Marvin Gordon

Marvin Gordon was a special friend and a man worth remembering. I first met him when I was a young boy, and never got to know him all that well, but he had a quiet and gentle nature that quickly won my admiration. The attached childhood photo of Marvin and his sister, Olla, taken at the Vossburg School, is the only image that I have been able to find. He was born, raised, and died in Vossburg. To my knowledge, he was never married. I am told that he joined the Army during the early years of World War II and while in combat, witnessed some horrific tragedies. Although he never spoke of it himself, to me, there were rumors that he witnessed the fiery death of some comrades and the experience apparently haunted him for the balance of his life.

Marvin with his sister Ola

When I first met Marvin, he owned and operated a small dilapidated garage and store located just south of the Vossburg Cemetery on the west side of the Vossburg - Paulding road. There, he lived out the majority of his life while sharing a small frame house with his sister, Ola Gordon Moseley. Ola was blind as the result of a stroke suffered during childbirth. Later, her husband left her with several small children. I can only remember meeting Ola once, but often noticed her quietly sitting alone on the porch of their house.

Marvin spent the majority of his days tending his store in the company of his large flock of bulldogs. He always kept at least a dozen or so lying around the building and in the gravel driveway. Unfortunately, none of the dogs took a liking to pedestrians or kids on bicycles. In order to successfully pass by Marvin's store, one needed a great deal of nerve, a good stick, and a brisk pace. Needless to say, Marvin never had a problem with prowlers.

Over a period of time, after I had outrun, outwitted, and got my bluff on the dogs, I finally gained enough curiosity and courage to stop at Marvin's store. A brief and meaningful friendship would follow.

Marvin usually wore an oil-stained Texaco service station uniform and kept a large chew of tobacco in his cheek. His business was extremely sparse and I can not imagine that he earned very much money. Occasionally, an old car or truck would turn into the gravel lot, blowing the horn to disperse the dogs, and stop at the antiquated gas pumps. To the rear of the lot, a pair of rusty service ramps permitted access to the underbelly of a vehicle. Weather permitting, this is where he utilized his mechanical skills. The decaying remains of several pre-war vehicles lay scattered around the perimeter of the unpainted tin roof building.

Oftentimes, I would slip down to Marvin's store with a quarter to purchase a small package of Red Man chewing tobacco. One extremely brave cat always maintained residence atop the glass framed display case where he kept it. In those days, there were no laws against selling tobacco products to minors, but he always gave me a hard time about buying it. Afterwards, we would sit at the front of the store, shaded from the broiling summer sun, talking and spitting onto the oil soaked driveway. He was the type of conversationalist who never spoke first, but always answered my endless barrage of questions. Naturally, I always felt very grown-up. He never talked about his war experiences.

Occasionally, when some friends and I would go camping, I'd stop by Marvin's station to buy a dimes worth of kerosene for my lantern and to assist in the building of a campfire. He would manually fill my quart jar from an old fifty-five gallon drum marked, Coal Oil, while ranting about the dangers of setting the woods afire.

During one winter, while I was back home in Alabama attending school, I received the news that Marvin had met a terrible end. His store had caught fire and burned to the ground. Marvin was unable to escape. When a passerby saw the flames and stopped, Olla was standing on the porch, calling Marvin's name, unable to see the horror or to help. They buried Marvin in the Vossburg cemetery, alongside his family, beneath the shelter of a huge water oak. I'm not sure what became of Ola.

During the ensuing years, I have continued to visit with Marvin whenever I pass that way. Marvin was a very good man and I pray that he found peace.

Return to the Vossburg Map Page