By Gary Bennett
In 1974, America was going through very tough times. Watergate hearings droned on every day, the Vietnam War was ending haphazardly, and oil shortages had us all waiting in long gas lines and on edge.
So, it came as no surprise when a wave a nostalgia hit America. Many of us pined for gentler, easier times. The 1950s seemed to fit the bill nicely. The economy was good then and grandfatherly Dwight Eisenhower was in the White House. The hit movie “American Graffiti” (1973) and smash musical “Grease” (1971) both examined an innocent brand of everyday teen life to rave reviews.
Not to be outdone, in the fall of ’74, network television brought us a modest situation comedy called “Happy Days,” starring child actor Ron Howard of “Andy Griffith Show” fame. For the first time, Richie, Ralph, Potsy and Fonzie entered our living rooms. Little did we know, they would stay for more than a decade.
One can only imagine the chance the network took on building a show around a former child actor (Howard), a bunch of other unknown 20-something actors and a couple of mature, little known character actors, all portraying a modest 1950s, family-and-friends-are-everything lifestyle.
But, somehow, it worked.
Whatever the network executives saw in the show’s premise and the young actors was proved right. The show took an idealized look at life in the ’50s. The father owned a hardware store. Mom stayed at home and kept house. The teen characters fretted over girls and problems at school. There was a tough guy with a heart of gold. All of this was set in the comfortable backdrop of Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
The show was like “American Graffiti,” also starring Howard, by focusing on the teen lives of the main characters. Best friends Richie Cunningham (Howard), Potsy Webber (Anson Williams) and Ralph Malph (Don Most) hit all the right notes as teens trying to do their best but with a talent for getting in trouble.
The show didn’t do well at first. But soon it caught fire when it began featuring a minor, leather-clad character called Fonzie — or The Fonz. It’s difficult to overstate the influence of The Fonz on 1970s culture.
Arthur Fonzarelli was played to “tough-guy-with-a-heart” perfection by a young, handsome, Yale-trained actor named Henry Winkler. The Fonz was a biker, a high school dropout and a bit older than the teens who idolized him, but he had a kind of magical coolness and street smarts that drew people to him. He would often enter the show with two or three young ladies on his arm.
Fonzie became one of the most memorable and merchandised characters of the 1970s. His image was on everything from lunch boxes and T-shirts to posters and soda cans. Henry Winkler became a major star and later parlayed his stardom into a lucrative movie career. His trademark leather jacket is now on display at the Smithsonian.
His catch phrases, which I can’t do justice to in print, were not scripted but created by Winkler. They included “sit on it” — an insult of epic proportions, “heyyyyyy!,” “whoa” and “correctamundo!” It wasn’t long before these phrases were on the lips of ‘70s teens and pre-teens everywhere.
It also didn’t hurt that Fonzie had superpowers. He could start any balky machine, including the local juke box, with a well-place rap of his fist, and he could instantly summon girls to his side with a snap of his fingers. He was the guy every man (and boy) wanted to be and every woman wanted to be with.
He had a kind of cool not seen on the small screen to this day. The only young character that came remotely close was James Dean in the movie “Rebel Without a Cause.” Everyone knew The Fonz was tough and could fight, but he never had to. His reputation always preceded him.
In 1999, TV Guide ranked Fonzie as No. 4 on its “50 Greatest TV Characters of All Time” list. Even so, the Emmy for best lead actor in a comedy eluded Winkler. He was nominated three times but never won. Decades later in 2015, he finally received his first Emmy for his performance on HBO’s “Barry.” Today, a bronze statue of The Fonz stands on the Milwaukee Riverwalk.
I believe one critical theme, eschewing convention, that creator Garry Marshall came up with that allowed the show to thrive was that The Fonz, who had absolutely no reason to do so, genuinely befriended the slightly nerdy teens. No one was quite sure why, but we all suspected it was because he could, and no one would say a word. Or, it may have been that he had a soft spot for those who are awkward and not as cool as him. It was probably a little of both.
Another theme that played well was the genuine love and respect the teens showed for the grownups. In turn, the grownups were supportive and gentle with the teens. The mutual love was easily apparent. The Cunningham parents were played pitch-perfectly by veteran actors Tom Bosley and Marion Ross. (Ross is still alive at 96.) The heart they brought to their much smaller parts was remarkable. Fonzi even had a soft spot for the motherly “Mrs. C.” She was the only one who could call him Arthur and get away with it.
“Happy Days” was one of the most successful shows of the 1970s. In its 11 seasons through 1984, it became the third longest-running sitcom in ABC’s history, with 255 episodes. In the 1976 and 1977 seasons, it was the No. 1 television show in America. The show spawned successful spinoffs “Laverne and Shirley” and “Mork and Mindy.” Both were culturally relevant in their own right.
The show played in syndication almost right away. One of my fondest memories from college in the mid- to late-‘70s, is playing cards between classes at the student union with pals of my own with “Happy Days” playing in the background.
At this year’s Emmy Awards, the now-famous duo of Howard and Winkler stole the show with their “Happy Days” reunion back at Arnold’s Malt Shop. Winkler even smacked the juke box to get it going like he did so many times in the ‘70s.
Gary Bennett is a longtime Frederick resident who spends his time hiking, biking, volunteering and providing childcare for grandchildren. He is married and retired from his career as a nonprofit marketing executive.
