Lastgen Party

Alan McConnell hosted a wonderful party recently for Genlasters ( the last generation of staff members) to work at Fort Scott. I saw a lot of familiar faces and realized once again how blessed I am that they have been a part of my life.

On a personal side, many of you commented that you had enjoyed the Fort Scott Blog, and were looking forward to more posts in the future. I must admit that I was truly touched by all of your kind comments, and will try to be a more regular poster in the future. All of us have real life commitments, and I have let mine get in the way of my writing.

So on with the post. First of all, I want to start by wishing all of those who read here a Merry Christmas, albeit belated, and a Happy New Year. I hope that God will continue to bless all of us in 2008.

As I drove home, I was thinking about how I would describe some of the people that I talked to last night to someone that had never met them before. I started making a thumbnail sketch sort of, of the people that were at the party, and tried to describe them in a sentence or two. These are the ones I have come up with so far, in no particular order….

Biz M: The best hugger I have ever met. Her joy and zest for life radiates from her and fills whatever room she is in. You can’t help but feel good about yourself when you have spent time around her.

Ted L: One of the most “genuine” people I have had the pleasure of knowing. He is a hardworking man who will look you in the eye and tell you what is on his mind. I rarely see him without a smile on his face, and his love of Fort Scott is immense.

Tom B: Incredible story teller, very animated. His mirth and excitement are infectious. There is a reason that he was an icon at Fort Scott. He is another person that loves life and makes you glad you were around him.

MABS: A person with many facets. One moment she will be telling you stories about partying at Flick’s the next she will be engaged in something far more intellectual. Many times when I talked with her in the past, I got the impression that she knew more than she was telling. Like me, MABS feels like the work at Fort Scott wasn’t finished when the camp was closed.

More to come as I find the right words...

Bob

Thanksgiving at Fort Scott

a reader sent me a note encouraging me to imagine what Halloween at Fort Scott would have looked like, but since I have been limited in my blogging time as of late, I missed that opportunity, so we will have to wait until next year for that one. But it got me to thinking of what Thanksgiving at Fort Scott would look like. So here goes....

Naturally, there would have to be at least a little bit of snow on the ground. This is a Currier and Ives kind of scene in my mind. The dinner would be laid out at the Boys Mess Hall. Luminaires would be placed all the way from the gatehouse to the circle lot behind the Boys Messhall. A large fire would be burning merrily on the hill overlooking the Boys pool.

Preparation would have started on the food early in the day. Tables would line the walls loaded with covered dishes of every imaginable type, and pies, cakes and cookies enough to feed an army. There would be table cloths on all of the tables and centerpieces with candles on each one. The air in the mess hall would be fragrant with the smell of turkey and dressing cooking.
The Leonard boys would be outside cooking deep fried turkey. The doors would be swinging open and shut constantly with our children running in and out, making new friends and playing tag in the darkness.

At 6:00 or so, we would all gather around these tables surrounded by our friends and family and quietly join hands. John Farmer would lead us in a prayer to thank God for all of our blessings and we would sit down to a meal that we would not soon forget. Afterwards Sue Carfagna or Tim Clossen, or someone else would get out a guitar and we would sing until the night got very late.

As I write this little story, it occurs to me that a blessing that we all might overlook is that we can imagine this very scene, and remember friends that we would like to include in it.

I just wonder now, why did this never happen for real?

Peace and Happy Thanksgiving everyone

Bob

10 Things..CIT Shack

Ten things I remember about the CIT shack are....

1. The porch was the second best porch in the whole boys camp. You could lean back in a chair and rest against the wall, with your feet up on the rail

2. The men from the riding staff loved to use our bathroom

3. The speakers from the boys lodge seemed to be pointed directly at my door.

4. Bobby, one of the other CITs during my stay could throw a lawn chair over the roof

5. The lights from cars coming into the parking area at night would always shine right through my door

6. Tom Beiting had a really cool bachelor pad on his end. We didnt go in there, and as a matter of fact, I am not sure that he was ever there very much.

7. Since it was so far away from the other cabins, we were spared the raid that year

8. It was a really cool cabin, because it was shaded even on the hotest days. However you had to walk really far to get a drink

9. There was a brand new riding trail they were breaking behind the cabin that led to the tennis courts

10. You could hear my stereo all the way to the mess hall. The kitchen guys told me this.


Bob

10 Things: Cabin Alder

Just a side note, sorry I haven't posted much lately things have been incredibly busy. Life to get back to normal and in a couple of weeks.
In the meantime, here are some things I remember about Cabin Alder.

1. The door spring was weak, so the wind would blow the door open and shut it night.
2. The cabin was at the edge of a hill, so it was up on blocks to keep it level. I would always have to look under there to make sure campers weren't hiding.
3. Again was also under the trees, so it night, it was really nice when the wind was gently blowing, you could hear the wind blowing through the leaves.
4. Because of the cabin's placement the speakers on top of the Lodge weren't pointed at it. So was quieter than the rest of the cabins on the Hill.
5. Sometimes I would have to say something to the counselors living in the Boy's Shack, because when they get rowdy you can hear everything that was said.
6. Fred Hornback was assigned to Cabin Number Two or Buckeye, whatever you'd like to call it for several sessions.
7. It always seemed like the walk to the Lodge or the pool or to the Playhouse was shorter from Cabin Alder
8. The walk to the 8 1/2 was naturally longer.
9. I think Cabin Alder was my favorite cabin on the Hill.
10. I don't think we had a clothesline on the back of cabin alder.

