As he speaks, he’s sitting in his home office looking
over Central Park. It’s two blocks from the studio
at Bloomberg, which produces his show. It’s good
for Rose to be so close because Rose never stops
working, really. On this day, he’s risen at 5: 30 a.m. and gone
through no fewer than a dozen newspapers—The New York
Times, The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, Inter-
national Herald- Tribune, Financial Times, New York Post,
New York Daily News, The New York Sun, USA Today,
The New York Observer, The Boston Globe and Los Angeles
Times—while standing over his desk as broadcasts from
NPR and the BBC play in the background. He’s worked out
on the treadmill and is looking forward to breakfast with a
friend who teaches law at Duke University (where Rose
earned his law degree) and lunch with another friend from
London. That evening, he’ll be honored by an organization
called the French Institute Alliance Française because of his
dedication to improving relationships between Americans
and the French.
His colleagues are amazed at how he stays on top of it all.
The key is the ability to synthesize a vast degree of information
“Charlie Rose is appealing because he actually sits down and has a conversation. It’s like listening to two people talk in a bar. You feel rewarded from the experience.”
quickly, as well as the eagerness of a curious college student for whom time has no meaning. Rose is known to get up at 3 a.m. to leap into his research. “By the time he comes into the office at 9 a.m., there isn’t a newspaper article or magazine clipping that he hasn’t seen before the rest of us have,” says Yvette Vega, his executive producer of 15 years. “That’s the staggering fact about Charlie. He’s very modest about it. But it’s not like work to him. He cares deeply about every single person who comes on the show. Look, for this Clint Eastwood interview, I can tell you what he’s going to do: He’s going to go to a local store and pick up every single Clint Eastwood DVD on the shelves and watch it. He’ll probably get the Flags of Our Fathers soundtrack too, and listen to it while he reads articles about Eastwood. He prepares for an interview like a method actor prepares for a role.”
Rose is driven in part because there is no lack of TV talk-show hosts. How hard can it be, program execs have concluded for the ages, to take a smart, interesting person and have them converse with another (they hope) smart, interesting person? In the beginning, there was Garroway, Allen
and Paar. Then Dinah, Mike and Merv anchored daytimes while Johnny ruled late night. Then came cable and the need to fill dozens of channels 24/7, and the perceived pot of gold in syndication, all of which created a feeding frenzy of talk shows— Chevy, Ricki, Magic, Arsenio, Geraldo, Sally Jesse,
Tyra—that would transform the genre into something of an industry joke. (Tony Danza? Tom Green? Even Pat Sajak got a late-night gig.) Most of these vehicles, even if they lasted a few years, cheapened the brand. Flash and sizzle were in. In-depth raconteurs went out. And even the survivors—the ones who have remained successful year after year—have re-sorted to shtick to keep viewers interested. Letterman has his beloved Top 10 list. Oprah gives away cars. Ellen dances.
But this Rose fellow? Charlie doesn’t dance.
His set’s background is pitch black. All focus is on host and guest. No one else is in this room. Usually only a couple of glasses of water are on the table. That’s how he’s commanded his niche here—we want to watch Rose because he’s subtly yet skillfully convinced us that we’ve gained special, closed-invitation access to an exclusive event with the top news and entertainment figures of our times.
Rose remains a national treasure because few people can do what he does at such a high level, says
Bob Thompson, professor of television and pop
culture at Syracuse University and co-author of
Television in the Antenna Age. “This is the kind
of TV interviewer who rarely exists anymore,”
Thompson says. “He actually reads the books
written by the subjects he’s interviewing, rather
than just go on the fly with a briefing from his
staff. There’s a very short list of people who put
in that kind of effort—maybe Bob Costas and
James Lipton. Charlie Rose is also appealing
because he actually sits down and has an actual
conversation. It’s like listening to two people talk in a bar. It’s
not hyperpretentious. It’s not professorial. Yet, at the same
time, it’s highbrow. You feel rewarded from the experience,
and that’s why he has a huge fan base that loves him.”
ose is asked whether it’s difficult to keep the con- Rversation going, or at least to keep it going in the manner that has become his signature. Surprisingly,
he says no. Charlie Rose the program has worked because it’s an accurate reflection of Charlie Rose the person. “The best programs are an extension of the person hosting them,” he says. “It needs to be an extension of their passion, intelligence and curiosity. Too frequently these days behind-the-scenes people come up with a concept first, and then try to figure out who can host it. That’s when a show won’t work. Larry King’s show is an extension of who he is. Anderson Cooper’s show is too, because Anderson Cooper really has a passion to be there in all the hot spots in the world, whether