Norm Macdonald recalls the week of making SNL40 happen, and the Eddie Murphy performance that almost happened

I got in early, on Monday, so I could write. It was a massive undertaking, a 3 hour show. People were exhausted.

I worked with Lori Jo Hoekstra and Steve Higgins,who was always in a suit, because he had to go be Jimmy’s sidekick, every day, round 5.

I saw Lorne, thanked him, congratulated him, and shook his hand as Canadians do. He accepted. Got that out of the way early.

Mood was too relaxed. I was confused as to who exactly was to be in charge of this thing.

It was to be Lorne Michaels.

Of course it was. It had to be Lorne.

They wanted Celebrity Jeopardy.

He said that Eugene Levy had written the original. We received permission and beside Darrell and I, the talented Mr. Short played Jerry Lewis.

It was always difficult to fit in that final celebrity.

We never wanted a celebrity to be dumb, although many, even within the show, thought that was the idea.

The idea was for Connery to be abusive and Burt to be dismissive.

Sometimes people ask me who the funnier character is, Connery or Burt.

It was always the third podium that was hard to find a man to stand behind.

It would inevitably only be an impression, nothing but an empty showcase.

The best to do it was Hanks, playing dumb Hanks. Hanks always got it. And Alec too.

Celebrity Jeopardy was never about impressions.

In real life, Connery is the opposite of Darryl’s take. Connery was the perfect gentleman, Burt was the funniest guy in the room.

Celebrity Jeopardy was about hope.

It was about the hope of one man, Alex Trebek, the hope that never died. The audacious hope that never let the facts of the past interfere.

It was a rhythm piece, as each disaster was signaled by the sound of a buzzer, and each new category signified more, new, hope.

And the 3rd contestant was the tough one. The third attitude always just out of reach of Higgins and me.

And now we were being told we would have to do a dozen impressions. The rhythm would be gone.

It was what it was, though, and what it was to be. How could it be saved from becoming an episode of copycats?

And then Higgins had an idea.

An idea that would blow the show wide open.

Among many other things, this show was to be the return of Eddie Murphy.

Eddie, the man who, in Lorne’s absence, kept the show alive. Singlehandedly.

To every comedian who ever performed on SNL, what Eddie accomplished was unthinkable.

Every Saturday Night at 11:30 Eddie Murphy, a kid, would fill 90 minutes with comedy.

Until last week.

Higgins had the idea. A video daily double.

The category would be potent potables, a common one on Jeopardy, but one we somehow had never done.

And the idea was that it would be a bar set. And the idea was that Cosby would be mixing a drink in a video that was taped 6 months ago.

It was perfect. It was all Steve Higgins idea.

At the end of the sketch, Darrell would choose potent potables. Homebase would be dressed as a bar.

The iconic doors would open and on to home base would step Eddie Murphy. The audience would know what to do.

Why is Eddie wearing a multi-colored sweater? He steps behind the bar, begins mixing a drink. The audience covers the fact he has not spoken.

When he speaks, he is Cosby. Eddie Murphy doing a perfect Cosby impression. The audience does not let him finish. The sketch ends.

The show, for all intents, ends.

All the impressions are forgiven.

And on and on it went. I had not spoken to Eddie or @BrettRatner. I was dead sure Eddie would do it. Most others were not.

Still, there was so much work to do.

Higgins would stick his head in the room from time to time, tell me another celeb had been cut and make me happy. I kept trying to help Mike.

I didn’t get a single joke into Wayne’s World. It was a great sketch, and he did a top ten list, best things about SNL.

“Guess where you ranked,” he laughed and I knew from the laugh it was low. “As long as I beat….”and I mentioned a girl who lasted 4 episodes

The joke was that I really hoped I would beat a girl who nobody had ever heard of. The bigger joke is that I hadn’t.

My mind searched for an even more obscure cast member.

I remembered the first year SNL hired an older man because they didn’t think all kids could play characters of age.

“As long as I beat George Coe,” I said, making a fine joke. Again the truth was a finer joke. Coe had easily outranked me.” And on it went.

I should say that it was not the magazine that ranked us, but a single writer. I looked him up and found a book he had written.

He doesn’t deserve to be named and his book was sentimental nonsense meant to look like something Dave Eggers would write.

But, in all fairness, it was not the magazine who did the ranking. At least I think. Anyway, it made for a very funny running joke.

The idea of jokes approved by a writer the caliber of Jim Downey being called lame by some sappy “writer” was a great joke.

Downey was in charge of the political pieces, the best of which he had written, and nobody knew what was going on with Update.

At least that’s what I was told the dozen or so times I was asked.

Who was in charge of Update, I asked and eyes would get shifty. Was it the guy that wrote the Rolling Stone thing?

Still, had to write Jeopardy. Higgins, Lori Jo, and I would stay late into the night, then go to P.J. Clarke’s and end the nights at 3.

It was like the old days.

The old days.

We worked straight through, me with my Winnipeg Jets jersey, Lori Jo in a beautiful dress, Higgins in his Tonight Show suit.

Downey had remembered a thing Bill Murray used to do around the office, the theme from Jaws, and thought that would be perfect.

But there was a problem. Bill Murray was in Carmel for the Pro-Am, which he had won a couple of years back with DA Points.

And Lorne was in his office, which overlooks 8H, which overlooks 40 years of memories. And he was looking out the window, down on to the floor.

And I was very nervous and he was perfectly calm. “Perhaps it would help if you called Eddie,” and that was that.

My son got in on Saturday and wandered as the stars became bigger and bigger around him.

I’m talking to Lori Jo and Higgins and Fred and my son and suddenly Paul McCartney is there.

And he is in the circle of us and Lori Jo talks of being a vegan and he says his daughter works for Gucci and is a designer, but no leather.

My son and I look at each other. Very cool.

And the 4 of us follow McCartney in to 8H and he sits behind the piano and does 6 songs.

I take a video on my phone of Fred Wolf, striking a Dylan pose, with McCartney in the background at the piano, singing.

I get all filmmaker and go over Fred’s shoulder and get real close to Paul and when he finishes he is looking directly in to my camera.

Then, as he finishes one and goes in to another I feel a hand on my back. The hand of security. Solid hand.

There is Sarah Palin, gorgeous, and you can understand the charisma. She is irresistible.

Too many superstars to take in all at one time. So happy my son could see them all.

And then comes Eddie.

I’m standing with my son, Lori Jo, and Chris Rock. We see Eddie from 100 yards away.

Rock says, “There he is, like Ali in Zaire.” Eddie, Bomaye.

It’s my job to talk him into doing Jeopardy.

We talk in his dressing room for an hour. When it’s over, I’m convinced he’ll do it.

He doesn’t.