20 Questions Fred Dryer

An all-pro defensive end with the New York Giants and the Los Angeles Rams, Fred Dryer has successfully transcended the jock jinx and carved a career for himself as a legitimate actor. His TV character, Sergeant Rick Hunter, is thought of as the Clint Eastwood of the tube. At least that's what the show's creators had in mind. However, in five seasons, Dryer has become increasingly involved in all aspects of the show and has succeeded in transforming Hunter from a Magnum-toting cartoon cop into a sardonic yet compassionate guy. Contributing Editor David Rensin spoke with Dryer in his West Los Angeles apartment and on the "Hunter" set. Says Rensin, "Dryer redefines imposing. If he patrolled my neighborhood, I could sell the guard dog."

1.

[Q] Playboy: Has playing Hunter worked to your advantage with the law?

[A] Dryer: Some police officers appreciate our show, and when they realize that they have an opportunity to give me a ticket, most of them don't. It's the human side of law and order, I guess. [Smiles] But that's the way it is. A perk, something that just occurs. I certainly don't take that for granted and speed around town. One guy, who pulled me over on the Pacific Coast Highway, said, "I don't believe it. I'm faced with a terrible situation here. Nobody gets off with me. Nobody. I give [tickets to] Paul Newman, Dustin Hoffman; I give 'em all tickets on this highway. But my girlfriend loves you and ... I'm gonna let you off." So I sent his girlfriend a photograph--and apologized for putting so much pressure on him so early in the morning.

2.

[Q] Playboy: How big is your gun?

[A] Dryer: My favorite is a .357 Python. At the beginning of the series, it was a Heckler & Koch automatic. And then I changed guns. I went for the revolver. I personally liked it better. I have guns. I enjoy them; I appreciate the craftsmanship and the history. I understand what they are and what they mean. This year I'm packing a nine-millimeter Beretta.

3.

[Q] Playboy: Often, Hunter's TV ads focus on something terrible happening to your partner, DeeDee McCall. Last season, a three-part episode called for her to be raped. She fought the rape and won. Where did you stand on the issue?

[A] Dryer: She had been raped in the second season, in a two-parter, in which I went to South America and killed the guy who did it. Then, in the middle of the fourth year, we had a three-parter centered on her being raped--again. Stepfanie [Kramer, who plays DeeDee McCall] felt that women should not be punching bags, that her character should not be brutalized every time they wanted to write a story line around her. Certainly, that story would have been a lot better had she been raped. And when she asked, I gave my opinion. But no one had ever conferred with her. That bothers me, particularly since that behavior also applies to me.

4.

[Q] Playboy: Since Hunter's hook phrase is "It works for me," tell us when Hunter hasn't worked for you.

[A] Dryer: Hunter was supposed to be like The Enforcer, with Clint Eastwood and Tyne Daly. They wanted that tough-street-cop, Dirty Harry guy, who pulled punks out of cars through the wind wings. Walk tall, speak slow and carry a big gun. At the same time, they wanted him to have a relationship of equality with his female partner--whatever that means. I suppose, as Hunter, I wouldn't say to DeeDee, "OK, he's six feet, six and he's got a machete; you take him this time!" She'd be destroyed unless she had a machine gun. But the first year, they couldn't write that. Instead, they had Hunter battling everything on all fronts: criminals, his own police department and certainly the automobile that he drove. He had radios coming apart, he had door handles coming off. And this happened almost every week. It was overkill. When they wrote it seven times in one script, I stopped saying it. They asked, "Why don't you say it anymore?" I said, "Well, look at the show. It doesn't work for me."

5.

[Q] Playboy: Have things gotten better?

[A] Dryer: [Laughs] The show's evolved. Once, Hunter was an asshole. Now he has to conform to police procedure. Now Hunter can not only shoot the eyes out of a duck at a thousand yards but also be compassionate, warm and sensitive. And instead of being all over with the plots--a murder mystery? Me chasing guys across the rooftops in downtown L.A.? Stepfanie, the brass cupcake, doing whatever she does?--now there are more stories out of the street: fewer car chases, fewer gun fights, fewer fights, period. There's more white-collar crime in Beverly Hills, Santa Monica. Also, this season, you will not see a single drug story. There's no redeeming value. Who cares about drug addicts, pushers, traffickers, people caught in the middle, anyway? I don't want a list of the people in the Betty Ford Center who can't cope with their lives, so why should we make television shows about it? I want to tell good stories that involve life's everyday struggles.

6.

[Q] Playboy: What did making a feature film teach you about the movie industry that you wish you had known at the outset? Dryer: I wish I'd fully understood the impact of marketing and selling. It's critical. My movie, Death Before Dishonor, tested very well. It would have done an awful lot better had New World Pictures stepped out and sold the goddamn movie. They didn't. Why do they spend so much time and money on demographics? They ran our show in six states. It sold out all the theaters. Nobody walked out. It got high ratings. Then it was released small and at the wrong time. They ignored their own evidence.

