DEEP BLUE SEA Ted Danson and Keith Addis, the forces behind Oceana, the world's largest international ocean-conservation group, at Santa Monica's Shutters on the Beach. Photograph by Sian Kennedy

When Ted Danson met Keith Addis in 1993, he was one of the most famous TV stars in the world. Starring on "Cheers" for 11 years, he was an actor blessed by a defining success and cursed by a defining role. Addis was an agent turned manager who had guided the careers of stars like Alec Baldwin and Sting. As Danson struggled to envision life post-"Cheers," Addis saw him as the perfect addition to his talent stable and was eager to take on the challenge. Danson has managed to achieve something with Addis that few could have predicted, consistently working in television while also evolving his image and fan base. Last year he took the lead role on "CSI," juggling it with his role on HBO's recently canceled but much acclaimed "Bored to Death." Danson is the rare example of an actor with true cross-generational appeal, an icon to baby boomers with the respect of the hipster acolytes of "Bored to Death."

When he took on Danson as a client, Addis wanted to cement the relationship. Aware that the actor had been an environmentalist for decades, Addis saw that as his ticket. In 1987, Danson had helped create the American Oceans Campaign, now known as Oceana, and Addis threw himself into working with the group. Now the world's largest international ocean-conservation organization, Oceana fights against overfishing and pollution and promotes legislation that protects marine animals. It's become the passion project of Addis, who serves as president of the board, while Danson is a board member and a most earnest advocate. The shared interest has brought camaraderie to the men's relationship and grounded it in something more lasting than the typical 10 percent give-and-take between manager and client.

A position on a philanthropic organization, particularly an environmental one, carries an almost clichéd cachet in Hollywood—and often requires little to no actual work. But Danson has been building this movement since before it was cool, and Addis is his devoted partner.

Ted Danson Photograph by Sian Kennedy

Danson on Addis

You know how cats see so well in the dark? They see movement.

If they look at something still, they have trouble seeing it, so their eyes vibrate to create movement. That's Keith Addis. He sees things almost better in chaos. He will agitate sometimes to make things visible to him so that he can fix them. He can get things resolved in the midst of chaos. I can't. I want to be mellow; I want to be happy; I want to be laughing.

We started working together during my last year of "Cheers." I was a little panicky about what life would be like after that, and I was introduced to Keith by someone who liked him a lot—an actor. Keith brought the adult side of the business with him, and I represented the kid side. I get to be the emotional voice, and he gets to be the adult who hammers on studio and network heads. I want to be in the moment, which is my job as an actor. But if the world depended on somebody like me, improvisational and in the moment, the world would suck. Keith plans, thinks, asks questions, stirs the pot. And to be partnered with somebody like that is wonderful to me; it's a gift. I don't have to watch my back, wonder what's happening in the business, or how I'm being perceived. One of the reasons why I love Keith genuinely—not Hollywood love—is that he has spent so much time, effort, energy, capital and real sacrifice on ocean issues, and when I've started to drift and think, "This is too much," he's grabbed me and pulled me back. I have never thought about leaving him—19 years—and I have never been worried that he would leave me.

There are times when I am out of work, and need some work, and I'll be getting a series of phone calls from him. For most actors, your heart would start to pump and you'd go, "Maybe this is it; maybe I've got a job." Well, when I get a phone call from my manager, my heart doesn't go pump, it goes, "Oh, s—, I'm about to have to go do something for Oceana," which I think is one of the best things that's ever happened to my career. I haven't had a lot of fear and worry in my career, because I put all my fear and worry into other things. It's a little healthier to be worried about oceans than about yourself.

We both are pretty philosophical in that when you're hot, you're hot; when you're not, you're not. If you put any emphasis on what you did right and what you did wrong, it'll make you crazy. You'll never know why you get a job and why you don't. My job is to stay up and engaged and enjoying life, period. The rest of my career will handle itself. God bless Keith—he does a lot of hard, crappy work, talking to angry, sad, pissed-off, fearful people to help me in my career. But that ain't my job, and it's not my job to put anything on him, ever. I got the greatest job on the planet, "CSI," and I'm being paid lots of money and it's thanks to him.

Keith and I don't "hang out." I don't hang out with guys. But that's true of everybody in my life, that's true of my "Cheers" friends. My father was kind of absentee to some degree, so women have always had the key to life, for me. But I love to work with men. It's relaxing; guys are simple.

I have four kids, so I've been to hell and back. I know life is messy, and I know life can be dark. But if I want to get something done, I like to be calm and have a sense of humor about it. I can afford to be calm because I know Keith can absorb the chaos. We are so different as people, but there's this unspoken thing—we know we love each other. I never worry about whether he has my interests at stake and whether he's doing everything he can for me. I know he would never hurt me, and that's pretty neat.

Keith Addis Photograph by Sian Kennedy

Addis on Danson

He's nonchalance; I'm chalance. Ted doesn't like confrontation. More than dislikes it—he disappears from it. It's probably safe to say that I enjoy confrontation, that I somehow thrive on it. He doesn't have any enemies. I do.

When I started working with Ted, he was already starting to think about his transition beyond "Cheers." I'd met him a couple of times, superficially, on movie sets where I had other clients, but there was one opportunity where I really had a chance to connect with him, and we decided to work together. It was a handshake—I've never had a contract with any client.

The truth about why I first got involved in ocean conservation is heartless and completely Machiavellian. I had just signed the biggest television star in the world, and I thought it would be really smart for me to ingratiate myself with him in an extracurricular way. But what got me excited about it is my fascination with underdog issues. When I joined American Oceans Campaign, Ted was almost its sole funder. Seven-figures-a-year sole funder. Just about the time each of us was looking at the other, secretly thinking, "This isn't working," we got a call from this startup in D.C. called Oceana, who had no idea that we were in dire straits. We played it totally Hollywood: "I don't know, we need to think about this—how many board members, it's probably not a good fit." And meanwhile we're going, "OH, MY GOD, WE HAVE TO CLOSE THIS DEAL IMMEDIATELY!!!"

I am the agent provocateur in our show business relationship and at Oceana. I am—I'm sure they would tell you if they were candid—a difficult board member. I'm always excited to find a challenging mess that needs to be sorted out.

I knew out there in the ether that they were looking for a lead on "CSI." Ted made it clear that he would do it only if HBO agreed to continue to let him do "Bored to Death." Ted has more goodwill out there than almost anybody I can think of, and everyone roots for his success. On set, he's the United Nations peacekeeper, the mediator of all problems. Whenever there's friction of any kind—and that's not all that often for someone like Ted—but when there is friction to deal with or shoving to do, he doesn't have to do any of it. I have had many other clients who have done most of the shoving themselves, and they've paid a price for it.

We've also made choices that didn't work. It's impossible not to, because we're making subjective decisions about the future all the time. When you look at a pilot script and the people involved in it, the roll of the dice is incredibly challenging. To wonder what that's gonna be like nine episodes out, 14 episodes out…and with a movie, the stakes are even higher.

When we're together, we're really together. You can see our relationship just by being in a room with us. But I never have to be on the set just to be there. It's not important to him; it's not important to me. When he does talk shows, I'm not in the green room helping him feel comfortable, holding his hand.

I have been through very difficult personal times and professional times with him, and he is the real deal, through thick and thin. I have never seen him get angry. I get angry about 15 times a day; that's a lot of my battery, a lot of my energy. There are people who are naive optimists. But he is optimistic about the world and about the impact that smart people can have on challenging problems. And that's very inspirational for me and for everybody around him.

—Edited from Stinson Carter's interviews with Ted Danson and Keith Addis