The summer of 1952 was a very exciting time for me. Just past my ninth birthday, I boarded the Chicago & Northwestern "400" train with my boyhood chums, Steve London and David Belden, bound for Appleton, Wisconsin and then on to Camp Waupaca. David was already a veteran of overnight camp at Briar Lodge. Steve and I had spent the prior two summers at Sunshine Valley, a popular day camp in the wilds of the then largely undeveloped suburb of Deerfield. This was before Edens Highway came into being, and the seemingly endless daily bus rides had enabled us to gain complete mastery of "100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" and similar annoying tunes. It definitely was time to move on to bigger and better things.
Steve, David and I were assigned to Cabin 3. Our counselor was Joe Rosen, who with Irving "Skipper" Kuklin had founded Waupaca only a year earlier. Our cabin mates included Gerry Goldberg (whose parents were close friends of the Londons and Beldens, as were mine), Barry Shanoff (who I had already known from my very early years on the West Side, and who later would become my fraternity brother and roommate at Northwestern, a classmate at Northwestern Law School, Best Man at my wedding, and now a close neighbor in Washington where we both practice law), Eddie Baim, and Scott Nelson.
Camp Waupaca was to become my summer home for the next 14 years. It is a part of my life that I have always relished and will never forget. I'm sure there are many others who have much the same feelings. All of us "kids that come from Stratton Lake" owe a huge debt of gratitude to our parents for sending us to Camp (most of my Chicago friends stayed home for the summer); and to Skipper and Joe (and their spouses, Loretta and Mae), for making the economic investment and providing the enormous amount of "sweat equity" and dedication necessary to create and maintain a truly quality camping experience.
Skipper and Joe
Skipper Kuklin was one of the most energetic, versatile and talented people I have ever encountered. He never stopped trying to make Waupaca better and better. He was forever into new projects, many of which involved heavy duty construction: new backstops at the ball diamonds; a 3‑hole golf course across from the parking lot (sand greens; fairways were a little rough!); a marvelous two story diving tower (set originally by the drop-off near the water-ski dock and later beyond the advanced swimmer raft); the asphalt tennis courts; a pole vault pit by the far ball diamond; the New Rosen Bowl by the Rec Hall; the trampoline pit near the Braves Ring; and on and on. Skipper was a terrific athlete -- a tennis and diving champion in his home state of Nebraska, as well as an accomplished pole vaulter. In addition to playing a mean bugle, he was also a great tap dancer; and every once and awhile he would treat the assembled campers to a couple of routines on the Rec Hall stage. ("Me and My Shadow" was one of his favorites.) But above all, Skipper always had a twinkle in his eye and words of encouragement for every camper who crossed his path.
Joe Rosen was a true father figure and a wonderful role model. He was patient, gentle and a consummate teacher -- always willing to sit and talk, to guide you through the apprehension and excitement of a new challenge, or to help solve the problems that young kids away from home inevitably encounter. He added a certain spiritual quality and warmth to Camp life -- whether by leading an impromptu hora at a campfire or services on Friday nights; or simply by always smiling and always making you feel that he genuinely enjoyed being where he was and doing what he was doing.
Some Camper Memories
I remember well my first day at Camp. After unpacking, Joe marched us down to the Lake and took us for a ride in one of the large wooden rowboats that were a fixture on the Waterfront for many years to come. Our outing included a turn at the oars, an introduction to the legend of Big Mo, the sighting of turtles, frogs, fish and other wildlife, and a trip through the channel linking Little and Big Stratton. It was the beginning of a great adventure which, during that first and each ensuing year, brought a host of new and indelible experiences. Some of my most vivid recollections as a camper -- by no means all of them, and in no particular order of importance -- are recounted below.
Where We Came From. Virtually all of the campers in the early years were from the Chicago area -- most from the North Side, but also some from the South Side and the suburbs. In later years, more and more campers came from North Shore suburbs, and we also had kids from Omaha, Canada, Milwaukee, Oshkosh and Green Bay. For the first decade, all but a few campers stayed for eight weeks.
