A decorated hall filled with dozens of young men and ladies, moving to the variety of music selected by the DJ on stage and advised by an entourage around him, using the technology of the times, through a sound system that could fill a stadium, with an extensive mixture of finger foods and desserts for those on the sidelines. The event described took place for a seemingly few hours of one day within an entire year. The magnitude at its height shot far beyond the premise of a Senior Scout activity during Summer Camp with local girls from the small surrounding New Hampshire towns.

The very first Camp Kirkham Dance was quite different. The concept of a Senior Scout Dance was familiar, as it had been a tradition previously held in the Lake of Isles Dining Hall with Girl Scouts from that area, and probably before that at Camp Pioneer. We have slides showing dances from the 1950’s with Scouts in jacket and tie dancing formally with girls in dresses. We can assume it was a social event during the year for the Troop. When Harry was Youth Director at Center Church, he produced dances, as most of the Church youth were Troop members. As a preliminary, he would give the guiding speech for us to keep perspective and egos in check–‘Remember, all of you aren’t Marilyn Monroe, or (and he seemed to have to reach for a name) Cary Grant’ (which the boys glanced at each other wondering why we might want to be like Cary Grant, when being Paul McCartney would have suited us fine, thank you.)

When we arrived in 1970 to begin a new era in a new setting– there was a context of the larger society and changes of the times. It was a year after Woodstock, protests against the War, for the Ecology, for Women’s Rights, the expansion of Hippie–with the ‘uniform’ of very long hair, bell-bottoms, loud shirts and less feeling for regular bathing (and songs like Let it Be, Get Ready, Make Me Smile, Lola, Come and Get It, American Woman, Julie do You Love Me?) The Scoutmaster proactively arranged for the female dance partners by contacting his counterpart in Newport, New Hampshire– like himself, an icon in Scouting– Prudence Nichols. At that time there were active troops of girls spanning from Newport, Claremont, and Sunapee. For our part, they were offered the 54’s, 55’s, and 56 age groups as our Seniors. Gary Peters and I were sent to Keene to gain some music, paper decorations and two colored light bulbs– to give the Lempster Town Hall that festive atmosphere.

Tech Times

The Dance would prove a competent view into the historical development of audio technology. The premier event was produced with Harry’s portable record player. When you opened the top of the two-tone box, sitting inside was the turntable. It served its owner by playing albums of German marching music. For a more contemporary use, a special adapter needed to be inserted for the larger center hole of the 45 rpm ‘singles’ — of which we might have had half a dozen of. Either manually, or automatically, the stylus swung over to the correct point and the needle fell to gentle rest on the grooves of the vinyl. This produced a sound that sprung forth from the one small speaker in front. We have long lost the underlying sounds that accompanied the music. (Paul explained this, years later, for his younger audience during a Holiday service– ‘For the filmstrip you are about to see, we had to take the audio from a real record. For many of you for the first time you will hear the historic phenomena of the pops and hisses, static and scratches (especially from well worn Troop media).’

Later, enter Lonny Jennings, the career expert in sound, who’s impact rocketed us forward. Still using the media of records, components now separated the previous ‘record player’ box into pre-amps, amps, Hemholtz Resonators, receivers, multiple speakers– and an ingenious set up. To keep the dance momentum, not one– but two turntables were used (one to perform, one two be queuing the on-deck single). Each was suspended in air, held in a cradle of twine. This significance came from the reality that an entire wooden floor of dancing, jumping people could easily bounce the needle and skip it across the record (another historic downside to the media). Being literally ‘in air’ looked cool and was the effective solution.

As the years extended, cassette tapes became the acceptable form. While this had numbers of advantages, LJ turned to the parts the sound came out of. Having separate stereo speakers was a beginning to be improved upon. Their size, numbers and quality grew. Of note were the theater quality speakers bartered for with his connections. When dropped off casually in Jeff Metheny’s home driveway, his family got the first look at the size– with legend estimating them between a refrigerator and a Ford F150. When delivered to camp, then the site, no one argued with the sound quality, not even the residents of Claremont that heard them behind closed doors. These two behemoths, clothed in oak did meet their end with the collapse of our first dining hall. As we were sorry to see them go, in the new dining hall we realized we now had room for an additional 40 people without them.

