In 1976, he was “The Fonz”—the biggest TV star in the world, the absolute icon of cool. He could have had any girl he wanted. But in a Beverly Hills boutique, he asked a PR specialist named Stacey Weitzman for some help. She didn’t recognize him. When he asked her out, she told him she was busy because she had to put her son to bed. In a world where everyone told him “yes,” she was the first person to tell him “no.” He was completely charmed. He fell in love not with a fan, but with an independent single mother. Forty-six years later, having weathered his fame and her battle with cancer, they are still together. Because their love wasn’t built on the image of The Fonz, but on the simple fact that to her, he was always just Henry.
In 1976, Henry Winkler was everywhere. As “The Fonz” on Happy Days, he was the embodiment of cool—leather jacket, motorcycle, catchphrases. He was adored by millions, chased by paparazzi, and could have had any date he wanted.
But in a Beverly Hills boutique, something unexpected happened.
He met Stacey Weitzman, a PR specialist. She didn’t recognize him. When he asked her out, she replied, “I’m busy—I have to put my son to bed.” In a world that bent over backward for him, she stood firm. She didn’t swoon. She didn’t flatter. She simply lived her life.
And that’s what charmed him.
Henry didn’t fall for a fan. He fell for a woman with her own rhythm, her own responsibilities, her own strength. Stacey was a single mother, grounded and independent. Their connection wasn’t built on fame—it was built on authenticity.
They married in 1978. Over the decades, they faced challenges: the pressures of Hollywood, the demands of parenting, and Stacey’s battle with cancer. But through it all, they stayed together—not because of the spotlight, but in spite of it.
Henry Winkler’s career continued to flourish. He won awards, wrote books, and became a beloved figure across generations. But he often says his greatest role is being Stacey’s husband.
Their love story is a quiet rebellion against celebrity culture. It’s proof that real connection doesn’t come from red carpets—it comes from shared dinners, bedtime routines, and mutual respect.
To Stacey, Henry was never “The Fonz.” He was just Henry. And that made all the difference.
