In both worlds, he brought intensity and patience, showing a frustrated old-timer with inky fingers how to embed a hyperlink, guiding a nervous first-time paddler through Haw River rapids.
An uncommon collection from both of those worlds mourn Brueckner’s passing, remembering his unfailing kindness, his sly wit and his nest of untamed gray hair.
When he died on Feb. 28 at 69, he could list among his proudest accomplishments a tie for the longest-serving president of the Carolina Canoe Club.
“Usually,” he joked, “they just drown.”
Brueckner came to Durham via Indiana, where he both earned his Eagle Scout rank and picked up a lifelong French horn habit, holding down middle brass for the Durham Community Concert Band.
His sister Ann recalled him building a canoe in the family garage, soaking the wood for a frame they covered in blue Fiberglass.
“The canoe held up well until Bob decided to take it down the Eno,” she wrote. “It was not designed to contend with river rocks and rapids, so unfortunately that was the last voyage of the blue canoe!”
While studying at UNC-Chapel Hill, he laid down blazing prose for The Daily Tar Heel in the funky 1970s, including this dispatch from the legendary Hollerin’ Contest in Spivey’s Corner:
“The old wrinkled man in overalls and light tan hat stood quietly in front of the microphones. In the lines of the old farmer’s face were hot dusty summers and the frost of winter mornings. He was thin, silver-haired and did not look like he could talk much above a whisper. Much less holler. Then he took a step back from the mikes and let loose a powerful holler. Woo
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