See you soon,

Bob

Ten Things....

I got this idea from other Blogs and decided to fit it to this one and make it a series

10 Things I remember about....

The Play House
1. it was the first Fort Scott building I ever remember being in. My first incoming Sunday as a camper, they processed all of the new campers there, took temps and so forth. I remember it like it was yesterday, Carol Leonard telling everone to "squishy wishy" together.

2. playing dodgeball or floor hockey in there was always so much faster that it was in my school gyms because it was smaller and the floors were slick

3. when they installed the new lights in there, it would always take them forever to come on

4. I was in there one night shooting basketball and Allen Fazenbaker's dog Cinnamon, chased a skunk in there.

5. There was that one basketball hoop that was set lower than the others. It was fun seeing the kids jam a basketball in there

6. I saw the movie Star Wars there for the first time.

7. I suprised more than one couple that had chosen the play house as a place to spend some quiet time. I never did it on purpose, I was usualy as embarrased as they were

8. I remember a troop of tumblers and acrobats that camp brought in, and they had set up in the playhouse. One of the men on his tumbling runs was jumping on a mini tramp. I was sure he was going to hit the ceiling

9. We used it for midget junior dances. I think the counselors had as much fun as the campers

10. There was gravel underneath the bleachers.

Bob

Sleeping arrangements

So who decided which bunks were the cool ones to sleep in and which werent? When I was a counselor, I always slept in the bunk that was on the bottom and to the right of the door when you went in. It seems like most of the counselors chose this same arrangement. Was this because it got the best breeze? Or was it easier to sneak in after bed check without waking your kids?

It seemed like there were prefered spots in the cabins for the campers as well. You didn't have as many choices when you were in a cabin on the hill, but there were definitely prefered bunks in Senior 1. My first year in Senior 1, the bunks of choice were the farthest from the doors, on the bottom. I was stuck in the bed right next to the door. Although I got the best breeze at night, I also nearly drowned during the raid that period. After that, I chose the bunk on the counselor end in the corner, on the bottom.

The only thing that was better was when I was actually a counselor in Sr. 1 and got the counselor corner. I even brought my stereo and had a dresser. That was really living the good life.

Bob

A letter from Matt, October 4, 2007

Hey Bob, I still remember my first experience at Fort Scott, and it wasn’t even with my own cabinmates.

I think it was either my first or second day that 1st 2-week session in the summer of 1982 (I believe the big activity that session was the Olympics). I seem to remember being in a small group of campers headed up by Tom Fairbanks and we headed into the woods. It had rained the past couple of days, so the timing was perfect for the activity. We finally reached our destination: the Mud Slide. I must have gone down the Slide at least a dozen times, as I was covered from head to toe with all sorts of nature: mud, tree bark, and other things I couldn’t recognize.

I could hardly recognize anyone in the group, we were so covered. Tom let us know it was time to head back, as it was about an hour or so until supper at the Mess Hall. I headed straight for the 8 ½ and its showers. Soap and shampoo were as useless as trying to clean up an oil spill with paper towels. After 30 minutes or so in the shower, I still had nature in my hair. My clothes were then marked as broken in by the Fort Scott experience. I think it was like 4-5 days later that I finally had every bit of the mud and stuff out of my hair and off of me.

I do remember we had our group picture taken when we got back to camp, but I never did get a copy of it; wish I had.

I remember my first counselor that session, Brian Spears. That session was very memorable, up to the final nights, as I took down many camp awards, including the revered “Rec Tan Award,” and our cabin took first place among the Midget cabins for cabin clean up. I was glad I could make it to that awards ceremony, as I had become sick the night before. Brian took our cabin to the front field, where we joined up with some others for roasting marshmallows in the campfire. I still cannot get over what I did there with my marshmallow; I put it over the fire, allowed it to ignite, and watched it burn and expand to a large black charred bubble on my stick. I still cannot believe I ate it---I think that was what had made me sick.

All of my memories of Fort Scott, from the mudslide to being guest emcee at the Variety Show in the summer of 1988, to the numerous all-camp games of North vs South capture the flag (er...popsicle sticks), to all the other great times I had, will remain in my heart til I am long gone from this earth.

Matt

More than the sum of our parts

Though I may be stating the obvious, the camp staff was always greater than the sum of its parts. As a camper, your view of the staff was myopic at best. You knew your counsellor, and the counsellor in your buddy cabin. You knew the counsellors that were in charge of the departments, and if you were lucky you could remember their names after a day or two.

As I grew older, I became more aware of the staff, and the administration, but it really did not become clear to me what a wonderful collection of people it took to make Fort Scott run, until I became a staff member. I really cannot count being a CIT. Although it was a job, and we did have assignments, it was still pretty much like being a camper.

As I spent more time on the staff, I also realized that certain persons within the staff shaped who we were, and gave the staff its own personality. I am talking about people like Tom Beiting, well really, the whole Beiting family. And there was Steve Sincheck, and of course Cathy. Who could forget the trio of Dale Siegal, Mike Strong and Bob Hunnenfeld (spelling?). Those three spent many afternoons teaching me lessons in humilty on the volleyball court. There are dozens of others, but the person that I wanted to talk about today was John Farmer.

