Johnny Carson, 79, whose topical monologues and outlandish comedy made him the foremost figure of late-night entertainment for three decades, died yesterday. NBC, which produced "The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson," said Mr. Carson died of emphysema at his home in Malibu, Calif.

		Johnny Carson, 1925 - 2005 An Appreciation: Carson knew how to make a nation laugh Remembering Carson: An Associated Press photo journal Click here to view a guestbook of the public's remembrances of Johnny Carson or to add your own message.

Mr. Carson was often called the "king" of late-night television, a nickname far from hyperbole. By the 1980s, he reportedly was seen by 15 million viewers. "The Tonight Show" helped launch the careers of hundreds of comics, including Joan Rivers, George Carlin, Jerry Seinfeld, Roseanne Barr, David Letterman and Jay Leno (his successor on the program). To see Mr. Carson laugh at a joke meant the teller had a future.

Tanned, dapper and relaxed, Mr. Carson was above all a comfortable presence, which the ultra-private and aloof host took great pains to achieve. In a celebrated profile of Mr. Carson, critic Kenneth Tynan wrote that attempting a man-to-man chat with him was like "addressing an elaborately wired security system."

To audiences, he was a trusted companion, boyish even with graying, receding hair. His resonant baritone had a puckish charm. In a profession where all is timing, the Iowa-born Mr. Carson mastered sexual innuendo delivered with self-deprecating pauses and Midwestern modesty. In many ways, he was the heir to radio and television comedian Jack Benny, his idol.

In October 1962, the cerebral Jack Paar handed off "Tonight" to Mr. Carson, who immediately custom-fit the program to his own tastes. When Mr. Carson jokingly parroted a congressman's warnings of national toilet paper shortage, one actually occurred. His guests ranged from astronauts to authors, from Pele to the Gabor sisters.

No one offered by the competition -- including Joey Bishop, Merv Griffin, Mike Douglas, David Frost and Dick Cavett -- came close to dethroning him in the ratings or diminishing his popularity.

A decade into his run, Mr. Carson moved his New York City-produced show to Burbank, Calif., to trump the other hosts on celebrity guests. Mr. Carson's introduction, by sidekick Ed McMahon, became a national catchphrase: "Heeeeere's Johnny!" The jaunty, brassy and recognizable theme music, written by Paul Anka, was rendered by bandleader Doc Severinsen. It marked the queue for Mr. Carson to appear from behind a curtain and warm up the audience with jokes.

Mr. Carson and company established absurd comic roles familiar to generations of Americans. As the clairvoyant "Carnac the Magnificent," Mr. Carson sat behind his desk wearing a turban and holding a sealed envelope to his forehead. He predicted answers to the questions inside.

To "Sis boom bah," Mr. Carson responded: "What is the sound of a sheep exploding?"

In a memorable skit, from 1965, Ed Ames, who played Mingo on the "Daniel Boone" television series, threw a tomahawk at a board with a human outline. When it smacked into the crotch, Mr. Carson ad-libbed a circumcision joke: "I didn't even know you were Jewish."

Mr. Carson, always cool and elegant, was a reliable presence during the 1960s and 1970s. Despite a series of turbulent divorces, stories of his heavy drinking and the death of a son in a car accident, none of the personal tragedies intruded into his entertainment, though fans flooded him with condolence cards because of his son.

Sometimes comic material bombed, and the ever-alert Mr. Carson might groan or cast a knowing glance, almost to beat the audience to the punch. He and his polished cast found inspired ways to counteract a slow moment.

"He had some material, about five sheets of paper, and it wasn't really going anywhere," McMahon said in an interview with CNN host Larry King last year. "And about the eighth joke, we both knew this whole thing was going in the dumper, right? So I very bravely picked up his cigarette lighter, put it under the material and set fire to his material."

