Some 22 years ago, I managed to convince Asaf "Assi" Dayan to join Maariv as a contributor. When he submitted his first column, it drew the ire of senior management, who refused to run it. A shouting match ensued and Dayan said he would not be silenced. He even threatened to plant an explosive device in the basement if he did not have his way. Of course, no one called security because we all knew he was just kidding. Ultimately a solution was found, but he did not continue working for Maariv because he could not live up to the terms of his employment. At the time, Dayan was still addicted to drugs and his speech was often slurred. He was the third child in a family laden with magnificent, unlimited talent, a family whose nobility in Nahalal dates three generations. It is family of great skills that has never been content. Their determined outlook has always been compromised by a sense that something is missing. Perhaps Dayan's constant need of recognition from his father originated with his grandmother Dvora. To retrace the origin of this great familial skill set, one has to read Dvora Dayan's painful biography. She lived Russia and in Kibbutz Degania and in Nahalal. Only then will you understand how this family mastered cinema, singing and prose. Only then will you understand how the Dayans let their soul and body become captivated by their own imaginary world. When the chronicles of the House of Dayan get published, the first chapter would be all about Dvora. She is the key that unleashed all the talent, the intellectual curiosity and courage. Her story would tell us a lot about Dayan's sad life, which was often beset by depression. The great Moshe Dayan generally glossed over his son's day-to-day life. But Dayan senior was a constant presence in Assi's work, even after his death some 33 years ago, and even when Assi had outbursts of violence and took drugs. Dad was a war hero who lost an eye on the battlefield; under his watch, the Israel Defense Forces experienced a quantum leap. But the younger Dayan felt like an outsider in his father's glorious life. Despite bearing his father's name during his mandatory service as a paratrooper and when he took part in the Yom Kippur War as a reservist, he never felt like he fit in; he was never content. Despite his successful box-office hits, from "Halfon Hill Doesn't Answer" and "Life According to Agfa" to his most recent production "Dr. Pomerantz," he never felt he could relax and put his feet up. He constantly yearned for a word of approval from his father. He always wanted the impossible, and he would occasionally achieve just that. Because of his great talent. Some used hyperbole on Thursday, saying his biography mimicked Israel's history. Assi was a great artistic virtuoso who was haunted by his own family feud. His soul deviated from the norm, having lost a father who was both vilified and loved. Even the heap of prizes he had garnered did not end the violent outbursts towards his wives and did not remedy his faltering fatherhood and excessive drug use, which was often followed by his hospitalization. Nor did it help ween him of his desire to die. Although his death wish was not a constant presence, he always grappled with how his life would end. In that sense, he resembled his father. They shared a similar denouement. Dayan senior left Nahalal and spend most of his life away from home, but he was laid to rest in his hometown cemetery in the Jezreel Valley. This was also the case with Dayan junior, who wanted to be buried near his father. He ended up realizing his dream only upon his death.