I will come right out and say that I admired John Farmer a great deal. He was one of those people that never seemed seemed to get rattled or flustered, and we all know that there were plenty of things that could do that for you at camp. John always seemed to have a kind word for any kid, and his smile would cheer you up, even on a pretty lousy day. He was just an all around nice guy.

Two things that really stick out in my mind about John but were very telling. I think it was during staff orientation, and we had broken up into small groups and were filling out surveys. We were asked questions about our favorite place to go on vacation, favorite food, etc. Then we were asked about our favorite book. I only remember one answer, and it was John's. He said his was the Bible. I think that gave real insight into what made John what he was.

The second incident was on cabin walk. As I recall, and as was usual, the first night there was always one really rowdy cabin. The common response among the less experienced counsellors was to kick the door in and try to intimidate a some order into the campers. And we had tried that a couple of times. On the third time, John told us to just stay put and he walked down and talked to the kids. It worked. He didnt raise his voice, didnt kick the door, he was just John.

I think we all could take a lesson from that, and be a little kinder to each other.

Bob

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.

First Time for everything

Fort Scott was loaded with firsts for me

It was the first time I slept in the forest under the stars
It was the first time I rode a horse or even touched one
It was the first time I dove off the high dive into a pool
It was the first time I ever kissed a girl
It was the first time I ever played mud football
It was the first time I was ever away from my parents for more than three days
It was the first time I ever signed a contract
It was the first time I ever got a paycheck
It was the first time I ever kissed a woman on stage (sorry Katie)
It was the first time I ever stayed up all night long just for the fun of it
It was the first time I ever at White Castles and smoked cigars (and thankfully the last)
It was the first time I ever had a crush on a girl so badly that I couldn't sleep
and it was the first time I ever cried because I had to say goodbye to a friend.

Happy Labor Day Weekend

Bob

Another Milestone

Well, we have done it folks. We passed 2000 page loads sometime in the past day or so. I want to thank everyone that has come and shared a memory here.

I still would like to encourage those of you who pass through this "museum" to at least leave a comment with your name on it somewhere. You cannot be a part of a family and remain anonymous. Who knows, someone out there may be looking for you.

Onward to 5000

Bob

Serenity

During my time as a counselor at Fort Scott, I think there was only one or two weeks that I did not have a cabin.
Most times, this was not a problem, I enjoyed the kids, and I made it a point to participate in their programs. I didn't do this out of a sense of duty, it was just fun for me, and I connected with the campers better that way. Now and then though everyone, including me needed a break from the mayhem.

Sometimes it was as simple as taking a swim during rest period, or a walk in the woods- just somewhere that was quiet and had a little solitude. With me, I would usually try to find a way to retreat into my music somehow. Maybe it was a quiet hour in my cabin with head phones or just sitting down at Wagner doing cabin assignments and having a radio playing softly nearby.

One of my favorite memories of Serenity amidst the chaos happened when I was an AD. The camp had purchased a really nice PA system and I had taken it upon myself to take care of it. I was setting up for Counsellor Stunt night and most of the boys hill was either playing games, or at Chapel. The bowl of the hill above the boys pool had become an oasis of quiet. I put in a tape of the Soundtrack of the Man from Snowy River, and sat in the middle of the hill, just listening.

It was a nice way to get re focused and back into the swing of things.

How about the rest of you? Got any good stories to share?

Fort Scott Walkthrough

this is my first attempt, but you get the idea.

Bob

Where is this all going?

I have been having an ongoing conversations with Thom in California regarding all things Fort Scoot, and he said something that caught my attention.

".... I hope more old and aging Fort Scotters will discover your excellent blog." When he said that I realized something that I might not have made clear.

This Blog is for everyone that ever walked through the gates of camp, and up that long hill.

In my mind, this is an online museum and I am only the currator. I have been supplying my own memories and thoughts about camp up to this point, but sooner or later, that well is is going to run dry. My fear is that this blog might be perceived as something that is only for my era.

As I told Thom, with each passing year, more and more of the history of our beloved camp is lost. I want to preserve as much as I can for everyone, as soon as I can.

So once again, please pass the word about this site. I really feel like we have barely scratched the surface.

Have a great weekend

Bob

All I can say is WOW!

Bruce Brownlee sent me copies of his picture collection from Camp. Some of them Ihave seen before, but the ones I am sharing tonight just knocked my socks off.

I can't thank you enough Bruce!!!!

Drama continued

Another Drama activity that gave some unexpected insights into the campers was the improvisational skits. Long before Drew Carey did Who's Line, the campers were doing the very same thing.

The midgies were all pretty predictable where their skits would go. At least with boys, sooner or later it would wind up as some kind of action scene...good guys shooting the bad guys

Juniors did a little better, but usually by the time they would actually get into the skit, someone would cut up somehow and the mood would be broken. It was hard to do any real interaction when somebody was making fart noises with his armpit.

The Seniors, especially when the program was mixed boys and girls, could do some remarkable and emotional things. I am not sure what we would have to do today with some of the things we learned.

