SWEET TALKER

It’s hard to remember now, but four years ago Rosie O’Donnell was just another stand-up comic-turned-actor, trying to figure out her career. She was 32, lived in Los Angeles, and she had two movies about to open: “The Flintstones” and “Exit to Eden.” To kill time, she indulged a childhood fantasy and made her Broadway debut with a six-month run of “Grease” that included a stop at the Orange County Performing Arts Center, where Hollywood luminaries trooped down to watch O’Donnell in a black leather jacket warble her way through “Look at Me, I’m Sandra Dee.”

Today, “Rosie”--as she is universally known--is a one-woman industry: a talk-show host with ratings to rival Oprah’s, single mother of two adopted children (Parker, 3, and 8-month-old Chelsea Belle) and high-profile advocate for Broadway (she lives in Helen Hayes’ former house, and on June 7 she will host the Tony Awards) and numerous charities, including her own foundation

Last year, when O’Donnell’s show became the sleeper hit of the season, earning her an Emmyfor Best Talk Show Host and throwing down a gauntlet to Jerry, Jenny and the rest of TV’s tabloid-mongers, Newsweek crowned her the “Queen of Nice.” Her reign continues. And yet O’Donnell is not simply another celebrity who struck gold on the talk-show circuit. A taping of her program on the Warner Bros. lot during its monthlong residency in Los Angeles this past February was a veritable revival meeting, attended by throngs of teary-eyed mothers, overweight teens and mesmerized children. Many clutched Rosie O’Dolls, with the proceeds from their sale going to the For All Kids Foundation. Others seemed eager to touch the hem of O’Donnell’s garment. When she singled out a visually impaired high schooler who had donated her baby-sitting money to charity, it seemed, for a moment, that the girl might receive not just a “Rosie O’Donnell” jacket, but also her sight.

“I do it for the baked goods,” O’Donnell quipped when another fan presented her with a basket of home-made cookies. Privately, she concedes, “I’m like Schindler at the end of that movie: ‘If I could just save one more.’ ”

Whether she is forking over $6 million of her money to charity or championing pop culture as our collective security blanket, O’Donnell is the Mother Teresa of the MTV generation (she was once a video jockey on VH1) who’s turned a deceptively ordinary chat show--”Dolly Parton, today on Rosie!”--into a personal mission to save as much of the world as she can.

During a return visit to Los Angeles last month to host the Kid’s Choice Awards, the Long Island native, former high school homecoming queen, prom queen and senior class president, who attended Dickinson College with the intention of becoming a doctor, said of herself: “I think I’m pretty much an overachiever.”

“Ever since I was 10,” she said, “it was my job to have all the answers.”

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Q: A lot’s changed since you were on tour with “Grease” and [NBC’s] Warren Littlefield was wooing you for a sitcom.

A: Not for a sitcom. Should I tell you this story? The scandal of all scandals? He wanted me to be Joan Rivers to Jay Leno, the substitute host during his four-week vacation every year. I thought it would be great because I could still do movies, but Jay wasn’t interested in having anyone fill in for him. But that’s before I had my children. That’s actually the biggest change--the kids, not the career.

Q: So the idea of doing your own talk show first came from that encounter?

A: I had actually guest-hosted “Regis & Kathie Lee” but hadn’t thought anything about it until I had my son and was filming “Harriet the Spy.” I was working 14-hour days and living in a hotel, and one day I came home and my son wouldn’t come to me--instead he went to Maria, the woman I had helping me at the time. So I called my agent and said, “I’m not doing any more movies.” Then I hosted Regis again when Kathie Lee was supposedly quitting. I told my agent, “If she is leaving, get me that job, because it’s the greatest--you walk in there at 9:10 a.m., no preparation, ask the guest two questions and you’re home by 10:15.” Well, Kathie Lee didn’t leave, but my agent said “We can get you your own show.”

Q: You honestly thought it would be that simple?

A: I was totally naive. I thought they would just move “General Hospital” for me . . . . [As a final obstacle] I had to convince all the TV stations we weren’t going to do just another sleazy hour like Jenny Jones or Morton Downey Jr. but a variety show, like Merv Griffin, that hadn’t been on the air for 20 years. It’s been hard finding the people who can write and produce and direct that kind of show.

Q: Why was Merv Griffin your model?

A: Because I watched it every day with my grandmother growing up, Merv and Mike Douglas and Dinah Shore, flipping back and forth, and--big thrill for me--”The Don Ho Show.” Remember that? Whenever Lucie Arnaz was the guest host, I cut school. So that was the show I wanted to do--a nice show where nobody gets hurt--and the only show I could do. I’m too combative and opinionated to talk to people with severe dysfunctions. I would say: “You slept with your sister’s husband? Get off the show, you [expletive]!”