Grass Playing Fields. It was a real treat to play softball on grass ballfields, which were a lot easier to slide on than the gravel schoolyards that most of us Chicago boys were used to. We played not only with the familiar 16-inch Clincher, but also the unfamiliar 12-inch version that didn't seem to fit very well in my new Joe Gordon glove. Budding Hank Sauer's, Minnie Minoso's and Gus Zernial's strove to hit "gully balls" into the ravines that lie behind left field on the "near diamond" and right field on the "far diamond."
The Waterfront. The original Camp waterfront, called the "Old Beach", was fed by a very cold underground spring and reached via a quarter-mile path through the woods. Used only in 1951 and part of 1952, for decades to come it was the site of numerous unsanctioned nocturnal gatherings to which campers were rarely invited.. The showcase New Waterfront, with tons of sand, new piers, an advanced swimmers raft, and a robe rack with a hook for each camper, was completed just in time for the first parents visiting weekend in July of 1952. I remember how excited I was to qualify that first summer as an advanced swimmer, proudly diving off the end of the intermediate pier during G-Swim and heading for the deep-water raft. Like many others, I later qualified as a "laker" by swimming the length of Little Stratton. Some campers did double and even triple lakers, and the names of all who accomplished those long swims were etched with the appropriate number of dots (one, two or three) on plaques that hung in the Mess Hall. (When I arrived at Camp I could barely swim a stroke, and certainly did not imagine that I would someday direct the Camp Waterfront!)
The Old Rosen Bowl. Located in the gully near the Mess Hall, this was where we gathered the first couple of years for campfires and songs led by Abba Leifer and his accordion. ("The More We Get Together ...."; "There Was a Little Ford ...."(Joe's favorite); "We Are the Kids that Come from Stratton Lake ...."; "On Down the Field ...."); some pretty mellow harmonizing by Wally Gembica (the first Waterfront Director), Ray Petrilla and a couple of other early counselors ("In the Evening by the Moonlight...."); and of course the singing of Taps ("Day is Done, Gone the Sun ...."). We sat on rough hewn logs that lay directly on the ground. The New Rosen Bowl, built near the Rec Hall around 1954, was much better, with its great view of the Lake and bench seats.
Bugle Calls. It's hard to forget the familiar sound of Skipper's bugle calls, which marked the routine of the typical Camp day: Reveille ("Everybody up! It's a beautiful day in Waupaca!" (even if it was raining cats and dogs)); flag raising; morning classes and I-Swim; mess; end of rest period; G-Swim; flag lowering; and Taps. In later years, Skipper would often delegate the bugle duties to campers who were budding, or usually not so budding, Al Hirt's. One summer, in lieu of Reveille, we were awakened on many mornings by the loudspeaker blaring out Alan Sherman's hit record "Hello Mudder, Hello Fadder, Here I Am at Camp Granada...."
Sunday Events. Each Sunday we had two special events: a morning track meet (40‑yard dash; shot put; ball throw; and running broad jump); and an afternoon counselor softball game. Jay Doniger usually amassed the most points in the early track meets. Skipper and Joe were regular participants in the ballgames, as was Bob Carlson, who in addition to his counselor duties played for the local minor league team (the Waupaca Lakemen). I remember many a heated "fair" or "foul" dispute over balls hit near the third base line, which was situated on the sloping terrain of the far ballfield. Ron Silverman (one of the first campers to become a counselor) had an expansive theory on this, which he tended to espouse only when his team was at bat: "The diamond radiates out!"
Braves Night. Twice each summer, the entire camp gathered just after dark at the Waterfront for the dramatic and colorful arrival of Big Chief Kuklin and his Indian Warriors by canoe, complete with torches, headdresses and war paint. There followed a solemn march up to the Brave Ring, where Skipper demonstrated an uncanny ability to start the great bonfire every time by simply dancing around the neatly stacked woodpile and thrice uttering "Oh Great Chief Give Us Fire!"
The Blue and White War. For me, the anticipation and excitement of this ongoing 2‑week event was the highlight of each summer -- not only in my years as a camper, but also when as a counselor I took turns as Chief of both the Blue and the White teams. The daily competition in softball, basketball, touch football, soccer (not very popular in those days), volleyball (Newcombe for the younger campers) and flickerball (a cross between football and soccer, with goals scored by throwing a football through a suspended inner tube); the Swim Meet; the Boat and Canoe Races; Capture the Flag (the entire Camp grounds was our battlefield); the Presentation; the Song Fest; and of course the Super-duper Relay --including the endless wait for that second ringer to drop at the horseshoe pits, and then the final event: boiling a can of water with a meager pile of shavings, only two matches and the entire camp chanting "Boil, Water, Boil!!".
