Sunday's

Sunday's were a special day at camp for me, both as a camper and a staff member. As a camper, we always got the nice breakfast, and there was Mass in the morning. As a Senior it was really cool to get to sit next to your girlfriend and spend the day, without the supervision of a normal camp schedule. As a young teenager, that was a big deal.

As I think back, I really enjoyed the Masses as well. They always had the Session theme incorporated into them, which made them special. But also, you were celebrating Mass in the midst of some of your best friends, out in the middle of God's creation. I remember that the music was always new to me ( that was a big deal), I think Earthen Vessels had just been released, and it felt like a real music ministry was happening.

As a staff member, especially as AD, Sunday was also kind of a check to see how well I had done my job. Cathy U, my counterpart, and I were responsible for the cabin assignments. It seems as the years went by it became more and more important to honor the bunking requests that parents would send in with their camping applications. It got to be a matter of life and death for Hunter to bunk with Justin and Christopher. More than once I was confronted by an indignant parent who could not understand why a midget camper could not be in Junior cabin just because they had requested it. It was worse when Juniors requested placement into Senior Cabins. All in all though, we rarely had a complaint that we could not resolve somehow. The sad part was, by the time we had gotten really good at it , the summer was over. Camp closed the next summer, so we never got a chance to improve our skills further.

I always liked getting to greet each camper as they came to check in also. It got me excited for the new session.

Bob

The pause that refreshes

Its been hot here lately, with temps at record highs, above 90. It reminded me of how much I liked that water fountain that was in between the Boys lodge and the AD shack. I always thought it had the best water in camp. There were other places to get a drink, but for some reason I loved that one. Then one year maintenance decided to turn it off. I never knew why, but I guess it was just beyond repair.

I remember the silly games that the boys used to play with it, plugging the little hole so it would fill up, and sometime playing in the mud and gravel from the overflow.

Getting a drink in the 8-1/2 was sometimes and adventure, if the place hadnt been cleaned properly, but the best part was that you could stick your head underneath the faucet and really get cooled down.

About the best place to get cooled down, besides the pools, was under the watertower when it overflowed. That didnt happen very often, but it was a real treat when it did.

Thats all I have for today

Ricky

My first year as a camper we were in Cabin 15, with George Clayton as a counsellor, and Steve Leonard in 16 as a buddy counsellor. The one kid that I remember clearly was Ricky. Strangely enough, I even remember his last name, after 30 years.

Ricky was fanatical about having his bunk clean, and being on time to everything. He always had to be first in line, and would complain bitterly if he felt he was being taken advantage of in any way.

Of course this got old quickly, and Ricky got to be the butt of many jokes and harmless abuses.

I remember one rest period it was raining, and we were stuck in the cabin. We were teasing the way 11 year olds would tease, and Ricky was becoming more and more agitated. The funny part was that the madder he got, the more he cleaned. He would even close the windows because of the water that would puddle on the tilting windows of the cabin. Eventually the rain stopped and we were able to go out before there was any blood shed.

I mention Ricky because I teach a boy just like him now.

His parents medicate the hell out of him.

I wonder what Ricky would be like today, and I wonder how my student would have done at Camp.
Bob

If you want to be heard

Please send me via the G mail account, anything that you would like to say to Mr. Meyer, provided that it is respectful.

Bob

Open Letter

September 20, 2007
Douglas Meyer
C/o Fort Scott Development Corp. LLC

Dear Douglas Meyer,
I am writing to you today in regards to the Fort Scott Development project, of which I have received a flyer and have also heard the radio advertisements.

I have followed the development of this property with a great deal of sadness over the years, as I am a former camper and Staff member of Fort Scott Camps. I had hoped that Fort Scott Camp would be a legacy that would be passed on to my children and grand children. Needless to say, that is no longer possible.

Fort Scott Camp was a very special place for me and many of my friends. It was a place where children could still be children, safe and isolated away from the cares in the world. For many children who came from less than privileged lifestyles, it was a brief break from what would otherwise be a very bleak circumstance.

Fort Scott was also a wildlife refuge and home to many plants and animals that cannot be found anywhere else in the Tri State area.

To many of us, Fort Scott was sacred ground. The sale of this property and use of it for anything other than a summer camp to me is tragedy.

