David was in Dan’s cabin—a year younger than mine—for the entirety of D. Gibb’s run at camp, and we were all Junior Counselors together during the final year of camp in 2001.

As was the case before, I’ve edited for grammar and added some brief explanatory bits.

Now, without further ado, here’s the first installment of my interview with David Will!

David Will in the North Woods. 2001.

Being a member of the Will family, you—essentially and possibly literally—started attending camp as soon as you popped out of the womb. Let’s skip the pre-camper years. What were your first summers as a camper like? What sticks out i your memory from those early years?

DAVID WILL: My first few summers as a camper were a transition period for me, where being a Will family member came second to my role as a camper.  As a “day camper,” the structure of my day was significantly different from that of a normal camper, where I had different freedoms and constraints. My schedule was also more subject to my whims (as a day camper). I would attend instructional swim or lodge when I felt like it. If I didn’t want to go to activities that day, I could play in the trailer with my toys or watch television. I interacted with campers at that time, and though the older cabins would play around with me, it was more difficult to interact with the younger campers. Since I wasn’t one of their cabin mates, the time I spent bonding was limited.  

So, when I became a camper, there was a sharp learning curve that I had to quickly adjust to. I quickly realized that my preferences came secondary to the schedule and to the cabin. If it was instructional swim, I had to swim. If it was time for rest, I needed to lay on my bunk. I had to attend activities, I had to stay with the cabin. The primary boss was the counselor, not my mom or dad. This shift, which was initially difficult to adjust to, became very liberating and rewarding.  By having to go to activities or swim, I learned to make choices and learned to grow under the constraints. I learned to swim, to play team games, to canoe, to camp, to work hard. None of these skills would have been accessible (to me) as a day camper. The constraint of camp’s structure also allowed me to develop life long friendships. I was no longer peripheral, rather (I was) a deeply involved member of the cabin unit. I learned to play and work, eat and sleep, win and lose as a group.  

In terms of specific memories that stick out from these years, the ones I remember most are the random and silly moments with the cabin: telling scary stories of “Green Feather” on Red Rock and hardly being able to sleep at night, playing countless hours of the finger game (“enter the store”) at the dining hall table, paddling our hardest and still falling behind in the camper canoe, playing complicated versions of tag on the cabin porch, listening to the music the counselor would have on his CD player, etc.  

David Will in 1995 at the now infamous Cabin 10 Twin Lakes campout.

Tag on the porch? Damn… sounds like a game for solely intended for daredevils based on the height of some of those porches.

You mentioned the skills you learned at camp. I always think its crazy how often these weird facts about me come up in random conversation. “Oh yeah, I took Red Cross sailing for three years and instructed it for a while.” “Oddly enough, I was actually an accomplished target shooting archer.” I don’t use either of those skills anymore (Which is a shame), but I think camp taught me a lot of skills, be it the more official skills from boating courses or just how to make a campfire. As far as the education of camp goes, what do you remember? With your time at camp, I imagine you had a chance to take rowing on through power boating before you became a staffer.
 
DAVID WILL: Yeah, tag on the porch required some creative thinking and clever restrictions on the tagger, i.e. the tagger had to close his eyes and couldn’t move from one spot. But that was the fun of rest period. You had only so many objects and so much square footage of cabin space. You had to rely on creativity or sleeping to get through it.
 
It’s funny that you mention the subtle ways the learning done at camp gets incorporated into your life. I know that I am constantly reminded in odd cases of my formal and not so formal teachings in the northern woods. As you guessed it, I believe I have done every single instructional course at Shewahmegon from power boating and rowing to conditioning and basketball. I also had the privilege of helping with sailing (alongside the mighty Jim Gibbons) and taught rowing as well.  The time in these courses was well spent, not only for the learning experience, but also the explicit pleasure of doing the activity. As you well know, there are few thrills in life like sailing in the Cub on windy day, trying to tip her over or practicing real man over board drills when a shipmate (Danny Aronson) slipped off the deck. SCUBA diving was another of my favorites. It was a very surreal experience—somewhat intimidating and always exciting. My dad (Tim Will)always put the fear of “air embolisms” into us on the first day. And even though we were not in any real danger, the perceived risk added to thrill. And of course, the canoeing course has been invaluable to me over the years, helping me tackle the Border Trip or helping me feel comfortable mucking about on Lake Owen in the evenings. 
 
