Should you miss the wooden sign on the side of the highway (''Burt Reynolds' Feed and Gift Store — Tours Available''), the goat peering through the white iron gates of the actor's ranch two miles later is sure to stop you in your tracks.
The 160-acre compound in Reynolds' hometown of Jupiter, Fla., is a Southern version of Michael Jackson's Neverland Ranch: There's a petting zoo, a flock of emus running in a baseball field, a screening room, two soundstages, and guest quarters (called the Treehouse because it's off the ground) in which Tammy Wynette warbles over stereo speakers. There's also the chapel — decorated with ex-lover Dinah Shore's paintings — that Reynolds built for his 1988 marriage to Loni Anderson, where $700 will buy your own ceremony coordinated by Joan, who doubles as the tour-bus driver. Later, you can duck in for a visit with ''R.P. Platt, Country Doctor,'' as his sign advertises, or for a pick-me-up piece of pizza in Reynolds' deli.
If it all seems, well, a bit much, it's nothing compared with the interior of Reynolds' office, where photo upon photo of the star shares wall space with Native American art. Display cases are filled with guns and belt buckles; bookshelves are covered with polished steer horns and antique cowboy boots. ''I don't throw away things that are given to me,'' rasps the 58-year-old actor, settling his 6'1'', denim-clad body into the red leather sofa. ''And because I just got a divorce, and my ex-wife, who hated Western art, suddenly became in love with the Remington (paintings) and the ones that cost a fortune, I've redecorated.''
Reynolds is talking about ex-wife Loni Anderson, the mother of their 6- year-old son, Quinton, and duking it out with her publicly in the National Enquirer, as well as in his new autobiography, My Life. Though at the last minute he removed chapters about Anderson that he believes might have been damaging to Quinton, Reynolds doesn't shy from talking about what he believes to be her troubles with spending, mothering, and sexual satisfaction.
''The last two years of our marriage, if she touched me with her toe,'' Reynolds says of his disgust at her alleged infidelities, ''I would fly up (to the ceiling).'' Does it seem strange to make the failure of a marriage into fodder for sales? Reynolds laughs. ''I haven't had a private relationship in so long, I don't know what that means.''
Privacy clearly isn't a large concern for Reynolds, who two years ago opened his ranch to the public (at $10 a head) so the spread might pay for itself. Even tales of intimate White House dinners become party stories. Recalling then President Reagan's forgetfulness at a small supper (he couldn't remember where the button to a secret access door was), Reynolds recollects his reaction at the time: ''I thought, 'I can't tell this story on The Tonight Show.'''
Add your comment
The rules: Keep it clean, and stay on the subject or we might delete your comment. If you see inappropriate language, e-mail us. An asterisk * indicates a required field.