I have learned through my correspondence with other Fort Scott Alums that the mailing list that was maintained by another Fort Scott Alum was used by you or marketing personnel working on your behalf to solicit sales of homes in your development. I find this disgusting and liken it to attorneys using the list of persons killed in an airline crash to find new clients.

I also have learned that you are using the names of Fort Scott icons, such as the Fort Scott Bugle, to name your streets and landmarks. I am respectfully requesting that you stop this immediately.

It is painful enough to drive down State Route 128 and see the signs for Fort Scott, knowing that instead of a magnificent camp that impacted the lives of thousands of people, it is now a collection of four bedroom houses on cul de sacs.

Surely there are other names that could be given to the streets of your development that would entice people to buy there. Must you continue to re open the wound of losing camp by stealing the names of things that were precious to us and using them in ways they were never intended?

I can assure you, that if your marketing department thinks that by naming the streets of a subdivision that is built on holy ground, after the icons that made it holy, that they will somehow entice Fort Scott Family members to purchase these properties, they are sadly mistaken.

I will be placing this letter on my website http://fortscottmemories.blogspot.com/. If you care to respond to this letter, I will place your response in the website as well, verbatim and unedited.

I am attaching letters that I have received from my friends and readers regarding this issue so that you can see that I am not the only person who finds your choice of street names profoundly offending and hurtful.

I realize that there is no stopping the development now. I am merely asking on my own behalf, and on behalf of the other Fort Scott family members that you find other names for your streets.


Regards,Robert J. Saurber

Small World

I work in the construction business, and I meet lots of people. My Outlook contact list has more than 1200 entries. On one project I was calling for bids for structural steel, and a man came in to look at the drawings.

He worked for a while, and then gave me his business card. I noticed his last name was Hornback. I remembered a Fred Hornback from my early staff member days at camp, maybe first year councilor and CIT. Fred had introduced me to British rock and roll, and loved the band called the Kinks.

We were good friends. He even drove a couple of times when we went to movies, or double dates. He had a red (I think) Volkswagen Bug. That was a fun car to go running around in.

So I asked Mr. Hornback if he was related to Fred.

Mr. Hornback got the funniest look on his face, and asked how I knew Fred. I told him about Fort Scott and the Bug, and how we had been friends.

Mr. Hornback listened quietly and then told me that Fred had been killed in a car accident some years ago.

He has never come back to quote any other work for us.

My world got a little grayer that day.

Bob

Letter to Beth- Sept. 18,

Dear Beth,
I have purposely stayed away from the "whys" regarding why Camp really was closed. I don't think we will ever know for sure, but I will go to my grave believing the following:

1. The air, soil, and water at Fort Scott Camp were clean
2. The insurance company "requirement" of a disclaimer in our brochure was suggested, not mandatory.
3. The low pre-registration numbers that were blamed for Fort Scott's closing were either deliberately mis-stated, or else could have been corrected with a minimal PR effort.
4. Fort Scott was an asset to be sold in exchange for cash to pay for settlements to children abused by priests.

As I have grown older, I have become deeply distrustful of lawyers, insurance agents, and the Archdiocese of Cincinnati. In my heart I believe that this all was carefully orchestrated among the three parties in order to deal with the scandal that they knew was coming.

I also find it revolting that someone would use names of Fort Scott icons to try and sell houses built on desecrated ground, and I intend to write to them and tell them so.

Bob

A letter from Beth- Sept 18, 2007

Hi Bob...

I saw it.
I didn’t want to see it.
I didn’t know I was going to see it when my husband told me he was taking me and the kids over to an “Open House,” where some of his builders would be – they would have hot air balloon rides, face painting, burgers and hot dogs, ice cream...fun for all. (my husband’s company does theatre rooms and security systems, and he wanted me to meet some of the folks about whom he speaks.)
I couldn’t believe it when we pulled in.
I know my husband didn’t give it a second thought – he knows my past from FSC, and said afterwards he didn’t realize how profoundly I would be affected by being there.
I stood outside the beautiful model homes, walked by myself past the Ben & Jerry’s cart, and took myself to the top of the dirt mound. I figured out exactly where I was by the sun in the 3:00 sky...and as I revolved, I saw the old rickety barn with “Fort Scott” still painted on its side. And then, exactly what I feared would happen, happened. I bust into absolutely uncontrollable tears... and could NOT stop (in fact, I was still crying on the drive home...)
Even the names of some of the streets – Bugle Way – made me weep. Most of the area is unrecognizable...although I did stand on what I’m sure was the “Girls Lodge” hill.
I will not go on and on about it. It is what it is. What angers me is that, like most things, it all comes down to the “almighty” dollar.

