Johnny Carson Revealed the 9 Worst Racist Guests in Old Hollywood Golden Age History

Johnny Carson Revealed the 9 Worst Racist Guests in Old Hollywood Golden Age History

 

Johnny Carson revealed the nine golden age stars who were actually racist. For 30 years, Johnny Carson brought America’s biggest stars into living rooms across the country. His warm smile and easy laugh made viewers feel like they were watching old friends catch up over coffee. But when the cameras stopped rolling and the audience went home, Carson’s smile often disappeared.

According to those closest to him, America’s favorite host kept a mental blacklist of guests whose racial attitude shocked even him. Stars he considered genuinely harmful to the country he loved. Johnny was the ultimate professional on camera, revealed a former Tonight Show producer who worked with Carson for over a decade.

 But the minute we cut to commercial, he would sometimes turn to Ed and whisper about guests whose racism made him physically uncomfortable. He’d say things like, “That person just smiled at millions of Americans. they don’t think deserve to exist. In his final years, Carson became increasingly candid about the celebrities whose documented prejudices he’d witnessed throughout his career.

 The stories he told close friends paint a disturbing picture of beloved icons whose carefully crafted public images hid systematic discrimination that destroyed careers and shaped an entire industry. Most shocking were Carson’s revelations about the animation pioneer who personally enforced a hiring policy that kept every single black artist out of his creative departments for 42 years while selling his brand as wholesome American family values to millions of children.

 And the beloved comedy legend who fought network executives to feature her interracial marriage on television, then used that same power to veto any scripts that showed black families living in her neighborhood. These weren’t just celebrities with outdated language or uncomfortable jokes from a different era.

 According to Carson, these were people whose prejudices had real consequences, blocked opportunities, destroyed careers, and generations of children who grew up seeing a version of America where people of color simply didn’t exist. But first, we need to understand why the first name on Carson’s list surprised even the Tonight Show staff who thought they’d seen everything.

 because he seemed like the last person in Hollywood who would harbor such views. Starting with number nine. Number nine, Lucille Ball, the comedy icon who revolutionized television. When Lucille Ball appeared on the Tonight Show, viewers saw the beloved star of I Love Lucy, the pioneering producer who broke barriers for women in Hollywood and the woman who famously fought network executives to keep her Cuban husband Daisy Ares as her on-screen partner.

 Her groundbreaking career seemed to embody progressive values and fearless boundaryb breaking. What audiences didn’t see was how Ball used that same power to keep her show conspicuously white. Despite being married to Desi Arnaz and fighting CBS to feature an interracial marriage on television, I Love Lucy remained entirely white throughout its entire six season run from 1951 to 1957.

  According to production memos discovered decades later, CBS suggested in 1955 that a black family could move into the neighborhood for an episode. All personally vetoed the idea. Writer room documents show she rejected multiple scripts that featured black characters in anything beyond background roles. When Ethel Waters, one of the era’s most respected black actresses, was invited to guest star in 1957, Ball declined.

According to staff members who were present, she cited audience comfort as her reason. Years later, Desi Arnaz admitted in his autobiography that Lucy was progressive on some things, backwards on others, a carefully worded acknowledgement of the contradiction at the heart of her legacy. Carson reportedly mentioned her contradictions during a 1970s interview, praising her business acumen while noting her selective progressivism.

 Under her control, Desoloo Studios hired very few minority writers or directors despite increasing industry pressure throughout the 1960s. Her selective progressivism revolutionary for women, regressive for racial representation, showed how even Hollywood’s pioneers could perpetuate discrimination in their own empires.

 But if Ball’s behavior represented passive exclusion, Carson’s next problematic guest demonstrated active resistance to integration in the entertainment industry. Number eight, Bing Crosby, America’s Kuner with the golden voice. When Bing Crosby appeared on the Tonight Show, viewers heard the man who gave them White Christmas and countless other beloved songs.

 His wholesome image as a family man and his smooth, comforting voice made him one of America’s most trusted entertainers. Behind that carefully crafted persona, according to multiple sources, was a man who actively refused to share stages with integrated bands. Throughout the 1940s and 1950s, even as the music industry began slowly integrating, Crosby maintained all-white musical arrangements.

