Actually, I was going to do some kind of annual recap. Not that anyone really cares; anyone who knows me knows what I've been up to the last year and some. Facebook status updates work, too. But what has me inspired to sit and actually write something is, interestingly, a Facebook status update from an old college friend, who pointed out the thoughts in his head surrounding Dick Clark's appearance on "New Year's Rockin' Eve" this year.
To summarize: Dick Clark's been the ageless host of an annual New Year's Eve countdown program featuring pop stars and so forth to ring in the new year. It makes for passable background noise at a party, though I suppose some might actually sit down and watch it front-to-back. A few years ago, Dick Clark suffered a stroke. Surprisingly, after some time off, he came back to host again. I think he might have limited himself to the countdown the first year. It was immediately evident why; the timeless voice and cadence of Dick Clark had been replaced by a muffled, sluggish version, the after-effect of that stroke. It was Dick Clark's face on television, still practically ageless, but the voice that came out was not Dick's.
As we gathered this year for New Year's Eve, once again someone pointed out how he'd missed a digit during the countdown, and he just couldn't keep up with the second-by-second count. It reminded me a bit of going to see Journey this fall, and seeing the new lead singer on the big-screen closeup. The voice was that of Steve Perry, but the image showed this little Filipino guy singing, which was a little creepy. With Dick Clark, it was more sad. You could see in his face that this was the Dick Clark, the one who'd ushered in his fair share of New Years, and he was happy to be up there holding court. But the voice that came out was tired and broken and...not right. In a way, it almost felt like they kept him on the show out of pity.
The funny thing is that I've never really marked the New Year with Dick Clark. Maybe my folks did. But until recently, I can't say I've ever been one to usher in the New Year in style. My parents always encouraged early bedtimes, and so our New Years celebrations consisted of waiting for an hour and a half to get seated at a restaurant or (more often) ordering Chinese takeout, then going to bed like usual. There was one year that I sat at my computer, connected to a Hotline server, downloading QuickTime videos of ancient Apple commercials. Sadly, that's the only New Year's Eve I really remember in any vivid detail, and that was hardly scintillating. So I didn't grow up on Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve, though I was well aware of who Dick Clark was, and aware of that old "Far Side" comic that depicts Dick "inexplicably aging 100 years in 60 seconds."
So as I stood there in the Kowaliks' living room, watching this shell of Dick Clark holding court yet again, I asked myself, "Why doesn't he sign off for good and let someone else take the reins?" I don't want to deny the man the pleasure of doing what he wants to do, but I almost wish he'd retired with dignity intact, so we could all remember the Dick Clark that was, not the Dick Clark that became. Maybe dignity is something only we assign to all of this.
And then I asked the really important question, maybe the question that answers why Dick Clark remains on TV...who would be able to replace him?
It's sort of like when Bob Barker retired from hosting "The Price Is Right." He hosted that game show for 35 years, long enough to transcend generations. In a lot of our minds, Bob Barker was "The Price Is Right." It wasn't the same when Rod Roddy died and someone else took over the announcer's chair, and it doesn't feel quite like it did with Drew Carey at the helm. Dick Clark was like that. His image transcends generations. Our parents grew up with him, we grew up with him. On camera and on the stage, he truly had this emcee persona, that he was the man in control and the man of authority...and maybe even someone to aspire to. (Maybe I identify with that more because he's more like a grandparent to me than a parent, in terms of age.) It's probably what Dick Clark was shooting for all along, much like when Bruce Morrow took the radio moniker "Cousin Brucie." For years, kids confided and trusted in Cousin Brucie. I didn't—that was far before my time—but I see that kind of thing in Dick Clark. Here's this solemn, sincere, but fun guy ushering in the New Year, the official master of ceremonies for the calendar to turn a page, offering words of inspiration and anticipation and meaning every syllable of it.
Who else can do that? We no longer have emcees; we just have hosts, usually in tandem, as if it takes two personalities to fill the void one used to satisfy. Today's hosts are transitory figures, here when the ratings are strong, gone when they slip a point to some other flavor-of-the-week host, or when their generation grows up and leaves them in the dust. Is it because the newer generations are reluctant to embrace their elders' authority figures, or is someone telling them they should be? Either way, we end up with hosts who have personality but no authority, because their staying power is only as strong as the ratings they pull down this time around. It's why someone like Ryan Seacrest won't be the Dick Clark of the future; he's a pretty face, but he doesn't command any authority. I'm not really sure that he even wants to.
I also can't help but wonder what role the Internet has in terms of our celebrities. Frankly, I don't know anything about Dick Clark, as far as his relationships, his affairs, whatever goes on behind the scenes. Wikipedia tells me he's been married thrice, and since 1977 in his current relationship. However, pre-Internet it was a lot easier to make all that behind-the-scenes nonsense disappear. Now, every rumor becomes an extension of reality, not to mention it's easier to "research." The personal lives of today's celebrity material are laid bare for everyone to gawk at, and so today's celebrities probably seem far less wholesome and sincere as people. (Granted, our values system has shifted, too.) I'm sure when he was in his twenties, Dick Clark had his share of good times with the ladies, then settled down when it felt right. We just conveniently missed out on all of that. TMZ wasn't around to report every juicy detail.
And so we're left with a celebrity landscape that really isn't designed to produce or sustain another Dick Clark, not as we remember him. And so Dick Clark remains on TV because there really isn't anyone who can ever fill those shoes. Sometimes, it's easier for us to hold onto a bad version of a good past than to face an uncertain, unfulfilling future. When he finally does sign off for good, it'll leave a void. There'll be New Year's Eve specials with all the pop stars and celebrity appearances and annual retrospectives. They'll be more sizzle than steak, more razzle-dazzle than sincerity. But that's sort of where TV's going anyway.
It hurts me to see Dick Clark the way he is, because I remember a little of who he was. But I suppose it's easier to stomach than two hosts with no emotional investment counting down the ball-drop.
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