A couple of years ago, I took a trip east through fields of peanuts and cotton to spend the day in Goldsboro. Before meeting up with a friend, I made a detour to visit the Aycock Birthplace.

At the time, I didn’t know much about Charles B. Aycock—just that he had once served as governor of North Carolina and that his name was stamped all over the state. Schools. Streets. Historical markers. I grew up hearing him called the “Education Governor.” But after that visit, I realized there’s more to his story.

A lot more.

The History of Aycock Birthplace

Charles Brantley Aycock was born on November 1, 1859, on his family’s farm near Nahunta—now Fremont—in Wayne County. He was the youngest of ten children born to Benjamin and Serena Hooks Aycock. His father, a landowner and state senator during the Civil War, was politically active, and the value of civic engagement was instilled early.

Though not planter-class wealthy, the Aycock family had enough means to send Charles to private academies in Fremont, Wilson, and Kinston. At sixteen, he taught a public school term in Fremont, an experience that shaped his lifelong conviction in the transformative power of education.

In 1877, he enrolled at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, where he honed his skills as a debater and gave his first public speech—appropriately enough, on the value of education. After graduating in 1880, Aycock returned home to practice law in Goldsboro and soon co-founded the Daily Argus newspaper. But it was politics—not publishing—that became his true calling.

By the late 1800s, Aycock had established himself as a gifted orator and rising political force. He served as U.S. Attorney for the Eastern District of North Carolina from 1893 to 1897 and gained popularity with fiery stump speeches across the state. In 1900, he won the Democratic nomination for governor and defeated Republican Spencer B. Adams by the largest margin in state history at the time—60,000 votes.

As governor, Aycock touted the “Dawn of a New Day” and poured his energy into expanding public education. He believed education was the key to building a better society. Under his leadership, thousands of new schools were constructed, literacy rates rose, and teacher salaries increased. He opposed legislative attempts to fund white and black schools from separate tax bases, arguing instead for universal public education. In his words, education should serve “every child, of every race and condition.”

There’s no denying the progress made under his watch. His legacy in public education remains significant.

But here’s the hard part.

Charles B. Aycock was a man of his time. In the wake of Reconstruction, he believed political power should belong exclusively to white men—and said so plainly.

He rose to political prominence during the 1898 election, giving speeches that stirred fear and reinforced racial divisions. “There flows in my veins the blood of the dominant race,” he told audiences. And in 1899, he worked closely with state legislators to lay the groundwork for Jim Crow.

His election marked the beginning of a 72-year Democratic hold on the governorship.

By the early 2010s, Aycock’s legacy came under new scrutiny. His name was removed from campuses and signs across the state.

Visiting The Historic Site

The Aycock Birthplace is preserved as a state historic site near Fremont. The modest home and surrounding buildings offer a glimpse into rural 19th-century life. A one-room schoolhouse sits on the grounds, alongside a kitchen garden and exhibits about the development of public education in North Carolina.

You’ll find the birthplace at 264 Governor Aycock Road, just outside Fremont. It’s open Tuesday through Saturday, and admission is free. Visitors can walk the grounds, tour the home, and learn about the good and the bad of Aycock’s legacy.

It’s not easy history. But it’s necessary. Because understanding where we come from helps us see more clearly where we’re headed.

And it raises a fair question: Should we really work to erase Aycock from memory? Or should we remember him fully—his accomplishments, his failures, and the lasting imprint he left on the state?

After all, forgetting the past doesn’t erase it. It just makes it easier to repeat.