MARCH 1995: STELLA A STANDOUT IN FAST-FOOD WORLD.

Byline: Dennis McCarthy 

The tiny paper cups filled with ketchup squirts are lined up like toy soldiers on a battlefield - columns running 10 rows deep, lines straight as an arrow.

Not a drop out of place. Not a drip of red on the spotless counter.

Stella eyes me from across the restaurant, looking at her soldiers, almost daring me to break ranks and pick one up without asking.

``Ketchup, honey?'' she says, walking over in her pink ballroom dancing dress covered in flowers, and taking my arm.

I feel like I'm in Arthur Murray's dance studio, not a Wendy's restaurant. I've never met the woman and already she's calling me honey, trying to charm the socks off me.

What is it about women named Stella that drives guys crazy?

I'd been warned about her. A real charmer, this Stella Wood. Customers at this Wendy's Restaurant in West Hills call her Stella by Starlight, even though she works days.

Legend has it she stopped in for coffee one day more than six years ago and never left. The owner of the place, Ron Ross, was so taken by her Disneyland smile and Billie Burke, Good Witch of the North voice, that he offered her a job as a hostess on the spot.

``When can you start?'' Ross asked her.

``How about right now?'' Stella replied, sliding out of the booth and walking to the door to greet the first of thousands of customers who would walk through that door and think they were back at grandma's house.

The rest is history. The next day, she quit her other job - handing out free samples in a local supermarket. Too confining. Didn't give her enough time to gab.

Stella's got this grandmotherly, best-friend quality about her, say Virginia Spalding and Ruth Fredricks, a couple of longtime customers who love to gab with her.

``She's always fresh as a daisy in her beautiful dresses as she totes trays and coffee to her customers, patting each on the shoulder or cheek - passing on an endearing word that makes even the toughest (customer) smile,'' Spalding says.

In one way or another, all her faithful customers say the same thing. When's the last time you stopped in a fast food place and got treated like you were having dinner at your mother's place?

Stella slides her arm out of mine and promises to return shortly. ``Got to greet some customers, honey,'' she says, walking toward the opening doors like Loretta Young coming down a staircase.

A middle-age couple walks in, smiles widely and gives her a hug. Stella looks up and tweaks the man's cheek, giving the woman a wink.

``Your favorite table is available,'' Stella says. ``Relax, I'll go get your coffee.''

A few minutes later, she returns to my side, sliding her arm back through mine. ``Now, where were we?'' Stella asks.

``Oh, yes, the ketchup,'' she says, remembering. ``After a few months, I figured out I could do more than just greet people. So when it gets slow, I fill the ketchup cups and tend to the salad bar. Keeps things interesting.''

The book on Stella Wood says she lives down the block on Victory Boulevard from Platt Avenue in a one-bedroom apartment. Her only other real social outlet is volunteering in the library over at Our Lady of the Valley Catholic Church.

Her world revolves around a few square blocks because she doesn't drive. Didn't need to learn, she says.

``In those days, your husband worked and you stayed home to care for and raise the children,'' Stella says.

Those days were 49 years of marriage before her husband passed away 11 years ago. Her three children now range in age from 49 to 58 and are all living in other parts of the country, successful in their careers, she says.

Stella Wood, 82, is pretty much on her own these days. This job she walks to at Wendy's five days a week, with weekends off, is a big part of her life, and she has no plans for retirement.

``It's not how old you are, it's how you feel that's important,'' Stella says, walking to the door to greet more customers by their first names and tweak their cheeks.

``The night before work, I lay out my clothes for the next day and set the alarm for 7:25 a.m.,'' she says, returning with a tray full of trash.

``I'm here from 10 a.m. to 3:45 p.m., getting to meet so many wonderful people and make new friends. Now how you going to beat that at my age?''

I'm about to tell her you're not, but Stella's gone. She's crossing the restaurant toward some guy she's never seen before, a new customer.

He's standing at the ketchup counter, trying to figure out why all the cups are lined up like toy soldiers with not a drop out of place.

``Ketchup, honey?'' Stella asks, taking his arm.

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Photo

Photo: Stella Wood jokes with Al Hattenhauer at the Wendy's in West Hills.

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