Henry Winkler’s smile is the smile of an old friend seeing you for the first time in years, or a smile of sincere affection for an unexpected new friend, or a smile that nudges into a laugh. It’s a smile so warm and real that you hate yourself for wondering how any human can generate such feeling, a dozen times a day, for 50 years of public life. And yet, there was that smile again, at 8 in the morning, in Rosemont. Advertisement You see it in a hotel Starbucks, where Winkler commands a small crowd despite the hour; they...