Like you mentioned with your example of building a fire, a lot of the learning done at camp was informal. Without being forced to learn, a lot of what I picked up became fun. Unfortunately, there is simply no way I could recall all the skills I have learned at camp. I believe that Shewahmegon is largely responsible for the person I am today, and as such, I couldn’t do justice attempting to list all the skills I developed there. However, some of the practical and unpractical skills have served me well over the years, and I can share a few quick stories.
 
There is an art to blowing on a fire. It requires timing, endurance and patience. I would like to think that I am master fireblower and as such am willing to loan my services to those in need.  While in Bunkhouse, on a trip down the Brule River, we came across a gaggle of teenage girls who were camping adjacent to us. Being 14-year-old boys, we wanted their company, but were hard pressed to find a way to approach them. That’s when I noticed their fire was a bit low and offered to blow on it for them. Was it awkward? Sure. Did they think I was a dork? Absolutely! Did we spend the entire night hanging out with them in front of a roaring fire? You better believe it!
 
I think a more practical skill I learned at camp was being able to get along with different sorts of people in close proximity. I can’t say that I always got along with every guy in my cabin, but I like to believe that I learned to handle tough situations in a reasonable way. For instance, if your suitemate in college had been rat-tailing you the night before, a very mature approach is to pour freezing water on him while he showers. Or if your roommate is harassing you, you can always find something valuable of theirs to throw in the laundry (Sorry, Axel.). While I am kidding (although I did do these things), the truth is I really learned how to get along with folks.
 
I think it is funny that skills you learn surrounded only by boys can help you get a girlfriend. Surprisingly, some women find it very sexy (or hilarious) that I am an amateur turtle hunter. With over 30 feet of snapping turtles caught at Camp Shewahmegon, I am a master of leaping out of a canoe and grabbing turtles. I use these excellent truths as an ice breaker in new crowds with much success as most people are willing to chat with a turtle hunter. One such person who was interested in these stories became my girlfriend, and inevitably became my wife. She is now on her way to becoming an expert turtle hunter.

Once again, 1995 at Twin Lakes, I believe. Mere seconds before David first bludgeoned someone with a blunt object.

• Crossed Paths: Part 2 of both An Interview with Dan Gibbons and An Interview with David Will
• How a chubby, young asthmatic ended up deciding to go to camp.
• An interview with Dan Gibbons: Part 1

I recently started an email dialogue with my brother Dan about camp. We hit on a number of topics. Dan’s 20 months younger than I am and we both went to camp at Shewahmegon for seven years. Dan was always in the cabin just below mine, age-wise.

Some quick explanation of the interview that follows: My bits of the conversation are in bold. The rest is all Dan. I’ve cleaned up the grammar throughout for readability. I’ve also added some explanatory notes in parentheses where Dan and I had just been using nickname’s or short hand. Dan’s parenthetical asides should be obvious in comparison.

Now, enough introduction—here’s Part 1 of our discussion.

On the right, Dan Gibbons on the A-Field at Camp Shewahmegon. The year: 2000. Also featured, Ted Marino.

What’s your earliest memory of wanting to go to camp and what did you think the experience would be like before spending a summer at Shewahmegon?

DAN GIBBONS: I can’t particularly recall a single moment where I wanted to be at camp. As I first thought about, I thought I recalled a moment at some family reunion… However, after thinking about it, I remembered we visited camp while on vacation at Eagle Nob. I remember thinking the place seemed so cool—very happening! So much happening in the eyes of a young kid… I have slight memories of walking around on the dirt path from the waterfront to the a-field.  

