Camp Camp Book

Camp Camp on the Sound of Young America

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Fri, 01 Aug 2008 17:02:00 +0000

Jesse Thorn is one of the most talented gents we have encountered, and we are not just saying that because he featured the project on his show... listen here and subscribe to the podcast. He is a rare talent.

http://www.maximumfun.org/blog/2008/07/podcast-camp-camp-author-roger-bennett.html

Camp Camp on NPR

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 12:42:00 +0000

Camp Camp was on the boom boxes across the nation, featuring on NPR's Weekend Edition with Scott Simon this weekend... yes that Scott Simon who went to Camp Indianola back in the day... listen here.

The Ultimate Sound of Summer

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 11:25:00 +0000

We asked members of the CAMP CAMP FACEBOOK group which songs they only had to hear a snippet of on the radio to be instantly transported right back to camp... we had a massive response and all of the below got more than three votes each, an indication that if Rhino Records are smart they would release this beauty and watch out Lil Wayne...

Warning... if you are reading this at work, be prepared to be transported back to camp -- the below are more than songs, they are time machines...

“I Melt with you” Modern English
“Blister in the Sun” by Violent Femmes
“As Tears go By” by the Rolling Stones
“Forever Young” by Alphaville
“Lucky Star” by Madonna
“Don’t Go” by Yaz
"Nineteen" by Paul Hardcastle
“St. Elmo’s Fire” by John Parr
"Right Here Waiting” by Mr. Richard Marx
“Summer of 69" by B. Adams
"Don't Stop Believing” by Journey
"King of Rock" by Run DMC
“Paul Revere” by the Beastie Boys
"Wind of Change” by The Scorpions
"Stay" by Jackson Browne
Anything by Air Supply
“Circle Game” by Joni Mitchell. Shawn Landres adds that he remembers the camp counselors at Camp Alonim getting anxious when singing this classic because they were turning twenty. ("...So the years went by and now the boy is twenty. Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true....")"
"Endless Love" by Lionel Richie & Diana Ross
“Leaving On A Jetplane” by John Denver

A quick shout out, via Lauren Herskowitz, to a camp icon we regret not having in the book, Mr. Ron Dagan, a performer who has thrilled thousands in camps across the country over the past thirty years -- a camp troubador who has introduced a generation to the power of music. We salute you Ron Dagan, by showing this classic clip, playing live at Camp Summit. His Budokan. It's like punk rock never happened.

If anyone has a classic Dagan memory or photograph, we would Love to see it...

Any songs we missed out? Drop us a line and let us know.

Lisa Schottenfeld for Poet Laureate

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 11:12:00 +0000

Lisa Schottenfeld of Camp Summit, Wurtsboro, NY is the camp equivalent of Allen Ginsberg... she sent in this crisp photo spread, accompanied by the below, which we present verbatim. If you went to camp, it will read like poetry. In Schottenfeld's words, the purpose of camp was not to be pretty or put together but to have a pre-grunge disheveled meets Gunnie Sax, Little House on the Prairie type look. Shoes were LL Bean Bluchurs, nails and lips bare and hair was long and stringy but always in a side part flipped to the “wrong side” so your equilibrium looked off."

“Qui-et please. Dedicated to the senior boys. We’ve
seen better balls on the tennis courts.”
“Qui-et please. Dedicated to the senior girls. We’ve
seen better breasts on chickens.”

Look
Hair = Bangs = High, sprayed bangs.
Regardless of destination or time of day; breakfast,
free play, rest hour, canteen; the bangs were sprayed
high and slanted to one side so you looked like your
equilibrium was off.

Product used
Pump (not aerosol) Aussie or Sebastian
One girl used Flex but we made fun of her

Look
Lips like Sugar. Who didn’t want their tans to look
darker at any given opportunity? It was the make-up
equivalent of wearing white (or neon) your first day
back at school after Spring Break to see your Nanny in
Florida. Don’t forget to take your Swatch off and ask
your boyfriend, “who’s tanner?”

Products used
Revlon Zinc Pink or Frosted Brownie
Wet n Wild came in second, always. Same girl who
brought Flex, getting the picture?

Look
WE are the champions! THE champion sweatshirt. 11 out
of the 13 girls in that picture is wearing one!!!! I
had blue, grey, white, black and lt blue with and
without the C logo. All purchased at or in the
vicinity of Paragon sports on 18th and Broadway or at
Wings in NYC. The other crucial components of the
sweat and go look were the bulky socks.

E.J. socks or E.J.”s as we called them have not been
called out in any communication I’ve seen. Maybe it
was a long island thing. Being from NYC I could never
find them so all my friends the 5 towns would have to
lend to me.

