To Stephen, With Love.
A tribute to Stephen Colbert’s Late Night, behind the scenes of his farewell party, and creating an artifact of gratitude.
Last week, my husband David and I attended a private farewell party for Stephen Colbert, held on the final night of his last taping at The Late Show. The invitation called for “festive and fired” attire, and the guest list was exactly what you’d expect: friends, family, and colleagues who had known and worked with Stephen across his many years in late night.
We arrived at a multi-roomed event space in midtown Manhattan and found ourselves surrounded by a mix of extraordinary artists, writers, musicians, and friends—some we hadn’t seen in years, some who are neighbors in Brooklyn, some we were meeting for the very first time. It felt like the world’s greatest high school reunion—the funniest, most magnetic, most alive version of one—all gathered together for one night only, to celebrate the end of something historic: Stephen Colbert’s The Late Show.
In a tiny hallway, I introduced the food writer and chef Alison Roman to Elvis Costello. In a corridor, David and I joked around with Padma Lakshmi under a giant faux palm tree, holding the plastic fronds out of our faces. I held doors open with my dear friend and fellow newsletter-er Suleika Jaouad in a foyer full of arriving guests, and left my purse on a couch under the supervision of Mark Hamill. Someone told me Dick Cavett was there—that someone being the interdisciplinary artist and magician Derek DelGaudio. I took a selfie with Ina Garten and bumbled out some words about what a massive fan I am (I truly am), then hugged special effects makeup artist Rick Baker like he was my long-lost horror dad (Rick and I worked together on The Ring.)
And this was just the first hour.
The party swelled with a pulsating, electric energy. When Colbert arrived, he moved through the room hugging his staff and writers, greeting everyone who flocked to him with warmth and grace. Then he hit the dance floor—suit and all—surrounded by hundreds of people, each of them touched in some profound way by the show, and by the community he had spent eleven years building.
^^I took this video of Colbert living his best life on the dance floor at the farewell party, amongst his crew and the many guests who have graced his show over the years.
Over my 30-year career promoting film, television, and books, I’ve appeared on every late night show from David Letterman to Jay Leno to Jimmy Kimmel to Conan O’Brien—but none compared to sitting down with Stephen Colbert on The Late Show while promoting my 2019 memoir, Era of Ignition—perhaps the only firsthand account of the inception of the Time’s Up movement and 2017’s #MeToo Movement.
There was a particular kind of genius that arrived in a suit and tie, sat behind a desk, and reminded a weary nation—night after night—that it was still worth fighting for. Stephen Colbert had that genius. On May 21st, the Ed Sullivan Theater fell quiet for the last time under his watch, after more than 1,800 shows.
He came to us in 2015 not as a character but as himself—unarmored. A son of Charleston, a Catholic, a Tolkien devotee, a man who had known tremendous grief and chosen to respond to the world with laughter and love. What he built wasn’t merely a television program. It was a nightly ritual of civic communion. It was church. And he kept it faithfully going for nine consecutive seasons as the highest-rated show in late night.
The show ended not because it failed, but because some institutions fear a voice that will not be quiet. And yet he spent his final months not in bitterness but in celebration; welcoming his peers, bringing back Letterman, winning an Emmy, and announcing a Lord of the Rings film. Because why the hell not? Because joy keeps moving.
Thank you, Stephen, for laughs that were also arguments for decency, for sincerity snuck past the cynicism of the age, for being generous, brilliant, goofy, and constitutionally incapable of cruelty.
Go make your Lord of the Rings movie. We’ll follow you wherever you go next.
Your Creative call to action this week: Be a part of creating an artifact of gratitude for Stephen Colbert.
I'll be sending this essay to Stephen's longtime producing partner and longtime friend, the brilliant Carrie Byalick, to share with him directly. (Carrie will also be joining us soon for something special soon—stay tuned.) In the meantime, let's flood the comments section at the bottom of this page with love for Stephen. Is there a moment that stayed with you? A particular episode, a joke that landed exactly when you needed it? Tell Stephen what he's meant to you.
You can also post something on Notes or any other social media platform. Make sure to tag me so I can share it!
Substack Lives this summer:
Fiction writing and the power of provocative storytelling with R.O. Kwon next week!
The world of publishing with author and publisher of Wave Books, Matthew Zapruder
A conversation with tech-founder and former META consultant Jesse Nolan on how to fix the left’s branding woes
What we can (and should) learn from the sex lives of animals with the great granddaughter of Eleanor Roosevelt herself, Perrin Roosevelt Ireland
How to wield artistry in a weaponized world with multi-hyphenate and award-winning poet, Mahogany Browne.
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"Go make your Lord of the Rings movie. We’ll follow you wherever you go next." — intentional or not, this line struck me as very movie-Aragorn, in the best way.
A beautiful tribute to brilliance, humility, decency, and kindness personified. I will miss our very dear and fierce champion of justice and democracy. My soul weeps but I know that his unwavering commitment to a better and kinder world will continue to shape our hearts and our minds.