 When Deca Records suggested integrated recording sessions in 1953, Crosby reportedly threatened to leave the label rather than work with mixed race musicians. Louisie Armstrong, one of Jazz’s greatest legends,  personally confronted Crosby about his refusal to collaborate. Armstrong documented the interaction in his personal letters, expressing disappointment in a fellow musician he had once admired.

 A 1954 incident at NBC became legendary among crew members. Crosby walked out of a rehearsal when black backup singers were added to the arrangement without his prior approval. He didn’t return until the singers were removed and replaced with white performers. Bob Hope later revealed in his memoir that Crosby’s old-fashioned attitudes caused behind-the-scenes tension during their famous Road Pictures together.

 Carson noticed Crosby’s discomfort whenever integration was discussed. During a 1976 Tonight Show appearance, Crosby would visibly change the subject whenever the conversation moved toward civil rights or changing industry demographics. Staff members at Paramount Studios documented that Crosby demanded separate craft services when minority crew members were present on his sets.

 His wholesome image as America’s favorite kuner masked attitudes that actively prevented talented black musicians from advancing in an integrating industry. While Crosby represented quiet segregation in the music world, Carson’s next difficult guest brought a more complex contradiction to light. Number seven, Frank Sinatra, the chairman of the board.

 On camera, Frank Sinatra appeared as a consumate entertainer and civil rights supporter. He famously championed Sammy Davis Jr.’s career, performed at fundraisers for the 1963 March on Washington, and publicly supported Martin Luther King Jr., his rat packed performances were among the few integrated shows in Las Vegas during the segregation era.

 The public record painted Sinatra as a progressive force in Hollywood. Behind closed doors, according to multiple Tonight Show witnesses, including Carson himself, a very different Frank Sinatra emerged. A contradiction was stark and disturbing. Multiple staff members who worked on the Tonight Show documented hearing Sinatra use racial slurs in private settings, particularly when he was angry or felt he was among friends.

 A 1971 backstage incident became particularly notorious among crew members. After a heated discussion about politics during a commercial break, Sinatra reportedly used a slur when referring to black protesters, shocking everyone within earshot. Carson mentioned Sinatra’s two faces during an off-air conversation in the early 1980s  that was later recounted by staff members.

 He described Sinatra as generous to civil rights causes in public, but capable of cruel language in private. Members of Count Bassy’s orchestra documented in their biographies that Sinatra occasionally used offensive language backstage in Las Vegas, even while publicly supporting integration of the strip’s showrooms. What separated Sinatra’s behavior from typical language of the era was that he knew better.

 His public progressivism showed he understood the importance of civil rights and racial equality. Yet, he code switched depending on his audience, revealing that his support may have been more performative than genuine. A former Tonight Show producer explained, “Johnny respected Frank’s talent and his civil rights record on paper, but he was deeply disturbed by the disconnect between public Frank and private Frank.

 The complexity of Sinatra’s situation troubled Carson perhaps more than outright bigotry would have.” Carson reportedly told Ed McMahon, “Frank does the right things for the wrong reasons sometimes.” His contradictory nature, generous civil rights donations while harboring private prejudices, exemplified Hollywood’s performative progressivism, and revealed how public allyship could coexist with private bigotry.

 If Sinatra’s contradiction was troubling, Carson’s next guest on the list demonstrated how Hollywood royalty enforced racial hierarchies through their daily behavior. Number six, Joan Crawford, Hollywood’s queen with ice in her veins. When Joan Crawford appeared on the Tonight Show in 1970, viewers saw the gracious Hollywood legend they’d admired for decades.

 With her perfect posture, immaculate appearance, and practice charm, Crawford embodied old Hollywood glamour. According to multiple Tonight Show staff members and documents discovered in Warner Brothers Archives, Crawford’s off- camerara behavior revealed a woman committed to maintaining racial segregation both oncreen and off.

 A contract writer from the 1940s discovered decades later in studio archives explicitly stated that Crawford would not appear in scenes with colored performers in equal status roles. This wasn’t a passive preference. It was a contractual demand that shaped the films she made. In 1952, production of Sudden Fear was delayed when Crawford objected to a black actor being cast in a dinner party scene.

 She reportedly demanded the script be rewritten to make him a servant instead of a guest at the table. Crawford insisted on separate dressing room facilities whenever black performers were on set, even for brief scenes that would be filmed on different days. Dorothy Dandridge documented in her autobiography Crawford’s coldness and outright refusal to speak to her in the Warner Brothers commissary despite both being contracted stars at the studio at the same time.