Q: So now you’re the “Queen of Nice,” with the ratings to prove it.

A: We’re an afternoon talk show with a largely female audience. We’re not late-night, we’re not edgy, we’re not even politically topical--I won’t do Clinton jokes unless they’re not offensive.

Q: Nice is one thing, but how do you work up the enthusiasm for guests like Donny Osmond and Dolly Parton?

A: I genuinely like these people, and I think they’re talented. I always knew we would do celebrity guests, but because we’re daytime, I never thought we’d get people like Tom Cruise and Barbra Streisand. So people like Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme, I love them. The Captain and Tennille, they were a part of my childhood, and I’m not going to take a shot at them. Having Florence Henderson on or Julie Andrews singing from “The Sound of Music”--those are significant emotional moments for me.

Q: Most ‘70s pop culture is kitsch, but you tear up over “The Partridge Family.”

A: Because it offered a way we could feel all the things in our family that we couldn’t say. “The Partridge Family” and “The Brady Bunch” became surrogate families for me. “Little House on the Prairie,” “Room 222”--those shows allowed me to access my emotions.

Q: Will audiences make the same emotional connection to “The X-Files” and “Ally McBeal”?

A: If you came from the kind of family I did, you might. TV is definitely an emotional outlet. Sometimes it’s easier to cry over the people getting evicted on “The Practice” than in your own life. I love “The Practice,” “ER” “NYPD Blue.” I like “Chicago Hope” a lot. “Party of Five,” “Ally McBeal.” I watch all of them.

Q: Does the success of your show suggest that audiences have a hunger to get back to a more innocent time?

A: If that’s true, how do you explain Jerry Springer? Highest ratings he’s ever had. Higher than “Oprah.” It’s kind of astonishing that the FCC allows it go on the air. “Springer” used to have on guests like the 1,500-pound woman, whose daughter would be there crying. But now it’s people fighting like gladiators, to the point where they’re bleeding and hair is being pulled out by the roots.

Q: It’s like professional wrestling.

A: Yeah, if you put uniforms on them and called them “The Incredible Hulkinator,” then you would know they’re putting on a show. But these people look like Mommy and Daddy, people on your street, and they’re killing each other. The message is, you can hurt someone and nothing happens to you; you can physically bloody someone and they won’t kick you off the show; that no one is held responsible for his actions. That’s a large part of the problem with kids watching it.

Q: So Jerry Springer and the Jonesboro schoolyard shooting have something in common?

A: Well, what’s really interesting is that Jerry Springer kind of stands back from it. He disassociates himself from it so the audience can say: “This nice guy doesn’t like it and we don’t either, but we can watch it.” It’s voyeuristic, like driving by a car accident, and it’s totally different from what Morton Downey Jr. and Richard Bey did. They screamed and yelled; they were angry and hostile, and audiences eventually didn’t like it. But Jerry Springer is almost priest-like. At the end of each show, with bloodied people on the stage, he says, “Final thought: Love is what it’s all about. Be kind to yourself and each other. Bye-bye.” It’s sort of astounding to watch it from a cultural standpoint, to see why it’s so successful.

Q: It’s a persona, like you’re an acerbic comedian and a successful Hollywood star, but you come off like a slightly beleaguered, overweight single mother, just like a lot of your audience.

A: I think I’m very relatable. When I did stand-up in little clubs in Oklahoma or Arizona, people would come up and say, “Rosie you’re just like my friend Eileen Murphy” or “Dorrie McShane”--always the Irish name. Everybody had a sister or a best friend like me, and that same nonthreatening feeling goes into the show because a lot of women are competitive and our show is more of a celebration.

It’s not really a choice I make; it’s how I live my life, the things I do when I mess up. Like the time I cut my daughter’s finger when I was trimming her nails--it was the worst moment of my life, and I almos t didn’t talk about it on the air because I felt such shame. But when I did, the letters and calls we got! Thousands saying, “I did the same thing.” That’s the humanity people respond to--the normalcy, and it’s harder when you become rich and famous, especially hard if you do comedy.

I remember watching Roseanne at the Comedy Store right after she sold the syndication rights to her series, and she was, like, “I went to Loehmann’s the other day,” and you could hear people in the audience whispering that she doesn’t go to Loehmann’s anymore. And Eddie Murphy. He was sort of the Everyman, and then he got so famous it affected his comedy. So it’s those little moments, if you’re willing to reveal them, that can really unite you with people.

Q: So talking about your love of junk food and going grocery shopping with your kids is a way to keep that connection?

A: It’s always weird to me when people say, “You go food shopping?” How do you think I get my food? But if you grew up having a normal life, I don’t know how you could switch in your 30s to a spoiled, rich mentality.