Special Events. We eagerly looked forward each summer to Gold Rush Day, when we would search for painted gold stones and rocks strewn from the back of the Camp truck all over the fields, on the beach and throughout the woods. The gold was brought to an Assayer's Office (the Canteen Shack) where it was weighed and exchanged for printed fake money. The day ended with a cookout and trying one's luck (for a fee, of course) at games of chance and other carnival events built and operated by each cabin.
Also special was Frank Buck ("Bring 'Em Back Alive") Day, devoted to building traps and attempting to catch frogs, turtles, rabbits, fish, muskrat, tigers, elephants, etc. Each captured animal carried a designated number of points. In either 1953 or 54, the year of the 17‑year locust, live grasshoppers were worth 10 points each. Cabins wanting badly to win the coveted first prize (a trip to the A&W Root Beer Stand and the Drive-in Movie), quickly figured out that they should forget about stalking bear and raccoons and instead run through the fields with outstretched white sheets. Thousands upon thousands of grasshoppers were captured and the tallying of final point totals lasted well into the night. (There were no "hanging chads" in those days.) The final fate for the hapless locusts was a huge bonfire, although a few dozen were spared and inserted under the sheets of counselor Harvey Schneider -- who happened to be my first cousin. (I of course had nothing to do with that awful prank. Harvey enjoyed napping a lot, and went on to become the counselor for a group of early teen campers, including Barry Shanoff, who reported at flag-raising and lowering under the cabin name "Horizontal Harv and His Vertical Five.")
Another popular annual event was Big Stick, Little Stick, Little Twig Night, when three counselors would appear at a campfire and proceed to perpetrate several very old water gags upon unsuspecting new campers. This was always good for lots of laughs and lots of wet clothes.
"All Out" Days. Each Thursday, the Mess Hall staff would take a well-deserved rest and the campers would leave for various outings in the Waupaca area. Our destinations included Ding's and Edmunds Dock on the Chain 'O Lakes (and a ride on the Clipper launch boat); Whispering Pines State Park (home to Marl Lake, with its incredible blue-green color); the Wild Rose Fish Hatchery; and the Crystal River Trip (where we "shot the rapids" in seemingly indestructible "duckboats"). Upon our return to Camp, each cabin would have a cookout (hotdogs, beans and bug juice), and sometimes cap off the day with an after-Taps adventure such as a snipe hunt, a blindfolded rope hike, or a midnight dip.
Camp food. Loretta was the Camp dietician and chief enforcer of the so-called "No thank you helping" policy, which required that each camper had to have at least one spoonful of every food served. Putting unwelcome food on one's plate was one thing, but actually eating it was quite another, particularly if the table counselor didn't like succotash either. In point of fact, the food was pretty good, even the corn fritters if you doused them with enough syrup. We all looked forward to Saturday lunch and hamburgers, fries, bug juice and chocolate sundaes. Counselor Jerry Zenner once downed 12 hamburgers at one sitting. (I will refrain from recounting Jerry's other contributions to Camp life.) On Sundays, we usually had fried chicken or steaks cooked on a large grill behind the Mess Hall. (Not exactly Mortons, but I don't remember very many complaints.) And during the late '50s, we began having pizza, baked in large square pieces by Head Cook Ann Towne. (Not exactly Pizzeria Due, but again few complaints.)
Clearly the most celebrated culinary happening at Camp was the introduction of cheese fondue, an international delicacy that was unknown to and unappreciated by our unsophisticated palettes. Suffice it to say that the fairly regular appearance of this stuff as either a main or side dish did little to improve our taste buds, caused much grumbling and countless "no thank you" helpings, and ultimately spawned a rather funny musical about how the impending bankruptcy and closure of Camp Waupaca was avoided by the commercial exploitation of cheese fondue. (The title song: "Cheese fondue is good for you, it saved our camp .... We eat it now for breakfast, and lunch and dinner too, it's cheese fondue .... for you and you and you!")
