Eagle Cove

Eagle Cove was a co-ed summer camp, primarily for Jewish children, nestled in an area on the south side of Fourth Lake in the Adirondack Mountains, in northern New York State.  I say was because, unfortunately, it no longer is.  For what ever reason, it closed after the summer of 1993.

“Green is the color of the Adirondack Mountains.  It’s the color God picked out to paint the scene.”

I was a camper at Eagle Cove for five years between 1953 and 1959.  The first time I ever googled my name, I saw myself from photos taken during that time that had been posted on the Internet.  I actually returned to Eagle Cove as an adult (everything seemed smaller) for a brief visit in August of 1974.  I remember because it was right around the time President Nixon resigned.  In 2004, I returned to the area to see the camp again, but it was gone.  However, I took a boat ride around Fourth Lake which passed right by the camp’s old water front.  I also chartered a seaplane for an above ground view of the camp.  All the buildings were gone, but you could see where they had been. 

Like all decisions in my family, the decision to send me to Eagle Cove was made by my mother.  She wanted a two-month summer vacation from caring for her four children and Eagle Cove provided it.  My three older brothers preceded me there, and since they survived, my mother figured it was also good enough for me, too.

Eagle Cove’s formula was structure.  Before each season even started, its directors had planned every moment of the eight week season for each camper.  There were fourteen boys cabins and about half that number of girls cabins.  Most had eight campers, a counselor and a counselor-in-training (CIT).  After reveille, we marched to the large mess hall building for breakfast.  After cleaning up ourselves and our cabin, each group engaged in two pre-planned activities.  Before lunch, there was a general swim at the most beautiful part of Eagle Cove, its waterfront.  After lunch and a rest period, each group would engage in another two pre-planned activities.  There was a second general swim before dinner.  After dinner, there was relaxation before lights out.  And no talking after!

What were these activities?  We had baseball, softball, basketball, volleyball, tennis, arts and crafts, swimming instruction, canoeing, hiking, Indian lore, etc.  The camp was well-maintained and periodically upgraded, especially the waterfront.  By my last year, they had built a complete Little League baseball stadium.

“We welcome you to Eagle Cove.  We’re mighty glad you’re here.  We’ll set the air reverberating with a mighty cheer.  We’ll sing you in, we’ll sing you out.  And we will raise a mighty shout.  Hail, hail, the gang’s all here.  We welcome you to Eagle Cove.”

By most accounts, the campers had a good time at Eagle Cove.  Unfortunately, I have mixed feelings about the place.  However, what ever negativity I have, I take 100% responsibility for.  If you read Lord of the Flies, you realize that boys, especially between the ages of eight and fourteen, can be cruel.  It’s just in their DNA.  Typically, in a cabin of eight boys, there will be one or two leaders, five or six followers, and one runt.  For most of my time at Eagle Cove, I was the runt.  I think my happiest year there was when someone else became the runt of my cabin.

And what made me the runt?  After all, back in my home town, I was a well-adjusted boy with plenty of friends.  Well, first of all, it was my attitude.  I had a bad one.  It had not been my choice to go to Eagle Cove.  I didn’t want to be there.  I had been perfectly happy the prior summers of my life at home.  I had begged my mother to let me stay, but to no avail.  All of my bunkmates quickly realized where I was coming from and let me know, in their own way, that they didn’t appreciate it.  I was probably ruining their own good times. 

Second was swimming.  When I first arrived at Eagle Cove, I couldn’t swim.  By eight years-of-age, I had developed a fear of the water.  Twice a day, I had to face a mandatory general swim.  The camp was divided into three groups, based upon your swimming level.  There was the area for the non-swimmers, the minnows.  The shark area was for intermediate swimmers and the whale area was for the real swimmers.  Most of the campers were in the whale area.  In my first year, I believe that I was the only non-swimmer in my group and I stayed there until my last year at camp.  This forced me into a twice-daily period of humiliation and teasing.  One of my proudest moments at Eagle Cove was when, with the help of a very kind swim instructor, I finally passed my shark test.  I was then no longer the only fourteen year-old hanging out with non-swimmers, half my age.  I still have the badge and certificate I earned fifty-five years ago.

So, I was the runt.  I became the victim of daily abuse, teasing, etc. from my bunkmates.  I was bullied, before I know what bullying was.  And I didn’t know how to deal with it.  I should have had a better attitude about camp.  After all, it was a wonderful place with plenty of enjoyable things to do.  And I should have put forward a better effort to learn how to swim. 

I also should have dealt better with the teasing.  I should have ignored it.  The more I complained, the more they teased.  Until one time!  When I was ten years-old, I came as close as I have ever come in my life to killing someone.  It scares me thinking back.  Inside the cabin after lunch one day, I couldn’t take the abuse one boy was giving me.  We got into a fight, more of a wrestling match.  I got him in a choke hold and squeezed as hard as I could.  When he said he couldn’t breath, I let him go when he promised not to tease me again.  I let him go, but he started doing it again almost immediately.  I grabbed him once more around the neck in the same choke hold.  I was furious.  I couldn’t trust his promises.  Thankfully, I finally let him go before anything bad happened and he never bothered me again. 

I must mention a couple more highlights of my time at Eagle Cove.  It wasn’t all bad.  In 1958, as a thirteen year-old, I won the Mohawk Unit Ping Pong championship.  (I was runner-up the following year.)  My name was entered onto a permanent list of honor that was on display on the second floor of the mess hall building.  I found it when I went back to Eagle Cove in ’74.  In 1959, my group travelled to another camp, Racquet Lake Camp for Boys, for a basketball game.  I couldn’t believe their team was coached by Gene Shue, a professional basketball player for the Detroit Pistons.  Incredibly, in those days, professional athletes needed off-season jobs.     

“I know a place that’s quiet and serene.  I know a place where beauty reigns supreme.”

I wish I had better memories of Eagle Cove than I do, but that is my reality.  I don’t want to forget anything about my life, neither the good, the bad, nor the ugly.