The Winklers: Stark Reality in the Shadow of His Stardom

Henry and Stacey Winkler live in two worlds.

In one, they are the beneficiaries of his stardom--great house set amid a profusion of flowers, several superb automobiles in the driveway, original art on the walls, loads of help in attendance. They can literally make the world go away if they want.

In the other, they appear to be deliberately taking reality lessons. They are confronted almost daily with the problems of neglected, ill or abused children that no amount of Hollywood magic can make disappear. On the grittier side of life, they’ve been learning about the limits of their success.

Toluca Lake Home

That was the impression that emerged one recent morning when they sat down for an interview in their two-story Toluca Lake home--an unremittingly cheerful place where floral-print furniture and huge vases of flowers stand ready to smother any hint of gloom. It was the first interview they have given jointly and her first ever.

In a wide-ranging discussion over bagels and coffee at the kitchen breakfast table, they talked about their private lives, the volunteer work that takes up a big chunk of their time and their motivations for operating what amounts to a private social welfare bureau out of their home.

To hear them tell it, the Winklers are one of L.A.’s dull couples. They “hardly ever” go out during the week, even though both are actively involved in fund-raising for the Music Center and are part of the in crowd of Los Angeles society.

During the day he’s working on one of his film projects, including a television adventure pilot, and she’s shepherding the kids around.

Occasional Movie

They spend most evenings and weekends with their children, going to an occasional movie by themselves or with friends.

This bland routine, they said, is their way of pursuing normality, of keeping the treacherous attractions of the fast lane at a safe distance from themselves and their children, Zoe, 4, Max, 20 months, and Jed, a son from Stacey’s previous marriage, 13.

However, this description glosses over their largely unpublicized roles in a variety of causes where, it seems, there is plenty of drama and action.

For instance, Henry Winkler has been involved for several years with the Starlight Foundation--the group that tries to make the last wishes of terminally ill children come true. In that capacity, he slips into his role as the belligerent-voiced Fonz from television’s “Happy Days” and picks up the phone.

“I call children all over the country and I follow them up,” he said. “There was one little girl, before she died her blood was getting too thick to go through her veins and I would call all the time, spot-check her, because she wouldn’t take her oxygen. I just said, ‘You want to be my girlfriend, you take your oxygen or I’ll come down there and punch you in the face.’ ”

After a moment, he added, “What is interesting is that it was easier to do before I was a parent. I could do it and be much lighter about it when I wasn’t a parent. Now I have to take breaks. I used to go from one ward to the other and get down and get funky with these kids. Now I have to literally go and take a break and get composed.”

Over the years, Winkler, 39, has been or is involved with causes ranging from the Epilepsy Foundation to the Toys-for-Tots campaign. A tape about child abuse called “Strong Kids, Safe Kids” he made last fall has sold 60,000 copies, with his portion of the earnings going to children’s charities.

Since their marriage in 1978, the Winklers have worked as a team and individually on their various interests. The couple said their strongest joint commitment is to United Friends of the Children, a private support group for MacLaren Children’s Center, the controversial shelter operated by the new Los Angeles County Department of Children’s Services.

Operated Own Firm

But Stacey Winkler, they both said, is the one who devotes the most time to projects involving MacLaren and the department. She operated her own public relations firm at one time and has evidently put this background to use as one of the members of the Commission for Children’s Services, an advisorygroup of private citizens to the department.

Stacey Winkler, 37, said she and a group of her friends from United Friends fought for a long time to have the new department created.

“We felt strongly that there should be a separate department for children, that children were not being looked after properly and that it was very important that they be represented independently of this huge, massive, bureaucratic DPSS (Department of Public Social Services),” she said.

But trying to persuade county government that a new department was necessary became an exercise in frustration and a graduate course in the intricate art of public policy-making.

“We kept being met with a wall, and we kept thinking, ‘Maybe we’re crazy here, maybe no one is going to believe us that things have to change, maybe there is no one here who can listen to us,’ ” she recalled. “ . . . Anyway, the new department happened, and with that came the commission, and I fought very hard to be on that commission. . . . We felt that our background at MacLaren Hall would help, but also we have learned about the system and how it works. When you’re working with county government, it’s a whole different story. Nothing could have given me practice for that. There’s a different language, there’s a different way to go, there’s a hierarchy. Is it frustrating? Yes, but it’s not as frustrating anymore.”

She is still convinced that the department is a good thing, despite the current imbroglio over the department’s first head, Lola Hobbs, who has been under pressure to resign partly because of continuing problems at MacLaren. Last week, the county commissioners met in a daylong closed session to consider Hobbs’ performance in her six months on the job,but the issue remained unresolved.

Putting an optimistic light on the controversy, Winkler said that continuing publicity about the department is bound to be positive in the long run. “I think that things are definitely improving at MacLaren Hall. I really do feel that way, and I think it comes from public awareness,” she said. Regarding the new department, she said: “The condition of Children’s Services is the fault of no one. It’s the fault of the system. . . . I don’t envy anyone who’s going to be head of the department, but the pressure is on and whoever’s the director has to perform.”

Family Needed Clothes

Her commitments are likely to pop up at the most inconvenient times, she said.

“I was going to have the day with my kids,” she said, “and I got a call about a Hispanic family with 11 children and they had no clothes, no clothes. And I said, ‘Oh my God, I’m leaving, I’ve committed this day to my kids.’ ” But after telling the children their outing would undergo a slight delay, Winkler said she filled three plastic bags with clothes and drove downtown. She took the children with her, she said, so that they could see what other people endure.

“It’s very important to not isolate yourself in this kind of life and to continue to give back,” she said. “ . . . My whole life was very sheltered. I grew up here in Brentwood. Consequently, I was terrified all the time. You name it and I was terrified.”

Her husband has led a less protected life. His volunteer work began well before he became famous and rich. Afternoons during high school he worked as “a counselor on playgrounds in some tough areas of New York. I enjoyed it; I had a good time.”

He has continued working with children because “I sincerely get along very well with children. I communicate very well with children, sometimes better than I do with adults.”

Winkler doesn’t mind sounding a bit sappy when he explains why he spends so much time with children. “If you can do it, you have to do it,” he said. “I see the results and it makes me feel good. It’s not so altruistic because I get very good feelings back from the children, so it’s give and take. Then I have this philosophy--people make fun of me--but if you get all the energy and it’s all positive and you have so much and you don’t give it back, you cannot hold onto all of it. You will explode eventually, cosmically explode. There is a harmony in give and take. It’s part of being alive, I guess.”

Later this week, Winkler will be getting something back. He’s one of four people who will be honored Thursday evening with a public-affairs award from the Coro Foundation, a nonprofit, nonpartisan educational foundation that provides public-affairs leadership training programs. Others to be honored are Gail Abarbanel, founder and director of the Rape Treatment Center at Santa Monica Hospital Medical Center; Edward W. Carter, former chairman of Carter Hawley Hale Stores; and George McKenna, principal of Washington Preparatory School.

Winkler freely admitted that “I love awards,” likes the company he’ll be in and that awards are a sign he is “doing the right thing.” But he added that he doesn’t get involved because he thinks he’ll get a plaque or trophy.

“I swear to you this is true,” Winkler said, leaning forward in his chair and pumping his arms like a runner. “I do it, I do it, I do it and then somebody says, ‘By the way, you’re getting an award,’ and I say, ‘For what? For this? No kidding, that’s nice. I’m glad I’m getting that.’ But, like, I didn’t know I was going to get an award.”