It’s the little things you recall. Small kindnesses. Especially in this town; especially from people who could easily retreat to the solitude that fame affords. I first met Davey in the Studio City Ralph’s on Ventura. I helped him pick out a cantaloupe. It was the least I could do for a fixture of my childhood Saturday mornings.
In return, Davey befriended me and gave this Hollywood newcomer and aspiring writer some much-needed support – practical (he directed me to a shoe repair place and decent LA pizza), professional (“Don’t get an agent in the valley”) and emotional (“Writers have to be re-writers,” he’d tell me over breakfasts at Tiny Naylor’s).
Davey was always recognized but never hassled – a welcome consequence of his on-screen persona. And while he was truly one of the nicest people I’d ever met, the cloying Christian squeaky-clean kid was just an act. “Do these people think Burgess Meredith robs banks?” he’d ask as passers-by acknowledged him with a brief, demure glance.
There were rough times for Davey and Goliath in the nineties: the short-lived CBS summer comedy hour; the Vegas show; the pair’s highly public falling-out. I was glad I could be there for him to return that support. But as he told me and a gaggle of Laker Girls one night in Ian Ziering’s jacuzzi, “Life is one crazy f***ing ride, huh?!”
The ride is over, my friend. I was glad to share part of it with you. God bless.
Davey Hansen died Monday night in his Van Nuys home of natural causes. He is survived by his longtime companion, Goliath, a clay dog.
Rams, thanks for meeting me. Been here before? They do a nice steak. Tony, we’ll take two Caesars all the way. Yes, that’s Emily Blunt. Don’t stare. Don’t… Great.
I’ll get to the point, Rams. You’re unwatchable. You barely beat Russell Wilson playing on a sprained ankle. You got humiliated by Blake Bortles playing on Blake Bortles’ ankles. You lost to the Bills at home and shamed the village in London. What are you, the Pillsbury doughboy with all the turnovers?
It’s not about being “bad.” You think Hollywood gives a rat’s tukkis if you’re bad? Bad pays for half the meals in this town. Your problem is, you play in the entertainment capital of the world and you’re un-watch-able. What story are you telling? Why should I care about the L.A. Rams? Why am I tuning in?
Here, I’ve outlined your next five episodes. Your check is all the thanks I need. It’s what I do. I make shows unboring. Remember “Family Matters” before they brought in Urkel? Exactly.
I gotta go. You run these by the coaching staff; we’ll do punch-ups during the week. Seriously, you want to be renewed for next season? Step up your game. You’re not in Kansas anymore. …Missouri. Whatever.