#183 Johnny Carson

**David Senra** (0:00)
I want to tell you about a one-time only limited event that I don't think you're going to want to miss. I am doing a live show with Patrick O'Shaughnessy from the Invest Like the Best podcast in New York City on October 19th. Patrick has interviewed over 300 of the world's best investors and founders for his podcast. I've read over 300 biographies of history's greatest entrepreneurs for my podcast. We'll be talking about what we learned from seven years of podcasting, sharing our favorite ideas and stories, and doing a live Q&A. There will also be special event-only swag. If you live in New York City, I think it's a no-brainer. But if not, I think it's a great excuse to fly in. I've already heard from a bunch of people that bought tickets, they're flying in from other cities. Some people are flying in from other countries. That's setting the bar really high, so I will have at least four shots of espresso or four energy drinks before or during the show so we can make it a night that you'll never forget. If you're interested in attending this unique live event, I will leave a link down below. I highly recommend you get your tickets today, and I hope I get to see you in New York on October 19th. Johnny is the second unhappiest person I've ever known. I'm telling you this for a reason, right here in front of Mr. Carson. Watch your step. Johnny's mood can go up to down in milliseconds.
The situation about to be discussed would be very dangerous if word gets out. Keep a tight lip.
Meanwhile, Johnny seemed impatient, as if he had somewhere else to be.
Henry, Johnny said, finally arriving at the purpose of our meeting. I have reason to believe my wife is cheating on me. I also have an idea who the son of a bitch is that she's shacking up with. No wonder he'd been restless. He'd been sitting on a bomb show.
Well, I'll be happy to file a divorce for you if you want. No, I don't want you to file for divorce, he interrupted. I want you to go with Arthur and me and some other guys when we break into the apartment to find evidence to prove that she's cheating on me.
My first reaction was to be appalled. No way, I thought. Members of the bar do not break and enter apartments. And yet, this was an immense opportunity at the beginning of my professional life to land a very major client and launch my career into the stratosphere.
I hesitated. Suddenly, we were off into the night, into the rain, through the traffic, entering the door of the suspected love nest.
In the bright light of the lobby, the sunglasses Johnny had been counting on to cover his identity proved useless. Hey, Johnny Carson, the doorman bellowed.
But his delight at the sudden apparition of a celebrity in his lobby did not translate into a willingness to admit strangers into a residence apartment. Oh no, I can't do that, the doorman said. You wait here, I'll go get the building manager.
Fortunately, the building manager turned out to be less committed to the sanctity of his tenant's domain. When I gave him a spiel about Mrs. Carson being the tenant, but Mr. Carson actually paying the bills, the manager appeared to be pondering the merits of my argument, which he did right up to the moment when Mullick grabbed his hand and slipped several hundred dollars into his palm.
Yeah, okay, the manager nodded. Come on up, I'll let you in.
Almost instantly, Carson discovered evidence of his wife's infidelity. The whole living room, in fact, almost the entire pad, was furnished with discards from the couple's apartment. There were even some pieces that Johnny hadn't realized were gone.
Look, it's him, said Arthur. He was pointing to a table in front of the window on which sat framed photographs of Joanne's playmate.
For the first time, I realized her noontime buddy was Frank Gifford, the former New York Giants football great and sportscaster for CBS.
Crushed by the overwhelming evidence, Carson leaned against the living room wall and began to weep.
It was a painfully uncomfortable moment. While the rest of us tried to look away and give Johnny his privacy, it was, however, a small space, and I couldn't always keep my eyes away.
During one of those glances, I could see that Carson's raincoat had fallen open. I was shocked to see that Johnny was carrying a.38 revolver in his hip.
I was beginning to feel exceedingly uneasy.
Armed men, an emotionally ugly scene, a man in turmoil. Many an inferno has erupted with less kindling.