Sometimes if you watched carefully you could see that one of the players was really attracted to another, and this was a way to say it, but not say it. Sometimes the topics drifted into painful subjects. Not often, but enough to make an impression. I remember very well an episode where I could swear the girl was trying to tell us that she had been abused. I am fairly certain that she was given some extra attention by her counselors after that.

The best part though, was the realization of how talented our kids were, and how lucky we were to be working with them. Unfortunately, it sometimes took years to realize that.

Bob

You liked it or you hated it

Drama was a program that to my knowlege only existed at Fort Scott as a stand alone program for the last two or three years of camp. Two of the principal counselors for this program were Dan Phares and Cath Hellman.

People were of two mindsets about Drama, they either loved it or hated it. The interesting part about it was that you could almost never predict which campers would love the program and which would hate it. Counselors were a bit easier because over time you would get to know their likes and dislikes. I was a person that really liked Drama.

One of the activities that I learned in Drama, that I still use today in certain teaching settings was called Mirrors. When "playing" mirrors, all of the campers would pair up and face each other. One person would be designated as the leader and the other would follow. The leader was allowed to make a gesture, facial expression, or other movement and the follower was to try and mirror the movement. The leader was not allowed to move his feet, and you were not allowed to touch each other. The counselors would try to encourage the campers to use movements that were fluid and broad so that the mirrors could follow the leads.

The fun part came when a counselor would call "Switch". At that point the roles would reverse and the leaders would be mirrors and the mirrors would be the leaders. As the game progressed, the time interval between calling Switch would be shorter and shorter.

Almost every time we had this activity, and interesting thing would happen. It would start out the the normal sillyness that you would expect from teenage boys and girls, but once the game went on, the group would become noticably quieter. Without any instruction, the movements would become more and more fluid, and the concentration levels of the campers would get higher and higher. The longer the game went, the more intensely the kids would be concentrating in each other, and the quieter things would be. It was odd to have 30 kids being almost completely silent standing on the Boys hill in the middle of the day.

After a while the game got very fast, with Switch being called every second or two. Eventually we would end the game, and then ask the campers if they knew who was the leader and who was the mirror when the game ended.

They almost never knew.

At the time I thought that this was just a fun, mind expanding game that gave the kids an idea of how to concentrate even with distractions. However, as I look back, I realize that there was a certain genius to the game. When we work together as a team, and can forget about who is the leader and who is the mirror, we can work with a single mindedness of purpose that is amazing.

Bob

Seven Words that make no sense together...

These seven words will mean absolutely nothing to you unless you were a Senior Boy camper or Counsellor

Italian Mo Ravish Spaghetti Tree Detroit Mo

But we remember don't we boys?

Bob

and here I was bragging on him....

Ok, Bob, got a story from one of the final nights the summer of 1987.



It was one of the final couple nights that the camp was open, a clear night, thankfully, as rain would have spoiled the whole plan. I was a senior, and had volunteered for cabin watch that night, as all the staff, from both boys’ and girls’ camps were either at a gathering, or in the Chapel, cannot remember which. My shift at the flagpole was from 12:30 to 1 am. At 1, Ben (I don’t remember his last name) and I stealthily made our way along the woodline past the Handicraft and Playhouse buildings, and made our way toward the main road, heading between the pools so as not to be seen.



Heading along, we noticed several staff members making their way back up the road, towards us. So, we spotted the rows of concrete that used to support a water tower and lay down between them, hiding from the unsuspecting staff. If I remember correctly, Mike Strong and you, Bob, were among those to pass not ten feet from us. When the coast was clear, we made our way to the Girls’ senior cabin. Ben was my lookout while I crept to the window to see if any counselors were inside. To my relief, there were none. Heather (don’t remember her last name) and a couple others spotted me and came outside, surprised that we had pulled it off.



I could hardly believe that we weren’t seen, as there were so many that passed us by as we hid between the concrete rows. Not even the headlights of passing cars on us alerted anyone to our presence there.



Ok, here’s a fun one from the final summer the camp was open.



This was one of the days that the senior canoe trip was going on. As I had already been on 2 or 3 already that summer, I chose not to attend this trip. There were a couple other senior guys and a few senior girls who also didn’t go. The senior girls stayed in Wagner Lodge that session. So, I and the other guys who stayed behind decided to raid the girls in dangerous territory.



We started off just nonchalantly making our way down the road, acting normally, keeping a close eye out for any staff members. We made our way past the boys’ mess hall, down the road past the athletic field, and then past the Point of No Return. We had crossed the border into girls’ camp.



We were almost there when we saw a car coming up the road towards us, and not just any car. Mr. Morissey, the boys’ camp director, was at the wheel. He pulls up to us and comes to a stop. “Hey Matt, hey boys! How are you doing?” he asked. “Great, couldn’t be better.” We replied. “Have a good day!” he said to us as he drove off. My heart was beating with such a flurry, as I knew where we were should have meant a ticket home. (Now, Bob, I knew ahead of time that the Kay Morissey was going to be the new Chaplain & her husband would be the boys’ camp director; after all, she was my chorus teacher my freshman year at Alter High School. After she informed me of it, I did even more to get on her good side in preparations.)



We then proceeded unimpeded to the lodge and had a great time tickle-torturing the poor senior girls who were unfortunate to not have gone canoeing.