Brands used (seen and unseen)
Champion and EJ’s. A softer look was the great
sweatshirt with the neck cut out and a pink tank
peeping through Naf Naf (aqua blue jackets to match John Taylor’s
eyes) and cotton candy tissue cotton shorts. ACA JOE.
Im disappointed no one has the ACA Joe logo tee on in
these pics. They all had them, especially the boys.
Ellesse, Le Coq Sportif, Guess jeans were the coolest. Ankle zips or the
inside-out pocket with dark denim on the outside
flipped outwards to reveal the acid washed underbelly.

Oh Yes, It;s Ladies Night, and the Feeling's Right...

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 12:50:00 +0000

This masterpiece was sent in by Amy Bonn Meltzer from Camp Kennybrook Bunk J in 1987. This was banquet night when we all wore what we thought was the nicest thing we brought to camp which was whatever best matched our major bangs and big hair. One of the other individuals who commented on this photo wrote: "It feels like it was one minute ago and a million years ago at the same time."

THE SOCIAL: All dressed up and nowhere to go...

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 12:41:00 +0000

Roni Dinkes sent in these beauties. Her days at Camp Sequoia were "the best summers of my life." The images remind us of every social we ever went to. The anticipation in the run-up, spent executing one outfit change after another, amidst the arguments over who could borrow whose EG's and Temp a Temp. A thick mist of Body Shop White Musk hung over the entire girl's side. It was always worth it. As soon as the first track began to rock -- some Violent Femmes, B-52's or Frankie Goes to Hollywood, no doubt, true lovers would come together with a passion which knew no bounds, outstripping even that exhibited by Rachel Ward and Richard Chamberlain in the Thorn Birds. The rest of us would stand around straining to affect an air of nonchalant cool but barely able to mask the mix of terror and confusion which gripped us. And epic rock ballad could be counted on to warm things up. Eight minutes and fifty-seven second of November Rain. After that, the evening became a race to the prime make-out places -- behind the stage, in the janitor's closet, at the canoe house -- which with their differing levels of privacy, would determine the base you could ultimately get to.

Camp has Begun...

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Sat, 28 Jun 2008 22:17:00 +0000

Camp has officially begun...!!! Over 12 million kids across the country have left the familiarity and comfort of home, striking out by plane, bus and automobile for their final destination: the Great American Outdoors. The arrival at camp is an occasion fraught with emotion. The air is thick with nervous excitement. Veteran campers have lived for this moment, counting down ten months of dead time back in the real world until their return to their happy place. First time campers wander around disoriented, shell shocked and crippled by unshakable homesickness, amid the logistical nightmare of trunks and duffels that lay scattered on the ground...

All this by way of saying, here are a couple of administrative details, the kind that would be read out at flag raising...

1. Join our CAMP CAMP Facebook group...
There are a million critical issues to be debated... which is the most powerful aphrodisiac, Drakkar Noir or Hai Karate? And, yes, White Keds, but leather or canvas? Join us and make your voice heard, and post your pictures, and get ready for the social.

2. If you are going to a CAMP REUNION or ALUMNI EVENT...
Please be in touch!!! We have a package we would love to send you that can help take your former camp mates on a trip down memory lane... drop us an email at rogbenn@gmail.com

Rock On!

From boredom to exhiliration...

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 00:56:00 +0000

Camp culture is a unique juxtaposition of opposites. The thrilling freedom to test your boundaries can exist alongside an unshakeable homesickness; a bunk can be both a place of both vicious exclusion and serious bonding; the thrill of endless love one night can be replaced by the shattering pain of being dumped the next, and, as these photos illustrate, periods of frantic excitement can coexist with long bursts of plain hanging out, in this case, sitting on the stairs of the bunk, waiting to play another camp mano mano. Thank you to Momo of Camp Sequoia, Rock Hill, NY for these beauties from 1979-84.

