I’m not a huge beer connisseur so I never really bought into the myth that was perpetuated upon us by the team at Dos Equis that their product was endorsed by “The World’s Most Interesting Man”. Even the most casual observer and laziest internet researcher knows that was a marketing ploy that gave Jonathan Goldsmith a 12-year-gig that made his face famous but one still had to google his name. For me, that’s too much work to qualiy as “interesting”.
There are arguably other worthy nominees out there for that monicker, depending upon what generation you fall into. Zelig? 
Forrest Gump?
J.Peterman? 
I wouldn’t immediately contest any of them except to remind you that, in the immortal growl of our current Leader, they’re fake news. Incidentally, don’t make the same mistake I did at bringing that fact up to John O’Hurley, who also had a nice long run playing a role as did Goldsmith. He’d much rather you acknowledge his history playing Shakespearean roles, which was clearly evident when he hosted FAMILY FEUD about as humorlessly as anyone who ever tried.
For my money, that title should go to Tom Freston, and I’m especially inclined to honor him with hit after breathlessly working my way through my downloaded copy of UNPLUGGED: ADVENTURES FROM MTV TO TIMBUKTU which was released earlier today after a drumroll that has included a bevy of interviews and excerpts that whetted my appetite enough that I pre-ordered it. Even the blurb that Amazon created for you to purchase it was written with an atpically distinct flair for the dramatic:
A freewheeling and riveting memoir from media honcho Tom Freston that takes us behind the scenes of his global adventures—from hitchhiking around the world, to running a clothing export company out of India and Afghanistan, to cofounding MTV, to becoming CEO of MTV Networks, then CEO of Viacom, then later returning to work in Africa and Afghanistan.
Like many of his fellow pioneers in cable television have of late, Tom’s at a point in life where a victory lap or two are in order, and those that contributed the most to what I’d contend changed our relationship with video entertainment forever are penning their autobiographies and/or giving permission for documentaries to chronicle their adventures. But unlike even my onetime bosses and mentors Barry Diller and Ted Turner who have gone that route of late and earned mere musings, I’m outright cheering for the exploits of Freston because, heck, he’s literally gone to the ends of the earth and back to both do his job and live his life. And he’s anything but apologetic about it. As he confided to THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER’s Lacey Rose in a poignant and revealing interview she dropped yesterday, he’s quite proud of what he’s done and determined to keep doing it.
With all due respect for the genuises who actually employed me, they don’t have half the material that does Freston, points exceptionally evident in this back-and-forth with Rose:
I suspect there were some stories that felt like “musts.” One of my favorites is how, in order to get David Bowie to do an “I Want My MTV” commercial in the early ’80s, you flew to Switzerland and met him on the ski slopes in Gstaad. You then proceeded to ski with him, ultimately ending the day in a sauna with him and Paul McCartney.
I’ve been dining out on that story for years. It’s a good one.
I’ll admit I’m still processing another story you share about taking Sumner Redstone and his mistress to sex clubs in Asia. At his request, you’d watch people fornicate onstage. I’m guessing you didn’t need a journal entry to recall that trip?
Perhaps he was inclined to share that side of Redstone because, much like those hookers, Freston ultimately got royally f-cked by Sumner and his viagra addiction (a fact I learned in one of my few “locker room” conversations with a gossipy Haim Saban and a disbelieving Rupert Murdoch) shortly after he reached the pinnacle of his Viacom career when he was named CEO in 2005. All of his swashuckling aside, I especially identified with the emotions he conveyed when Rose probed him on that episode:I was humiliated and depressed. I was leaving this thing that I loved, and we were just getting going. I’d seen him fire both Mel Karmazin, who was wonderful, and Frank Biondi, who was fantastic, for doing their jobs. They were making smart moves, and they were getting credit. So, I packed up and I thought I’d just sneak out, get a taxi and go home. Then the elevator door opened and I couldn’t believe it. It was packed, and it was a big lobby, and they started chanting my name. I mean, they followed me out the door. “Tom! Tom! Tom!”
Still, it was the postscript to this chapter that Rose added that I found most relatable of all:
(F)urious that he hadn’t scooped up Myspace as Redstone rival Rupert Murdoch had, paying $580 million for the social networking service at the time. (When the latter famously collapsed in 2011, Murdoch offloaded it for $35 million; not doing that deal had saved Viacom more than $500 million. As Freston writes, “I’m still waiting for a thank-you note.”).
I didn’t have an entourage cheering me when I left my most recent gig; the first days of COVID made my final box-packing a bitter, lonely ritual where a double-masked and gloved security guard was my only witness in an otherwise completely empty building. So I’m that much more happy that Freston got his last laugh in a more public fashion, and that he’s being celebrated by so many of his one-time colleagues and minions as passionately as they are. I personally know more than a few who got really rich and successful being part of his “cradle to grave” portfolio that even my well-to-do colleagues privately confessed they were envious of. The Viacom networks weren’t merely popular; their lock on zeitgeist and their fierce determination to know more about their audiences than anyone else–and empowering their executives to conduct regular and not cheap global studies to keep current–made them places where advertisers, sponsors and yes, viewers, felt that they NEEDED to be.
I know many people who are reading this were much more directly connected to Freston than I, someone who sadly I’ve yet to meet in person. He did accept my recent Facebook request so I suppose that’s an accomplishment; hence why I’ve been exposed to much more of said drumroll than most. I’d really love to hear your stories, even if they don’t quite involve the sordid sexual or psychopharmacological escapades of your superiors. (Redstone’s may have been excessive, but they were hardly unique). That’s what I find interesting.
Until next time…
P.S: If you didn’t pre-order UNPLUGGED as I did, here’s your chance to catch up.