But *no one* can take away our memories...

This hurts me at least as much as it hurts you

My friend Bruce sent me these pictures in response to my post from last weekend.

I never thought I'd be able to buy a house and live next to the 8 1/2, the tennis courts, the Senior Cabin, or the Play House. But it's open house this weekend at Fort Scott.

Thumbnails below were from Fort Scott construction site on 1 July 2006. I have a full set of about 160 full size hi-res pictures I can send on CD if anyone wants them.
That's the Boys Flag on the first row left. They left it up during construction, maybe to have a known marker for laser surveying reasons while doing the grading and sewer pipe installation.

Bob

A Walk in the Woods

I was a camper and a staff member at Fort Scott for 12 years. In all those years, I only was on the property one time out of season. Once was during a preview session when I was first wanting to be a camper, and the other was during a High School retreat. Oh, and I seem to remember a Christmas party at Wagner.

But as the weather cools, and the leaves start turning, I really wish that I had walked the woods in the Fall and Winter. I can imagine what the trail leading away from the Indian Village would have looked like with a brilliant canopy of maple and oak leaves overhead. A soft breeze blowing through the trees would make the leaves rustle, and perhaps at the far end of the trail a buck would stand there looking at me.

And I would laugh at the irony of it. The woods that had only a month before that had been ringing with shouts from campers having the adventure of their young lives, or been filled with the sights and sounds of horses, and the pungent aroma of last nights campfire, had now become a wildlife preserve and sanctuary. As busy as we always were, it was easy to overlook some of the wildlife unless it ran over your foot.

My goodness, what have we lost?

Bob

Sell out

I didn't feel much like posting this weekend.

Every radio station I turned on was playing the same advertising....

"Come walk through our model homes. Bring the kids. A great time for the whole family. Take a balloon ride to get a real perspective of your new neighborhood. Close to the interstate, and local mall. South Western school district. Homes starting at $295,000.00"

I would post a link to the adds, but I am not gonna help them.

Holy ground sold to the highest bidder.....sigh


Bob

They were called Feather Dancers or Fancy Dancers

Every so often, FSC would bring in guests to put on presentations for the campers and staff. These guys really blew me away. The amount of work that had to go into costumes like these just boggles my mind.

Bob

Indian Reservation

Indian Reservation

I have debated for most of two days whether or not to post this video. I don't have the means to post songs by themselves, so I have to rely on YouTube.

My purpose was to bring back memories of the Indian Pageants that I attended. These were always my sessions of choice. I have been disappointed lately with the misplaced hyper- sensitivity that we have been subjected to regarding Native Americans and their traditions. I in no way want to discuss politics here. But it makes me wonder if we would be able to even think about having an Indian Pageant the way we used to.

The way I remember them, we were always taught to be respectful of the customs that we were re enacting. I doubt they would be percieved that way today.

There were several other songs that we used. Does anyone remember what they were?

Have a great weekend.

Bob

Let your opinion be heard

During my discussion with Beth, she had suggested the idea of having a Fort Scott Family Reunion for any camper or staff member that would like to come. So I am putting it up for a vote. If we get enough votes that would indicate a sufficient level of interest, I will go ahead and post other polls to narrow down preferences for a get together.

A letter from Beth

Hi Bob - I hope this finds you well.


I have some more of those sights, sounds, smells that never seem to leave my memory...

*Do you remember how, early in the mornings, we'd trudge through the wet, dewy grass and head to Flag? Many times, there'd still be fog wafting through the hills...

*How good did The Pool (s) feel on those sweltering summer days? Although I have a distinct remembrance of Miss Zoellner and Miss Wolf scurrying our Midget and Junior behinds into the pool in the COOL of the mornings, too. That water could be brutal at an early hour.

*I used to love the little "theatre" - the concrete stage that was tucked into the woods in the Girls' camp...we had loads of fun acting out scenes and being, at times, completely nonsensical. And its quaint setting always had me quite convinced that tiny little magical fairies would soon appear...So much for the mind of a child!

*Didn't we have dances at the Boys' playhouse, too? It always smelled like a locker room in there to me...but we didn't care!