One major thing that led me (and I am sure you) to want to go there is I recall knowing my two older cousins went (to Shewahmegon). The way they kind of talked about it, or just their attitude about it, made it seem like it was really awesome. Knowing that our cousins liked it so much and that our uncles went—it seemed kinda like family tradition. So, I knew I wanted to go, because if they liked it, well, I would probably like it.

Of course, I was much more nervous when it came time to (actually) go. But then I decided I was just excited. Almost like a kid before college… just so ready to go and experience a new adventure.

Our cousin Ryan Bergstrom in 1997. One of the reasons we went to camp.

If memory serves, I fell and skinned my knee around Cabin 15 (Our cousin Ryan’s cabin the year we visited… I think.) and had to go to the nurse during that visit.

When you got to camp that first year, what are your best memories? I know you have a great story about peeing in a tent at Two Lakes Campground…

DAN GIBBONS: Man, first memories of camp… I feel like I have a lot of distinct memories from the first year of camp. Probably because it was the first year, I can clearly identify those memories as (being from the) first year. Other memories can kind of blend in to just camp and then you have to think about what year that really was.
 
I can remember being on the bus riding up (to Shewahmegon). It seemed like such a long ride that first time with a combination of uncertainty, not knowing many people and scary older kids on the back of the bus.
 
Weird note: I remember waking up in the early morning It was light out and we were still on the bus. I had this weird boogery shit all over me. It was a super weird consistency. I still, to this day, don’t know if some prank was played on me in my sleep or if I just sneezed all over myself.
 
I remember getting to camp and having the staff there. Everything seemed very new. I remember thinking it was kind of a big moment when they were assigning us counselors—knowing you were going to be given to that person who would look out for your group for the whole summer.
 
The things I remember the most from the first year were the camping trips, goofing in the cabin and the fireworks at the Johnson residence. I still remember those as being one of the coolest shows because it was so dark out on the lake. Oh, I also remember the first counsel fires and trying to learn songs! David (Will) was in my cabin, so he basically came out of the womb signing Johnny Verbeck (Weird visual there!) and I felt left out not knowing them.
 
Within the first years we were at camp, I really remember the evening and weekend games! I think the camp’s population (attendance) was higher in our younger years, so the games were fun. As the years went on, I felt we played the games less and less. Especially in my last year as JC (Junior Counselor).

Dan as a Junior Counselor on a day off in 2001. We're at the mini golf course in Hayward, WI.

Also, thinking back, what do a 20-year-old college kid and 35ish Swedish giant talk about? 

…Oh boy, do I have to pee. But as Thor is a monster of a man and I think he will crush me if I bother him, I am scared to ask. I don’t know why I was so scared to ask, maybe it was that whole mentality of “do you have to go now” and then feeling guilty when you gotta go two exits later on a road trip. Or the whole I was “supposed to be in bed” thing.
 
Anyway, I managed to fall back a sleep. While sleeping, I peed all over myself—my sleeping bag and my mattress pad. I also managed to do the same to David’s gear. When we first woke up, there was your normal morning confusion. That morning also had the confusion of trying to figure out what that smell was and where it came from (Pee and me). There is a quick moment of denial and disbelief and then you just accept it.
 
One of my vivid memories was the last morning when we were getting picked up by (Camp co-owner and co-founder) Bill (Will) to because it was raining really bad. We ate cereal in the rain and then the counselors, along with a couple JCs, had to paddle the canoes back by themselves. I remember Thor getting in the back of a canoe (with nothing else in it) and seeing how monstrous he truly was—the whole front of the canoe was out of the water!
 
I also remember riding back to camp in the old (Old!) maroon and white van from Twin Lakes to camp.  Being in that van was a good summary of camp in general, because camp was basically like going back in time. Whether it was going back in time because of the lack of technology or just the fact that the style and feeling of camp was stuck in the ’60s and ’70s, it was like a little time capsule up in Drummond, Wisconsin!

Dan as Cyclops on the A-Field in 2000.