Illicit Food. The underground food economy thrived nicely (much to Loretta's dismay). Most campers regularly received sticks of Juicy Fruit tucked into letters from home. Counselors sometimes arrived at the cabin with midnight snacks from the A&W root beer stand or the pizza parlor in town. Parents visiting weekends were also a great boon on the food front -- not only sweets, but sometimes salamis and other much missed deli food. Larry Silton's folks could always be counted on to provide plentiful goodies of this sort. (In addition to many years together at Camp, Larry and I were also grammar school, high school and law school classmates. We had a nostalgic visit at the Camp Reunion in 1998, and I have always been very envious of the fact that he lives and practices law in Appleton.)
My own quest for illicit food continued into my counselor years. There was a trap door to the otherwise locked Mess Hall that we sometimes breached in order to satisfy our cravings for a late night snack. One night, my friend Shanoff and I were happily attacking a large kosher baloney in the walk-in cooler when we were startled by a stern "You boys looking for something?" It was Skipper, and he wasn't there because he was hungry. A lock soon appeared on the trap door.
Inspection. It was certainly not our favorite activity (particularly if you drew "Sweep" or "Mop" as your assigned chore), but the enticement of a trip to the root beer stand or other reward for having the highest 2‑week average seemed to result, for at least a few hours, in fairly presentable cabins. (Years later, during a far less pleasing term of "employment" with Uncle Sam, my barrack-mates marveled at my ability to make a "hospital corner" and bounce a quarter off my bunk.) I especially remember one inspection victory in 1953, when our cabin (Cabin 5, which included Larry Silton, Larry Goodman and Neal Tyson), was taken to the local drive-in theatre in the Camp truck to see Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn in "The African Queen." We sat in the open back of the truck on a very chilly night, but the movie was spectacular and to this day remains one of my very favorite films.
The Infirmary. For many years it was located in a converted garage next to the White House (Skipper's residence) and near the Old Barn (where the secret Brave initiations were held and the pinstriped mattresses were stored for the winter in the company of all sorts of critters). The early Camp Nurses were terrific, particularly Ann Underwood and Rosemary Sobel (whose kids were campers). Medical crises at Camp were fortunately rare, but I remember well the outbreaks of Impetigo and Pink-eye during the early '50s and the treatments for those affected (stinging eye-wash for Pink-eye, and swabs of ointment for Impetigo, often in rather embarrassing parts of the body). I also remember having a mild sunstroke during a baseball game one very hot afternoon (no doubt because I refused to wear a hat). My temperature shot up to 105°, and I was transported to the old Mirror Lake Hospital on Main Street in Waupaca (the Riverside Hospital had not yet been built). I stayed there for what seemed an eternity (probably not more than 2‑3 days), enduring highly starched sheets, putrid food, and a roommate who had been transferred from Marston Hall in King (the Old Soldiers Home). Dr. Sam Salan, a local Waupaca physician who served as Camp doctor (as did his son, Jerry, in later years), visited me frequently.
Camp Vehicles. Joe's Studebaker, Skipper's Plymouth, the Truck (in use all my years at Camp and probably a long time thereafter), the Carry-all van and other Camp vehicles logged hundreds of thousands of miles on Camp business. I have especially fond memories of the old Dodge, on which I learned to drive a stick shift in the "back forty", near the old site of the Camp stables. Fortunately, the clutch was real loose, and there were no other cars or humans nearby!
The Early Bird Trip. This was Skipper's and Joe's clever incentive for parents to sign up during visiting weekend for the next season. For many years, this entitled the lucky camper to a several day trip to Bayfield, Wisconsin, where we camped out and deep-sea fished on Lake Superior. We usually caught some very large Lake Trout, either on the heavy steel rods or manning the outriggers on the sides of each boat. Most of the campers also regularly "lost their lunch" on sometimes rough seas. (One year, Steve London and I were the only ones aboard the "Hedy Joe" who managed not to do that.) In later years, we went to different venues in Northern Wisconsin, including the spectacular Butternut-Franklin Lakes in Nicolet National Forest, where we spent the days canoeing, fishing and waterskiing, and the nights fending off some very nosy bears.
