Arthur Fonzarelli wasn't supposed to be the star. Honestly, if you look back at the original pilot for Happy Days, the guy was a secondary character, a background greaser intended to provide a little bit of edge to Richie Cunningham’s wholesome Milwaukee life. But then the cameras started clicking. The pictures of the fonz began circulating in teen magazines and newspapers across America, and suddenly, Henry Winkler—a Yale-educated actor who was nothing like the character he played—became the face of a generation.
It's wild.
Think about the visual shorthand of the 1970s. You have the bell-bottoms, the disco lights, and then you have this guy in a leather jacket standing next to a motorcycle. That image didn't just sell TV sets; it redefined what masculinity looked like for a decade that was desperately searching for its identity after the chaos of the sixties.
The Evolution of the Leather Jacket Aesthetic
The early pictures of the fonz are actually kind of hilarious because they show a version of the character that the network was terrified of. In the first season, ABC executives were worried that a guy in a leather jacket looked like a hoodlum or a criminal. They actually forced Winkler to wear a windbreaker—often in a pale blue or tan—because they thought it made him look more "approachable."
Look at those early promotional shots. He looks uncomfortable. It wasn't until the show’s creator, Garry Marshall, fought the network that the iconic black leather jacket became a permanent fixture. The compromise? Fonzie could only wear the leather jacket if he was standing near his motorcycle, because then it was considered "safety equipment" rather than a gang uniform.
Eventually, the jacket became so inseparable from the man that it ended up in the Smithsonian Institution. That’s not hyperbole. In 1980, Winkler donated one of the five original jackets used on the show to the National Museum of American History. When you see photos of that donation ceremony, you realize how much a simple piece of wardrobe changed the cultural landscape.
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More Than Just a Thumbs Up
We all know the "Aaay!" pose. It’s the most common result when you search for pictures of the fonz. But if you dig into the archives, the most interesting shots are the ones where the bravado slips. Henry Winkler has talked at length about his struggles with dyslexia, a condition that wasn't well-understood during the show's peak.
When you look at candid behind-the-scenes photos from the Paramount lot, you see a man who was often intensely focused, squinting at scripts that were printed on large-font paper so he could memorize them more easily. This vulnerability is what made the character work. Without the heart, Fonzie is just a bully. With it, he’s a protector.
Why the Jump the Shark Photo Is Infamous
We have to talk about the 1977 season opener, "Hollywood: Part 3." This is the moment that gave us the phrase "jumping the shark." The pictures of the fonz in this episode are surreal: he’s wearing his signature leather jacket, swim trunks, and water skis while jumping over a literal shark in a confined area.
It’s the peak of "Happy Days" mania, but also the moment the show's realism died.
Interestingly, Henry Winkler was actually a proficient water skier. His father had encouraged him to do his own stunts for that sequence. While critics use the photo of that jump to illustrate when a show loses its way, the ratings for that episode were actually massive. People loved it at the time. It’s only through the lens of history—and the birth of the internet—that the image became a symbol of creative decline.
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The Photography of the 1950s Revival
The irony of Happy Days is that it was a 1970s show looking back at the 1950s. This created a specific visual style. The lighting was bright, the colors were saturated, and the photography was meant to mimic the "golden age" feel of a Life Magazine spread.
- Photographers like Jack Shemet and Gene Trindl captured the cast in poses that felt like a high school yearbook on steroids.
- The motorcycle—usually a Triumph or a Harley-Davidson—was often positioned as a throne.
- Candid shots frequently showed Winkler laughing with Ron Howard, proving that the chemistry on screen wasn't faked for the cameras.
The show was filmed in front of a live audience starting in season three. This changed how the still photography looked. You started seeing more "action" shots—Fonzie hitting the jukebox, Fonzie snapping his fingers to summon a girl—because the character was now playing to a crowd. The stillness of the early seasons was replaced by a kinetic, almost cartoonish energy.
The Cultural Impact of the Fonz's Image
Why does this still matter in 2026?
Because the "cool" factor didn't age poorly. Unlike other 70s icons whose style feels like a costume today, the classic pictures of the fonz still hold up because they lean into timeless archetypes. The white t-shirt, the boots, the jeans. It's the James Dean look, but with a smile.
Winkler once said that he based the character's movement on an animal—a cobra specifically. He stayed still until he needed to move, and then he was lightning fast. You can see this in the photography. He’s rarely caught in a mid-range, awkward pose. He’s either completely still and leaning against a wall, or he’s in the middle of a grand gesture.
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Modern Collecting and Memorabilia
If you’re looking to track down original prints or press photos, the market is surprisingly robust. Vintage 8x10 glossies from the 70s, especially those signed by Winkler, can fetch hundreds of dollars at auction. Collectors often look for the "TV Guide" covers, which are some of the most iconic pictures of the fonz ever produced.
The Smithsonian actually has a collection of these items because they represent a shift in how we consumed television. Before Happy Days, characters were often ensembles. After Fonzie, the "breakout star" became the focal point of all marketing.
Moving Toward a Visual Legacy
To truly understand the impact of these images, you have to look at what happened after the show ended in 1984. Winkler didn't want to be Fonzie forever. He transitioned into producing and directing, but the photos followed him. Even when he was playing a bumbling lawyer on Arrested Development or an acting coach on Barry, he couldn't escape the leather jacket.
But he didn't try to.
Winkler embraced the image. He realized that for millions of people, those pictures of the fonz represented a friend. Someone who would stand up to bullies. Someone who taught a generation that it was okay to be different as long as you were "cool" about it—and "cool" meant being kind.
How to Authenticate and Archive Your Fonz Collection
If you're diving into the world of vintage television photography, don't just settle for digital scans. There is a specific tactile quality to 1970s publicity stills that tells a story.
- Check for "Press Snipes": Look at the back of the photo. Real publicity stills from the 70s often have a typed description (a "snipe") glued to the back, explaining the episode or the promotion.
- Verify the Paper Stock: Authentic photos from that era were usually printed on fiber-based paper or early resin-coated stock. They should have a weight to them that modern printer paper lacks.
- Identify the Studio Stamp: Paramount Pictures often stamped the reverse side with a date and a copyright notice. This is a key indicator that you have an original promotional piece rather than a later reprint.
- Preserve in Acid-Free Sleeves: If you find a rare print, get it out of the sunlight immediately. The dyes in 70s photography are notorious for fading, especially the reds and yellows found in the Al's Diner sets.
The visual history of Arthur Fonzarelli is a roadmap of American pop culture's transition from the sincerity of the 50s to the irony of the 70s. By keeping these images alive, fans aren't just looking at a TV character; they're looking at the moment when TV became the dominant force in our collective imagination. Keep your eyes peeled at estate sales and vintage shops—you never know when a piece of "cool" history will turn up in a dusty box of old magazines.