Stories, Memories, Impressions of Camp
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Hyde Bay Camp For Boys Stories, Memories, Impressions of Camp |
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Steve Cunningham writing - As more memories, stories with a twist, word-play or outrageous accounts of camp or campers congeal after 50+ years of idleness, they will appear here. You can either email them to me, The Nightman, or fill in the form below. Click here to add your own story _____________________________________________________________________ PONY CLUB GIRLS GONE WILD November 18, 2011 Bruce Rice writing: Copying Tom and Steve on this – maybe they remember the Pony Club Girls Gone Wild. Steve was the stableman back then I think. For me, in 1962 I was 11, been in an all boys school and camp my whole life, and had no idea what a girl was. Had one appeared in my tent I probably assumed it was William Clark or the Cardiff giant. November 18, 2011 Winston Wood writing: So it's true! I think I heard it from Rusty, so you might contact him for the background and more details. I'm sure Mouldy got involved. And wouldn't it be fun to find one of the girls and get her to write about it from their perspective. I think some of them were from Baltimore. November 18, 2011 Tom Lynn writing: Although it wasn't '61 (since my first year at camp was "63 or '64), I recall that there was a time in my early years when we were all in the Theater (for either plays or movies), when a group of townies (presumably) went through the camp somehow knocking some tents down. Not sure it was related to Winston's story though. (As far as Bruce's concept of "girls in tents," Councilor Shoemaker on one or two occasions snuck his girlfriend(s?) into our tent/MC late at night to visit us. I think some other councilors might have done this as well? AND THE REAL STORY FROM AN EYEWITNESS November 18, 2011 Steve Cunningham writing: Yes, it is true! Our camp was partially ransacked by teenage girls. During the summer of 1963, I bunked in the Mouldy City annex. On Saturday night August 3, 1963, plays were in full swing. For reasons I don’t recall, I walked back to the annex and heard clattering and commotion in Mouldy City. It sounded like a fight. I walked around to the front and heard the distinct sound of springs as bunks were being overturned, thumping of trunks and bed-stand orange crates being thrown around. It was no fight, but, at the sturdy age of fifteen and having heard most of the ghost stories, I figured it was a coalition of monsters that had finally come to eat the entire camp. I was almost scared out of my business. During my heart-pounding, surrealistic run back to the theater, I noticed some tents had been flattened. Out of breath and shaking, I excitedly reported the incident to Mouldy. I had totally lost my calm and might not have slept well that night. Here is the excerpt from the Volume 37, Number 5, August 6, 1963 (Saturday) Home Letter: "An unfortunate Incident occurred while we were watching the plays. We will explain this briefly simply to avoid any erroneous rumors. The camp has also been informed of the full story and everything is completely back to normal now. Four young girls (14 to 16 years old) came into camp, with the endorsement of the father of one girl, let down four of our tents, upset trunks, and turned over beds--the initial thought being only to short-sheet the beds. One thing leads to another and the end result was far more extensive than a simple prank. Two of the girls along with the father were apprehended and were interviewed by the State Police. The other two girls found their way home on their own. Pranks are somewhat understood but not when such things are sanctioned and promoted by unthinking parents!!" _____________________________________________________________________ GIRLS IN TENTS? WHY, THE VERY IDEA.... November 22, 2011 Sandy Pickett writing: I have to agree with Tom Lynn. When our group was in Mouldy City, our counselor was Josh Shoemaker. Dave Dubie and myself were in the annex. On many occasions, Josh would bring Joannie Hatfield back to the cabin for whatever reason. Tom was right about one of the nights. I actually remember it quite well. Joannie did go around and give all of the guys a kiss. Dave and I, being in the annex, unfortunately missed out on the fun. A side note to this event. Joannie Hatfield was HOT!!! I also remember the tents coming down but was not privy to who did it or what the outcome was. The rumor at the time was just "townies." Dad {Mouldy} was really mad. 11/18/2011 Winston Wood writing: I remember the Shoebibs girlfriend episode. It was Meg Mithoffer and they came by my tent too since she knew me and my family and wanted to "say hello." She was really cute and another reason why I have long admired Josh. 11/18/2011 Tom Lynn writing: During my Shoemaker years, it was one of the Hatfield sisters (not sure if it was Barb or Joannie) who visited us. In MC, one of the guys asked her to give us each a kiss goodnight. In the dark (we couldn't even really see anything other than a lit cigarette or two), she went around to each bunk to give each of us a kiss on the forehead. When it was Tim Bennett's turn, he quickly moved his head up so that he got a