Ferguson's tenure has done the most to define The Late Late Show brand, which has never attempted to be as youthful as NBC's 12:35 hour and has always taken some pride in its bare-bones status. For years, Ferguson languished on a tiny set that he used to his advantage, drawing the audience as close as possible for his monologues, which he'd deliver very close to the camera in a much more conversational style. He had no house band, no sidekick (until they built the robot Geoff Peterson in 2010) and often barely seemed to have prepared a straightforward monologue. Obviously Ferguson had a writer's room cooking up one-liners just like any late night host, but it's a credit to his skill as a performer that he made things look so easy.

Just look at Conan O'Brien, who's been doing this nonsense for more than 20 years, or Jimmy Fallon, who took over at Late Night after Ferguson got his job and has already leapfrogged into the 11:35 slot. Both of them do their monologue duty every night, and more often that not it feels like a stilted affair, like they're faintly echoing the truly memorable work of the men who invented the late night monologue. Ferguson actually managed to make the beginning of his show feel different. One time, Ferguson had to run his show with the power down in the studio, and though it might sound cheesy, it was a testament to his incredible energy as a host.

Not that Ferguson didn't lean on creaky comedy traditions himself: he would often begin shows ducking beneath the camera and performing puppet shows for the audience, a trope that's, I don't know, about 3,000 years old. He would also occasionally use his monologue to address more serious issues. His only Emmy nomination for the show came from the 2006 eulogy he delivered for his father, who had died the previous weekend. Even though Ferguson has always been a candid and open performer, it was still a beautiful moment, one of those rare times on television when a performer seems as personally close as a family member.

Ferguson, a recovering alcoholic, was also resolute in which targets he would pick for mockery in his opening monologue, and shied away from criticizing celebrities who had similar substance abuse problems or were obviously going through profound suffering in public. It's a tough line for any comedian to walk, and Ferguson would probably be the first to admit he broke his own rules, but his willingness to discuss the issue also set him apart from other late night hosts.

When I moved back to New York in 2008 and got a cable box, the first thing I set up on my DVR was a season pass for Ferguson, and I'd make sure to at least watch his monologue the next morning. But his bits were great too, even if they just amounted to him putting on a dumb outfit and standing in front of a green-screen yelling jokes and doing dodgy impressions until he ran out of energy. He always did his best to make guest interviews interesting, without any real prepared stories or topics to run through, and was at his most fun (like any late night host) when one of his regulars was on the couch, like Kristen Bell, Chris Hardwick or Neil Patrick Harris.