 During her 1970 Tonight Show appearance, staff members witnessed Crawford’s visible discomfort when black musical guest Dela Ree performed. During a commercial break, Crawford reportedly asked to use a different exit to avoid any backstage interaction. A former producer recalled, “Joan maintained a racial hierarchy even in her social interactions.

 You could see her calculating who deserved her attention based on their race and status. What made Crawford’s behavior particularly egregious was its persistence. This wasn’t just a product of her early career in the 1930s and 40s. She maintained these attitudes well into the 1970s. Long after the Civil Rights Act had passed and the industry had begun, however slowly to change.

Carson later told colleagues she treated people as if the Civil Rights Act never happened. Her insistence on maintaining racial hierarchy both oncreen and off helped preserve Hollywood segregation even as America was changing around her. While Crawford’s rigid hierarchies represented old Hollywood’s dying gasp, Carson’s next guest showed how civil rights allies could transform into something much worse.

 Number five, Charlton H. From Moses to NRA president. When Charlton H appeared on the Tonight Show in the 1960s, he would often reference his participation in the 1963 March on Washington with Martin Luther King Jr. Photos of H marching alongside civil rights leaders gave him progressive credentials that he used throughout his career.

 Viewers saw a principled man who had stood up for justice during a critical moment in American history. What they didn’t see, according to Carson and others who knew him across decades, was H’s dramatic transformation into someone who used racially coded language to attack the very communities he once claimed to support. The march in 1963 was real.

 H was there and he spoke about it proudly for years. But by the 1990s, something had changed. H began making public statements about destructive hip hop culture and gang mentality with clear racial implications. In a 1997 Playboy interview, he stated that certain communities weren’t ready for full integration and needed to fix their culture first before demanding equal treatment.

 He told a journalist that the breakdown of the black family was a more important issue than systemic racism, placing responsibility on black Americans rather than examining structural inequalities. Carson, who had interviewed H multiple times across three decades, noticed the shift in his language and attitudes. A former Tonight Show director recalled, “In the 1960s and 70s, H would talk about his civil rights work proudly, even passionately.

By the 1990s, his language had hardened significantly. It was like watching someone slowly reveal who they’d been all along. During a 1995 Tonight Show appearance, Carson noted H’s completely different energy when a young black comedian was also booked on the show. The warmth and camaraderie H typically showed other guests was noticeably absent.

 He became the NRA’s spokesman, using language about inner city criminals that civil rights leaders immediately recognized as racial dog whistles, coded language designed to trigger racial fears without explicitly mentioning race.  H never acknowledged the contradiction between the young man who marched with King and the older man who spoke about traditional values and law and order in ways that clearly targeted black communities.

 Carson reportedly told a producer  after H’s final appearance, “That’s not the same man who marched in ‘ 63.” Or maybe it is, and we just didn’t see it then. His evolution from civil rights marcher to conservative culture warrior using racially coded language revealed how some white liberals of the 1960s became the reactionaries of the 1990s and raised uncomfortable questions about whether the original allyship was ever genuine.

 But if H’s transformation was disturbing, Carson’s next guest on the list used institutional power to prevent progress while maintaining a friendly public image. Number four, Jimmy Stewart. America’s every man with a segregationist signature. When Jimmy Stewart appeared on the Tonight Show, viewers saw the beloved star of It’s a Wonderful Life and Mr.

 Smith Goes to Washington, the ultimate symbol of American decency and small town values. His ashukucks demeanor and stuttering charm made him seem like the moral center of Hollywood. What audiences didn’t know, according to documented evidence, was that Stuart used his influence to support segregation while playing heroes who fought for justice.

In 1957, Stuart signed a petition opposing the integration of Los Angeles public schools. This wasn’t a private belief. It was a public political action. He aligned himself with segregationist politicians and hosted fundraisers at his Beverly Hills home for candidates who opposed civil rights legislation.

 FBI files released decades later revealed Stuart provided information to the bureau about fellow actors who supported civil rights, labeling them as potential communist sympathizers. He saw supporting racial equality as suspicious unamerican activity. In 1963, when other Hollywood stars were publicly supporting the Civil Rights Act, Stuart notably declined to make any statement.