I will send you more tales of mischief later.





Matt

Raising the bar

I received a great E mail the other day from Thom in California. He was responding to the post I put up about the raids and the senior boys wildness that followed. As it turns out, modern day pranks were a bit tame compared to those from "back in the day".

Thom described one prank that occured during lunch. A crew of four maintenence counsellors, apparently led by an esteemed former camp director snuck down to the Girls Shack and applied a coat of fresh paint to all of the toilet seats. I am presuming they were wooden seats at the time. This prank occured not long after the same seats had been wrapped with Saran Wrap. Thom explained that the counselors were infuriated. I would say that they were tired of being the butt of so many pranks (sorry, I just couldn't stop myself)

Another spectacular prank that he related was the theft of the girl counselors undergarments. They were found later in the mess hall freezer. He did not say whether or not they had been soaked and frozen into a cube....now that would have been cold! (oops, I did it again)

Perhaps the master touch was the story of how an enterprising counselor took a tape recorder and bugged the womens restroom that the girl counselors used at Pex. I can just imagine when they had the closing camp party and that tape was played back.

Now those were the days.

Bob

As a camper I only participated in one camp Raid. I was never able to guess the right period to attend camp. However for whatever reason I was in camp for three of the Girls Camp raids. Just lucky, I guess.

The one raid that I remember the best though is the one that happened the night before an all camp switch- the girl’s counselors came to the Boy’s Camp and vice versa. I don’t know who was in charge of scheduling this, but as far as the senior boys were concerned, it was “getting even” time. I suppose we really did try to be gentlemanly at first, but we got off to a bad start by refusing to use utensils at breakfast.

It only got worse after that. I remember that one of the morning programs was swimming. Naturally the girl’s counselors who were sentenced to spend the day with us had to wait outside the cabin while we changed. What they did not expect was for several of the more adventurous boys to take the opportunity to go streaking around the outside of the cabin, literally.

I am sure that their clothes dried out during the next week or so of camp, but the poor girls definitely spent more time in the pool than out of it during swim program.

Somehow they managed to regain control, at least for a little while heading into lunch. I am guessing that they threatened to cancel a dance or something, but that didn’t seem to deter us much.

Rest period that day on the hill and in the senior cabins could only be described as mayhem. The girls had made their own little Raid flag, and run it up the flagpole. Naturally, that was the first thing to come down. We wore it as armbands, or headbands, or whatever sized strips we could tear it into. Then we found the dirtiest pair of underwear we could, and ran that up the flagpole, daring the girls to take it down.

The afternoon program pretty well degenerated into chaos. I sometime during the afternoon we had sports, and the girls decided to try and civilize us with tennis lessons. Can you imagine 30 rowdy senior boys on an asphalt court with tennis balls and rackets, and something to prove?

A new game was invented that day called War Tennis, based naturally on Warball. By that time, the girls could do nothing but stay on the sidelines and hope we didn’t kill each other. Our rebellion pretty much came to a halt when one of the girls had the nerve to try and stop the War tennis game. She was stuffed into the racket bag and taken to the Boy’s lodge to be mailed to Australia.

Mark Maxwell took a pretty dim view of the whole idea, and put a stop to the whole thing by bringing our counselors back from the Girls Camp.

I wish that I had the comedic writing ability to relate just how funny all of this actually was, but I guess you had to be there. However, rest assured that everything that I have said is true.
Have a great weekend

Bob

the continuing Saga

Matt was one of those campers that had been around Fort Scott for so long, and was such a good kid, that everyone knew him. In a lot of cases, he knew the programs better than some of the new counselors. I had the pleasure of knowing Matt when I was a counselor and also as an Administrator.

What is really neat is to hear back from him after so long. One of the things that I wish I had been better at as a counselor was getting to know the kids on an individual basis; where did they go to school, what did they want to be when they grew up, how many brothers and sisters, what did their parents do for a living, etc. I have always wondered how things turned out for “my kids.”

Some of them, I had legitimate reason to worry, others I knew were going to be successful no matter what they chose to do. From reading Matt’s letter, I know that he fit into the latter category.

So let’s hear from some other former campers. Those of us who were on staff would love to know where life took you after Fort Scott.

Bob

Now THAT's What I am talking about

Matt Giffen was good enough to share these pictures with me, and I wanted to share them with you.

I have a couple of stories about Matt that I will post shortly

FSF (Fort Scott Family) Profile: Matt Giffen

Name: Matt Giffen

Years At Ft Scott: 1982-88 all as camper

Years as Camper: 7

Current Occupation: Adobe Software Sales

Current City of Residence: Portland, OR

Family: Single, but engaged

What have you been doing since camp? Graduated High School
Spent 2 years at college
Graduated from massage school in New Mexico
Lived 12 years in Las Vegas
Been in Oregon since Nov 2006

Which Fort Scott Family member(s) that you haven't seen in a long time would you like to see again?All of them (even including you, Bob, as well as Tom Fairbanks, John Lynch, John Farmer, Scott Brauch, Tom Beiting, and others)

If camp were open again for just one day, what would you like to do?Extract honey from the beehive, do another airband contest, raid the Canteen

Part of that World

Kind of brings a tear.

Maintenance, are you listening?

