Henry Winkler means different things to different people, depending, of course, on their age. Millennials will probably know him best for playing Gene Cousineau, the eccentric acting coach in Bill Hader’s dark HBO comedy drama, Barry. And those who are slightly older might link him more strongly with Arrested Development, in which he’s the useless lawyer Barry Zuckerkorn. Both, as he puts it, are ‘authority figures who lack authority’ – a type he’s been rather drawn to playing in recent years.
But for those of a certain age, it’s impossible to hear his name without thinking of Arthur Fonzarelli (aaayyyy), the charismatic greaser in Happy Days. For a long time, despite his best efforts, he was The Fonz, and the effect it had on his career was profound. Great, and not so great. He tells all, and much else besides, in his new memoir, Being Henry: The Fonz… and Beyond, which he’s chatting about in Brighton this summer – and to Sussex Life over Zoom in his distinctive Brooklyn drawl (aaayyy).
The book is an entertaining, candid, occasionally self-deprecating and at times rather sad read that explores the highs and lows of Winkler’s career and family life, with many of his personal anxieties laid bare. ‘There was so much nervousness, which came from feeling disconnected,’ he says. ‘People have said to me, “You played cool; tell me how to be cool.” And I finally realised the answer to that question is that you have to be authentic. As The Fonz I acted cool, but in my life I was inauthentic.’
The personal challenges he recounts range from severe dyslexia to anxiety and a constant fear that he’s going to run out of money. The last two stem, he says, from his relationship with his parents, Jews who escaped from Germany to New York just before the Nazis murdered the rest of their family. His father, Harry, who ran his own wood business, often seemed to live beyond his means, and felt let down that his son didn’t want to follow him into the family firm. Not understanding Henry’s dyslexia, he often called him a dummer hund – a dumb dog – and certainly didn’t appreciate his acting pursuits until he became really famous.
Being unable to read – he didn’t read a book until he was 31 years and still finds reading ‘difficult’. ‘I read very slowly' – made school tough for young Henry, but his gift for performing got him into Yale School of Drama, after which he started acting in plays in New York, which he supplemented by doing TV adverts. He saved up enough money, which he counted meticulously, to fly to Los Angeles (not overly confident, he bought a return ticket), and slept on friends’ sofas while looking for work.
And, boy, did he find it. A small, one-off part in The Mary Tyler Moore Show caught the attention of the producers of Happy Days, and in his book he describes in vivid detail the sweaty nervousness of his audition. He was determined not to play Fonzie as a cliché, working hard to draw upon the guy’s more sensitive side.
The sitcom became a big hit and, almost overnight, Winkler found himself unable to go anywhere without being mobbed. A past girlfriend who’d strung him along suddenly regained interest, and he started learning about what a life of celebrity entailed.
Recalling appearing at an event with Anson Williams, who played Potsie, he says: ‘We were in Dallas, and 25,000 people showed up. He whispered to me out of the side of his mouth, “Do we deserve this?” and I said, “That’s not the point: they’re here; we’re here. Just say thank you.’”
In the book he addresses the expression ‘jumping the shark’ - a metaphor for a creative project outlasting its quality. In season five of Happy Days, The Fonz, in waterskis and leather jacket, jumps over a shark as part of a dare. Fans of Arrested Development (made by Ron Howard, who played Richie Cunningham in Happy Days) might notice two clever references to the euphemism.
Fearing being typecast, Winkler turned down the role of Danny in Grease, but, even so, finding good quality acting work after Happy Days, which ran from 1974 – 1984 - was a struggle. His advice to young actors now is: ‘Ask yourself what you want. Make sure that is clear. Make sure that is without doubt, so you have nothing that clouds your vision. When you train your talent, you fill your body and your mind with tenacity and gratitude and when the tank is full, pack a clean pair of underwear and walk out the door.
‘The fear is always going to be there. You’re always a little nervous but the joy of living is to beat that fear into submission and step over the line, step off the precipice and fly.’
He was already well known when he met his wife, Stacey, who was the opposite of a fawning fan, and they’ve been together for 46 years – pretty impressive by any standards, let alone Hollywood’s. Her grounded attitude seems to be one of the things that kept him on an even keel when nerves, anxiety and the fickle finger of fame threatened to unbalance him, and she writes sections of his memoir in her own words. It’s clear a lot of therapy has been undertaken.
During the more fallow post-Happy Days period, Winkler continued to work, but much of it involved producing and directing. He was key, for example, in the creation of MacGyver, the long-running Richard Dean Anderson series about the resourceful guy with superior problem-solving skills.
He also teamed up with writer Lin Oliver to develop the entertaining Hank Zipzer children’s books, about a schoolboy who’s always getting into scrapes while trying to navigate his dyslexia. It was later adapted by CBBC, with Winkler playing the school’s cool music teacher – himself no stranger to trouble.
Winkler’s open about never quite feeling like one of the cool kids, feeling out of his depth (particularly in the off-kilter dark comedy Children’s Hospital, which also starred its creator, Hot Tub Time Machine’s Rob Corddry, and Will and Grace’s Megan Mullally) and fluffing auditions and important meetings due to nerves or not being able to read the script.
He’s open about being star-struck in the presence of other celebrities (you really need to read the book to hear the details about him meeting Paul McCartney and trying desperately to befriend him) and rather proud of the ways in which he’s helped others on their way up. The importance of making people feel noticed and appreciated is important to him, particularly as he never felt this way as a child.
He’s also sweetly self-effacing about what he can and cannot do as an actor, marvelling at those who can make Shakespeare look natural. ‘Iambic pentameter did not trip lightly from my tongue, to put it lightly,’ he says. ‘The only thing I did well when it came to Shakespeare was wearing the tights.’
The friendship he formed in the early 1980s with Ron Howard has lasted almost as long as his marriage. Winkler is godfather to Howard’s daughter, the actor Bryce Dallas Howard, and the resurgence of his career was partly down to his former Happy Days castmate giving him a job on Arrested Development.
Zooming in from his Los Angeles home as two of his dogs, Sadie and Maisie, snuffle about (Hamlet, the ‘idiosyncratic, three-legged German shepherd on trazodone is elsewhere), Winkler, 78, mentions one of his upcoming roles. His son, Max, who’s a screenwriter and director, has cast him for the next season of FX’s American Horror Story, and he’s thrilled – and not just because family is everything to him.
In a life that’s had its fair share of challenges as well as successes, Winkler says the one thing he’s learnt is that you have no idea what you can accomplish ‘until you put one foot in front of the other. It is so easy to talk yourself out of trying something,’ he says. “‘It’s too hard.” “I can’t do it.” “I’m not good at that.” “I’ll never be good enough.” “I don’t have time.” ‘The children.” “My work.” The fact is the only time is right now.'
Being Henry: The Fonz… and Beyond is at Brighton Dome on 2 July, fane.co.uk/henry-winkler