It’s funny to look back on those summers when we were younger. I can never tell if everything was bigger (The games, the camp population, etc.) or if we were just smaller. Back then camp was such an unknown that, even after the first year, there was still such an exciting air of mystery and discovery about it as you learned more about the Shewahmegon Way (a.k.a. the Law of the Jungle) each year.

Speaking of The Law of The Jungle—which became a term synonymous for the weird but fun rules of camp after hearing that phrase uttered numerous times during BIll Will’s Rudyard Kipling readings—camp was full of inside jokes, running jokes, camp-wide slang and gags. Out of the many camp conversational aspects and turns of phrase, which ones do you reminisce about most?

DAN GIBBONS: I honestly do not remember the “law of the jungle” phrase being mentioned all that much at camp, but it sounds vaguely familiar. I think you’re being a year older and having a cooler cabin helped you to be more “in the know” at camp than I.

Running jokes… I mean I can remember a lot of phrases that I still go through from time to time…

-”NOW BOYS!”
-”Cool beans”: While used all the time, I still am holding onto the dream that Lee Graves came up with this phrase!
-”Hey buddy!”
-”You kill it you fill it.”
-”Spring Chicken” (As in “Bobby is no spring chicken…”)

More than just phrases, things that really define camp language and always make me think of camp are certain words that we used there. When I hear them I almost always have a different definition in my mind from other people since I first heard these words at camp. Now, both their meaning and visual representation mean something very distinct in my mind.

-Latrine
-Waterfront
-Woodshop
-Cookout
-Council fire
-GORP
-Supper
-Bunkhouse

While I rarely hear some of these words, they make me think of camp. They are a representation of camp, these words that are so distinct to camp.

The Gibbons Bros in 2000.

You know what just came to mind? Bucket golf. What a ridiculous activity! I loved it, though!  There were a lot of really silly activities at camp. You needed a lot of activities because you could easily get tired of even the best activities. You know what came up the other day in conversation with someone? I don’t even remember how… the activity Turtle Hunt.

That sounds like the silliest activity. It was so distinct to camp… going out just looking for turtles! The only thing I didn’t enjoy was putting them in the reptile pit. So sad!

Speaking of the reptile pit, wasn’t that a big area of Bill Will’s “erosion?” I felt like there was always a joke about erosion due to campers running down the hills.

How a bout “raking the beach?” That was a duty that was pretty distinct to camp in my mind.  
Ha! Oh man, you are dredging up some great memories!

I remember the erosion thing too, but can’t remember why. Maybe it was like Bill’s croquet etiquette demonstration. I have a photo of him shooting hook shots on the basketball court. I should dig that up!

Ok, ok... It's not a hook shot, nor is it a very good photo, but that's Bill Will shooting hoops. Found it!

Part 2 coming soon! Stay tuned!Similar Posts:

• Crossed Paths: Part 2 of both An Interview with Dan Gibbons and An Interview with David Will
• Cyclops on the A-Field: A Comic-Con mini-hiatus post.
• Where there’s a Will there’s a way: An interview with David Will: Part 1

Ready for an afternoon at the archery range.

So, where to begin…

The Archery Box was fairly ancient. Constructed out of wood at some point in camp’s history, it kept rain and woodland creatures away from the equipment but was chock-full of tiny holes, plenty of chipped paint and even had bits of moss growing on the roof. Despite its age, the A Box (The archery portion was only half of the box. The other half had equipment for A-Field games. The entire structure was known as the A Box.) got the job done. The Box was down on the A-Field and, to the right of the picture, you can see the plastic trash bin full of lime for marking the field for games like Capture the Indian Clubs or Dodgeball.

Full of camp’s collection of recurve bows and wooden arrows, as well as campers who had brought their archery equipment (usually compound bows and graphite arrows), this was the place where each archery lesson would begin. In order of seniority based on how accomplished an archer they were, campers would get to select the bow and set of arrows they’d use for the afternoon. (To my left, in the photo, are camp’s arrow sets.) Instead of wearable Robin Hood-esque quivers, we mostly used metal holders that could be stuck into the ground. A bit like a long nail, twisted at the top to form a ring that would hold the arrows, the in-ground quivers could be flung down into the soft sand around the Archery Box, driven directly into the ground, in an impressively cool way. Probably the biggest perk of teaching archery? Only instructors were allowed to toss the quivers, thus experiencing the satisfying sensation of flinging sharp, dangerous objects into dirt with great speed in front of bewildered youths.