7.

[Q] Playboy: The model-to-actress transition is commonly fraught with prejudices. Is the road from football player to actor much the same?

[A] Dryer: Model to actress is a grander reach. Football players have usually had a more intense life. Their whole experience is concentration, discipline, preparation, work load; physical, mental, spiritual anguish. You're more accountable, your job is more immediate. There's more of a failure factor and more pressure from the sports world. And what you bring to acting is a life's experience. I've seen a dynamic cross section of bizarre fucking people, in the office as well as in the players, in the press as well as in the fans. I still get the big-and-dumb treatment, but I (continued on page 144) Fred Dryer (continued from page 95) was always aware that there was something else going on in life than just being a football guy.

8.

[Q] Playboy: What do you still not understand about women?

[A] Dryer: I keep forgetting that women are emotional creatures foremost. And my problems have come from not presenting myself or my problems to them with that in mind. Women are fabulous. But it's like juggling chain saws sometimes. I really have to observe and get the momentum before I reach in and try to grab. Figuring it out is a life's work.

9.

[Q] Playboy: What's the most difficult thing about playing pro ball?

[A] Dryer: Teams that bore you and put you to sleep. It was easy to play against good teams, because you'd know that they were going to be ready, you were gonna be ready, the fans were there. They'd be in the business that day, have their heads in it. But sometimes, when we'd play St. Louis or a lower team, I'd see the goddamn Astroturf and not many people in the stands and wonder what it was all for. It was drudgery. The good teams, man, went in there and took those poor teams apart. That's where you'd get your momentum. When the poorer teams come to town, you gotta beat up on them. You can't just squeak by them. You gotta knock them out. That's where your self-esteem comes from.

10.

[Q] Playboy: After being fired by the Rams in 1981, you did sportscasting on CBS, then quit after ten games. Why?

[A] Dryer: I hadn't gotten out of the player mind-set. But instead of being on the field, I was talking about doing it, analyzing through other athletes my personal experiences and insights for the sake of the viewing audience. Also, the job paralleled the football lifestyle. The travel schedule was the same and I was tired of traveling. Finally, up in the booth, I was working for somebody--again--who was saying, "You'll make this much money and you'll leave when we tell you to leave." There was a ceiling on my job. I wasn't Pat Summerall or John Madden, which meant I was on a short fuse and it was just a matter of time until the fuse ran out. I knew I wouldn't be the number-one color commentator for CBS, perhaps not the number two. I'd be third or fourth, maybe fifth, which would limit me to regional football games. Subsequently, my value wouldn't have much of an impact on the money I made or on my freedom. Bottom line: I don't like working for someone else. I have a high, strong opinion of myself, certainly where my own interests are concerned.

11.

[Q] Playboy: Defend the video chalkboard.

[A] Dryer: It's great if it's aptly used. But it's turned out to be a promotional gimmick. What's interesting is how sloppily it's been done by everybody--Madden and Dierdorf, all those guys. [Makes wild gesticulations as if drawing] It's like you're at a seminar. But my biggest gripe is that what comes over the screen, aesthetically, is just this bunch of writing over a shot of an offensive/defensive set on the field. Television sports commentating, especially football, is so overdone. You get beat on the head constantly by too much yapping. There are three guys in a booth and there are two guys on the field. Then you've got somebody who wants to comment after every single moment on a football field, no matter what the camera is showing. Summerall and Madden are pleasing to listen to. Everybody else just wants to hear himself talk. It's not necessary. Just shut up and let the viewers watch the game. I don't necessarily need to know exactly why Billy Bob knocked Ray Bob on his ass.

12.

[Q] Playboy: What qualities make the best football coaches?

[A] Dryer: Good question. The best coaches are the ones who handle every player differently. A guy comes in and treats you like dogs and says, "You're all the same. We treat everybody here equally," that's death. You have to be able to understand the mentality of each guy and what the game is. I played for Don Coryell, John Madden, Joe Gibbs, Ernie Zampese--all at San Diego State. Every year, Coryell lost half his team, and since he didn't recruit many high school players, he had to do a hell of a job getting junior college transfers away from USC and UCLA and Stanford. He did it by playing a unique type of football, a wide-open pro-set offense where everybody got the football and threw it. It attracted a lot of pro scouts and a lot of players who were smart at football, who knew they wanted to go pro. And if you're going to field a pro offense, then you've also got to mount a swarming, exciting defense. Madden was my defensive coach. We gambled. We were crazy. He said, "Get the football. Jump on the football. I want eleven guys on the football." The philosophy was: We're going to have a lot of laughs. And we won a shitload of games.

13.

