I discovered “The Dick Cavett Show” this summer. The iconic late-night talk show from the ’60s and ’70s helmed by the titular, mild-mannered host was an unexpected breath of fresh air at a time in which much of contemporary talk programming struggles to be anything other than tedious and trite.  

I suppose what made “The Dick Cavett Show” seem so remarkable had to do with the fact that Cavett drew from such an impressive range of guests and topics, creating what almost was a national town hall where the events and problems of the day could be seriously discussed and debated.

I was honestly taken aback by the sorts of people he would have on the show. Anyone who was anyone during that time seemed to have made an appearance.

Of course, given that several decades have passed since the show’s final episode, the guest list undoubtedly appears much more illustrious now than it would have at the moment. Icon status can only be granted in retrospect.  

There were undoubtedly the sorts of pop-cultural figures that might appear on your standard late-night show these days: actors, athletes, musicians. But, considering the era in which the show aired, Cavett was chatting it up with John Lennon, Jimi Hendrix, Marlon Brando, Louis Armstrong, Katherine Hepburn, Alfred Hitchcock, and Muhammad Ali. The list of icons could continue for days.

However, Cavett also hosted several influential figures from the artistic avant-garde and intelligentsia, realms where the sophomoric comedian-hosts of contemporary late-night would probably have difficulty keeping up.

Cavett appeared well-adjusted in this world of art and ideas, comfortably holding court with figures like Salvador Dalí, Susan Sontag, James Baldwin, Ingmar Bergman, Angela Davis, Gore Vidal, and Jean-Luc Godard. But, again, the list of icons could seemingly go on forever. 

I recall casually asking my dad one afternoon who he thought might be filling this cultural role today. He reluctantly responded with “Jimmy Fallon?”. . . so yeah, basically no one. 

Imagining how guests like these might fit within a contemporary talk show context is laughable. One can only chuckle at the thought of today’s preeminent intellectuals and artists trying to hold a substantive conversation with Jimmy Kimmel or Ellen DeGeneres. 

Now, it is worth noting that most talk television we know today has emerged from a rich tradition of its own, probably tracing its lineage back through the light-hearted, largely family-friendly comedy of people like Johnny Carson. There is even a famous anecdote about Carson advising Jay Leno, his successor as host of “The Tonight Show,” to avoid discussing subjects that may be considered “too serious” at the risk of alienating parts of his viewership.

This sort of escapist comedy hour undoubtedly has its place, but does it deserve its current dominance of the small screen?  

There is simply nothing comparable to Cavett’s late-night show in our current media and entertainment culture. In the years following Cavett’s departure, a handful of shows like William F. Buckley’s “Firing Line” and “Charlie Rose” seemed to maintain Cavett’s niche as a locus of cultural discourse. 

However, after Charlie Rose was understandably ousted off the air following sexual assault allegations in 2017, this august seat of televised cultural criticism has mainly been left vacant. 

The decline of this sort of robust, sophisticated commentary and debate is quite obviously a massive loss. Yet, in an age of incensed ideological polarization and media distrust, an intellectual arena like Cavett nurtured is more essential than ever.

Specific trends on the Internet, particularly on YouTube, definitely have potential. The ubiquitous video-viewing platform seems to have nurtured a substantial boom in pundits, video essayists, and public intellectuals, connected mainly to intensifying culture war tensions.  

However, what the Internet, and even streaming services like Netflix and Hulu, might never be able to provide is the impression of cultural centrality that one senses while watching an episode of “The Dick Cavett Show.”  

Perhaps our culture, fragmented as it is, has lost the ability to sustain such a phenomenon. 

 Evan Leonhard is a 20-year-old English and philosophy junior from New Orleans.