Q: Is that why you moved back to New York, to get away from the Hollywood mentality?

A: I couldn’t live here, because it’s a distorted reality. There aren’t that many real people out here. Even the valet who parks your car has a script he’s written. And on Christmas morning it doesn’t matter if you have an Academy Award, it matters that you have a family to love and share your life with.

Q: Oh, come on. You’re a savvy producer. You brought your show to L.A. for ratings, right?

A: That was Warner Bros.’ idea, and it was for the ratings. But L.A. turned out to be like the dead zone. We were on the lot, there was nothing to do, the rain was unending and the sound stage was too big. It was like pushing a car up a hill. Plus the house I was renting was dark; I was depressed and it showed. I looked at some of the tapes and I said, “Wow, I was really in a bad mood.”

Q: New Yorkers love to hate Los Angeles. But you lived here for years. You launched your career here. There must be some parts of L.A. you like?

A: I love the Rexall Drugs at the Beverly Connection. My second stop is Chin-Chin on Sunset--the vegetable pot-stickers. If my kids are with me, we’ll go to the Santa Monica Pier.

Q: You don’t like Hollywood, and yet you’re a relentless cheerleader for Broadway--you regularly have cast members on as guests and now you’re becoming the Billy Crystal of the Tony Awards.

A: In the beginning, Warner’s didn’t want me to do theater guests on the show. But I grew up wanting to be Bette Midler and Barbra Streisand, and to me there’s nothing better than sitting in that audience with the waxy playbill in your hand, and the lights go down and the music goes up, and it’s kind of overwhelming. I still see every show, and this year it’s going to be tough to vote for Best Musical. “Ragtime” I loved. And “The Lion King” is the most overwhelming thing I’ve seen in my life. That story of the dead parent? I went with my son and I was sitting there just pouring tears, and I see all these theater professionals I know also in the audience just pouring tears. I saw the movie 3,000 times but I did not cry.

Q: Is that why you did “Grease,” to finally have your moment onstage?

A: I loved doing “Grease.” There was such a family feeling, like you’re in a league--no competitive bitchiness.

Q: So Broadway is another surrogate family for you, like “The Partridge Family”?

A: It’s a community, and one that’s been decimated by AIDS, so it’s united in that fight. Every theater collects for Broadway Cares. I don’t know what Hollywood is united against.

We had this boy on the show whose best friend’s mother has leukemia and she needs a bone marrow transplant, and the whole town is trying to raise the $60,000 she needs to pay for the operation. This kid has a postcard signed by one of the original Titanic survivors--it’s valued at $2,000-$3,000--and he wants to sell it to help his friend’s mother. So I said, “Call Fox and ask if they would have a representative on our show to stand up and say, ‘We made a billion dollars on the movie, we would like to buy your postcard for $60,000.’ ” And they said no. I was astounded. I was rage-filled. I called the producers of the musical “Titanic,” and in a single conversation they said, “We’ll do it.”

Q: A lot of celebrities work with charities, but your involvement with children seems more like a need you have.

A: Even before I was famous, I felt a connection to kids because of my own childhood. I look at kids and I remember what kind of angst they’re going through--it’s not a vague recollection, it’s like a physical memory. I’ve always done a lot of charity work, but now that I have the show, it’s really become a thing. Ultimately, my goal is to start a national chain of day-care centers, because with the new welfare bill, mothers are having to go to work, and basically anyone can hang out a plaque and start a day-care center. So I have this concept of getting every mother who is a millionaire to give a million dollars until we have $80 million to build a chain of day-care centers--we’ll put $50 million in an endowment to subsidize them--that would have national standards. It’ll be like TGI Friday’s, the same thing across the country.

Q: Finding a lot of millionaire moms stepping up to write those big checks?

A: A lot of them say no. But Arianna Huffington said she would give me $2 million, and while I don’t really agree with her on anything politically, I am more than happy to take her money. [Huffington says she has made no commitment to contribute.] So I think what I’m going to do is build the first one myself in Newark or the Bronx, and, hopefully, if people can actually see it they’ll give money.

Q: Is it fair to say you’re trying to remake your own childhood with your efforts to make the world safe for kids?

A: I think if you’ve suffered as a child in any way, it’s hard to ignore the eyes of a suffering child. For me, it’s impossible, especially when I have the opportunity to affect change. But even as a young kid, I knew how to fix things. That’s my survivor instinct. I feel like I was in the rapids and got to the other side, and instead of keeping going, I turn around and say to the others, “Keep swimming, this is the way out, and I will wait here until you get out.”

Q: Your mother died more than 25 years ago, but this still seems like a defining event in your life.

A: It’s funny what your perspective is . . . .

Q: You think you’ll die early because your mother did?