Other than that, this photo is another prime example of the impeccable style demonstrated at camp. Sneakers with yellows laces, tube socks, jean shorts and neon green tees! Flawless! That shirt came from a restaurant called The Satisfied Frog in Carefree, Ariz., where my grandparents (who sent both their sons to Shewahmegon) lived. At the end of the summer, I traded it to Chris Arnold for an orange shirt that said “Camp does kids a world of good.” (T-shirt trading was kinda big at camp. I’ll probably get into that in a later post.)

———
Note: Sorry it’s been so long since my last post. After Comic-Con, things kind of got away from me. Life, it’s busy—what can I say? I’ll be getting back into the swing of things now, but big thanks goes out to my cousin Ryan Bergstrom, Brent Parker, Adam Kwasman and Chris Arnold for their kind words about my blogging and their “encouragement” to get my ass in gear and start writing more about camp. Thanks, gents!
Similar Posts:

• A bunch of dudes in the woods
• Regarding archery in comics and a long, long absence…
• The Canoe Relay

While the men of Shewahmegon had flexed our vocal chords with many more songs than the ones featured here around the Council Fire or in Lodge, this is a nice smattering of songs that demonstrate the goofy and folky tunes we used to belt out at camp.

A collection of favorites, including the Boo Boop, The Far Northland and the Frozen North.

One of my favorite, and one of the goriest camp songs we had: Johnny Verbeck.

Hot damn, this was a great tune!

Many thanks to Brent for scanning these puppies in, and if you have more song sheets please drop me a line at jimgibbons1 [at] gmail [dot] com. I’d love to get some more up here!Similar Posts:

• A group shot of Cabin 11 circa 1995
• In memoriam: William T. “Bill” Will
• Chipmunk Chatter: Vol. 53, No. 6

Getting ready for the Canoe Relay.

One of the things I always enjoyed about camp and, to a degree, Northern Wisconsin was how timeless those places always felt to me. Or maybe “stuck in time” is a better way to put it. While the modern era came to camp in the form of CDs, Discmans and sleek Maglite flashlights, you could look around and see bits of the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s and ’80s intermingled with the new faces and newfangled technology.

This photo, which features a fairly common and genuinely timeless tableau of Shewahmegon life, has representation from each decade of camp’s operation. The brown boathouse in the background received numerous touch-ups over the years, but I believe (If memory serves…) it was one of camp’s oldest buildings. I’ll give that one to the ’50s, and parts of it to the ’60s as well. The red and white speedboat next to the boathouse, cleverly named The 70 (Right, Shewahmegonites?) due to the horsepower of its engine, is coincidentally pure ’70s. For the ’80s, I’ll allow Tim Will’s pink shorts to wave proudly (though Tim’s steadfast beard might date back to the ’70s), as well as the other speedboat. Known as The Lund, camp’s faster speedboat was an ’80s model that I believe came to camp in the ’90s. Then you’ve got the fiberglass canoes (’80s?), aluminum paddles (’90s), white and black camo t-shirt (Sported by, I believe, Danny Trevor… so, ’90s.) and any one of the docks pictured here was probably made up of bits from the ’50s through to the year this photo was taken. It’s like traveling through time while standing still.

All these camp contants make this photo a bit hard to date, but I’m fairly certain it’s from 2001. The fiberglass canoes were only pulled out for rare occasions, one of them being a game day called The Olympiad (Or did the Olympiad feature the Swim Relay while Shewahmegon Games Day had the Canoe Relay?), which means this photo was taken on a Saturday in the afternoon.

The event everyone’s preparing for in this picture was the aforementioned Canoe Relay, the first of the day’s team events. Each of the four teams, whose names were self-chosen at the beginning of the day, had to take every single member of their team around a buoy about a quarter of a mile away on the lake. The fastest team to have each member complete this task won the race.

