Without Hoda Kotb, daytime television has a seismic hole in its heart

Have you noticed that when people say it’s “the end of an era,” rarely it is the end of an actual era? I see this all the time lately. A friend told me recently that Trader Joe’s discontinuing their truffle powder seasoning was the end of an era, and I had to stop myself from asking her, “Is it really?” When defining an era, we should examine times that the public at large is regularly conscious of, like the Cold War or Starbucks’ seasonal eggnog latte, which bowed from the chain’s menu in 2021 — RIP, end of an era, etc. Otherwise, we’re simply co-opting a popular phrase and diminishing its meaning, much in the way that Stan culture has removed all gravity from the word “iconic.” (No, Selena Gomez’s blue highlights at the Teen Vogue party are not iconic, despite many X accounts trying to convince us otherwise.)

But today, we’re facing a very real end of an era, and for a truly iconic figure to boot: Hoda Kotb. January 10 was Kotb’s final day as an anchor at NBC’s “Today Show,” after 17 years of spending time with viewers every morning and 26 years with the network. Kotb announced her departure last September, saying that when she turned 60 a few weeks prior, it was time for her to “turn the page and try something new.” In the following months, she bought a house in the suburbs and talked about how excited she was to wake up along with her two children, Haley and Hope, and see them off to school. The concept of family and togetherness is one Kotb always championed in her years at “Today,” and seeing her honor those values for herself was moving for both longtime viewers and her colleagues. “You have guts,” co-anchor Savannah Guthrie told Kotb. “For someone to leave at the top of their game, to leave something that’s wonderful, where it’s easy, comfortable, and say, ‘But I dream even bigger for myself’? You inspire me.”

For anyone who watched Kotb during her 17 years on “Today” — even for one, single morning — the outpouring of emotion over the news of her departure is no surprise. When Kotb joined “Today,” she brought a perceptible dose of passion to the show. She approached the subjects she covered with genuine empathy that previously seemed like it was missing from the show’s sometimes stuffy programming, where even the silliest segments felt rehearsed. There was an energy and a deeply rooted joy to her presence, perfectly suited to balancing out the often dour morning news.

Kotb was tapped to be that offsetting force when she moved from “NBC News” in the evenings to anchor the softer, brand-new fourth hour of “Today” in 2007. Just a few months later, Kotb was joined by Kathie Lee Gifford, with the fourth hour taking on its own life as “Kathie Lee & Hoda.” It was that version of the show that I came to as a teenager, planted in front of the television while home sick from school, or catching clips of the chardonnay-soaked mayhem online later in the day. Kotb and Gifford were a chaotic pair, to say the least, but what made them so magnetic was their genuine chemistry and affection for each other. They bickered and boozed, but their dynamic felt like a family. The show was easy to parody, but far easier to fall in love with — irresistible in a way that no other hour of morning talk TV has been able to replicate. With Kotb’s departure, daytime television is saying goodbye to its stalwart optimist, and it’s going to be a rocky road without her to navigate the terrain. 

“Kathie Lee & Hoda” often felt like a fever dream where two familiar figures are spinning plates on their noses while holding giant birds with one hand and a glass of white wine in another. There was nothing like it, and I hated missing it while at school. While many of my pimply peers slept in, I woke up at 6:30 a.m. on weekdays to watch Bismarck, North Dakota’s local NBC news broadcast, which would then segue into “Today.” I’d take in the day’s top stories and nod like I knew what was going on with the housing market’s collapse or Bernie Madoff’s trial. It made me feel connected to something greater than my relatively small town. When an anchor from our local NBC affiliate somehow showed up as a guest at my older sister’s graduation party, I approached him and nervously asked for a photo like I was requesting one from Barbara Walters. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t be surprised that watching Kotb’s final show brought a tear to my eye.

I kept up with that newswatching habit until my own high school graduation, after which I left home to move five hours away to attend the University of Minnesota’s branch in a microscopic college town called Morris. But soon after, I was overcome by utter isolation. The loneliness was a strange sensation I had never run into before, which is saying something for a visibly gay teenager growing up in the Midwest. The connection I had with the world as a young newshound had dissolved, leaving my spirit bereft. After just a month in Morris, I dropped out of school to move back home with my parents, vowing that I’d be out in a year to start college in New York City. It was an exceedingly difficult time, one of the darkest in my life up to that point. But I found a routine eventually. I’d wake up early, go for a long run in the morning and settle down to watch “Kathie Lee & Hoda” before my afternoon shift folding jeans at Old Navy. 

It’s almost comical how quickly the shroud of gloom and doom that had plagued me since dropping out of school lifted once I was able to watch “Kathie Lee & Hoda” regularly. It was the best part of my day, an even more potent way to combat depression than running a few miles. Occasionally, I’d get scheduled for a morning shift, which meant I’d have to miss that day’s fourth-hour slot. That is until I figured out that the show re-aired at 2 a.m. Naturally, I’d stay up, pour a massive bowl of cereal, make some coffee and indulge in my favorite TV. 

Some things have changed since then, and some haven’t; I can’t drink coffee that late anymore, and I still don’t know how DVR works. I moved to New York in 2013 and have been here ever since. Gifford, for her part, left “Today” in 2019, the same year I started my career in journalism. I’d be lying if I said my irreverent, people-first journalistic spirit doesn’t come from my years watching the pros work on “Kathie Lee and Hoda.” Every person who walked into Kotb and Gifford’s studio, celebrity or civilian, was met with candor and respect. Guests were treated with empathy and intrigue, and their hosts knew how to disarm them. People booked on “Kathie Lee and Hoda” wouldn’t just talk to these two women, they’d laugh with them too.

