Freewheeling former firefighter was a fireball

Well, Odessa has lost another one of the characters that makes this community such an interesting place to live.

Billy Stovall died Saturday. He was 63 going on 15. As a firefighter and a hustler, he made his marks. But his real calling would have been as a latter-day member of the Little Rascals. He had a sort of impish charm and you knew he had something up his sleeve when that mischievous look appeared on his face. Although he rubbed some folks the wrong way, Billy had an amazing assortment of friends from all walks of life. He and legendary lawyer Warren Burnett got along famously.

And, yes, Stovall was a world-class kidder. He had a knack for finding a soft spot in the people he liked and then relentlessly applying the needle. I know because he spent decades riding me about the photos that I’ve used with my column. He swore that every one of them was my high school graduation picture.

Billy wasn’t much for convention. He pushed buttons, and he pushed limits. And that made his choice of professions sort of odd.

At a young age, Stovall joined the Odessa Fire Department, a calling that generally begs for regimentation.

But that wasn’t his way, except when push came to shove and duty demanded action. Billy buckled down and, even as his career neared retirement and after he had risen through the ranks, he could pull hose with the best of them.

In 2002, one of his protégés, Johnny Orona, retired from the Odessa Fire Department and paid Stovall the ultimate in professional compliments. Orona cited Billy and Junior Brown as the people who influenced his career the most. "Both gave me a break when nobody else would, and they took me under their wing and helped me. They trained me. They'd cut up with you, but as soon as that bell would ring, they were serious."

Of course, Billy also was serious about turning a buck. Those who knew him from way back remember how he’d show up at the pool hall during his high school days with no cash, call in an order at the drive-in next door and proceed to extract his lunch money with a cue. They also remember the time one of his running mates showed up at the pool hall wearing a pair of expensive alligator shoes. A short time later, the shoes belonged to Stovall.

Make no mistake, Stovall didn’t mind working for his keep, too. He moonlighted during his firefighting career doing painting and other construction work. But nothing gave him more delight than having a buddy fork over a few bucks on a bet.

After he retired at 50, Stovall had an assortment of business ventures that paid handsomely.

He also had a place on Lake Amistad near Del Rio and professed to have secret locations where fishing was phenomenal. There are a lot of disappointed anglers who never got the chance to be favored with some of his tips.

Billy always was large and in charge — the life of the party.

Friends will say he died too young. But chances are they’ll also have some extra money to remember him by.