*And in Girls' Senior Cabin, there was a constant stream of AquaNet hairspray coming from some corner. We were constantly "doing" our hair - even daring to put on a little lip gloss - knowing we'd be with the Senior Boys later...
And of course, we'd chat forever about the past, current, and future Fort Scott romances - campers and counselors alike!


These may stir some memories in others, so feel free to post - any of them familiar to you?

Thanks,

Beth (Brinker) Landfried, FSC 1971-1980

I thought I would add some context

Field of Dreams

Beth's comments for whatever reason made me think of this part of Field of Dreams. I had always said that if I were ever to hit the Lotto, I would reconsruct camp. Imagine with me that you had one more chance to walk through camp as it was, on the last day that it was open. Campers were gone and we had cleaned up. It was ready for another group of kids. Indulge me with this for a minute....

Bob, people will come Bob. They'll come to New Baltimore for reasons they can't even fathom. They'll turn up your driveway not knowing for sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. Of course, we won't mind if you look around, you'll say. They'll pass the time without even thinking about it: for it is time they have and peace they lack.

And they'll walk out to the cabins; sit in shirtsleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have reserved seats somewhere in one of the messhalls, where they sat when they were children and sang camp songs. And they'll watch the campfires and it'll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they'll have to brush them away from their faces. People will come Bob. The one constant through all the years, Bob, has been Fort Scott. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But Fort Scott has marked the time. This camp, these people: it's a part of our past, Bob. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh... people will come Bob. People will most definitely come.

This is one of my fondest dreams.

Bob

Fine dining

When I think back about the amount of time that I spent at Fort Scott, and the amount of that time that was spent dining, I am kind of suprised that I don't have more stories to tell. When you figure that out of each day we would spend almost three hours in the mess hall, surely there were some shenanigans that went on. Perhaps writing this will jog my memory.

Anyway, there are actually five meals at Fort Scott that stand out in my memory. Two of them deserve their own post which I will do in a bit. The five, in no particular order were:

1. The clam bake that George Wozniak threw on the deck of the boys pool
2. The pasta Prima vera dinner, also sponsored by George Wozniak
3. The best Senior Camp Out ever.
4. The riding department night out at Grand Finale
5. The all staff outing at B&B riverboats

Numbers 4 and 5 deserve their own posts, so I will leave them for later.

I remember the clam bake vividly. I can't recall why, but camp was empty, except for staff, in the middle of the summer. George had set up several grills to boil clams and corn fresh from the Fort Scott fields. Most of the staff was there aound the pool. It was one of those cool nights after a hot day where the steam was rising off the pool, and the lights were reflected on the pine trees near the path. In my whole life, I don't ever remember eating so much corn and clams. the company was good, the food excellent, and the setting was wonderful. Thank you George.

I didn't know George all that well, but it is obvious that he was an avid cook. The pasta dinner was held in the boys mess hall. I can't remeber if there were campers involved, but I remember that this also was fabulous. Since some people didnt care for Pasta Primavera, there was a lot left over. I remember we made very short work of the leftovers. I think another reason why this stands out in my mind, is that this was the same summer that our esteemed head cook allowed the hot dogs to scorch one day, and the camp had to bring in McDonalds in order to get every one fed.

The best Senior Camp Out ever stands out in my mind because not only was the food plentiful, but I think it was the only time that I was able to camp out with my two best friends. We also had an outstanding cabin that period with one of the best all around campers I ever had, Sam Hammock. Sam has a real zest and energy. He made sure that not only he had fun, but everyone around him had a good time too. I will always wonder how he is and where life has led him.

Anyway, as was the procedure when I was at camp, you had to turn in your food request a couple of days in advance. I always asked for extras because everyone who has raised a teenage boy knows they just can't get enough to eat. The kitchen always modified my order, so it would average out in the long run.

When I went down to pick up the food for the campout, I noticed that there were extra boxes of food with our name on it. When I asked the kitchen staff about it, they told me that a family outing had ordered the food, and then canceled. We were the next group out, so it was ours. Jackpot! There were double everything, and even stuff that we could not normally get. I decided to make it a nice suprise and not allow the boys to look in the boxes until we were out at the campsite, and set up. We had chosen Aqualung (or Rivendell) as we called it that was at the top of the hill beyond Squeakers Creak. By the time we got out there, got our tents set, and the fires going everyone was starved. When we opened the boxes, you would have thought that we had just offered free beer at a fraternity party. I think it was the only campfire ever where we had to bring food back.