As children, my mother and her siblings were not allowed to have bicycles. Their father forbade it – not as a form of harsh parenting that denied simple enjoyment, but, in his estimation, as a means to lovingly safeguard their wellbeing. His decision was rooted in what had happened to their cousin, Gordon Spainhour, Jr., who died almost a full year before my mother’s birth.
In the fall of 1938, as a freshman at North Carolina State University, seventeen-year-old Gordon and a friend were sharing a nighttime ride on a double-seater bicycle when it collided with a truck. Gordon was thrown from the front seat of the bike into the truck’s windshield and suffered a fractured skull and serious lacerations. Never regaining consciousness, he died a few hours later at a nearby hospital.
This was a tragic ending for someone who had already experienced his share of sorrow. Almost a decade earlier and about a month shy of his eighth birthday, Gordon suffered a heavy double loss in one day. His father died that morning at age thirty-five in a Washington, DC hospital, the result of a malignant lung tumor, and his maternal grandfather died that evening of heart trouble in the midst of his son-in-law’s funeral arrangements.
Gordon’s mother and grandmother, having become simultaneous widows with extra attention to spare, lavished it dotingly upon the young, brown-eyed, brown-haired Gordon – an only child and eldest grandchild – and attached much promise to his future. In a poem that he would write five years later, he stated that he was named for his father and that he desired to be like him in more than name. He also related his desire to be a help to his mother and grandmother, to be a good boy, to please them by obeying their instruction and meeting their expectations, and to bring them joy and happiness as he grew to manhood.
And, in fact, Gordon became a model young man – kind, joyful, good-humored, and loving, and he was happiest when doing for others. He was also an exemplary student, excelling in English and extemporaneous speaking, becoming the valedictorian of his high school class, and graduating with honors. At the time of his death, he was studying engineering and had just joined the Young Men’s Christian Association.
Although he would soon thereafter meet his demise astride a bicycle, it was that very vehicle that had brought him such pleasure throughout his childhood and such notoriety the year before his death.
In 1937, between the tail end of the Great Depression and the beginning of World War II, Gordon embarked on a rare and ambitious excursion. It was all the more extraordinary considering he was sixteen at the time. Desiring to see and learn more of his native North Carolina, he biked, unaccompanied, a distance of more than 1,700 miles during his five-week school break.
When he first broached the subject of the trip, his family strongly objected, but with much persuasion, he won them over. To help smooth his path and facilitate connections, Gordon’s uncle, a local merchant, provided him with a letter of recommendation to present to those he would encounter along the way:
“To Whom It May Concern: I have known the bearer of this note, Gordon Spainhour, about 15 years. He is a boy of good reputation in our community – a member of a good family – a student of good record in our local High School – a model Sunday School and Church attendant, and in every way worthy of respect. Any kindness or assistance that you may render him will be appreciated by him, and the community will also remember you kindly.”
In preparation for his adventurous trek, Gordon compiled his packing list in a spiral-bound notebook: 4 shirts, a sweater, a sweatshirt, 2 ties, 3 pairs of pants, 6 pairs of socks, 4 pairs of cotton underwear, 2 towels, a washcloth, 10 handkerchiefs, a blanket, dry goods, a road map, hair tonic, a toothbrush & paste, gauze & tape, Mercurochrome, shoe polish, a pen, pencils, postals, a flashlight, a thermos, soap, a comb & mirror, safety pins, a rope, a needle, thread, buttons, a knife and a whet rock, a can opener, pliers, 4 wrenches, sunglasses, a watch, and a Kodak camera.
At 7:20 AM on June 14, he left his home on Cove Creek in Watauga County and traveled 100 miles on the first day, eating by the roadside and arriving in Mars Hill, North Carolina thirteen hours later at 8:20 PM.
Throughout his excursion, Gordon, with an open eye and receptive mind, noted some of the things he observed and was impressed with: clay soil and numerous mica factories at Mars Hill; beautiful floats and magnificent bands at the Rhododendron Festival parade in Asheville; the pulp mill in Canton; fishing and boats at Lake Junaluska; the Nantahala Forest; rich farmland in Hayesville; the abundance of peaches and cotton in South Carolina; a fish hatchery and game preserve outside of Fayetteville; the perfectly clear water at White Lake; and the Wright Brothers Memorial at Kitty Hawk. But, Gordon would state, what appealed to him more than anything else was the kindness of others.
Along the way, he collected signed “affidavits” from the mayors, city clerks, and other officials of various cities he passed through as proof he had been there, but his most prized souvenir was the signature of Governor Clyde Hoey, which he obtained in the state capital of Raleigh.
At various points, he stayed with relatives and family friends in private homes, or in tourist camps, although when those accommodations were not available, he was equipped to sleep in the open. He kept his expenses down by avoiding costly meals, but he occasionally took in shows, did laundry, and got a haircut. His total expenditures during the trip totaled $35 - $1 a day for his 35 days on the road.
Amazingly, Gordon traveled through Banner Elk, Spruce Pine, Burnsville, Mars Hill, Asheville, Canton, Clyde, Waynesville, Hazelwood, Balsam, Bryson City, Topton, Andrews, Marble, Murphy, Brasstown, Hayesville, Franklin, Highlands, Etowah, Hendersonville, Brevard, Chimney Rock, Spindale, Forest City, Shelby, Kings Mountain, Charlotte, York (SC), Rock Hill (SC), Albemarle, Badin, Biscoe, Candor, Pinehurst, Southern Pines, Samarcand, Fort Bragg, Fayetteville, Tar Heel, Elizabethtown, White Lake, Wilmington, Wrightsville Beach, New Bern, Washington, Williamston, Nags Head, Kitty Hawk, Roanoke Island, Manteo, Fort Raleigh, Currituck, Norfolk (VA), Rocky Mount, Raleigh, Durham, Chapel Hill, Greensboro, High Point, Thomasville, Winston-Salem, Wilkesboro, Boone, and lots of places in between. With little to no bike trouble, he averaged around 80 miles per day, and by the time the trip was concluded, he had visited more than a fourth of North Carolina’s one-hundred counties.
Despite his life being cut short, Gordon’s memory and legacy lived on among those who knew and loved him.
And so does the story of that remarkable summer journey he made across the Old North State.