"What if we fall in ????"

I’m going to talk about the Shiloh of over 50 years ago. The camp was in Bernardsville/Mendham NJ on a site donated by a kind man with a heart for children. Hopefully more of the old Shiloh alumni will post memories as we reconnect and bridge the years to the Shiloh of today.

It’s 1956.  The Yankees are hot and the Dodgers are still at Ebbetts field.  Yanks beat the Dodgers in the World Series in 7 games.  Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra, Billy Martin, Whitey Ford, Elson Howard, Moose Skowron – that was a team.  I am 7 and seldom get out of the City.  That’s New York City for those of you from elsewhere – just “The City” for us that lived there. 

A classmate at PS 86 is the son of the Minister at the Eastside Church of Christ.  I’m Jewish.  We’re friends regardless.  Getting stuck in town for the summer was OK as it was all that I knew.  We would go to Central Park, wander along the East River, up on the roof at night or turn on a fire hydrant and play in the water – until a cop comes along and shuts it down after telling us off.   So on a spring day when Eddie Grindley is recruiting campers, he and Mr. Ransom the minister and a couple of college kids come by our apartment on E 83^rd and ask my mom if my sister and I can go away to a camp in NJ for a couple of weeks that summer.  No cost.  She eventually says “yes” – not an easy decision and one the Rabbi does not support.

So the fateful day comes and we go over to the Eastside building on a Saturday (I think) to get on the Grey Ghost to travel out to Camp Shiloh in NJ.  What an old bus – ex Navy, hence the color. Not a bad ride but my sister and I sit together and do not mix with the other kids too much.  We get to the campgrounds and pull up to the Big House. And it is a BIG house. Wow, what a sight.  Stone with a big porch and turrets and a neat staircase and someone whispers,  “it’s haunted” which adds to the mystery. 

All the kids are gathered together and assigned to cabins.  Well, my sister Elaine gets to go to a cabin in the Girl’s Camp. I go to a tent.  A big tent, to me anyway.  Ex military, OD green with side flaps that we would roll up or roll down.  Screens that would keep some of the bugs and mosquitoes out, but not all. Ever see a mosquito in the City? No, me either.  The mosquitoes out at camp were so big they would sometimes decide to pick us up and take us to the swamp. Ok, maybe not but they looked that big to me.

I think there are 7 or 8 bunk beds arrayed around the edge of the tent.  The bunk beds are also ex military with saggy springs and a very thin mattress. I even think the blankets were OD green. There is a wooden floor that keeps the bunks off the ground – but it is a tent.  Any when it rained we learned not to run your finger along the tent roof or touch it as the canvas suddenly sprung a leak.  Something to do with water tension, said the counselor. Of course, sometimes one of us would deliberately cause a water drip to start over the bed of a fellow camper who was a pest, a bully or just to get even for a slight. A wet bed is a terrible thing at night.

And then the big shocker comes our way. The Kybo. An outhouse.  What’s this? I mean, come on. We are civilized city folk here, and we have to use an outhouse? How rude is that.  The counselor, an “old guy” who is probably 19 and in college, has us all sit on the floor and tells us the rules.  One item is the language of going to the Kybo.  We are mostly city kids and have a vocabulary for those functions that he does not want us to use.  Standard 4 letter words for all functions. OK, we’ll play along.  We go down to the end of the Boy’s camp to visit the facility and get a lesson in how to use the Kybo.  We know how to use a toilet. What’s different here?  Well one thing several of us realize is that the seats are large holes cut in a board that was sized for adult bottoms and we were all pretty small with appropriately small posteriors.  Uh oh, one of the kids says: “what if we fall in.” Panic. We confer (without the “old guy”) after we get back to the tent and decide that we would only go in minimum of pairs (And you thought that was only a girl thing) and each promised that if one of us fell in, the other would be there to help him get out.  Day or night, rain or shine we never went to the outhouse alone.  We even found rope to hide close to the Kybo to be available in case of emergency.  Never used, but a comfort to know it was there.

More to come later…..

Ray Newton
Camper 1956 to 1962

BEFORE THE BEGINNING

In the late 1940s, two young women who worked and worshipped in New York City drove out to meet with the Church in the Wildwood, near Bernardsville, New Jersey.   Seeking help, they unloaded on Clinton and Flora Davidson about their difficulties in reaching street children. “Brother Davidson, we’re discouraged.  The kids can’t associate their brownstones nor our hallowed halls with the simple stories of Jesus.” Their pleas clarified ideas Clinton had been thinking of to get city children away from their grimy walk-ups.