Letters, Oh We Get Letters!

I received a delightful letter today. Naturally I am going to share it with all of you.


I was a Fort Scott legacy...my dad attended FS from 1948-1953. And so, at the ripe age of 7, I attended my first 2-week session of FSC...and my life has never been the same since! My brothers Todd and Jeff and I all attended every summer – always for the “Variety Show” session (end of July til early August) –until we were too old to go to camp anymore. And each of us was heartbroken when we turned 15, knowing we could no longer meet up with all the friends we’d made over the years.

Believe it or not, I now live less than 5 miles from camp...whoddu thunk? I have yet to muster the gumption to drive by the “remains” of FSC, knowing that it’s now a community of homes. I juts don’t think my heart could take it! Hardly a week goes by each summer that I am not transported back those hallowed grounds...so many memories, such good friends, lots of life lessons learned. How can it no longer exist? How is it that I won’t be able to send my daughters to Fort Scott? That is the reality...and yet, I prefer to look at old pictures, and allow thoughts of those wonderful summers to creep in whenever the spirit moves me.

Here are just some of my favorite memories of people, places, and things...maybe some of these will bring smiles to your faces, as well.

*Girls’ camp counselors and directors Miss Wanstrath (first taught me to ride), Miss Wiwi, Miss Gruber, Miss Wolfe, Miss Enright, Miss Bonekamp, and of course, Sister Mary Morley (do you think she still has that whistle around her neck?)

*Boys’ counselors Tom Murphy (whose siblings Maureen, Todd and Molly were campers); Steve Kunkemoeller (younger bro Danny was camper too.)

*Remember the smell and the creaks of the floor of the girls’ lodge? The dances held there, and the dance *practices* for the variety show? How unbelievable hot it would get in there. And we simply didn’t care.

*The wonderful masses at the chapel? Those of us who helped plan the liturgies and participated (vocals and guitar) loved every minute of it.

*How much did we love our canteen cards? FunDip, Twizzlers, and frozen candy bars?! Remember walking into the mess hall in the mornings with the scent of bacon wafting thru...and at dinnertime, the fresh green beans that I’m certain had boiled all day long...

*Remember having to know the difference between sassafras, oak, and elm leaves?

*The 4 am. raids with water balloons on the boys camp? Well planned and always well executed!

*Why did our moms feel the need to send us to camp with numerous cans of bug spray? We obviously didn’t care to use it...that’s why we looked like infected lepers by the time we went home. The combination of mosquito bites and poison ivy was quite a sight. Again, we simply didn’t care. We had way too much fun to notice (except, that is, for the summer I wound up with large spider bites all over my legs. I was on Senior Hill by then, and was very conscious of how the cutest members of the boys camp might react!)

That’s all for now...I will check in soon with some other memories...

FORT SCOTT ROCKS!

Beth (Brinker) Landfried
Email bethland@fuse.net

If camp were around today

I have received several letters from Fort Scott Family members from the era prior to mine which has really piqued my curiosity. What did camp look like in the 50’s? What was the relationship like between the campers and the counselors? What was the relationship like between the counselors?

But also, I wonder what camp would look like today.

In today’s world of hyper clean super sanitary, could there be an 8-1/2 or a bug house?

Would we have to insist that people leave their Ipods, laptops and cell phones home, or would all the cabins have to be WiFi hot spots?

Would we be able to have an Indian Pageant?

Would we be able to keep score at the Middle Saturday Swim meet?

War Night was already on the way out, but would we be able to play War ball without getting an insurance waiver?

One of the last years we had at camp, we elected the Mayor of New Baltimore and had a parade and speeches. Would the Fairness Doctrine be invoked?

What about Christmas in July?

What about flag raising?

One match fires?

Sugar highs from Canteen?

Truly scary ghost stories?

Mud Hikes?

I say it was a better time then, and we would do well to go back to that way of thinking.

Happy Weekend

and we thought canoeing was dangerous

So good it has to be bad for you

After a week of mess hall food, take out pizza was manna from heaven. Who wants a slice of Trotta's?

Click the menu to enlarge it.

You can visit their website and take some home tonight.

http://trottaspizza.com/

Happy Eating

Bob

...and to have everyone in our Fort Scott Family...

Legacy

I was thinking today about how Fort Scott was not only a family place, but families came and worked there, and some marriages got their start there as well. It would be interesting to find out how the percentages of families working at say Proctor and Gamble, would have compared to the families that came through Fort Scott. I have no doubt that the Fort Scott Families had a far greater positive impact on the campers, staff and parents than you could find anywhere else.

I don’t know of very many marriages, but let me list them and maybe all of you can help fill in the blanks:

1. Tim and Ellen (Hilliard ) Buell ( I miss you old buddy)
2. John and Carolyn (Schmidt) Farmer
3. Mike and Heidi (Theobald) Strong
4. Terry and Pam (Gray) Fazenbaker
5. Mark and JoAnne (Wolf?) Maxwell

I know there are dozens more, they just don’t come to mind right now.

