David Letterman.
Associated Press

David Letterman told his audience on Thursday night about an extortion plot that began with a package left in his car.

Last night after his monologue, David Letterman sat at his desk and told a long story. It started in his car at 6 a.m. three weeks ago, when he discovered a package in the back seat, and it ended with the arrest yesterday of a man who tried to blackmail him for $2 million. The man had information about sexual relationships Letterman had had with women who work on his show — and he apparently suggested that the blackmail wouldn't necessarily end at $2 million.

It is a profoundly odd bit of television. The members of the audience, unprepared for what's coming, expect another "goofy Dave" story, and they chuckle helpfully at the jokes that he seems to insert almost compulsively. He describes his panic, and they laugh sympathetically. But as he describes calling his lawyer, they seem to realize that it isn't actually funny. He's not making jokes in the way you make jokes when your story is going to end up fine. He's making jokes the way he would make jokes about his heart attack.

What's next, after the jump.

 

He talks about having two meetings with the blackmailer, warning him (on the advice of the police) that what he was doing was blackmail, and was likely criminal, and the man not retreating from his position. And then at the third meeting, giving him a phony check for $2 million. Yesterday, Letterman testified in front of a grand jury, after which the guy was arrested.

It was only at the end of the story, talking about his grand jury testimony, that Letterman said, specifically, what he was being blackmailed about. Until then, he'd repeatedly referred to the information as relating to "creepy things" that he'd done.

He didn't talk about who the women were; he said they could talk about the relationships or not, as they choose. He didn't talk about how long ago all this happened. (He's been married since earlier this year to a woman he's been with since 1986, and they have a son, born in 2003.)

Associated Press writer Lynn Elber sees in this a grand manipulation "from a man acknowledged to be a master of the art of broadcasting," suggesting that the audience laughed because Letterman nudged them in that direction — but asking, "What happens when the TV bubble bursts and people take another look?"