 According to colleagues who approached him, he said he preferred to stay out of politics despite having very much involved himself in the politics of opposing integration. Director Otto Premieringer revealed years later that Stuart initially refused a role in Anatomy of a Murder, partly because of a black judge character in the script.

 He eventually accepted for other reasons, but his initial resistance was telling. James Baldwin documented Stuart’s cold reception when they were introduced at a Hollywood party in 1964. The warmth Stuart showed white guests disappeared entirely. Carson carefully avoided discussing Stuart’s politics during tonight show appearances, but mentioned in private conversations how disappointing Stuart’s beliefs were.

 A former producer recalled Johnny loved Jimmy’s movies. He couldn’t reconcile that with who Jimmy actually was. Stuart’s hometown of Indiana, Pennsylvania, honored him with a museum. Letters archived there show his financial support for efforts to preserve community character, coded language for maintaining segregation.

 He never publicly evolved or acknowledged how his political actions contradicted the heroes he played on screen. His wholesome everyman image. George Bailey fighting for the little guy existed alongside active support for the very power structures that oppressed millions. The man who played the voice of American conscience had no problem silencing his own when it came to racial justice.

 Number three, John Wayne, America’s cowboy with a dark creed. When John Wayne appeared on the Tonight Show, viewers saw the ultimate symbol of American masculinity, the western hero, the war film icon, the Duke himself. His on-screen persona represented rugged individualism, patriotism, and traditional American values. What separated Wayne from every other star on this list, according to documented evidence, was that he didn’t hide his racism.

 He stated it publicly, defended it repeatedly, and never apologized for beliefs he held until his death. In 1971, at the height of his fame, Wayne gave an interview to Playboy magazine that remains shocking to read today. He stated clearly, “I believe in white supremacy until the blacks are educated to a point of responsibility.” These weren’t words taken out of context or misunderstood.

 He said them deliberately to a national publication. In the same interview, he defended taking land from Native Americans, saying they were selfishly trying to keep it for themselves. What’s perhaps most disturbing is that Wayne received virtually no professional consequences for these statements. The Playboy interview was published and widely read.

His career continued uninterrupted. He remained one of Hollywood’s biggest box office draws. The industry’s silence in response to his openly stated white supremacist beliefs, spoke volumes about what Hollywood truly valued. Production documents show Wayne actively campaigned against hiring black actors in lead roles, and wielded his considerable power to enforce his preferences.

 When he directed the Alamo in 1960, he rejected Sydney Poier for a role despite Poier being the biggest black star of the era, casting a white actor instead. He refused to work with black directors throughout his entire career, even as opportunities arose in the 1960s and 70s. Wayne’s Vietnam War activism included racial rhetoric.

 He suggested that black anti-war protesters were unamerican and didn’t understand patriotism, linking race to questions of loyalty. In a 1968 interview, he said certain races weren’t suited for democracy and needed strong guidance, language indistinguishable from colonial justifications for oppression. The 1973 Oscars provided a revealing moment when Marlon Brando sent Sachin Little Feather to reject his best actor award and protest Hollywood’s treatment of Native Americans. Wayne was reportedly furious.

Security had to physically restrain him from confronting Little Feather on stage. His anger at Native Advocacy revealed the depth of his beliefs. Carson’s 1974 Tonight Show interview with Wayne became legendary among staff as the most uncomfortable interview of Carson’s career. According to later accounts, Wayne defended his Playboy comments on air, claiming he was just being honest.

 Unlike politically correct Hollywood, Carson’s questions became noticeably shorter and less engaged as the interview continued. The visible discomfort was apparent to viewers, though most didn’t understand its source. Letters Wayne wrote to newspaper editors, now archived at USC, show his consistent racial views throughout his life.

 Even in final interviews before his 1979 death, he never renounced or apologized for his earlier statements. A former Tonight Show producer recalled, “Johnny maintained his professionalism, but he told us later, I can’t believe America’s hero actually believes that.” Wayne’s unrepentant public racism, stated clearly, defended repeatedly, never apologized for, proved that even America’s most beloved heroes could be openly hateful, and the industry loved him anyway, which said everything about Hollywood’s true values.