[Q] Playboy: An end runs downfield with the ball, a linebacker tackles him perfectly--then everyone piles on. Why? What's it like on the bottom of the pile?

[A] Dryer: It's fun! It's fun. It's literally a game--of strategy and competition and confrontation. My attitude was always to go out and throw my body around and see what I could do with it. I'd follow the ball and then I'd jump onto the pile. Or I'd try to do my job right and allow my teammates to jump onto the pile. If I knew that I was responsible for allowing my teammates to pile on and jump on the ball, I'd get a big kick out of that. And they'd thank me for it and there'd be lots of laughs.

However, being on the bottom is a lot more uncomfortable than being on the top. I remember playing in Pittsburgh during my rookie year. It was one of the last games at the old stadium. At kickoff, I swear the field was a foot thick in mud. I wound up on the bottom of the pile and almost drowned. I was afraid for about five seconds, because somebody was sitting on my head and pushing it in a way that my face mask got caught in that flap on my right shoulder. I couldn't get my helmet up. I couldn't get my arm around to push my head up. I recall thinking, Jesus, how embarrassing to drown during the game! After that, I never wound up at the bottom.

14.

[Q] Playboy: You've been granted five minutes with Rams owner Georgia Frontiere. What's on the agenda?

[A] Dryer: Bread and water. Five minutes with her is a death sentence. [Pauses] I can tell you what happened with me in 1981. I had a contract. It had guarantees that they didn't live up to. The Rams said, "We're gonna pay your salary, but you can take your guarantees and shove them up your ass. You don't like it? Sue us." Now, I'm a guy who played ten years for them, and all-pro for them, and I deserved, if only contractually, to be dealt with differently. And I deserved different treatment because of my pedigree, as well. What they apparently didn't realize was that their actions poisoned the air. It poisoned the team. It told people, "No matter what you do, we're gonna fuck you just like we fucked him." Like, for example, what they did to Eric Dickerson. Frontiere is not in the business of football. So how do you communicate? You can only steer clear. It's a rudderless operation. But enough said.

15.

[Q] Playboy: Do you believe anyone is telling the truth about the way in which Frontiere's late husband, Rams owner Carroll Rosenbloom, died?

[A] Dryer: That was a bleak, bleak day. How he died is a matter of constant speculation. It was bizarre that a man like Carroll Rosen-bloom would go into the ocean, under those conditions, on that day, and drown, when, in fact, he would call me every once in a while and say, "I'm not coming to practice today because it's a little breezy; I don't feel very good." And it'd be seventy-five degrees outside. Beautiful day, with only a little wind kicking up. He was a stickler about his health. He wouldn't go anywhere without a sweater. What happened didn't fit. I've talked to several people, names withheld, who think it stinks. And when it happened, the Rams were through--even though we went to the Super Bowl. We lost.

16.

[Q] Playboy: Since there are gays in the N.F.L., as in all walks of life, what was the locker-room etiquette when everyone knew someone on the team was gay?

[A] Dryer: Well, you're assuming that you know there's a guy who's bent on your team. I never played with anybody who was suspected of being or who I knew for a fact was homosexual. Some, like Dave Kopay, admitted it, but my attitude is, Hey, great, man. That's not my problem. I'm here to play football and let's push on. Whatever a guy wants to do, that's his own business. I may want to make sure that I turn the right way when I bend over to get my shoes, though. [Laughs]

17.

[Q] Playboy: You're divorced. Describe a single guy's grocery-shopping routine.

[A] Dryer: I like to go on Thursdays. Also, Saturday morning, early. I go to the Ranch Market, where I see interesting people and can also get what I need. My favorite aisle is frozen foods. Then I go over to the other side, to cookies and cakes and ice creams, and look at the litany of shit that's available and how many people are picking over it. I look at their baskets and say, "Uh-oh. That person's in for a heart attack, for sure."

18.

[Q] Playboy: How did you get the tattoo? Describe the decision-making process.

[A] Dryer: The decision-making process? [Laughs] Shit, I was seventeen. It didn't come out of a confab, that's for sure. It came out of about three six-packs of beer in Long Beach, after which I thought it would be a good idea. There was this guy, Zeke, who had tattoos everywhere but on his face. When I went in, there were two Marines with him. They were plastered. Their shirt sleeves were rolled up and they were getting eagles on their forearms. Getting it didn't hurt. In fact, the only thing that was painful was the look on my mother's face the next morning when she saw it.

19.

[Q] Playboy: Hunter and Dirty Harry have been assigned a case together. Who's in charge and how would the other take it?

[A] Dryer: Well, I'd send Clint around the back for a hot dog.

20.

[Q] Playboy: Imagine a Hunter convention twenty years from now. What memorabilia would generate the most interest and command the highest prices?

[A] Dryer: My blue jeans.

Women are fabulous. But it's like juggling chain saws sometimes. Figuring it out is a life's work