“They need so badly to be taken from the noisy steel-and-glass of Manhattan,” said one. “What they’ve been denied is God’s unspoiled creation.” Remembering his childhood in Kentucky, he nodded. He knew he couldn’t have said it better.

Could the long-vacant estate adjacent to Davidson’s home be a key to the answer? He contacted the realtor and was soon being shown an immense mansion, surrounded by its sizable acreage. “Oh yes,” the agent said, “its owners named it Oakdene, but folks around here have got to calling it the English Castle. The first part, was built early in the 1890s in something of a Tudor-Revival style, by Charles W. Ide, who was from Brooklyn and president of the New York Cotton Exchange, They lived in it about a decade. It then sold to another wealthy man, William Scott Pyle, who got rich marketing a washing powder that became a top seller in the last half of the 1800s. Eventually sold out to Procter and Gamble.”   The Pyles expanded the mansion to thirty-six rooms.   A lawyer named Grant had it until he died a few years back.”

“The house has been vacant for some time.” Clinton began his bargaining in words the realtor would hardly notice. “To get it back into usable condition would take a considerable investment.” In his mind he organized his points. “It doesn’t take long for any space left vacant to deteriorate.” He looked about. “And these grounds are a tangled mess!”

Clinton pretended to talk to himself as he noted one area after another needing repairs or replacements. Looking at the sunken garden and coming across the statues within it, Clinton made his way alone through lush overgrowth. Lord, if we could bring kids here from the city to experience life in such a peaceful, safe place . . . . .  

Flora cautioned, “If waifs who’ve only played among arguing street gangs and the grind of construction equipment, dear man, mightn’t they be frightened by crickets and birds in this wild?” They swung gently together on the slatted glider of their back porch, listening to the cooing of mourning doves. “I wonder if any of those city kids have ever heard such peaceful sounds?”

The following week he laid a stunning proposal before the close-knit little Church in the Wildwood. “Most of you know I’ve been dreaming of a place of restoration for little ones from the tenants. I’m happy to report that we’re getting closer to the first big step,” he said.

Some moved to the edge of their chairs and one stared in anticipation. Another wanted to burst in but held her tongue.

“I’m asking whether all of you could help me secure the huge old mansion and its grounds next to us here.”

No one could speak. What might be required of them?

“I have managed to get the agent down to a price of $40,000, which is remarkable for that property. However, I have to tell you there are indications that local politics could block our securing this wonderful estate.” When they came back together, members had committed themselves as deeply as they could on finances, and the Davidsons made up the remainder.

In spite of the community’s active uses of the chapel, the group found neighbors opposing a camp of any kind being established in their exclusive midst. Are we to be defeated before we even got going? Most members felt thwarted, all were scared or discouraged. They began to pray.

The following week, the Wildwood church couldn’t help but believe that God over-ruled officialdom when, at the next meeting in town, two deciding voters didn’t show up. Also, there had been something of a feud between the building inspector and zoning board members. Wonder of wonders, permission was granted for the camp!

“Not only that,” Clinton couldn’t help but smile, “there were no requirements for revisions to property. If any had been major, it could have been costly indeed.”

He was vastly relieved but knew he had to calm their elation. “Folks, this was only our first step. We’re a long way from making this dream come true.” Soberly, he continued, “I have neither the time nor the capabilities to put together a proper team that has to be. I’m too busy and I simply don’t have those kinds of gifts. Its going to require leadership, not to speak of teachers and counselors who can direct and inspire the whole thing.”

Dare he hope for charisma in a leader? After telephoning contacts in Kentucky where he’d grown up, he scribbled names and numbers of friends in Arkansas. He called officers at Christian colleges to tell them how his hopes of rescuing poor little street children had grown. “But we really need a Godly man to head up and manage the whole thing,” he concluded.

The critical call came from Eddie Couch, just over in Manhattan. “Brother Davidson, remember the remarkable Irishman who worked with us for a time? He’s moved his family upstate but he may be your man.” Clinton sat down and got out his pen. “From those Eddie Grindley brought into our times of worship here,” Couch went on, “we know he has toe-holds among multi-nationals on the East Side. No, he doesn’t have seminary training--not much formal education for that matter--but there’s no one who can match his drive. Nor his unabashed love for people. Children especially.”

“What experience does he have? Any organizational abilities?”