 But if Wayne’s public declarations were shocking, Carson’s next revelation exposed how even supposed friendship couldn’t overcome prejudice. Number two, Dean Martin, a cool king with a segregated kingdom. When Dean Martin appeared on the Tonight Show, viewers saw the epitome of effortless cool, the smooth kuner, the charming comedian, the Vegas icon who made everything look easy.

 His rat pack performances with Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. seemed to embody a new integrated Hollywood where talent transcended race. What the cameras didn’t show, and what Carson eventually revealed in a shocking break with late night television’s code of silence, was that Martin’s easy charm masked rigid racial barriers he refused to cross.

 The Dean Martin Show ran from 1965 to 1974, producing 264 episodes during a period when American television was slowly beginning to integrate. Yet, in all those episodes, across all those years, Dean Martin never had a single black guest host. The show featured black musical guests Sammy Davis Jr., Nat King Cole, Diaan Carroll, but always in carefully segregated roles.

 They could sing, but they couldn’t sit on the couch as equals. Production staff documented in later interviews that Martin refused to do comedy sketches with black performers as equals.  The Sammy Davis Jr. situation was particularly revealing and painful. Despite being fellow Rap Pack members and supposedly close friends, Davis only appeared on Dean’s show in musical numbers, he never appeared in the bar sketch segments where Dean played host and joked with guests as  peers.

 Professional segregation even within what the public believed was friendship. A 1968 NBC meeting became infamous when its minutes were later released. Martin threatened to quit the show if the network mandated integrated comedy segments. According to those present, he told executives directly, “I don’t do comedy with colored performers.

 They can sing, but the comedy is mine.” The network backed down rather than lose their star. Carson revealed in a 1982 off-air conversation, later leaked by a staff member, that Martin had told him, “Black comedians don’t have the right rhythm for my show.” Everyone who heard the comment understood what rhythm really meant.

 It was coded language suggesting black performers didn’t belong in his comedy world. Multiple Las Vegas performers confirmed that Martin’s dressing room was whites only by his personal preference, even in integrated venues. Frank Sinatra, for all his own contradictions, had to personally intervene multiple times to convince Martin to perform at integrated Vegas shows in the 1960s.

 Martin resisted even cosmetic integration. Martin’s children later acknowledged after his death in 1995 their father’s limited worldview and regrettable attitudes that were products of his era. Carefully diplomatic language that acknowledged without fully confronting the truth. The contrast with his comedy partner Jerry Lewis was stark.

 Lewis actively supported civil rights, and according to Lewis’s memoir, their disagreements over racial politics were among the irreconcilable differences that contributed to their famous 1956 split. The most significant moment came after Martin’s death. In a 1998 interview with CBS, Carson did something almost unprecedented.

 He broke the code of silence that protected celebrity images even after death. He stated explicitly, “Dean had racial attitudes that would shock people today. We all knew it in the industry. Nobody talked about it publicly. I’m talking about it now. He detailed Martin’s discomfort at integrated performances, his preference for traditional, meaning segregated audience arrangements, and his refusal to socialize with black performers offstage, even when they just shared a stage.

 Carson’s revelation represented late night television’s reckoning with its own complicity in protecting beloved stars whose beliefs harmed millions. It proved that even the coolest, smoothest entertainer of his era built his empire on exclusion, and everyone in the industry knew and said nothing for decades.

 While Martin’s segregation was personal preference enforced through star power, Carson’s final entry on this list represented something even more insidious. Systematic institutional racism built into the very foundation of American childhood. Number one, Walt Disney, the man who built a kingdom on invisible walls.

 When Walt Disney’s name came up on the Tonight Show, it was always with reverence. The animation pioneer, the visionary who created Disneyland, the man who shaped American childhood for generations. His creations were synonymous with magic, innocence, and family values. What Carson and others in Hollywood knew, but rarely discussed publicly, was that Disney built the world’s most powerful family entertainment brand on systematic racial exclusion that shaped children’s entertainment in ways that reverberate to this day. The employment record tells

the story in stark numbers. From the company’s founding in 1923 until 1965, a span of 42 years, Disney Studios employed exactly zero black animators. This wasn’t passive oversight. It was active policy. A company memo from 1938 discovered decades later in studio archives explicitly stated a nocolored hiring policy for creative positions.

For more than four decades, across tens of thousands of employees and hundreds of animated features and shorts, not a single black person was allowed to work as an animator at Disney. In 1946, Disney personally approved and defended Song of the South, creating it despite vocal protests from the NAACP.

