1970’s

The Buddy Board–

Published on by Kathy Baker

398208_2145508495496_1330346019_nVisual aids from the Red Cross for boating and swimming, bulletin boards with pertinent articles to the waterfront, and charts such as “Swim and Stay Fit” or “Basic Survival” hung in and around the boathouse during Nancy Sautter’s 1969 waterfront director days. Even charts with the swimmer’s progress to boost enthusiasm graced the doors near the all important buddy board.

There was a drill, under her careful direction, for the protection and safety of all the girls under her watch. The bell would ring at 4:30 and the buddies would line up by the board. A diagram showed the assigned spots for qualified staff, and they were instructed not to talk to anyone, but to be on guard. One person was assigned to the board to check the swimmers in. Rings and buoys were at the end of the “L” dock and inside the lifeboat.

The swimmers attached their tags on the same hook together under the area in which they were swimming. Each level had to swim in the appropriate area according to their swim level, except area four, and they could swim anywhere. They all had to swim in doubles or triples.

Once the girls turned their tags, they grabbed their bathing caps and sat near the fire circle. (Area two was green, area three was blue and area four was yellow.) They were instructed to line up according to cap colors to be counted in their double buddy lines. There was a buddy check every six to eight minutes. A whistle system was in place with two whistles for buddy check, one to continue their swimming and three meant out of the water immediately!

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Bloodsuckers, Mud Puppies and Swimmer’s Itch

Published on by Kathy Baker

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“I grew up one block from the Saginaw Bay, so I learned to swim at the “Y”. I remember seeing my first leech at Maqua and I was mystified. The girls would swim under one dock to another and I can still hear the girls screaming don’t swim under there—there are leeches! I never got any on me,” said Ann Meisel, whose only lake critter spotted in the sixties was a crayfish.

For Doris Engibous, the summers flew by and would be over before she knew it. Camping in the sixties and seventies, she turned down her parent’s membership perks at the Midland Country Club. “I didn’t want to go. I liked Maqua, even with the mucky lake bottom, the leeches and worrying about whether the canoe paddles would get stuck in the water lilies and that we wouldn’t make it back in time.”

A camper who did take advantage of a neighborhood pool, Jenifer Penzien (1969-71), knew how to swim when she attended camp. “I remember I was in the third swimming area, which was the level you could sail, but I also remember those leeches that I was so afraid of, and of course, I got one. I thought it was so gross, but no one seemed very excited about it, they just ran and got the salt.”

Kathleen Clement’s Dad threw her off a dock and told her to “sink or swim” when she was two, so she swam. She also had her Red Cross swimming certification by the time she was at camp in the early sixties. “I can remember the leeches in the reeds by the dock when we first got in the water. These things would be attached to my leg and the counselors would use hot match sticks (blown out) or salt shakers to get them off.”

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Leeches and What Lurked Under Water

Published on by Kathy Baker

fullsizerender-7Those dreaded “blood suckers”. Out of all the scary experiences relayed to me by the campers, it was the number one fear. It is as if the little girl nightmare of the monster in the deep could still reach up and grab a leg and attach themselves to poor innocent camping swimmers in Loon Lake. Grab the salt or scream or do both! (By the way they are still there, and the salt is still in the boathouse.)

When asked what she remembered most vividly about camp, Barb Krohn (1970-72) yelled, “Those damn leeches!” Although she was a good swimmer, she was like all the other little campers—not very tall.

“I would try to tread water in one foot of water, “ she laughed as she remembered not wanting to touch the bottom of the lake. “People would carry me out, so I wouldn’t have to put my feet down. I was a strong swimmer, but I hated the leeches. I never got one on me.”

Her sister Kathy Krohn (1965-68) was also the youngest in her third grade and the shortest, but was a great little swimmer. She also hated to put her feet down in the mucky lake, and worried about the leeches, so the older girls would carry her and she would swim back in. To avoid the leeches, she would dive off the raft or dock.

“I learned to swim at camp, but the seaweed freaked me out,” said Cindy Morrison (1960). “I wouldn’t do the lifesaving because you had to dive down and pull up seaweed as part of the test and there was no way! The leeches. I didn’t like them either.”

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Taking The Plunge–Lake or Pool

Published on by Kathy Baker

img_6912Swimming for some came naturally  because they grew up with a pool at their house or belonged to private swim clubs. It did not ease the shock of the cold lake water, and for some a pool felt more secure with walls and known depths in clean, clear water. . Phoebe Atha (1947-48) was never much of a swimmer and admitted she was deathly afraid of the water and was the type to hang on to the side, even in the pool.

Coleen Gasta, sixties camper, said, “I was a chicken shit. I was not shy or out going. I just didn’t like to swim, especially if I couldn’t find the bottom. When I went to camp, I couldn’t swim. I thought I could fake them out by pushing off the bottom, but I couldn’t. I never did learn to swim.”

“I loved bobbing on those canoes, but I hated swimming. I used to make excuses not to swim. I hated putting my head under water. Well, one of the waterfront girls told me, you know if you get your advanced swimming certification, you can actually go canoeing instead of bobbing up and down! I remember gritting my teeth and asking her why didn’t she tell me that three years ago,” laughed Diane Dudley (1957-63) affectionately nicknamed “Dodo”, who did get her certification!

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Taking The Plunge–Summer Homes

Published on by Kathy Baker

535873_2145510655550_2111914987_nTwo of the girls who swam in Saginaw Bay had their skills in place for swimming at camp all ready by the time they arrived. Lori Fobear (1975-76) grew up one block from the bay and loved to swim. Barb Ballor (1951-55) summered there.

Other girls either rented summer cabins on lakes or had family who owned summer homes, so swimming became second nature to them. Jodi Tripp learned at her grandparent’s place in the fifties on Lake Michigan in Saugatuck, so she felt like she grew up on the water. Susan Ruterbusch (1947-52) also learned at her grandparent’s home.

Judy MacNichols (1946) added practice to the skills she learned from age five at the “Y” with cottage living, but said she never progressed to the first raft, which was water over her head.

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On The Waterfront

Published on by Kathy Baker

img_6934What is camp without a lake, swimming, and boating instruction and fun? Wet towels, sand in bathing suits, leeches on limbs and tests to determine swimming and boating abilities were part of the waterfront rites of passage. But, prior to any waterfront activites, there was work to be done at pre-camp to set up the area for all the water action.

Nancy Sautter was the waterfront director in 1969 and left wonderful notes in her report that illustrated perfectly what she and her staff had to do to prepare for camp, which began with the previous year’s inventory, which helped to locate the equipment.

“Our family had a cottage on a lake near Horton when we were growing up and that is how I learned to swim. I also took swim lessons at camp and lifesaving at a YMCA in Jackson, where I earned my water safety instructors certification. I was strictly on the waterfront at Maqua,” said Nancy. “Once I was down there I couldn’t leave while I had kids there. The cabin counselors would bring them to us and you did not leave until lunch and then everything had to be locked up.”

“On the first nice day, the buoy lines should be run,” she wrote, along with instructions for stringing the red and white “lemons”. She would re-whip the unraveled ends of nylon rope by melting the ends over a candle, while spacing them and anchoring them.

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