The Boys From Butte

Spring break 1967. We took advantage of the holiday to spend a day at Disneyland—me, my mother, my grandmother, brother Jimmy and my little sister Dianne. It was my senior year in high school. I knew there be far fewer times when we would all be together and was happy to drive the family station wagon from Ventura to Anaheim for day in the Magic Kingdom. Dianne, just six years old, was so excited. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and we were all having fun on the rides best suited to her.

As always, the lines were long for the popular attractions, the "E" ticket rides. While we were waiting for the "It's a Small World" ride, a young man approached us. "You're Nancy Egan, aren't you?" I had no idea who he was, but he didn't seem threatening, in fact the opposite. He had an open smile and was with three others, happy guys about my age.

Sensing my confusion, he introduced himself. "I'm Jim Briney your old neighbor from Butte." The Brineys had been our nextdoor neighbors on Woolman Street for several years in the '50s.  As kids Jimmy and I were in and out of their house and yard nearly every day, when they weren't in ours. Jim was two years older than I and I didn't know him as well as his younger brother Bobby, who was my age and my first "boyfriend." A younger brother Larry was Jimmy's buddy.

While the introduction was reassuring it didn't explain how he recognized me, it had been ten years since we moved to California. I don't remember the explanation if there was one, but my mother and Helen Briney had been dear friends and stayed in touch. Christmas cards, an occasional phone call and infrequent visits to Butte. Perhaps Mommy had sent my senior portrait to Helen, who must have sent Bobby's, which I have to this day.

The improbability of recognizing someone you haven't seen in years among the crowds at Disneyland, didn't faze my mother, she was delighted to see Jim and his friends. They were staying in Los Angeles looking for work, sunshine and a good time. She invited them to come and see us in Ventura. So they did. All four of them staying with us for several days, sleeping on sofas and in sleeping bags on the floor of the living room and hanging out with us.

This was my mother at her best. In those days she struggled with her health and other issues but loved having people at our house, cooking big meals and telling stories. Jimmy and I loved it too. The multiday house party meant whatever we were supposed to be doing didn't matter. We could go to the beach or Baskins Robbins with our guests and not have to dust the house (me) or mow the grass (Jimmy). While all four of the boys were good company, it was Jim and his friend Bill Spear who became our favorites over those few days.

The family stayed in touch and one Sunday we drove down to Hollywood, where the boys had found jobs and rented an apartment. My father took us all to dinner where there were more stories and laughter. Then, not having a steady boyfriend at the time, I invited Bill to be my date for Grad Nite at Disneyland.  A Southern California tradition, on certain spring nights the park was closed to visitors except graduating seniors who roamed the attractions until midnight when it was time to board the bus for our hometowns. Yes, Bill and I were back at the place where we had first met.

Had there been some flirtation when he was in Ventura? Bill was good-looking and had a wonderful sense of humor. What did he think of me? Did he agree to be my date just to be nice? It didn't matter, he was good fun and I was happy to share that night with him.

It was the last time I saw Bill. That summer I worked as a lifeguard and swim instructor in Ashcroft, British Columbia. In the fall I began my freshman year at the University of the California San Diego. We stayed in touch for a time as I have pictures he sent me from Vietnam the following spring.

Several months ago, when I rediscovered the photos of Jim and Bill with my brother and with me, I decided to track Jim down. A quick internet search led me to his obituary. He died in Butte in 2021 after a long illness. The long and lively obit mentioned that he was survived by "his dear friend Bill Spear." Back to the internet where I found Bill on Facebook and messaged him. No answer. The Whitepages.com had information for the person I thought could be my Bill Spear, unfortunately neither the email address nor the phone number was correct.

Although I was beginning to feel like a stalker, I persisted and sent a letter to a post office box. To my surprise and delight, he replied.  A few weeks ago, we had a long phone call reminiscing about his adventure in Southern California and catching up on decades of our lives. He still has that great sense of humor and I look forward to more conversations.