There’s a line of hip-looking people waiting to get into the Horton Grand Theater. They look like they’re trying out to be Angelenos—lots of leather jackets; lots of ridiculous hats, but it feels a little wannabe L.A. There’s a red carpet out front, but even that feels phony. It’s only about 15 feet long, which hardly seems adequate for tonight’s guests of honor: comedian Bill Hader and Henry Winkler, i.e. the Fonz, the coolest man in history. They are in San Diego to promote their new HBO show, Barry, about a hitman (played by Hader), who falls in love with acting after following a target into an amateur acting class. The class is taught by Henry Winkler’s character.
“I’m going to have you stand right here,” says Maggie, the PR person in charge of tonight’s event. She places a sheet of laminated paper on the edge of the carpet, “San Diego City Beat” it reads. I stand on it, dutifully. To my left side, KUSI’s Mark Mathis is quietly pacing and getting in the zone. I can’t stop admiring the whiteness of his teeth, and I’m probably being weird about it. On the other side of me, there’s another TV crew. I’m surrounded by high-powered entertainment journalists, and I just have my flimsy little notebook. I’ve never done a red carpet interview before, and I feel the stress manifesting on my palms and in my armpits.
“Maggie,” I say, confused by how everyone looks ready to inteview him now. “Are we doing the interviews out here or in the green room?”
“You can ask some questions out here, and then I’ll make sure you get some one-on-one with Henry in the green room,” she says. “Henry’s a delight.”
A car pulls up and Henry Winkler and his wife Stacey Weitzman step out. The line outside Horton Grand goes crazy. Mark Mathis’ smile becomes blinding white in the KUSI camera’s spotlight. He and Winkler hit it off like two schoolhouse chums. I try to pay attention to their rapport in an effort to emulate it, but I am also just in awe of Winkler’s ability to be so personable.
“This is Ryan from San Diego CityBeat,” Maggie says, introducing me to Henry Fucking Winkler.
“CityBeat,” Winkler says, offering me a fist-bump. “What are we doing here today?”
“I uh... heard we’re to see the premier of your new show,” I say, stating the obvious. I’m failing, stumbling. Is that disappointment creeping over Winkler’s face? “I was actually um... wondering if I could ask you some questions in the green room?” It’s a strange thing to say—especially surrounded by all the other reporters—and I feel a little like a pervert.
Maggie jumps in, alleviating the awkwardness by ushering Winkler to the next interview. I feel like a chump. Bill Hader arrives and I step away from my spot so he doesn’t confuse me with an actual entertainment journalist.
Afterwards, a security guard escorts me, Winkler and Weitzman through the labyrinthine backstage of the Horton Grand Theater. As we climb up a flight of stairs, Winkler says, “I don’t see why we couldn’t have done this out there.”
Oh God. I’ve upset the Fonz. The coolest, most delightful man in showbiz, and I’ve managed to piss him off.
We enter the green room—a sparse room with a fridge—and Hader is there by himself, looking at his phone. I shake his hand, and yet again, I panic because all my questions are Winkler-centric.
“So what is the harshest acting lesson you’ve ever received?” I ask, playing off what I know of the basic plot of Barry.
Winkler tells me of famous acting coaches that have said he undermined their class. He tells me about making famous acting instructor Robert Lewis cry. These stories feel like Winkler’s been telling them for years, but they’re entertaining and Hader laughs big time at them.
“You’ve lived a life of coolness,” I start.
“Only on screen,” Winkler says.
“So, I’m a nervous guy. How would you direct me to be cool?”
Winkler’s demeanor changes a little. Earnestness washes over him.
“Okay, let me tell you. Honest to God, cool is not outside you. If you’re asking me a real question, I will tell you: being authentic, just being who you are, is cool. It is magnetic. There is nothing, there is no motion, there is no way to be, there’s no hairstyle, there’s no clothing. And because you are who you are, everything looks great. And that’s true.”
Holy shit, I think. I’m getting real-life advice from the Fonz! Eyyyy!
I move to turn off my recorder, but he continues:
“But I have to tell you—I’m nervous a lot. I give speeches publicly and I used to be scared all the time. ‘What happens if they don’t care about what I’m saying? What happens if tonight’s the night they throw vegetables?’ And then I said, ‘You know what you’re doing. Just do it.’ And I’m telling you…” Winkler makes a small whistle sound. “It changed overnight.”
I end the interview and ask Winkler if I can get a picture with him. “Are we doing a selfie?” he asks. He takes my phone from my hands, I throw two thumbs up, and he snaps a few photos. It’s pretty goddamned cool.