Kotb and Gifford spent 11 incredible years cutting up together on live television. Though I taped several moments on archaic iPhones and posted them to Instagram in the nascent days of mobile social media, I thought my favorites would be lost forever. I didn’t have the good sense to note the context of my favorite opening tangents, or what day a particularly goofy segment aired. Growing up to realize that I should’ve been keeping a record the whole time is like showing up to the Library of Alexandria, already on fire, and asking someone what’s happening.

Over time I became content with rolling the “Kathie Lee & Hoda” notable quotables around in my head. Perhaps I was the chosen one who would carry these tales into a new generation, passing down stories of America’s wine-sloshed aunts like I was spinning a yarn in the back of a covered wagon. But it can be easy to forget that what you think are niche interests have a much wider net than you remember. So, when longtime online friend Caleb Stark toyed with starting an archival collection for his favorite “Kathie Lee and Hoda” moments, I all but begged him to go through with it.

In the nearly two years since its inception, Stark’s X account “Kathie Lee and Hoda No Context” has boomed to the tune of over 17,000 followers and countless viral posts. Stark compiles outrageous clips of past fourth-hour shows and sends them out daily. Turning on post notifications has never been so worthwhile. It’s critical archival work, yet also the ideal antidote to doomscrolling. Whether Gifford is throwing out ribald euphemisms or Kotb’s inspirational quotes are being derailed, the show’s pure magnetism is obvious and unrivaled. Where but “Kathie Lee and Hoda” could you find a cooking segment where a guest has to defend the co-author of her book while he’s on trial for murder-for-hire?

“Morning television isn’t something that is typically thought to be evergreen because what they’re discussing is old news,” Stark tells me about the no-context account’s popularity. “But Hoda’s personality and her chemistry with Kathie Lee is something that transcends time.”

During Friday’s final show, Gifford made a surprise appearance after faking out her former co-host with a video saying that she couldn’t make it. Seated on a couch together, Kotb looked Gifford in the eyes and thanked her. “She changed my life, she chose me,” Kotb said. I was a hard news person, a ‘Dateline’ person. And then, one day, she called me ‘Hodawoman.’ I ripped off that news corset, we poured ourselves a glass of wine, and so it began.”

“It wasn’t until [Kathie Lee and Hoda] met that Hoda seemed to develop the missing piece, which is the ability to share about herself in a way that connects with the audience,” Stark says. “She started very attached to her cue cards and in-ear piece, something that could never work sitting alongside Kathie Lee. She came out of her shell on live television every weekday for years, and it endeared her to the audience they were building together. The fourth hour [couldn’t have lasted] so long without the authenticity that Hoda developed before our eyes.”

Though the fourth hour will forge on without Kotb as Jenna Bush Hager continues anchoring the program, any faithful watcher knows that it will never be quite the same. Without Gifford, Kotb’s zeal and her knack for full-tilt absurdity kept the fourth hour vibrating on the same chaotic frequency it had from the start. While Hager has come into her own on the show, she’s still a former First Daughter, which means that — at least in my eyes — she’ll never quite match Kotb’s fervor. Kotb’s passion for the job was so evident because she worked damn hard to get where she was. She relished every second at the top, and she loved giving a platform to those who were just as hardworking.

“A moral I’ve noticed that has followed Hoda throughout her journey on ‘Today’ is that it’s never too late to establish yourself and achieve your goals, especially when you believe in your own value,” Stark says. “For the most part [when Kotb started on ‘Today’], she was unknown to the average viewer. Years later, she’s got the career she dreamed of, a beautiful family and millions of fans across America who are celebrating her today. That would never have been possible without her ability to believe in herself and what she had to offer the country.” 

That sentiment was echoed by all of Kotb’s colleagues during the “Hoda-bration” in her final hours at “Today.” Guthrie cried, Hager asked for beta blockers, Gifford lamented the loss of sunshine in a bottle and Kotb’s replacement in the first hour, Craig Melvin, praised Kotb’s ability to connect. “She doesn’t do interviews,” Melvin said, “she has conversations.”

When I ask Stark about his favorite clips that he’s pulled, he cites two that he says “best exemplify Hoda’s willingness to commit to the bit.” In the first, she gets into a verbal sparring match with Miss Piggy, and in the second, she shows off the harrowing contents of her purse, which is really just a beat-up tote bag from a boutique pharmaceutical company. “She’s game, no matter if she’s revealing something slightly embarrassing about herself or bullying a stuffed pig on live television,” Stark declares. While I cherish every time she’s put her foot in her mouth or accidentally revealed her phone number to a national audience, it’s her raucous “iHoda” segments I’ll remember the most. Kotb would play a song for Gifford, which Gifford would inevitably hate, illustrating how miraculous it was that their clashing personalities worked so well together on television. It was a running joke that worked every time, but these segments made Kotb feel like a close friend you could gab with over margaritas after work. 

When Kotb did the news, she made the essential feel approachable. She led with heart and vigor. She didn’t just see her colleagues, she connected with them and looked out for them. She made sick days and depressive spirals feel all the lighter, even if it was just for an hour. Losing Kotb’s presence on daytime TV is a seismic loss, one that would be far more difficult to handle if she hadn’t spent her years on the air supplying longtime viewers with the tools to get through another day. Television will never be the same without her, but it will always be better for her.