Burt's Place

I was sad to hear about Burt Reynolds' death. I have only had two dealings with him, and both made an unforgettable impression on me. I met him once in Rome when my Dad invited me to join him at a Rome News-Tribune meeting with Reynolds for an interview; he was personable, amiable, self-effacing, and quick-witted, and made a point of remembering everyone's name when he was introduced and addressing them by name during the conversation. It was the second meeting that was the most memorable, however.

Long-time Georgians may remember that Reynolds had a restaurant, Burt's Place, in the Omni International Hotel in Downtown Atlanta. I was sponsor of the yearbook at East Rome High School, and we were looking for an offbeat place to shoot senior superlative photos when one of the students suggested we tried to get into Burt's Place. It had some notoriety as a restaurant that was almost impossible to get into--but of course, we weren't actually looking at it as a restaurant, but as a photo backdrop.

Figuring the odds were infinitesimally small, I nevertheless contacted restaurant management and asked it it could be done. They seemed dubious, but said they would "check with upper management" and let us know. I presumed that meant, "Go away and quit bothering us," so I began looking for other offbeat venues.

Imagine my surprise when, a couple of days later, I got a call saying that our request had been approved!

So we got all the superlatives together for a bus ride to Atlanta, where we entered the restaurant. We ogled the place for a while, admiring the trendy mid-70s decor. The contract photographer who was assigned to event photography for the shoot began scoping out the best photo backdrops as he paired off superlatives; I did the usual supervisory sort of thing, making sure that none of our students disappeared in the process of the shoot. After a few minutes, I heard a voice just behind me and to my right. 

"Looks like they're having fun. I like that."

I turned--and there, about a foot away from me, was Burt Reynolds. I had no inkling he would actually be in the restaurant. He had stayed largely out of sight, watching the kids as they took in the ambience. He was grinning in that distinctively charming Burt Reynolds way.

I introduced myself and thanked him for letting us come there for the shoot. He waved it off like it was nothing. We talked for a little while as the superlatives had their photos taken. I eventually mentioned that we had met before in Rome, and he replied, "That's right--your dad works for the newspaper up there, doesn't he?" I was amazed that he remembered at all; I'm sure he had endured a thousand meet-and-greets with a thousand local newspapers, television stations, and radio stations over the years.

By then a couple of students had noticed him and were starstruck. They asked about having him in a superlative photo; he declined, saying that this was their day, not his--besides, he had to leave "to take care of the boring part of owning a restaurant," as he described it. Why did he take time out of his schedule to talk with us? Why did he approve a photo shoot that generated no business at all for his restaurant (which wasn't even open for business during the time that we were shooting)? I got the feeling it was because he was just a nice guy. 

That was the last time I crossed paths with Burt Reynolds. More than four decades later, I can still see that Burt Reynolds grin just like he was standing right in front of me.