A camp director remembers World War II

Camping Magazine, July-August, 2003 by Helen Herz Cohen

Good Help Was Hard to Come By

Finding adequate maintenance help during these difficult times was nearly impossible. Our regular caretaker was working on ships in the New York Navy Yards. We finally hired Joe, a middle-aged man who had all the mechanical skills necessary, and who was also an alcoholic. We were desperate and thought we could control this habit by refusing to give him any means of transportation. But Joe was smarter than we were. He decided that he was a Catholic and that it was necessary for him to go to church each Sunday. We assigned a counselor to drive Joe to Bridgton and to stay with him during the services. We were sure our plan had worked, but we were wrong.

On the following visitor's weekend, Joe helped us prepare the benches and other chores to have everything ready for the visitors. Once again, we had a counselor drive Joe and stay with him during the services. It was a glorious Maine day, and all the visitors were seated on the beach watching water sports as the campers sang and cheered for their teams. Suddenly Joe pulled up at the beach in a rowboat. He had slyly arranged to have a six-pack left under where he sat at church, and he somehow hid it from the counselor on the trip back to camp. Then he took out one of the rowboats and consumed all the hot beer as he sat in the middle of the lake. As Joe stepped from the boat on to the sand, he collapsed. Luckily for me, two of the fathers picked Joe up and carried him off the beach. The water sports continued as if nothing had happened. I lead the two rescuers to Joe's cabin. We threw his clothes into a bag, and the two wonderful fathers drove Joe to the bus station and left him there with enough cash to buy a bus ticket back to New York.

And then what did we do for help? I think we hired two high school boys in the village, and the staff pitched in to get the daily work completed. Whatever the solution, the campers had a good summer, and the parents never referred to the incident. They understood that in those times there were challenges to finding good help.

Walking to the Peace Circle

We were always anxious to hear the news on the radio and were all affected by every battle. On Sunday evenings we sang around a campfire sitting on a piece of cleared ground near the bottom of a steep hill. I never liked the spot and hired a local forester to peel some pine logs and lay them in a semi-circle around a secluded spot by the lake. On V-J evening, the news came over the radio that the war was over. I announced it to the camp in the dining room. There was a stunned silence. We were overcome with relief. I suggested that we walk quietly to the new campfire circle and sing together. We all walked silently down the path, sat down, and started to sing with our arms around each other -- many of us sobbing. Most of us sang all night and watched the sun rise. A quiet feeling of joy permeated the camp. The next day, we all had our own special way of expressing our happiness. Some ran and yelled, some went to church and prayed, and some just went about their daily routine. This was the first time we had bee n together at the new campfire. We called this beautiful spot The Peace Circle, and it's still at camp today.