"I apologize. I know I left some of your favorite shows off this list. How do I know that? Because I left some of my favorite shows off this list. The happy and unfortunate fact is that there are far more than 100 great shows, and more created every year. Lists are incredibly important: they are how we define what matters to us, what we want entertainment and art to do, what we expect of our culture." —TIME TV critic James Poniewozik
A taxicab is just a space you occupy on the way from somewhere you wanted to be to the next place you want to be more. That was the way most of Louie De Palma’s employees looked on their time at the Sunshine Cab Company. Whether an aspiring actor, a bad-luck boxer, a self-proclaimed reverend or a befuddled immigrant, Taxi‘s motley characters spoke to a universal feeling. ‘This job isn’t who I am. It’s just what I do’—who hasn’t felt that? But while a majestically weird Andy Kaufman and gleefully troll-ish Danny DeVito drew the big laughs, the emotional heart was soulful sad-sack Alex Reiger (Judd Hirsch), the one cabbie who was just a cabbie. Whether or not anyone in this garage was ever truly going anywhere, the ride was worth it.
Tonight was zippy with Steve Allen, unpredictable with Jack Paar and—well, still on the air with Jay Leno, but it was under Johnny that it reached its apex as a cool but comfortable late-night hangout. It’s a tough balancing act to give a late-night show broad appeal: you’re speaking to both the elderly and young night owls, you need to be relaxed enough to put your viewers to bed without putting them to sleep. Carson was just the right mix of ingenuous Midwesterner and urban sophisticate, in control but self-deprecating, quick-witted but not enervating. His comic style was as smooth as his pantomime golf swing, and he stayed in control even when being climbed by all manner of zoo animals. Ushering viewers from waking life to dreamland, he gave America thirty years of good nights.