 The film perpetuated romanticized slavery stereotypes through the character of Uncle Reis, depicting enslaved people  as happy, loyal, and content with their condition. This was released just one year after World War II ended. At a moment when America was supposedly confronting totalitarianism and oppression abroad, the NAACP picketed premieres across the country, Disney dismissed the protests as political and accused critics of missing the warmth of the story.

 When Disneyland opened in 1956, employment contracts specified white applicants only for customer-f facing positions. A policy later revealed through employment discrimination lawsuits. Cast members, including ride operators, character performers, and retail workers, had to be white. This policy was actively enforced for years, creating an entirely white face for what Disney marketed as America’s happiest place.

 Floyd Norman, Disney’s first black animator, was finally hired in 1956 after external pressure on the company. In his memoir, Norman documented years of painful isolation. He described being called slurs by fellow animators, eating lunch alone for months because no one would sit with him, and being excluded from creative meetings despite his job title.

Walt Disney was aware of Norman’s treatment. He never personally addressed it or intervened. In 1967, Disney personally approved The Jungle Book with controversial racial coding that many viewers recognized immediately. King Louie, the orangutan, who sings I want to be like you in jazz and scat styling, was coded as wanting to be human to be civilized.

 The use of musical styles associated with black culture to represent an animal wanting to transcend its nature carried obvious and disturbing subtext. ArtLink letter revealed in a later interview that Disney  made private comments about keeping the parks clean and attracting the right kind of families. Internal marketing materials released decades later confirmed what the right kind meant.

 Disney approved marketing strategies that explicitly targeted white family audiences while deliberately avoiding promotion in black media outlets and publications. Disneyland’s early years were marked by multiple documented cases of black families being turned away or harassed. A 1963 incident led to a lawsuit when a black family was denied entry and told the park was sold out only to watch white families admitted immediately after them.

 The evidence of systematic exclusion was overwhelming. Carson’s approach to Disney was notably careful. During 1960s and7s tributes after Walt’s death in 1966, Carson used coded language referring to Disney as a man of his time with old guard attitudes. He never directly criticized Disney on air. The brand was too powerful, the advertising revenue too valuable, the cultural position too untouchable, but former Tonight Show staff members recalled a different Carson in private.

Johnny would talk about Disney privately and just shake his head. One producer remembered he knew the ugly truth behind the magic. The impact of Disney’s systematic exclusion extended far beyond his own studios. When you control family entertainment, you control what children see as normal, possible, and American.

You shape who they see as heroes, who belongs in stories of adventure and triumph, who gets to be a princess or a hero. For generations of American children, Disney’s vision of the world was the first and most powerful they encountered. And it was a world where people of color were invisible unless they were servants, savages, or jazz singing animals wanting to be human.

 A former Tonight Show producer captured the long-term significance. Johnny understood that Disney’s racism wasn’t just personal prejudice. It was institutionalized into the fabric of American childhood. That’s what made it so damaging. It wasn’t loud or obvious. It was just the way things were, which made it seem natural to millions of kids.

 The legacy of that exclusion continued long after Walt Disney’s death  in 1966. The first Black Disney Princess didn’t appear until 2009 with The Princess and the Frog, 43 years after Walt died, 86 years after the company was founded. His creation of America’s most powerful family entertainment brand rested on systematic exclusion that shaped what millions of children saw as normal, possible, and American, proving that the most damaging racism isn’t always the loudest, but the kind that builds empires on invisible walls and teaches generations of

children who belongs in the magic and who doesn’t. These weren’t isolated incidents or simply products of a less enlightened time. These were deliberate choices made by powerful people who used their influence to exclude, diminish, and harm. Johnny Carson’s eventual willingness to break Hollywood’s code of silence, to name names, and expose attitudes that millions preferred to forget, revealed an uncomfortable truth.

America’s most beloved stars often became beloved precisely because the system protected them from accountability. The cameras showed us one version of these icons. Carson saw another, and what he saw changed how he understood the very industry he helped build. Which revelation shocked you most? Did you know about these documented attitudes before today? Share your thoughts in the comments below.

 And if you found this exploration of Hollywood’s hidden history valuable, don’t forget to like and subscribe for more untold stories from entertainment’s complicated past.  Thanks for watching. See you in the next one.