In praise of Adidas Sambas

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 02:15:00 +0000

Amanda Grant Smith writes: The photo is of my BFF Melissa Storch Epstein and me. Melissa was from North Miami Beach and was hands down the style icon and trendsetter extrordinaire of Camp Akiba. She had the best clothes, hair accessories, stationary, bedazzled tee shirts, puffy stickers-- you name it. Melissa wore Revlon Sphinx Pink nail polish, so we all wore Sphinx Pink. Nothing less would do. This is why, actually, my Adidas Samba coup was all the more spectacular. In 1985, I eschewed the Reebok high tops, the Keds, and the occasional Tretorn for black Adidas Sambas. Perhaps it was the rock & roll in me--the fact that I preferred Journey, Duran Duran, and Def Leppard-- while my bunkmates listened to Billy Joel, Phil Collins and the soundtrack to Dreamgirls. Maybe it was because I was the one in the bunk that was a little more likely to have done more than French kiss after canteen. Or possibly it was because I only took about 15 minutes to get ready while the others clocked in at no fewer than 45 minutes. Whatever it was, those shoes made me feel like a little bit of a badass while the rest of me conformed to (and loved) everything about camp and my friends. I worshiped Melissa and her wardrobe and couldn't wait each year as she unpacked her giant trunk filled with the labels we'd all be begging our parents to buy as soon as we got home. So, imagine the incredible high I experienced in late June 1986, as the buses arrived from South Jersey, Long Island, and Philadelphia, unloading one Jewish American Princess after another (none of whom had ever set foot on a soccer field, natch) in none other than MY black Adidas Sambas. I had truly arrived.

Someone likes us

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 02:14:00 +0000

Thank you Entertainment Weekly for making us part of your Must List. And Rolling Stone, we can die and go to heaven now we are part of your Hot List. You rock.

Making Love Out of Nothing At All

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 14:22:00 +0000

Camp was a place where you could experience the deepest love a human has ever felt, have your heart crushed, and be back in love with a different person, all in the same night. Most campers went for quantity over quality. Life was a roller coaster of emotion in which the time span between the thrill of a crush, the pleasure of a first kiss, and the shattering despondency of a breakup matched the life cycle of a mayfly. But some relationships were more significant, and even though many of us have moved on, gotten married perhaps, had kids even, camp love takes a very special place in a person's emotional vault, a spirit best captured in this essay I Fell In Love With An English Counselor!!! by Rebecca Shapiro, a modern day Thomas Hardy Heroine, and the rise and fall of her love with one Martyn Jones pictured above studying his Camp America guide to the States (Bless him!). All we can say is -- if you are Martyn Jones from the mighty Crewe and Alsager college -- please, please be in touch. For social science reasons, we would love (LOVE!!!) to hear the tale from your perspective. Or if anyone knows the dreamy Martyn -- please poke the gent...
And while we are at it... PLEASE HELP US FIND TWO MORE FORMER FLAMES who have been lost in time and space:

1. Simon Poulter an English counselor who studies at University of Leeds and spent a summer over at Camp Watitoh in Becket, MA wearing his Frankie Says Relax T-shirt. If you are alive and well... please email us...

2. Jeff Barron of Camp Kingswood in the early nineties. You were originally from South Africa, but moved to Denton, Texas... come on -- don't be shy... there are not one but three ladies who want to reconnect to your lovely self...

More to come, but if any of you know these gents, or know of their whereabouts... please help us let love rule.

CAMP CAMP IS OUT IN STORES...

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 11:29:00 +0000

We are out and in stores in full color hardback... (the pretty lady below is reading a galley) after three years of work, thank god for that. And thank god for Jesse Kornbluth and the amazing Headbutler... Great review here. And Daily Candy. And Josh Spear. Best Friends Forever.

Let's (Not) Wait a While. Before It's Too Late...

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 11:04:00 +0000

Camp was many things. The place you first learned to swim, played Nathan Detroit om stage to middling reviews, or shaved your legs for the first time. But above all, it was a sizzling Petri dish of sexual exploration. This was the equation. Massive peer group + teen supervision + being in the outdoors with nothing to do at night + a thousand secret hiding places = make out city. For eight weeks a year you could explore every urge you had and do just about anything without staining your carefully cultivated virginal hometown reputation. The Purity test was as common as Vogue magazine during fashion week. You would take it at the beginning of camp and then over and over throughout the summer. Your score would start at a goody goody 83. Wight weeks later it was guaranteed to be in the low fifties. Take it today... our favorite question, number 58. Though we do like the handwritten note along side question 46. CLICK TEST TO ENLGARGE...

Coolest bunk alive? You be the judge

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Thu, 29 May 2008 14:02:00 +0000

Thanks to all of you who keep sending in your photos and stories. We promise we will try and post all of them as they deserve to be in the Smithsonian. Michael Blatter sent in these beauties from the Waiter's bunk at Camp Sequoia (aka "The Penthouse) circa 1979, replete with Jonah Hill and Bill Haverchuck doppelgangers. Our favorite, the handwritten Freebird poster in the final shot. If your bunk was cooler than this, we would love to see the evidence.

