Remembering Debbie Reynolds

When I first enrolled in college many years ago, I found that all the men’s dorms had been filled. I subsequently found a room in an off-campus house owned by a retired and disabled circuit judge and his wife. They rented the whole second story of their Victorian home to 17 boys and men.

Mrs. Buttrill, the wife, managed the operation and was known affectionately as “Mom Buttrill.”

I had a small private room for $12 a month. Next to my room was another small room rented by a young swim team member named Bruce Éclair. He was from El Paso, Texas.

After a few months, Life magazine came out with an issue whose cover featured dozens of pictures of a newly-discovered film star named Debbie Reynolds. Bruce told me that he and Debbie had been childhood friends until she and her folks moved from El Paso to California when she was 7 years old. Bruce and Debbie had kept in touch with Christmas cards and birthday cards for years.

Bruce eventually called Debbie on the phone to congratulate her on her remarkable success, and he didn’t expect to ever see her again.

Late one morning, months later, the doorbell rang. Mrs. Buttrill opened the door. There stood a small lady with long straight black hair and large eye-shades.

“Is this where Éclair lives?” the woman asked.

“Yes, he is upstairs, I’ll buzz him,” Mrs. Buttrill replied.

She buzzed three short rings, and Bruce came bounding down the stairs. As he approached the girl, she removed her shades and pulled off the long black wig of hair.

Bruce recognized instantly and swept Bruce young her her into his arms. It was old friend!

Debbie and Bruce sat on the front porch swing and talked and laughed for an hour. Then, Bruce told her he wanted her to meet some of his friends. There were four of us upstairs that did not have classes at that time.

Bruce introduced each of us, and Debbie hugged each of us. She was the epitome of cute, and we were all smitten in minutes.

“Let’s take Debbie to the Hop-house for lunch,” Bruce said, “but she’ll have to wear her disguise. She’s not supposed to be over here and has to get back to Dallas before 3 p.m.”

The Hop-house was his a woman’s house that she had converted to a lunchroom. The food was served family-style and was delicious. We all ate heartily, as did Debbie. Then an older man and woman — apparently film affiliated — spoke to her. They had driven her over, and were concerned about getting her back to Dallas on time for something.

We all said our goodbyes, and promised not to tell anyone we had seen her. Bruce kissed her and wished her good luck in her promising career.

We were impressed by the fact she had informed no news people or photographers of her little escapade. She had notified no city or collegiate personnel of her visit, just us plain old boys.

Debbie Reynolds and her daughter, Carrie Fisher, better know as Princess Leia of “Star Wars,” died recently on back-to-back days. They were known worldwide for their strong, unique, and charismatic personalities, and they will be sorely missed all over the world.

R.I.P., lovely ladies!

— Louis Houston is a resident of Siloam Springs. His book “The Grape-Toned Studebaker” is available locally and from Amazon. com. Send any questions or comments to louis1931@ gmail.com or call 524-6926. The opinions expressed are those of the author.