The allegations the beloved comedian thought would fade away resurfaced earlier this year, and in mere months, the career Cosby had built was over.
Carsey-Werner Co/Courtesy Everett Collection
You could argue that this timeline should begin with the news of Jan. 22, 2014, that NBC had made a deal to develop a comedy with Bill Cosby in which he would play the wise patriarch grandfather of a large family. The announcement was mostly treated as a business story, but one with interest beyond the Hollywood trades because of Cosby's broad, transformative popularity — and because he had revived NBC with The Cosby Show 30 years earlier. NBC, in an improved state overall, but still a woeful one with its comedies, had turned to Cosby once again.
"Few performers in history have meant more to a network than Bill Cosby has to NBC, so it is hardly surprising that NBC has reached out again to the famous comic in what appears to be another hour of comedy need," wrote the New York Times' Bill Carter at the time.
As was typical of the coverage of the nascent new Cosby show, Carter's story bore no mention of the sexual assault allegations against the comedian in 2004-2006 that would begin to dog Cosby in the following weeks and months. And it all led up to this week when NBC announced it was scrapping the project, now tainted by disgrace, if not criminality.
All of the information regarding the rape allegations was in the public record, and in searchable coverage. But for ineffable reasons — a combination of denial, cultural forgetfulness, fast-moving media, and lingering affection for Cosby — the accusations that he had drugged and molested Andrea Constand, and that 13 other women agreed to testify in her 2006 lawsuit, had been lost to memory. There was also the fact that Cosby had paid Constand an unknown sum to settle the suit, effectively buying the information's burial. Additionally, Cosby has never been charged with a crime.
The story wouldn't stay buried, though. Its unearthing began in February 2014.
Feb. 1, 2014: New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof publishes Dylan Farrow's letter reminding the world that her father, Woody Allen, had been accused of raping her when she was a child more than two decades before.
The New York Times
Part of the power of what Farrow accomplished in the letter lay in her rhetorical strategy. She could have written about her experiences in myriad ways, but instead chose direct address: "What's your favorite Woody Allen movie?" she asked us all at the start. After describing her memories of what she alleges Allen did to her in plain, devastating language, she wrote of how nightmarish Allen's continuous popularity has been for her. She issued a challenge to actors who have worked with him, and to audiences who continue to see his movies.
The debate that followed — in many quarters, anyway — was a catharsis. It combined mainstream film and celebrity with serpentine legal arguments, excavations into Allen's past work to look for "evidence" of his character, and, frankly, the sordid thrill of true crimes of the rich and famous. Allen had plenty of defenders, and still does. But Farrow effectively nuked the idea of pushing her accusations to the back of your mind. "So imagine your seven-year-old daughter being led into an attic by Woody Allen," she wrote. "Imagine she spends a lifetime stricken with nausea at the mention of his name. Imagine a world that celebrates her tormenter."
It's possible no one will ever forget again what Allen has been lashed with by his child; it's also possible that some people have already started putting it out of their minds once more. But even for those who considered Farrow's words to be seismic, Allen's career is not in jeopardy. He can quietly continue writing and directing a movie a year. And if we never hear about actors who heed Farrow's plea and choose not to work with him — surely there will be a few — Allen will probably go on as he always has.
But Farrow did create a ripple effect. After reading her letter, it was impossible not to wonder: What other icons have sordid histories we've somehow forgotten? Cosby — about to step back into the public eye, capitalizing on his avuncular, cuddly persona — presented himself as a rich example.
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