Summer Style: Five American Summer Camp Style Classics

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Tue, 27 May 2008 01:35:00 +0000

Although the lakes of Maine and the rivers of Wisconsin are a about as far from the catwalks of Paris as one can travel, at many camps it seemed as if Madison Avenue was just around the corner. The brands never seemed to change. Esprit, Camp Beverly Hills, or EG’s. But what truly set the stylish apart was less the clothes, and more that je ne sais quoi of confidence, ripeness and poise, and well as a killer ability to accessorize. Here is a look back at some of the brands and styles we sported with pride when American Apparel was just a twinkle in Dov Charney’s eye…

The Champion sweatshirt: The camp equivalent of the little black dress.

Esprit: The Prada of its day.

Keds: The progenitor of Jimmy Choos. Canvas for everyday. Leather for socials (as below.) Always in white.

A numbing of taste led to the tie dying of everything.

The Uniform: Some camps tried to level the playing field by enforcing uniforms, but even with their confines, campers would develop an intricate hierarchy involving the right brand, length of shorts, or vintage sweats to create a complex hierarchy and sense of cool.

Happy Memorial Day... If you were 12, camp would be just days away

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Fri, 23 May 2008 02:14:00 +0000

Over twelve million kids are about to leave home to go to camps in every state in the union. As you celebrate Memorial Day remember those times down at the waterfront... which was more than a font of activity, it was a prism through which the social and political hierarchies of camp were revealed for all to see... yes, there were diehard swimmers and avid water skiers. But the real activities took place onshore in a scene that looked as if Sports Illustrated had decided to do an adolescent swimsuit edition. Luminous Body Glove bikinis and OP board shorts showcased the limbs of the beautiful. If you had it, you flaunted it. Be it breasts, or chest hair. Those without cowered behind baggy t-shirts or beach towels. Golden times.

Send us your Sports Camps photos...

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Wed, 21 May 2008 11:08:00 +0000

Most camps featured a wider array of competitive sporting activity than the Moscow Olympics. But the supremely gifted or sports obsessed, upped the ante, going to specialist sports camps run by former pro-athletes known for their good looks, like Rick Cerone, the Italian Stallion or hall of fame coaches, like John Wooden, who used summer camp to express their softer side and give out hugs. Chris Isenberg of No Mas spent some of the finest days of his youth trotting round the diamond at Lee Mazilli’s baseball camp. Isenberg writes “That’s me next to ex-Yankee catcher Rick Cerone, the Italian Stallion, on the far right with the Expos hat. Note other coaches nut sack.”

If you spent the summer trotting round the baseball diamond, basketball court, or tennis clay with a legend of a half-star, we would love to see your photos and hear your stories. Be in touch.

Summer Camp: Hotbed of technological exploration

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Tue, 20 May 2008 02:26:00 +0000

It has been widely acknowledged that Summer Camp was a place of firsts, where you first shot a three-pointer, got to second base, or played Kenickie to universally positive reviews. But there were other firsts that have, perhaps not been given their due. As these photographs reveal, camp was were many of us first fell in love with coding, via Commodore Personal Computing and the PET, learned to DJ while Pete Tong was still a twinkle in Mrs. Tong's eye, or quite literally became rocket scientists... will someone please relaunch the young gentleman's T-Shirt, "Model Rocketry is Fun!"

Five Ways To Decorate Your Bunk and Influence People

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Thu, 15 May 2008 10:38:00 +0000

Few places on earth have more of a fixed social hierarchy than a bunk of adolescent girls at an American Summer camp in the 1980’s. On the first day at camp, once the storage bins had been stuffed to the gills with Esprit and Fiorucci, the Jackie Collins and Sweet Valley High books had all been neatly shelved, there one last way to elbow your way into right clique before your fate was sealed for the entire summer. Unfurling the right poster on the first day was the last way your could announce your cool and ensure that you would spend a summer in the in-crowd.

Rob Lowe circa Youngblood (above) where he appeared in publicity posters wearing a mesh crop-top, exposing his abs.

Anyone from Beverley Hills 90210, cut straight from the centerfold of YM magazine. Luke Perry or Shannon Doherty would score you maximum bona fides. It was acceptable to be equally obsessed with both male and female thesbians.

Michael Jackson circa Thriller This was the kind of man all the boys wanted to be, and all the girls wanted to be with.

Dirty Dancing. Every camper knew that you can’t put baby in the corner and there were few actresses who more young girls identified with than the beautiful, and talented, Jennifer Grey.

And best of all: A metal mouth poster depicting the correct way to keep your braces on, given to you for the summer by your orthodontist.