Complicating matters was the fact that the fiberglass canoes were notoriously wobbly and the vigorous paddling this competitive event encouraged didn’t help matters. Most strategies for this relay put three people in each heat of canoe. (As opposed to loading more in each to lesson the number of trips. That almost never panned out.) An older camper would take the stern to provide power and experienced navigation, one of the younger and tiniest campers would ride deadweight after being given plenty of encouragement to sit still and not rock the boat, and a camper somewhere in between would take the bow to add paddling power.

Essentially, the Canoe Relay was a lesson in patience. Focus on long, powerful paddle strokes and careful maneuvering and your canoe would make good time without capsizing. Let the screaming, cheering masses on the shore speed up your paddling to frantic levels and you’d flip your ship, likely after losing your cool. In the end, like so many things at camp, the experience had value outside the Northwoods—it was a practical team building exercise with a camp twist. Similar Posts:

• Where there’s a Will there’s a way: An interview with David Will: Part 1
• The Archery Box
• Crossed Paths: Part 2 of both An Interview with Dan Gibbons and An Interview with David Will

From left to right: Danny Trevor, Ben Trevor, me (Jim Gibbons), half of Quint Owen's head and Sam Hulka. I have no idea who took this photo. Possibly a sasquatch, but more than likely a camper.

Taken down at the archery range on a sunny afternoon during my last year at camp (2001), I’m a second year JC (junior counselor) in this photo and instructing/supervising these fine young lads in their arrow-flinging endeavors. Obviously, I was sporting a soul patch and a “Hi, my name is Slim Shady” t-shirt because I was a super cool 16-year-old. ‘Nuff said, right?!

I’ll wager a guess that before, during and after this picture was taken, I was lamenting the fact that I had become an American Archer when I was a camper. Quick explanation: An American Archer is someone who has achieved every target shooting award at the 15, 25, 30, 40 and 50-yard lines with a bow and arrow under the Camp Archery Association’s achievement program. There were usually only one or two handfuls of American Archers at camp each summer making the bragging rights it entailed a cool perk as a camper (Note: They are also kind of cool as a 25-year-old.), but as one of only three staffers with the distinction in 2001 it was a different story. The other two American Archers on staff were Waterfront Director Brent Parker and Head Archery Instructor David Owen, a fellow JC one or two ears older than me. Brent, busy with all things waterfront-related, would have been a rare staffer to see instructing archery that year, which made me (more or less by default) Assistant Head Archery Instructor—or something like that. What that meant was David normally got the morning shift down at the range (Which was preferable because it was usually cooler and your morning was usually more relaxed—a definite perk for anyone among the sleep-deprived staff.), I ended up down there in the sweltering hot afternoons… when I would have rather been down on the waterfront… by the cool, cool water… doing anything, anything other than archery.

That said, with the rose-colored glasses of hindsight, I realize that I ended up spending most of my afternoons on staff leading a bunch of kids as we all fired dangerous projectiles at bails of hay (or sometimes an old t-shirt) for a few hours. Not too shabby.

This photo also exemplifies a lot of camp experiences. It’s a bunch of dudes, surrounded by trees, doing something potentially dangerous. Good times, indeed.

I love how maniacal Sam looks in this photo. Little would the casual viewer suspect that the half-headed Quint was the real threat here. After the photo was taken, he jabbed two or three arrows into my side, filing them in between the gaps of my rib cage like some sort of pointed and deadly piece of paperwork, before fleeing into the nearby swamp… never to be seen or heard from again.

I’m kidding, of course! In my two years instructing archery, no one was shot, stabbed or lost in the swamp. A few arrows, however, did find their way into that quagmire at my discretion…

I didn’t say being an Archery Instructor was completely without its upsides!Similar Posts:

• The Archery Box
• Regarding archery in comics and a long, long absence…
• Some song sheets: Johnny Verbeck, Frozen North and more!