kiss in the lips -- or so he said! It was also Ms. Hatfield he gave the diminutive Mike Prowda his camp nickname: "He looks just like a littlle 'Pooh Bear'!" -- TL 11/18/2011 Steve Cunningham writing: I never had any girls in my tent. But I did, on two occasions, meet a girl behind the stables at night with my bunk blanket in hand. _____________________________________________________________________ August 16, 2011 Mike Hilliard writing: THE BATGIRL OF THE OTESAGA On the evening of Saturday, August 6th 2011 Frank “Nature Boy” Pine and his wife Lorraine “St. Lorraine” Pine (because she puts up with Frank) retired to their quarters on the fifth floor of the Otesaga after another wonderful day at Durbar. As they opened their door, they noticed a small winged mammal configured like an F-117 Stealth Fighter jet swooping and banking through their room. It was an Otesaga bat. Frank & Lorraine wisely shut the door and proceeded to the 4th floor elevator to alert the front desk. As they reached the elevator, Mike “Mikey” Hilliard, his wife Georgia, and Pete “Pierre” Black emerged. Frank informed the Hilliard’s and Peter of his mission, and the Hilliard’s and Peter proceeded up the stairs to the 5th floor. On their way up the stairs, Peter asked Mike, a retired cop, “Did you bring your gun?” Mike looked at Peter in puzzlement, and Peter responded, “You could shoot it. I had a bat in my house, and Ruthie (his wife) was upset. So, I got out my 22 and shot it. Then Ruthie got mad at me because I put a hole in the curtain.I mean - I took care of the bat!” As the group reached the 5th floor, Peter immediately retired to his room, but the Hilliard’s noticed the Otesaga bat had now reached the 5th floor hallway, where it was performing all sorts of aerobatics. Mike opened the door to the stair well with the well-intentioned thought that the bat would fly down the stairwell and out the lobby door. Georgia wisely instructed Mike to call the front desk and inform them this airborne creature was now in the 5th floor hallway. Mike called the desk. Batgirl answered, and said, “OK.” In less than a minute Batgirl bounded up the steps into to the 5th floor hall. She was just over 5 feet and slender. She was dressed in a black pant suit and white blouse. She was only equipped with a large and slender key ring. The bat had now secreted itself in an air vent in the hall’s ceiling. She immediately closed the stairwell door and asked Frank and Lorraine for a chair. Frank quickly gave her a chair from his room. She placed it directly under the vent. She then sprinted down the hall and closed the door dividing the 5th floor hallway, swiftly entered the housekeeping closet and retrieved a white towel. She then quickly alighted the chair, and used the king ring to gently coax the bat out of the air vent. It then swooped down the hall. As it reached the door dividing the hallway, it banked and returned at a high speed towards Mike, who ducked. The little stealth fighter banked down the hall again towards the other end of the hall. It repeated its maneuver at the door dividing the hallway swooping again towards Frank, Lorraine, and Mike, but Batgirl was ready. She tossed the towel in the air, and the bat flew in it. Batgirl gently gathered the creature in the towel and bounded down the steps. Within seconds she returned to the 5th floor still breathing normally, handed the chair to Frank and said, “Thank you.” She then disappeared into the night down the stairway. Everyone slept peacefully that night thanks to the Batgirl of the Otesaga. _____________________________________________________________________ August 2, 2011 Mike Hilliard writing: When the Director attended Rotary meetings at the Otesaga, he drove the Chevy pick up we used to haul garbage to the dump with those lovely juices dripping out from the tail gate, and he would park it next to the newest shiniest Cadillac he could find on the lot. _____________________________________________________________________ March 1, 2011 Mike Hilliard writing: The most poignant memory I have of camp was the summer following camp’s closure when the Picketts, the Hilliards, and the Davisons closed the camp. One evening as the sun was setting; I was sitting on the dining hall porch alone with Mouldy. It was beautiful. The sky was a clear blue. Otsego Lake was becoming Glimmerglass. I must have said how much I will miss this. Mouldy looked at me and said, “This will always be mine and yours. No matter what is here. This is ours. No one can take that away from us.” He was right, that evening is still etched in my memory, and Hyde Bay is still his, mine, and ours. _____________________________________________________________________ September 29,2009 - Winston Wood writing: In the mid-60s, campers ready to move on from Four Square had another way to test their competitive chops, a cut-throat word game called Zoom, Schwartz, Perfigliano. It was a kind of verbal tag in which those words were briskly parried around a group of players, the aim being to eliminate your opponents by getting them to mess up on the rules that went with each word until you alone remained victorious. _____________________________________________________________________ John Mercer writing -- My brother, Tom-tom, was recalling the other day that Heb Evans did not only tell ghost stories around the campfire, but also told long jokes, usually word-play jokes, one of which was something like this:
June 6, 2009 Blog, Robbie Gerlach writing: This weekend I visited Cooperstown and our beloved Hyde Bay. It was a glorious summer day with a good breeze blowing across the lake. I am especially thankful to have known Moldy, Betty and Rusty, but have many fond memories of . . . The train trips from Mount Vernon Station, Baltimore with Mr. Hilliard, through New York City and the Bus Trip to Cooperstown. “How Many More Miles Mr. Hilliard?….” Climbing the gorge up to Lookout mountain, where we enjoyed the greatest view of the lake and had breakfast for 30 out of a 24” Frying Pan. Big Mr. Henry “Ain’t no more, Aint’ no more (pancakes),…. Next Sunday,…..Next Sunday.) Helping Bergy Bergstrom with the glassing of Comet 3168. Building the crazy contraption out of conveyors to slide down into the water. What did we call it,….? The “Mouldy Rail?” I was a camper in the early – mid 60’s and enjoyed what must have been the best years of the camp. By that time, the Archery and Tennis were in full swing, the Equestrian program had been established for several years. And there were lots of other activities, however having caught ‘Sea Fever” in previous years, upon arrival at camp in 1967, my entire mission was to get out in a Comet sail boat. Although the councilors did their best at morning sign up to encourage me toward a variety of activities….. I spent every possible moment on AND in the water. Of course this meant passing a series of swimming challenges of increasing difficulty. First the swim to “The Raft” and back. Then, to “The Tower” and back. Next…. To the point. And finally….. From Clarks Point back to camp. So, that is is not surprising that within a week, I had developed a severe sunburn and flaking skin. Fortunately, Betty knew just what to do. She provided a ‘magic’ cream that eased the pain and told me to stay out of the sun for a week. A WHOLE WEEK??!!!@@#@#$ Fortuntately, Mr. Hilliard’s ‘Shop’ had an incredible assortment of plaster casts for ‘slip’ molding, as well as a wide variety of materials and projects for any interest. The stories could go on and on, as I am sure you know. _____________________________________________________________________ March 19, 2005 Blog, Tom Lynn writing: It was great to read about the life of an Ethical Culture camper. I distinctly remember how mysterious it all seemed “down the shoreline.” The thing I most recall, though, is the rumor/myth that was shared among my fellow campers when we were first starting to feel our male hormones “awaken.” The story was that the swimming at Ethical Culture was done in two separate shifts: one for the boys and one for the girls. Not particularly fascinating in and of itself. However, what compelled us to squint and strain to see in the direction of ECS was that these shifts were — most assuredly — swum in the nude! Oh, how we 12 and 13 year olds were so sure that we had occasionally glimpsed … something! How exotic and continental those ECC campers surely were! (Where were the binoculars when we really needed them?) Ps - When I mentioned this to my father, he said that they had the same belief in his day. He said that some of them had even paddled a canoe down toward ECC and hidden themselves in the trees to get that same glimpse that I was wishing for 30 years later! (I wonder if this rumor was purposely passed down from the older boys as they eventually found it to be untrue — Woolly Ants, anyone?) Pps - Oh, FYI: I was only looking during the supposed “girls’ shifts” — not that’s there’s anything wrong with those who looked during other “shifts.” ____________________________________________________________________ Steve Cunningham December 31, 2004 Letters "Ah, the memories of paddling against choppy waves; horse ligament and saddle soap; sail fabric snapping in the wind; eating bacon on Nebo; bleeding on the rocks of Trenton Falls; having to pee in the middle of the night but being too scared to leave the tent for fear of “The Monkey’s Paw;” peeing out the side of the tent; paddling against relentless winds; fresh milk in a glass tumbler with cookies; ripping the pages from comic books for toilet paper; blood blisters from improper use of “Big Bertha” on the shuffle board; bruises on the wrestling mat; Mouldy City; paddling against the waves and wind; being bitten by green “deer flies;” staring transfixed into the heart of the bonfire; sneaking to the girl’s camp down the road at night; droplets of condensation forming on metal pitchers of ice-cold red “bug juice;” the candy line; setting off cherry bombs with time-delayed cigarette fuses; the solid heft of a wooden tennis racket; flacid tennis balls; looking everywere for the “Hot Rock;” mowing the outfield; trying to grasp a greased watermellon; waiting for the next reel of 16mm films to be queued; the Cardiff Giant; crunching on rock-candy at the Farmer’s Museum; cold hands and snowballs at Snow Gulch; having to (ugh) write home…" _____________________________________________________________________ Add your story here -write as much as you want.
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