Here is a list of all the families I can remember, and I definitely need help with the names:

1. Mark Maxwell, JoAnne Maxwell, Lynn Wolf
2. Tom, MaryAnne, and Laura Beiting
3. Steve, Ted, Carol, and Sue Leonard
4. Bernard, Steve, and Kathy Sinchek
5. Doc Schroeder and his nephew….?
6. Katie, Steve, and Sandy Ratterman
7. Rose, Stephanie, and Jessica Vesper
8. Eric and Evan Frayer
9. Mike and Jeff Kirschner
10. Sarah Oswald, and her brother….
11. Ed Shannon and his family
12. John, Richard and George Stenger
13. Terry and Mark Fazenbaker
14. Megan and Ian Jones
15. Missy and Trip Edwards
16. Bill, Kay, and Karen Morrisey
17. Pat, Ed and Tom Fairbanks


*****Note: if anyone does not want their name to appear on this blog, please contact me and I will remove it immediately******

1st Milestone

Milestone

We passed the 1000 page load mark yesterday. I wish I had a way to tell which person was our lucky #1000, but I will just say thanks to everyone who has stopped by so far.

As I said in my letter to Don Koehler, a conservative estimate would be that there are 40,000 people out there who have been touched by Fort Scott. Hopefully most of them have fond memories of our beloved camp. I would be nice to hear from many more of them. Please spread the word.

Bob

The heat index is 105

Anybody Thirsty?

Warning: This Entry is a Rant

I drove by camp yesterday. In retrospect, I wish that I had not. I have been avoiding going by since I knew that they were going to develop the property into a subdivision.

It’s not like I was going to get overly emotional when I saw what was happening. Camp is gone, we all know that. But I regret what it has become.

I used to brag that I could find my way around the property blindfolded. Yesterday, I was not sure that I could even place where the Gatehouse had stood.

The corral is gone, and so is the forest that had been planted near it.

We all saw the pictures from Joe Wessel’s Blog showing the local fire department burning down the Girls Lodge.

The pond that the previous owner had built is gone, and the front hill has been re graded.

All that we knew and loved has been removed.

The sad irony of it all is that the developer chose to keep the name Fort Scott.

The grounds are nothing but a bunch of mid price houses and cul-de-sacs now. I always flinch when a developer announces a new subdivision and they call it something like “The Oaks” or “Settler’s Walk” or “Deer Creek”, and brag about the natural setting and walking trails. What is natural about asphalt and manicured lawns? The only way a deer would be seen there was if it got lost.

I did not drive down the streets.

I think I would have been sickened to see Schroeder Way, or Pottenger’s Lane.

If there is one bright spot in all of this, it has strengthened my resolve to preserve what is left. And I will confess that I don’t do this for my kids, or for posterity, or even for you, the person that might be reading this rant right now. I do this for me.

Fort Scott was sacred a sacred place for me. Some of my happiest memories of my youth originate at Fort Scott. I never had a job where I made less money, but that brought more joy and happiness into my life.

Long Live Fort Scott

Bob

I probably shot down a thousand airplanes that day.

I crawled through mud, and dirt, and straw, and of course horse manure. I rode a broom everywhere I went, and had to know the correct knots to tie my "horse" to a railing or tree or something when we went in to eat.

We had to have demonstrated our ability to ride, or at least not fall off or panic when the horse decided to be contrary.

We helped saddle. We helped feed and clean the stalls. We helped the counselors with program. We worked our butts off.

Finally, on awards night, we got called down to the pool apron and received our patch and got to sing the Cavalier Anthem.

As a camper, this was one of the best nights of my life.

I wish I could find that patch.

Blood on the saddle

Blood on the ground

Great big puddles of blood all around

Pity the cowboy

Bloody and Red

the old cow pony

done stomped on his head.

Did they do this in the girls camp?

Have a great weekend

Bob

We called it Warball

All you needed was an asphalt tennis court, about 40 teen aged boys, a dozen or so half inflated volleyballs, and a ton of testosterone.

Add to that some counselors that had a warped sense of humor, and the game became a game of shirts and skins.

Add to that a lot of sunshine, and suddenly, both teams were laying on their backs, on the hot asphalt, behind the baseline, waiting for the counselors to count off "1-2-3 Warball"!

To my knowledge, noboday ever got seriously injured playing,maybe a skinned knee, or a little overheated. There was that one time that the kid wasn't looking and stepped right in front of a ball and literally got knocked out, but we dont count that really. Do we?

The bottom line is that WE LOVED THIS GAME, to the point of taking parts in tournements in the evenings, and playing it again on open program Saturdays.

Who thinks we could play this game today?

Words to live by

Someone took the time to paint this work on the wall underneath the Boy's Shack in the place affectionately known as PEX. This was some heavy reading for a 17 year old the first time I saw it. I think I may have read it 100 times during my tenure as a staff member.


Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly;and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,you may become vain and bitter;

for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;

it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs;for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;

many persons strive for high ideals;and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.

Especially, do not feign affection.

Neither be cynical about love;

for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you,no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,whatever you conceive Him to be,

and whatever your labors and aspirations,in the noisy confusion of life

keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,it is still a beautiful world.Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952.

[Karaoke] Barry Manilow - Copacabana

This might have been brainwashing, but one of my first memories as a camper was of someone playing the same song on the PA over and Over and OVER!

I won't give any names, but his initials were Pat Fairbanks....

This is for you Pat. Sing it for us.

