By Sam Silverman
World Traveler Magazine
December 2002
In an industry that has many barometers for measuring success, all the needles are pointing Craig Kilborn's way.
Kilborn, the 40-year-old host of CBS's The Late Late Show, has buzz. He gets tables. He attracts demos. He recently bought a coveted 1927 Spanish-style home.
Most impressively, at least in certain circles, he has a jump shot. A real one, honed in gyms ranging from Hastings, Minnesota, Kilborn's hometown, to Montana State University, which Kilborn attended on a basketball scholarship in the early '80s. Pickup basketball is the Friars Club of contemporary Hollywood, with invite lists that sort according to professional caste. Kilborn is a regular participant in games of 3-on-3 at comedian Garry Shandling's home court, the sanctum sanctorum of the sweatband set. "It's enjoyable because I can shoot poorly over there and still dominate," Kilborn says, adding emphasis to the ample natural inflection in his voice to tip the fact that he's doing material. "I try to make sure, since it's Garry's house, to let him have a few shots. When I block his shot, I always say I'm sorry."
Kilborn's mix of confidence and deference--all kidding aside, he's big on decorum--is best appreciated over time. At first bluch, the camera tends to accentuate the former quality. Kilborn is good looking, tall, athletic, born into a supportive family and reared in a bedrock community. His comedy does not come, as they say, from a dark place. "I think I'm atypical for the industry, which tends to attract neurotic, insecure people," Kilborn says.
The Late Late Show airs at 12:30 a.m. in most markets, following David Letterman. The music is cutting edge bordering on dangerous; acts such as the White Stripes and Sigur Ros emerged from the rock underground to make their network television debuts at Kilborn's behest. Celebrity guests, not to mention the handpicked studio audience, skew toward the pretty, yound and scantily clad. The cumulative first impression can be that something naughty is afoot.
Following The Late Late Show over time, however, reveals its dirtiest secret: Kilborn is a square. His own taste in music tends toward jazz standards. When Kilborn blurts out lyrics to fill a room in which conversation has hit a lull, it's likely to be Cole Porter and not Eminem. The Late Late Show set resembles a bachelor pad, replete with a voyeuristic view of the Hollywood Hills. But the bachelor in question has taste: dark paneled bookcases and an antique wood desk, distressed leather club chairs, etc. The Late Late Show is more cabaret than striptease. It's all about standards.
Asked to recall a review that stung, Kilborn cites a comparison to radio shock jock Howard Stern. "There's a certain edge. But there's [also] a lot of jokes that I won't do, " he says. "I believe in a little good-natured ribbing. There is a wholesome-ness to the show."
Even the smarmy stuff, the winking at unseen accomplices and long looks directly at the camera, add up to something appealing given the chance. "I think most people get the joke, the self-absorbed, looking-in-the-mirror stuff--I'm mocking that," Kilborn says. To tune Kilborn out after the first wink is to miss the joke.
Kilborn's childhood memories are of the mom-and-apple-pie variety. Hastings, a suburb of St. Paul, was "a great place to grow up," he says. "Winters are cold. Summers are humid. The Minnesota State Fair was a magical time." Here Kilborn's voice is drained of irony. "I didn't know what else there was."
Being Minnesotan, Kilborn dabbled in hockey. His father would have been thrilled to raise a baseball player, but Kilborn had no feel for the small ball. He and basketball, however, was a match made in heaven. Kilborn was 5'9" in sixth grade, "reeeally skinny" but coordinated. "Skill-wise, in terms of handling and shooting, I was pretty adept. I just wanted to be creative," Kilborn says. "My childhood was comedy--I was obsessed with Monty Python, just coming up with jokes--and basketball."
At Hastings High School, Kilborn was tall enough to jump center (he's 6'5") to start the game, yet skilled enough to play point guard. He was recruited by Missouri, a powerhouse at the time, but Montana State out of loyalty; the Bobcats "recruited me the hardest," Kilborn says.
In Bozeman, Kilborn's basketball career clanked off the rim. "My father told me early on I'd never play pro basketball. Had he not said that, I probably could have made it. But I believed him, and I played accordingly," Kilborn says. "I sat on the bench. There are advantages to being a benchwarmer. You don't have to shower after the game. You can get back to the dorm in time for Matlock...."
The trajectory of Kilborn's television career, however, has pointed only up. His first television role was in 1987 as a play-by-play announcer for the Savannah Spirits of the minor league Continental Basketball Association. The rolse seemed a logical first step toward Kilborn's dream job at the time: succeeding legendary Los Angeles Lakers play-by-play announcer Chick Hearn.
But calling Spirits games opened Kilborn's eyes to the craft's limitations. "It was enjoyable, but I still wanted to be funny. You can be kind of funny doing play-by-play, but you don't want to distract from the game."
Kilborn's next television job was at KCBA-TV, in Monterey, California. Here he could mess around a bit; Kilborn was the station's entire sports staff. One night he convinced random bar patrons to re-create a heavyweight boxing match, the highlights of which were blacked out from being broadcast.
Kilborn's work at KCBA caught the eye of ESPN, the national cable sports network based in Bristol, Connecticut, which first considered Kilborn for its hipster spinoff, ESPN2, then plunked him directly into the anchor rotation for the parent network's flagship show, SportsCenter. Kilborn co-hosted SportsCenter for three high-profile years. His good looks, gilded tongue and off-beat, writerly wit stood out among his good-looking, smooth and funny peers.
Among Kilborn's admirers was Comedy Central President Doug Herzog. When Herzog began developing an idea for a nightly comedy show based on the news of the day--SportsCenter's attitude overlayed upon the MacNeil/Lehrer NewsHour's subject matter--word spread that the cable network was looking for a "Craig Kilborn type" to host the program. Kilborn's agent let it be known that the real deal was available. In 1996, Kilborn made the quantum leap from sportscaster to talk show host.
The Daily Show is where Kilborn developed his skills as an interviewer as well debuted Five Questions, a nonsensical pop quiz that remains his signature to this day. Comedy Central was a safe environment for Kilborn experiment with his style, and still aggregate an audience. He was particularly popular with young males, a coveted demographic. CBS came calling 1999. "Once I started working in television, it went kind of quick," Kilborn says. " I did three years in Monterey, three years at ESPN, three years at The Daily Show. Now I'm on my fourth year [at CBS]. When I stop to think about it, which I don't do very often because I'm wrapped up in doing it, it's like a dream."