The next time one goes to a multi-plex movie theater, notice the number of black speakers that line both walls. The next level risen to embraced the concept of ‘surround sound.’ Once again, Lonny achieved quite the accomplishment by procuring the entire array needed to give us that same sound separation, now using compact discs, for that one night of the year. Beyond that we benefitted, as I did relish noting to outsiders that we had possibly the only camp dining hall with current state of the art surround sound so we could play videos for Senior discussion.

Bon Apetite

I welcome any clarification– if in the first years we actually had the Girls get in line at the Kitchen, then eat in the Mess Tents (being ogled by younger scouts in uniform, who gave themselves a reason to remain with the Troop.) A few years into, grills were set up on the side of the camp road for a cook out of hot dogs, hamburgers and store brand chips. When finished, all went up to the Town Hall.

A rather great improvement to the ambiance was moving the operation from the dirt road across to a place in the woods that became known, appropriately, as ‘The Dance Site.’ Walk on a short path and there was a moderately cleared level area that opened to an appealing (and possibly romantic) view of Dodge Pond. (The Troop did not own this land, and the morning after the Dance, staff would be charged to return it to a cluttered primitive state that would not attract a potential buyer).

Commensurate with this site was the raising of the culinary stakes. Second week Chef John Ostrout, known for wanton dis-regard for budgetary concerns, sent business managers to search entire counties for ingredients that could be turned into creative, tasteful and unheard of combinations of horse-douvres. It was all about the presentation from vegetable trays to pastries.

What was noticed for years was that our Seniors feasted on the food, while our guests consistently abstained, no matter what the level or effort offered. Their ever polite refusals to jump in and dine with their ravenous male counterparts seemed a mystery. The answer came with the confession one year, that the Ladies ate ahead of time at home, so as not to appear gluttonous in front of the Seniors (who had no such pretense or remorse). Realizing that, it seemed logical to move more quickly to the Dance, and have the selection of snacks and desserts placed there for the duration.

The Preparation

It became a two-pronged initiative. For the first year Seniors, while the others were away on their trips, we held spirited Senior Discussion. This showed nightly segments of the filmstrip series ‘Love and the Facts of Life.’ Those returning from the AT and Canoe Trips had a shorter span of discussion to get them appropriate for the Tuesday occasion, but being veterans, they could be counted on to get up to speed. As we worked to develop a meaningful approach, to have us have a successful and proud event, it came down to: ‘Being this is our ‘home game’, the girls taking their time to attend deserve us to be good hosts, or maybe they won’t return. Oddly, mimicking Harry’s Marilyn Monroe/Cary Grant reality check, it was emphasized we were coming out of the woods, only bathing in the chocolate water of our Pond, and besides, they were willing to take a chance coming to a Boy Scout Dance. Actually, due to the efforts of this production, it was an easy sell to the Ladies of Lempster (and beyond), especially being from small towns that had limited people their own age. Our gents were a refreshing new set of folk for them. We worked on social skills, proper, deportment, pleasant and endearing personalities, and what to talk about when the song ended. For our Seniors, it was also fronted that these girls did not know them from home in.– thus the advantage of them not being aware of the stigmas and poor reputations they may locally have in CT.. It was a unique time to have a new approach– were you an inherent introvert otherwise– stretch yourself to be effervescent, were you too gregarious– try being more cerebral, and if none of the game plans worked, you could solace yourself eating chips and cookies on the side-lines.

The second preparation involved the Staff. From the meager beginnings where everything needed could be carried by two people in one trip, it grew to a production involving seemingly dozens and requiring many hours, sometimes over multiple days to satisfy the dizzying requirements to be successful. Expect that the maintenance and workings of the camp would be put on hold or grind to a halt completely as the Staff concocted rationales making them essential to be on site for the monumental tasks impending.

When the event began, there was the predictable hesitation to cross the floor, risk it all in front of your friends, and hope she would say ‘yes.’ Any number of mixer-games were tried to get dancing started and subtle to stern encouragements and threats by the staff given. It seemed, according to a close study, that approaching darkness was an aid (separating a real affair from a kiddie afternoon party.) The DJ’s pondered the right sounds to set people in motion (this could prove difficult, as the sometimes judgmental staff rightly wailed that their obviously superior adult taste was being squandered on the young and their ridiculous requests.)

