, whereas somebody else did a man on the street piece or a big production and they weren't as funny.'"
The show's intimate tone sets it apart. The studio holds only about 70 people. Musical guests often have to pare back their performances because of the limited space.
"It's a clubby place to be," says executive producer Jeff Ross. "If you take it outside or make it bigger than it is, you lose part of the charm. It's a different animal."
The small scale setting is attractive to guests who don't have to compete with stupid pet tricks or puppets. Almost all seem to relish the "Five Questions" (Shannon Doherty is one of the few guests who didn't want to play) and are more personable than they might be on other shows.
"Matlin was still giddy about her appearance several days later, especially the part where she pulled down part of her pants to reveal a tattoo on one of her butt cheeks.
The cozy formula is working. The show posted its best November sweeps numbers this year and boasted the biggest growth among the four major late-night talk shows, but it still lags behind "Late Night With Conan O'Brien." According to John Rash, media buyer for Campbell Mithun advertising agency in Minneapolis, Kilborn draws about two-thirds as many viewers as O'Brien does.
Both hosts say they don't pay much attention to the competition.
"I used to have this driving intructor who told me that if you need to drive your car between two posts, just stare right down the middle and drive. If you look at one of the posts, you will subconsiously steer towards it." O'Brien says. "I think that's true in broadcasting or any endeavor like this. If you watch any other shows, I think that before long, you're going to be subconciously sounding and acting like that show."
It's doubtful anyone will be copying Kilborn's act soon. Most comics would be too worried about their image or their reputation to play such a glib character night after night-assuming Kilborn's shtick is an act.
"There are misconceptions that could stay with you for a long time or they'll go away," Kilborn says. "It's more the responsiblity of the critic to watch the show and figure it out. It's no skin off my back. I've always had thick skin, but I'll tell you, it's a lot thicker than it used to be."