“He and his wife worked as both cooks and house parents in a children’s home in Arkansas. Then after they left us they served well at Camp Hunt and with a little church nearby. His spirit just spills into everyone around him.”

Responsible people from upstate New York confirmed Couch’s words. “Yes, he and his wife Stella can cook for crowds and they’ve built trust with grown-ups down to toddlers. Wherever they go.”

Some time back, Clinton had heard from his son Jack that he and Eddie had gained each other’s confidence during the Grindley’s time in Searcy. That pretty well cinched the case. Winter was losing its grip in early 1951 when he got on the phone to invite this remarkable couple down to get the camp underway.

This post is excerpted from Sam Lanford's For the Children, a story about the life of Eddie Grindly and the early Shiloh years.  Sam was Summer Staff Camp staff in 1952 and was an active member of the Eastside Church of Christ, which was closely associated with Shiloh from it's beginning until the mid 1970's.

From Camper to Staff to Alumni

Its hard to begin to put my history with Shiloh in words. The place I would attend every summer for five years became more than just a getaway for me from boring summers at home. It became part of who  I am today.  It wasn't until I started going to camp that I really understood God’s love and His precious gift of life. I didn't understand what it meant to be a good loving person and to forgive just how Jesus forgives. I didn't understand what it meant to be humble towards people. I was a child growing up in Bridgeport, CT and all I knew was that I felt safe just keeping to myself. My first year I didn't say much. Even though I was away from home I felt safe with my counselors and support staff.  I was even comfortable camping out in the middle of the woods with just my sleeping bag and a pillow. After that first week of camp I knew that I couldn't wait for the whole year to pass just to spend another week at camp. As I grew every year I began to want to learn more and more about God and Jesus. I spent lots of time with Lucas, my counselor in 1998, reading the bible and asking many questions I was to afraid of asking the Nuns at my church ;). And Yes!! I did find $100 dollars at camp out night and my cabin and I had an amazing ice cream party. It was great to share with great friends in an amazing place. I was sad to find out at 15 that the next year I would be too old to go to camp, but that wouldn't end my Shiloh history.

My senior year in high school I came back to Shiloh as a CIT (Counselor in Training). Happy to be there, I was assigned to the Food Service support staff member Annalee and I did what I loved to do. I helped with set up, serving food to the staff and campers, and on off weekends I would cook. I went to college shortly after and majored in Food Service Management at Johnson & Wales University. After my first year of college, I was back at camp ready to serve and give back what I had learned through my time as a camper. I soon learned it definitely was harder than I thought it would be. Every session had heart aches from campers leaving because they could not get along or campers who were too home sick to stay. Even through tough times we managed to really stick together to show the campers what a great place Shiloh was. Through morning classes, playing ball, fun nightly games, and very interesting conversations, I felt inspired and motivated to come back the next year as a counselor. I was lucky to have such a great co-counselor two years in a row. My last year on staff I was fortunate to complete my internship as the food service support staff member. I had a different job but I was still able to continue to give back to the children and see familiar faces. It really is a special feeling to see campers return year after year, remember you, and tell you how much it means to them that you are there. It shows how much this place really means to campers as well as counselors.

As an alumni, every year that passes I think of how awesome my time at camp was. It helped when I was younger and made me realize how blessed I am that I was able to meet such inspiring people who commit their time to spend their summers helping plant seeds in our hearts. I think it’s safe to say as a staff member the kids plant seeds in our heart as well. We can take what we learn and really see how blessed we are. Thank you to all alumni past, present and future for committing your time to do this special work. It really does make a difference. I can say that with confidence because I was in both roles and I am very proud to say I am the first college graduate in my family. I owe all of this to Camp Shiloh for giving me hope and strength, and teaching me that I can do all things through Christ because He gives me the strength.

Jason

 

Jason was a camper from 1997 until 2000.  In the summer of 2003, Jason became a CIT and the year after became a cabin counselor until 2006 when he took on the role of Nutrition Director as a support staff member.  He graduated in 2007 with a bachelor’s in Food Service Management.  Jason has worked at Houlihan’s and Blue Chip Restaurant and Bar as a floor manager and is currently working as a Manager for a full service butcher shop in Newtown, CT called The Meat House.  He is currently living in Bridgeport, CT.  Jason would like to say to the Shiloh family how proud he is to have been a part of such a great cause.  “Shiloh is truly an amazing place but that wouldn’t be possible without all the amazing people who have and will come through that amazing camp ground.”