The smell of summer: a sensory trip down memory lane

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Fri, 09 May 2008 13:13:00 +0000

There were few better places on earth for radical male bonding to occur than in the boys bunk at Summer Camp. This was the spot where many of us changed from boys to men thanks to communal stash of porn that was used medicinally like an iron lung, and the infinite supply of under the shirt over the bra action that was the girls side. Amidst the peculiar stench of pinewood, wet towels, urine, and Deep Heat that was the boys bunk, it is important to remember that Summer Camp was where many of us discovered our first aftershave, despite the fact that we were light years from actually using a razor. Let us remember the below with olfactory respect...

Drakkar Noir

The classic. Never applied directly onto the skin. Rather, sprayed in a mist that was then walked through. The true gentleman would have two of his friends spray bottles from either side to ensure that application was even.

Old Spice

Standard issue. This was the one you would desperately douse all over your self before leaving the bunk in the evening.

Hai Karate

No fragrance announced your desperate intent to get to second base than this. The Colt 45 malt liquor of aftershaves.

Cool Water

Particularly useful if your clothing had body odor, just splash liberally on garment itself, and BO would magically seem to disappear.

Mennem Speed Stick

Technically a deodorant but nevertheless de rigueur. Applied all over the body like a waxy fragrance. Coat ball bag twice.

Great Lost Loves of Camp: Eric Michaels of Camp Walden, MI

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Tue, 06 May 2008 11:51:00 +0000

Me and my girlfriend, Wendy Wallack, Camp Walden, Summer 1991. We were both counselors and when we were not “working”, we spent a significant amount of time hanging in the Meadow (general camp meeting place and, to this day, greatest place on earth to just hang) and countless evenings at The Pines (local Cheboygan bar right by camp which has since burned down). We spent every minute together that summer much to the detriment of my responsibilities running the camp tennis program and the dozen 11 year-old boys in my charge. Days-off were our priority as we valiantly searched for perfect destinations to stay throughout Northern Michigan. This was the consummate camp relationship – intense, genuine and meaningful but inextricably short-lived given the brief nine-weeks we had at our disposal.

As is often the way with serious camp relationships, we swore to stay together when camp was over. I went back home to go to Michigan State and she returned to Indiana University. I was anxious, but comforted by the fact that one of my best friends from camp was going to Indiana as well. He promised me that he would "look out for her". He definitely did that – and a bit more. My heart was broken when she dumped me for him a few months later. What an asshole. I got over it. Eventually. He is likely still an asshole. In the words of one Mr. Kid Rock from his ballad, “All Summer Long,” the summer of 1991 has left its mark as a time which will forever "hold a spot inside my soul."

The untold stories of Summer Camp: Where Hip-Hop blew up

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Mon, 05 May 2008 16:18:00 +0000

The mix tape was a staple of camp. An eclectic cascade of sound in which the one song that felt like it was played in the bunk all summer -- be it by the J. Geils Band, REM or Suzanne Vega -- could happily coexist with the camp classics of Led Zep, The who and Phish. If you have any saved, we would love to see some scanned track lists... These ones from Mik Moore of Camp Tel Yehuda, Barryville, NY reveal the invisble hand summer camp played in making hip hop blow up into the mainstream...

If you went to camp in 1985, hip hop was still an urban sound, feared by white parents, and barely on the radar of their kids in the suburbs. By the early nineties it was faintly audible everywhere. The American summer camp had a critical role to play in this transition as Mik explains:
“In the late 1980’s everyone was listening to Def Leppard. "Pour Some Sugar On Me" was the sound of every camp social. A small handful of us came to camp with a love of this new rap sound that was brand new. It is one of the great, untold stories… the role Jewish summer camp played in the spread of rap music to the suburbs of America. It bought kids together from all corners of the country to swap local sounds. I came from New York with my Public Enemy, EMD, Heavy D and Gangstar tapes. Arielle M. came from Seattle with her love of Seattle Hip Hop which meant Sir Mixalot. Dave came from Chicago and bought his house sound. Next thing you know, every camper was lip-syncing to Paul Revere at talent night."

A Taste of the Book... Out June 3rd...

noreply@blogger.com (Horatio) — Wed, 09 Apr 2008 02:19:00 +0000

CAMP CAMP: WHERE FANTASY ISLAND MEETS LORD OF THE FLIES comes out June 3rd, 2008. You can see more here... Starting May 1st, we will be updating the blog with some camp mysteries that have remained unsolved to this day and which we will be seeking your help to play detective... including, ENGLISH COUNSELOR MARTYN JONES (Camp Walden, 1992) , where art thou? Who took a dump on Fatty Rosenbloom's stoop? And who tie-died Amie Bloom's Esprit crop top? But until then, enjoy some of these beauties, and keep sending us your images...