Honor Boys and Honorable Mentions. These awards were earned each week by campers who were (or at least gave the appearance of being) well-behaved. The lucky winners received a "blue feather" towards rank on the tribal ladder, which could ultimately lead to "Big Chief" and induction as a Brave. (Tommy Gelfand, a camper during the 50's, was able to recite from memory all honor boys and honorable mentions for any given week.)
Lower Organized Games. Not all of our time was spent in pursuit of traditional athletic or Waterfront activities. Other less strenuous diversions included knock‑hockey, tether ball, badminton, checkers and mumbly-peg. Many campers became quite proficient in these and other so-called "lower organized games", including late-nite War and Blackjack games by flashlight. In the early years, before plastic Frisbees came on the scene, counselors did the same thing with aluminum pie tins, a then macho activity that usually resulted in bloody hands for all participants. In later years, Hearts, Cribbage and Buck-Buck (a sometimes painful game involving human chain leap-frogging at the light post near the Mess Hall) were popular ways to pass idle time.
Waterskiing. The addition of aquaplaning and waterskiing in 1954 or 55 was a particularly historic event at Camp. Our first ski boat was a narrow wooden rowboat, with a 30 hp Johnson outboard motor operated from the rear bench seat by Waterfront Director Dan Martinson. A year or two later we graduated to a 14-foot aluminum boat with a steering wheel and a 40 hp motor, which continued in service for many years (though a bit precariously for some of the heavier skiers). Many campers and counselors became very proficient at this relatively new sport, including slalom skiing, skiing double and a variety of tricks. (Skipper of course got up on his very first try and circled the Lake without falling.) The parents weekend ski show was an especially popular event. One of the Omaha fathers (Bob and Rich Bernstein's dad) was a professional-level skier who treated us to some memorable trick-skiing exhibitions. Al Sorkin drove the ski boat with great skill for several summers, a job which brought frequent (and by Loretta's official edict, illicit) cash tips from parents who wanted to make sure that little Throckmorton got plenty of chances to ski. (Al made no promises. He merely shook hands and smiled.)
An earlier boat driver was Jim Hagerty, whose main calling was to run the Rifle Range. He did that with great efficiency and extreme seriousness; but in the ski boat, he was a loose cannon. He liked to sit on the dashboard facing the skier, with a cigarette dangling and maneuvering the steering wheel with one hand. One time, while pulling me and Larry Hoffman double (Larry was one of the very best all-around camper athletes), Jim got a little too close to the shoreline, resulting in my crashing full speed into a low-floating raft that I certainly was not expecting to encounter. I still have a slight scar from that scary episode, but fortunately was not hurt badly and in fact went skiing again the very next day. (My own love affair with waterskiing continues to this day at Deep Creek Lake in Western Maryland. One of the highlights of the 1999 Reunion for me was taking a few turns around good old Little Stratton. As a kid, I thought it was a pretty big body of water; more than 40 years later, it seemed like a mere postage stamp.)
Parents weekends. In the early years the parents visited twice, on the third and sixth weekends. The cars would start rolling in early Saturday morning (lots of Buicks, and Oldsmobiles, and a few Caddies and Imperials). The water shows, plays, special campfires, counselor-father softball game (sorry ladies, I don't think moms or sisters were officially excluded, but I honestly don't remember seeing any female participants) and other events would run nonstop until the mandated Sunday afternoon departure. It was amazing how good the Mess Hall offerings were on those weekends. The week before each visiting weekend a local barber would appear at the Rec Hall, and those of us whose crew cuts had become a bit scraggly were given a 30‑second quickie haircut with the aid of a bowl placed deftly on our heads (an experience that came vividly to mind many years later when I received my obligatory scalping at the beginning of Basic Training). Those same weeks usually included as well a mandatory "soap drill" in beginner water at the Lake. (A half bar of Ivory was given to each camper, with the strong admonition not to forget to "wash under the London Bridge.") Many of the parents (including my own, the London's and the Belden's) would take a few extra days at Smiths' Pines Inn or other resort spots on the Chain O' Lakes and/or play golf at the Waupaca Country Club. When campers got to CIT age, they were allowed to leave the Camp grounds with their parents for the day and sample some of the better local eateries - e.g., Simpsons Indian Room, in downtown Waupaca, and the Sky Club and Hot Fish Shoppe in Stevens Point.