A: Of course, because if that’s your reality . . . . The first time I thought that I would live longer than her was when I had my kids; before that, I was certain I would die young. But if your mother dies of breast cancer, your odds of getting it are greater. And I’ve had three lumps that were benign. She got sick at 38 and died at 39 of breast cancer, and that’s kind of scary. I think I’ll feel better when I get past that number.

Q: Did her death impact your own sense of motherhood?

A: A child idolizes a parent, and because she died when I was 10, she’s frozen as a saint. I didn’t go through adolescence with her, so in my mind, she’s still the mommy who made cookies. The first time I stopped seeing my mother from a child’s perspective was when I had my own kids--those feelings of protectiveness you get when you’re up at 2 a.m. with a sick kid. I realized my mother had these same feelings with us, and she knew she was going to die. I have issues with anger toward her and my dad. It’s why I have so much rapport with kids. My shrink will tell you it’s because, in some ways, my emotional growth was stunted at 10.

Q: How old were you when you started seeing a therapist?

A: Sixteen. I had a teacher who was very good to me, and she told me she thought it would be a good thing for me, so I went for about a year when I first got my license. Of course, I lied to the therapist because I thought I had to present an image, but it was a foot in the door. At 18, I started full-time. Now I’m seeing a new one whom I like a lot, which is good, because if I think you’re an idiot, I’ll dismiss you. Partly that comes from growing up in a house where I had to have all the answers and be the boss and the one in control.

Q: Now you are the boss. When you decided to adopt, did you always want a son, or did you just want a baby?

A: I felt God would give me the child I was supposed to have to learn the lessons that I needed.

Q: I thought you were a lapsed Catholic.

A: I definitely have the presence of God in my life in a daily way. I have a cross tattooed on my ankle, and I have my kids go to different churches and synagogues. I’ve talked to my son about it, so now he says, “God says you should be my mommy.” Actually, I always thought that I would have a boy, five boys, in fact . . . .

Q: You’ve made this transformation from playing the smart-alecky tomboy in movies like “A League of Their Own” and “Sleepless in Seattle” to being “Mom.” Has being the mother of a son changed your concept of “male” and “female?”

A: I am a tomboy, but even as a kid, my sister was very girlie, where I’m far more comfortable playing Little League than shopping for barrettes. Although I have to say, when I had my daughter, I thought I would dress her in unisex Baby Gap, and my daughter is in a dress.

With my son, I think I was very shut down, and he opened up things inside of me that I never knew. When I had him, I think I came alive emotionally. I mean, physically things looked different--flowers seemed more yellow. I never expected to have the intensity of feelings that I have with him.

Q: So now you’re the ideal single parent?

A: I am not in any way the norm for single parents. For one thing, I’m rich and I can afford to have a lot of help. My employer provides great day-care, so it’s not hard for me. When these parent magazines try to give me awards like “Single Parent of the Year,” it’s a travesty. I have what every single parent dreams of.

Q: Besides adopting more children, what do you see yourself doing in the next few years?

A:I have a contract for the show that runs for two years after this, and I will probably renew for another two years after that.

Q: So you’re not going for Oprah’s record?

A: I don’t think I could do 12 years. It’s much more demanding than I thought. It’s exhausting. So I will do six years total. I’m 36 now, so I’ll be 40, and my kid will be in kindergarten.

Q: And then what? Become the first woman to host “The Tonight Show?”

A: No. I would have done it years ago--been the fill-in--had they been able to offer it to me. But I want to direct and produce movies. I had a deal to direct a movie for TriStar, but it took a long time to get greenlit, and then I had my son. So that’s what I want to try next: put a movie together from start to finish--direct, edit, score--that’s much more interesting to me than performing. Kathy Bates, Holly Hunter--those are the people I think are real actors. I come on and do my little shtick. Although it looks like I’m doing this Irish movie for Anjelica Huston this summer. And, also, Frank McCourt said he wanted me to play the mother in the film adaptation of “Angela’s Ashes.”

Q: What about politics?

A: I’d love to do that eventually, like what Marian Wright Edelman does to lobby for the Children’s Defense Fund. Children are the only minority that does not have a voice legally, which is why I always feel, no matter what your issue is as an adult, you have it so much better than any kid. So when I get all these people saying, “Why don’t you help with this cause?” I say, “You’re a grown-up. Don’t look to me to champion your cause. You have a voice. Kids don’t have a voice.”

I remember this parable I heard as a kid about a little boy picking up all the starfish on the beach and throwing them back into the water. A man came along and said, “Why are you doing this? There are so many, it doesn’t matter.” And the kid says, “It does to this one.” And he throws it in and keeps going. I heard that and I thought, that’s what you should be--the starfish thrower.