May 6, 2005

The trip of a lifetime

Solo 1935 bike ride from California to New York

By Donna H. Eliason
Staff Writer

To make sure the children in his daughter’s elementary school classroom really understood his message, 90-year-old Charles “Charlie” Klotz asked them what they had learned from his talk.

The infamous bicycle that transported Charlie Klotz 3,000 miles from the Bay Area to New York.

“If you set your heart on something you really want to do, you can do it,” answered one of the students.

Bingo. And that’s exactly what Charlie did 70 years ago when he began a solo 3,000-mile cross-country bicycle trip, from Hollister to New York City, on June l5, l935.

With a twinkle in his eye, and a ready smile, Charlie sat in his Alum Rock home of 64 years, recalling with delight, vivid trip details as though the adventures had happened last week.

Teen’s biking passion
Biking became an important part of Charlie’s life when he was l3 years old. He needed money to buy a scout uniform, so he took a bicycle delivery job from a Hollister drug store.

“I delivered before school and after school from 3:30 to 6 [p.m.] and all day Saturday,” says Charlie. He estimates he rode about 40,000 miles during this time. Since this schedule prevented him from participating in after-school sports, biking became his passion.

“I used to ride l00 miles round trip to San Jose for an ice cream treat on Saturday or Sunday,” he adds. He also entered and won biking races such as the 26-mile Watsonville amateur race. Charlie chuckled, “I was taking a shower when the second place rider came in.”

New York trek idea
In the spring of 1935, when he was just 20 years old, Charlie lived in Hollister while attending San Benito County Junior College, known as Gavilan Junior College today. He recalls wanting to take a trip that wouldn’t require him to turn around at the end of a day.

An adventurous, 20-year-old Charlie Klotz refused to abandon his plans to travel cross-country when his friend backed out at the last minute.

So he and a buddy thought it would be novel to ride their bikes to New York during summer break after his graduation from junior college and before his first semester at the School of Pharmacy at the UC—San Francisco.

They figured they would have to ride at least 100 miles per day to get there within a month and return in time for the fall semester.

With the townspeople of Hollister solidly backing their trip, they were ready to roll until at the last minute, his friend backed out of the plan. Rather than quit, Charlie decided to make the dangerous journey alone.

Solo trip begins
Family and friends—plus Hollister’s chief of police, the sheriff and the police commissioner—cheered Charlie on during a great send-off. A police car with a blaring siren escorted him out of town, treating him like a local celebrity as he began the journey.

Several biking buddies accompanied him the first day.

Charlie organized 25 pounds of necessities in a pack made from the soft durable material used for automobile tops at that time. He also fastened a small repair kit under his seat. His parents, who were confident of his Eagle Scout survival skills, gave him a thick World War I blanket to keep him warm at night.

No fancy mountain bikes
His wooden bike wheels had spokes soldered at crossing points to prevent wobbling. The durable tubeless tires of that era held 90 pounds of air, which made it a very hard ride, but decreased the chances of tire trouble. The only tire problem he encountered along the way was finding a service station that could pump up his tires to 90 pounds.

His bike had a fixed sprocket, which meant there wasn’t a gearshift. So he welded an extra sprocket on the front wheel of the bike so he could downshift to a lower gear when he approached a mountain to climb.

Charlie Klotz holds the wooden bike wheels that carried him across the country, from Hollister, Calif., to New York City in the summer of 1935.

This meant switching the wheels from front to back and adding five more links to the bike chain. Although the process took about an hour, it made his ride easier.

At the mountaintop, he changed the wheels to their original positions. Since this was a racing bike without a coaster brake, he couldn’t coast downhill—the pedals turned constantly.

The plan was to travel about l00 miles in six to ten hour days. Sometimes this became l50 miles due to the variable distance between towns. Because of the desert heat, Charlie had consulted an almanac before the trip so he could travel on full moon nights.

He slept in haystacks, hayfields, barns and even a front yard. Several families invited him to stay in their homes.

During the day he nibbled on dried California apricots and consumed large quantities of milk. To stay within his $l00 budget, he ordered the cheapest meal on the evening menu.

One crisis happened outside Laramie, Wyo., on June 20, l935. He told the New York Herald Tribune,“The muscles of my right leg bound up on me, and I had to pump three days with my good leg. I threw one leg over the back wheel and climbed the continental divide.”

He encountered another challenge when eight to ten inches of water flooded the roads that he had to traverse near Allentown, Pa. “Water was over my shoe tops and ankles while riding the bike,” Charlie wrote.

Shared experiences
He shared daily experiences on postcards sent to Hollister, and his hometown fans glued them beside a large map in a store window. Everyone could follow Charlie’s adventures from the postcards and from Hollister’s newspaper, Evening Free Lance, which published a series entitled, “Kross Kountry with Klotz.”

When Charlie arrived in New York City on July 15, l935, just 30 days after his departure, he said, “The front tire came through in fine shape, but I used up three rear ones.” Somehow Charlie made his way to New York Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia’s office to commemorate his amazing journey.

For the return trip home, Charlie’s half brother arranged for him to buy a used New York City police motorcycle for $125. They packed Charlie’s trusty bicycle and shipped it home via Panama Canal.

Charlie took the police lights and siren off this motorcycle and learned to ride as he drove. A policeman stopped him, convinced the bike was stolen. After receiving the New York City police confirmation and seeing Charlie’s bill of sale, the officer suggested Charlie take off the NYPD sticker from the gas tank.

Settling down
Charlie made it home via motorcycle in 10 days. When asked why he did it, he says, “When I was l8, I felt like I wouldn’t get tired. I could ride all day.” Would he do it again? “Once is enough,” he replies.

While Charlie Klotz made his cross-country trek, he sent daily post cards of his travels, and the proud citizens of Hollister plotted his journey on a map posted in a local Hollister store window.

Five years later Charlie married his sweetheart Helen, who insisted on “no honeymoon on a motorcycle.” In l94l they bought their present home in Alum Rock, where they raised two daughters, Nancy and Marjorie.

Charlie opened the Mayfair Pharmacy on Alum Rock Avenue in l946, where he put in l2-hour days for 31 years. He enjoyed knowing his customers and mixing the chemical compounds.

A recent pain in this energetic man’s hip has slowed down his 22-minute mile daily walk, but he still spend most of his days in his garden or doing repair work in his workshop.

Photos and clippings about this once-in-a-lifetime trip are cherished within a bound book. His bicycle and wooden wheels are preserved on his patio.

Charlie learned early in life what can be accomplished when you stay focused on a goal. And when he says you can do something if you really set your heart and mind on doing it, he knows from personal experience, that you can.

San Jose resident Steve Carusa, a fellow retired pharmacist, contributed to this story.