Other Early Counselors. Apart from those already mentioned, some of the other counselors during my camper years included Fred Finkel, Al Sokolow, Bob and Dave Davis, Dan Danielson (the principal at Waupaca High), Peter Sher, Max Tyson, Al Kravets, Art Naiman, Ira Lurvey and Dave Weiner. (Dave was the original publisher of the Camp newspaper, The Waupaca Warrior. The Dave Weiner Trophy was awarded at the final banquet each year to the best overall camper.)
Some Counselor Memories
My several years as a counselor (1958-65) were equally memorable, if not more so. The notion of actually getting paid to go to Camp was very appealing to me. While I no doubt could have earned more working in Chicago, or perhaps done some European traveling (as some of my college friends were beginning to do), I never really seriously considered those alternatives. Waupaca was in my blood, and I wanted to keep going there for as long as possible. A few remembrances and vignettes from my counselor years follow.
My Responsibilities. My first year as a Junior Counselor was 1958, just past my 15th birthday. I was assigned to Cabin 2 with Chuck Cooper, an arts & crafts/folklore specialist who was loved by all and was a great campfire leader and storyteller (as was Ira Dubrow, another of the early campers who became a counselor). The next year I teamed with Jim Rudnick (who drove the skiboat) in Cabin 6, and thereafter was the senior counselor in several different cabins. Initially, I taught morning classes in tennis, golf and basketball, no doubt imparting countless bad habits and much misinformation upon my charges. In 1960 I switched to the Waterfront, where I taught swimming and skiing and ended up (as did Barry Shanoff) as Waterfront Director. For me, Stratton Lake was a very special place, and my attachment to its cool waters and familiar shoreline grew more and more with each passing summer.
My daytime duties also included tutoring campers whose ascension to religious adulthood was soon approaching. Bar Mitzvah lessons were held at the Rosen Bowl during rest period, the escape from which was only a mild incentive for my generally unenthusiastic students. Steve Kuklin was one of my earliest Yeshiva bochurs. Others included Marty Lack, Jerry Waldbaum and the irrepressible Michael Glickauf (whose rendition of the pre- and post-haftorah blessings was truly unique, each and every time!).
The Great Fire. One warm evening in 1958, around 6 p.m., Cabin 2 (my cabin) somehow caught fire and, together with Cabin 1, burned to the ground. These cabins housed the youngest campers, but fortunately everyone was at dinner in the Mess Hall when the fire broke out. The roaring flames and huge billows of smoke were frightening, and there was great concern about the fact that Jim Hagerty's ammunition shed for the rifle range was located only a few hundred feet away. The counselors and older campers formed a long bucket brigade from the Lake (Cabins 1 and 2 were by the road, near the ballfields), and were able to keep the fire from spreading pending the not so prompt arrival of the Waupaca Volunteer Fire Department. The fire finally abated around 9 or 10 p.m. Skipper drove a group of us into town to make calls from payphones to parents of the unlucky campers, to let them know what happened and that everyone was ok. (The old wooden party-line phone in the Mess Hall kitchen was not up to that delicate task.) A makeshift barracks was set up at the back end of the Rec Hall, and that became home for the displaced campers and counselors for the rest of the season. As luck would have it, the fire occurred during the fifth week of Camp, just before the second visiting weekend. We somehow managed to get through all the turmoil, and the inconvenience of the temporary living arrangements was pretty much ignored with the excitement of the Blue and White War. The cabins were rebuilt by the next summer. To Skipper's and Joe's great credit (and no doubt relief), almost all of the affected campers returned.