Bob

Horses rescue in Holland-new music score

This has Nothing to do with camp, but since we were on the topic of horses.....
These horses had been stranded on that island for several days due to rising flood waters. Many had died from drowning or exhaustion before the rescuers could get them to safety.

Bob

The Man From Snowy River - Banjo's Poem

The riding staff should remember this movie.

Mail Call!

We all loved getting letters at camp. When I was there, mail was usually distributed right after lunch. I received this letter from Don, and decided to share it all with you. I think Don had some very valid points, and to some extent I agree with him.

I will let you read his letter and my response, and you can decide for yourself.


Hi Bob!

Your request for stories piqued my interest. I have two things for you. One is that I am the guy who took all the plaques from the senior cabins. My wife is about ready to set them out on the curb so if you could see your way clear to mentioning them on your blog I’d be grateful.

The second is you mentioned showing your children what a great place camp was. No offense meant but one of the reasons I stopped going to the reunions was the tendency on everyone’s part to look back rather than forward. Stipulated, Fort Scott was magical and will live in my heart forever. But now it’s gone and I have kids who can never go there however much I might wish they could. I faced that fact four years ago and found a camp that they could go to in southern Illinois called Camp Ondessonk. I too grew up at Ft Scott (1970-1980) and can truly say that the magic of camp is not the place, it’s what you do there and the people you do it with.

For the last four years my kids have gone to Camp O and I have volunteered for three of those (Duty in Afghanistan kept me away one summer). Camp O is every bit as magical as Fort Scott was. So if you are looking for a place where your kids can create their own memories you would do well to consider sending them to Camp Ondessonk. And who knows, depending on when you send them I may be one of their counselors for the “All Day Hike” and/or Woodsmanship just as I was your counselor on Nature program in 1979 and 1980. I’ve taken the best part of Fort Scott to Camp Ondessonk with me you see, the part that lives in my heart.

I volunteer there every summer while my kids go as campers. My daughter will (Hopefully!) be asked back as first year staff next year (CITs to you and me). That’s the other great thing about Camp O, you don’t have to live vicariously through your kids. You can go too as a volunteer. That’s what I do and will likely continue to do long after my kids grow up and can’t go to camp anymore, except they can volunteer as I do and eventually their kids will go to camp.

You see, it’s all about looking forward, not back. I wish you well with your blog. I considered posting this rely to all rather than just you, but in the end decided against doing so. Many might not want to hear what I have to say. If you think my comments have merit by all means post them on the blog and that will serve the purpose of getting out both of my messages.

Cheers!

Don Koehler
Fort Scott Bi-Na Club 1977Camp Ondessonk Lodges of Ondessonk & Tekawitha 2005



Don,
I will go ahead and post your letter verbatim and hopefully those who want any of the plaques will contact you before the plaques get sent to Mt. Rumpke.

Regarding your outlook towards the past (Fort Scott) and the future ( Camp O) I agree with you whole heartedly. I appreciate your sharing about Camp O, and consider your endorsement of Camp O to be very high praise. Who better to evaluate the pros and cons of a camp than someone who was a camper and counselor at Fort Scott.

This blog is not meant so much to dwell on the past, but rather to chronicle a place and a family that has touched by conservative estimate, nearly 40,000 people in the time that camp was open. Yes, Fort Scott is gone. All one has to do is drive by and see what they have done to the grounds and the forest to realize that there is no returning to the past. I think it is sadly ironic that the developer would not let our camp rest in peace, but chose to keep the name, but that is a discussion for another day.

So why not consider this blog as a family photo album, or perhaps a digital museum? I remember you as a counselor during my first years as a camper. That seemed to be a time when Fort Scott was at it’s very best.

Lastly, and most importantly, thank you for your service to our country.

My best to you and your family,
Bob Saurber

Every job has its perks....

For me, one of the really nice advantages to being an AD of the Boys camp was that I went on every canoe trip. I am not sure that they needed me there...maybe it was a ploy to get rid of me for a few hours.

Anyway, for me there was nothing better than a few hours drifting down the Whitewater river watching our campers have a great time and soaking up the sun.

I made it a point to be in the lead canoe because it held the food and drinks, so nobody would dare tip us. There was always one of the girls staff members in the canoe, so the company was pleasant as well.

I really miss the cold bologna sandwiches that we would eat while pulled up on a beach somewhere along the way. But I miss the peaceful hours the most.

Morgan's Canoe Livery has really expanded their operation since 1988 and they have a nice website as well.

http://www.morganscanoe.com/brookville/photos.cfm

Bob

Blame it on the Boy Scouts

British Bulldog Game A Favorite Game
This Game is meant for Boy Scouts.Decide for yourself if it is appropriate for your younger scouts or not.
Notes:
This gets VERY physical. You may want to address your larger scouts aside before the game about handling smaller scouts.
Instructions:
One scout is the 'bulldog' and stands in the center of the play area. Troop lines up at one end of play area. When the bulldog yells, 'British Bulldog', all scouts run to the far end of the play area, avoiding the bulldog. To capture someone, the bulldog must lift him completely off the ground long enough to yell, '1, 2, 3, British Bulldog!' He then becomes a bulldog too. The last player caught is the bulldog for the next round.


You can go here: http://www.boyscouttrail.com/content/game/game-361.asp for some more cool scouting resources

Bob