"He's looking at the fire," McMahon said. "He looks up at the audience, and he looks at me, and he looks back at the thing and then he looks over. He says, 'You're absolutely right.' Now, he reaches down and gets a wastepaper basket, lifts it up on the desk, takes the material, still burning, in his hands, takes the material. Just before he drops it in the basket, Doc starts playing taps."

John William Carson, the son of a utility company manager, was born Oct. 23, 1925, in Corning, Iowa, and reared in Norfolk, Neb. Stumbling across "Hoffman's Book of Magic" at age 12 led to his lifelong devotion to magic tricks. After Navy service during World War II, he enrolled at the University of Nebraska. His thesis was "How to Write Comedy Jokes," in which he explained the comic technique of major radio comics of his era.

He put theory into use, as a deejay at an Omaha radio station. Increasingly confident, he moved to Los Angeles and found work as a general announcer, part of his greater effort to break into television. Gradually, station management was worn down by his persistence and gave him a program that aired for 15 minutes on Sunday afternoons. During one program, he told viewers about a special appearance by comedian Red Skelton, then a huge film and television star, which consisted of a shadowy figure racing across the stage.

Despite Mr. Carson's terrible time slot, the right person was watching -- Skelton.

On the side, Mr. Carson contributed jokes for Skelton and eventually substituted as a host on Skelton's eponymous show after the established comedian broke his leg falling through a prop door. Mr. Carson's appearances, deemed successful, led the CBS network to gamble on him by giving him a self-titled prime-time variety show. Lousy ratings and constant reworkings led to its cancellation after 39 weeks.

To revive his career, he returned to New York City. He scored big in 1957 as the host of the ABC quiz show "Who Do You Trust?" Meanwhile, Paar was fighting with NBC superiors about his show, whose ratings had fallen, and the network urged Mr. Carson to take over. Mr. Carson did, as soon as his ABC contract allowed.

By the mid-1960s, Mr. Carson's "Tonight Show" became one of the network's highest-rated, meaning huge income from advertisers. Woody Allen, who appeared on the show, paid Mr. Carson the compliment that "he appears to be most pleased when the guest scores. He feels no compulsion to top me."

The show became, at times, strange. In December 1969, it aired the wedding between the falsetto-singing ukulele fanatic Tiny Tim and his teen-aged bride, Miss Vicki. The program's ratings skyrocketed because of the nuptials.

Mr. Carson won four Emmy Awards and NBC gave him all but carte blanche, including creative control of the show. The network also provided the $12 million to underwrite Carson Productions, which eventually produced "Late Night With David Letterman." Mr. Carson was reportedly the highest-paid performer in television history in the 1980s, making $5 million annually from "Tonight" alone.

Intermittently, Mr. Carson fought NBC for higher wages, conducting a walkout in 1967. He also forced the network to reduce its 90-minute format to an hour in 1980 and relied increasingly on guest hosts.

His acrimony toward his employers crept into his humor.

When an audience member asked why the NBC logo is a peacock, Mr. Carson said: "I don't know. I guess they couldn't find a multicolored weasel."

He needed the increased income to pay for expensive divorces. His first wife, Jody Wolcott, was a childhood sweetheart and the mother of his three sons. Besides Wolcott, Mr. Carson divorced Joanne Copeland Carson and Joanna Holland Carson (a former model who reportedly received in the settlement more than $20 million in cash and property). He married a woman 30 years his junior, Alexis Maas, a native of the Pittsburgh area, in 1987. They had met on a beach in Malibu.

Over the years, Mr. Carson also hosted Academy Awards ceremonies and performed comedy at nightclubs. He launched into other business ventures, including a successful clothing line -- his turtlenecks became a fashion trend -- and a failed restaurant franchise.

In 1991, his son Ricky, 39, was killed in a car accident. The next May, Mr. Carson made his final broadcast, after 4,531 shows. His sign-off was casual and sincere, thanking viewers for their time: "I bid you a very heartfelt good night."

After he retired, offers came his way for anniversary specials, but he refused, preferring to "just let the work speak for itself."