Staff Camaraderie. Skipper did an excellent job each year of putting together a compatible and enthusiastic counselor staff with a broad range of talents. Bob Krohn (who taught and coached at Evanston High and Northwestern) served for several years as Head Counselor. He was a terrific leader, an all-around athlete, and a great role model for both campers and counselors. (Bob's wife, Sue, taught swimming at Camp one summer -- as I recall, our first and only female counselor. They have since owned and operated their own camp for many years near Minocqua.) Wally Tomchek, a drama teacher and musician from LaCrosse, was a fixture at Camp for several years, putting on terrific Rec Hall stage productions of Can-Can, Camelot and other Broadway musicals (and also publishing numerous editions of The Waupaca Warrior). Norm Dupon, a star swimmer at Illinois and a cross between Johnny Weismuller and Tab Hunter, ran the Waterfront in the early sixties. Harry Sommers, a very funny guy from Indiana, was our first legitimate tennis instructor (aside from Skipper, of course). Wayne Towne (Head Cook Anne's son and a local teacher) was for many years a counselor for the younger cabins, having served before then (along with brother Elvin) as a Camp caretaker. (Another caretaker, Steve Spiegler, was a star Waupaca High athlete who often joined and excelled in counselor athletic activities.) Al Steigerwald taught swimming, canoeing and sailing. (The sailboat fleet consisted of one wooden dinghy. No one, other than Al, seemed to have the foggiest idea of how to operate it -- but it rarely mattered since there usually wasn't much wind.) Al also played guitar, as did I, and Barry Shanoff played the 5-string banjo. In 1961 we formed a short-lived group called the "Ramblers", and actually got paid (not very much) to play Kingston Trio numbers one night at the Windmill Bar, a popular watering hole on Highway 22. (Contrary to our pleadings, Steigerwald refused to lip-sync.)
During the early sixties, Barry and I enticed three of our Northwestern fraternity brothers -- Ron Litvin, Pete Friend and Phil Belove-- to work at Camp. Ron quickly became a campcraft expert, despite no apparent prior experience in that field. Pete and Phil worked at the Waterfront, as did Sam Arnold, a long-time family friend from Cincinnati, and Warren Farb, who I became reacquainted with decades later in Washington. Hal Malen, one of my closest grade school and high school buddies, ran the Land Sports program and loved every minute of it.
Many of the counselors came back for two or more years, and the staff always included at least a few ex-campers like Barry, Al Sorkin and me -- e.g., Steve Kuklin, Bob Rosen, Larry Rosen, Al Schaffer, Terry Rifkin (who, as did Jack Ferber before him, served as Skipper's "administrative assistant"), Ricky Singer, Gary Rand and Marc Ringel (who, as a camper, won the Dave Weiner Award).
Time-off. During my years as a counselor, the time-off policy was quite liberal. Each week we had one full day and two evenings off (starting after Taps). In addition, we had one "early evening off", which started at 6 p.m. and could be coupled with a day off the following day. Groups of two or three counselors would usually take off together, and transportation usually wasn't a problem since quite a few of us were fortunate to have our own cars. While we would occasionally venture off to distant places (e.g., Stevens Point, Appleton, or the Bratwurst Festival in Sheboygan), we typically stayed in and around the Waupaca area. The town of Waupaca itself (pop. 3,921 in those days) became very familiar to most of us -- the Rosa Theatre (a quarter to see a movie; 10 cents for popcorn, Holloway Suckers, Milk Duds, Charleston Chews and Mason's Dots); the Bandstand in the center of town (performances every Friday night); Winch's and Strattons' Drug Stores (where we could buy various sundries that weren't available at the Canteen); Fisher's Dairy (spectacular large milkshakes for a quarter); the public beach at South Park (on Shadow Lake at the end of Main Street); the Laundromat (a mandatory stop each week); and Simpson's Indian Room (pretty good steaks when we felt like splurging). I sometimes spent my day-off playing golf at the Waupaca Country Club, which had a great 9-hole course that was open to the public. We also did lots of waterskiing on Big Stratton with Jeff Richards, who lived in the brown split-level house near the channel and had a 40 hp Boston Whaler; and also on the Chain with friends whose families had cottages there (and usually much bigger boats!). For two or three summers, Barry, Al Sorkin and I, along with other counselors, were often invited to the Wild Rose summer estate (on Long Lake) of a Chicago business tycoon -- where we ate and drank like kings, waterskied, played tennis, shot pool, drove our host's fuel injected Corvette, and mingled with other interesting guests (including, one time, Forrest Tucker, of Music Man fame).
Nights off were frequently spent at the Indian Crossing Casino, a cavernous place on the Chain that was usually packed with teens and college kids. The attractions there included a huge dance floor, beer at 15 cents a glass (we all switched to 40 cent bottles after an outbreak of, would you believe, hoof and mouth disease!), and occasional live entertainment, including a very memorable performance in 1959 or 1960 by the Everly Brothers. (Hal Malen and I briefly visited the Casino during the 1999 Reunion at 8 p.m. on a Saturday night. It was virtually empty and the beer is now $3 a bottle!) Other popular watering holes included the Windmill Bar (where we were first introduced to Brandy Alexanders and Sam Arnold invented the infamous "Fuzzy Wuzzy" drink) and a friendly tavern at Silver Lake in Wild Rose (where the beer was very cheap and I.D. checks non-existent).
Talaki and Moshava. One of the few drawbacks of Camp Waupaca, as most perceived by older campers and counselors, was the fact that it was a "boys only" camp. Unlike many of the Eagle River camps, there were no "sister" camps nearby. At least that's what we thought. We learned differently when Bob Krohn joined the staff. Bob's then fiancé, Sue, ran the waterfront at a YWCA camp, called Talaki, near Wild Rose. This happy discovery resulted in a marked improvement in the social lives of several Waupaca counselors, despite the fact that the Talaki staff was subject to very stringent time-off and curfew restrictions. (Where there's a will, there's a way!)
Also in the vicinity of Waupaca was Camp Moshava, which was sponsored by an Orthodox Jewish organization based in Albany Park. In the summer of 1962 I often attended the early morning service at Moshava to say Kaddish for my dad, who had died earlier that year. I befriended a number of the counselors there, and we hit upon the idea of arranging an inter-camp baseball game. The game was held one Sunday afternoon at Waupaca, with all campers and counselors from both camps in attendance. Most of the Moshava kids were dressed in collared shirts, long pants and street shoes, and many sported yarmulkas, payess (curled sideburns) and other religious accoutrements. As I expected, their appearance evoked quite a few snickers and snide remarks among our campers, most of whom no doubt thought there was no way that kids dressed like that could hit or catch a baseball. They were wrong. The Moshava team beat us decisively, hopefully leaving our campers with a valuable lesson about the need to respect people for who they are and what they do, not how they look. (The Moshava counselors did not fare as well in the staff basketball game that followed. With considerable help from former college player Bob Krohn (who wasn't exactly a Kohane), we creamed 'em!)
Pre- and Post-Camp. Some of us would arrive several days early in order to help open up Camp, and stay after the campers had left in order to help close it down. For me, this was a welcome way to enjoy Camp in a much different and quieter environment. The main job before Camp was to put in the piers at the Waterfront. The aluminum piers were arranged in an "H" configuration. The toughest part of this exercise was figuring out how far to extend the "feet" of the pier sections in order to match the increasing depth of the water, and then stabilizing the pier by resting the "feet" on cinderblocks strategically placed on the muck bottom of the Lake. We also had to secure the barrels on the swimming and diving rafts, push them out from the beach to the appropriate spots in deep water, and set the cinderblock anchors. Another pre-Camp task was getting the mattresses out of the barn, shaking and airing them out (it's hard to believe we actually slept on those things!), loading them on the back of the truck and dispensing them among the various cabins.
For new campers with somewhat intriguing names, the pre-Camp crew had great fun trying to predict what these kids would look like. The favorite mystery camper one summer was Miles Zitmore, a 12-year old from Omaha. Krohn and I were convinced that Miles was a short, skinny kid with glasses and pimples. We eagerly sought him out when the buses arrived, and were quite surprised to find that he had a deep voice, a 5 o'clock shadow and otherwise looked like a high school wrestler.
The post-Camp days were more relaxed and bittersweet. We took down the Waterfront, closed up the cabins and the Mess Hall and otherwise looked for excuses to stick around. We had lots of laughs and reminiscences about the events of the summer, played some 3-on-3 basketball, and got in a few final swims, turns behind the skiboat and visits to the Casino. I always hated to leave -- and that was especially true in 1965, when I knew that the next phase of my life was just around the corner and that my Waupaca summers had finally come to an end.
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Some of you "old, old, old . . . campers" may remember the familiar words at the beginning of each radio and TV episode of The Lone Ranger: "Let us return to those thrilling days of yesteryear!" I hope that the flood of memories from all of our wonderful yesteryears at Camp Waupaca will continue to flow. FOR WE ARE PROUD THAT WE ARE CAMPERS ALL, SHORT AND TALL, WAU-PA-CA!!!
August 21, 2001