At a point, the Troop camera came out, and rotated through the participants and finding the mixture of photos from sheer embarrassment to haughty pride (which went both ways for both guys and girls). At times, we suggested Seniors consider their futures, by handing them printed sheets and pencils (they were never prepared) for them to get addresses and phone numbers of their favorites. This, on occasions over time, made for correspondence for rendezvous like the upcoming Court of Honor or possibly the next Ski Trip. As it seemed the dance was hitting its zenith of enjoyment, there came the warnings of those looking at watches, that the magic would soon be concluding, and in the legendary fashion. There are certain songs that come down in time that define the moments, that linger after, that the mention bring memories back. At a sporting event–‘We Will Rock You,’ during the winter Holidays– ‘White Christmas,’ at the end of the Staff Party– ‘the Goodnight Song,’ and as such there has been no greater tune blasted out for decades of our dancers then ‘Stairway to Heaven.’ If only Robert Plant was aware of those he guided towards romance or dashed their hopes by ending the gig– at least the song played a long time. Does the credit go to Jeff Metheny for this inspiration? From the end, it eases away from the magic of the evening, to the ride back to camp. For the winners, and the un-lucky, there then becomes the reflection and reaction, the exaggerations and outright falsehoods, the egos that lay it on long after curfew and extend to breakfast the next morning. The Patrol Scouts lean in to gain some gossip and hope some day they will be a ‘chosen one’ (apologies to Nikiwigi).

The Almost Rumble

I imagine being a ‘townie’ guy, you had to put up with each August the girls you knew going off to be with strange other guys, and returning with possibly continuing romantic stories about them. It is the thing that probably builds up, out of your control and creates unwanted mind imaginations. So, it quite happened on one of our dance nights. The event was going nicely, with good feelings for all inside Lempster Town Hall. Across the road, cars began arriving, as local youths trickled in to form a disgruntled group. Their complaint, upon approaching them, was the expected feeling of being slighted each year at this time (and giving the impression ‘their girls’ lauded this over them after). It was that accusation of flatlanders having no right to do this in their town. They had no desire to be bought off that it was a simple few hours of enjoyment for guys, who in many ways were like them, having a respite from their camp experience.

Their numbers kept increasing as did their bravado and threats. Our Seniors and the Ladies were quite safe inside, oblivious of the protest beyond. I somewhat remember a few girls came out, rather enjoyed taunting those they recognized and telling them to get lost. This seemed to certainly fan the proverbial flames. Paul Maidment had the simplest of solutions– simply close the doors to the Hall and lock them out should anything escalate. I had my own plan should there be a violent confrontation. That year Jeff Metheny had been working out, and doing martial arts–so I claimed my spot to be six inches behind his back when trouble struck. At a point, Keith Fulton arrived. He is our friend and neighbor to the camp and that year his daughter was inside enjoying the festivities. When he asked about the crowd across, we explained. Keith is a big man, and in making a fist (which resembled the size of a Thanksgiving ham), he suggested we all go over and ‘confront’ their group. Personally, for a moment, I thought this might be a good thing, as it would prove we were not to be trifled with– and as I was behind Jeff M..

We decided ultimately to stand down, as a call to the local police had been made and we waited their arrival. When the Officer arrived, he calmly listened to our side, then went over to hear theirs. Evidently, and for knowing some of them or not liking the whiney attitude, he began to curiously wander around their autos. Evidently he did not really feel they were showing him proper respect, and not finding their attitude appealing, began writing tickets for vehicle violations. This was a pretty easy task as, being youths, their ‘rides’ had various cracked windshields, broken taillights or balding tires. In the end, they decided to sneer and disperse. We concluded the dance with an improved opinion of ourselves and we never seemed to have a repeat of the trouble.

Tar and Shingles

The Dance can bring out some oddities– such as this. While it was proceeding well one year, a member of the Staff noticed we were putting out a variety of chips and dips– and they were summarily disappearing at an alarming rate without the evidence of Seniors showing the orange of Cheetohs on their lips. Upon investigation, the reason came from two Seniors, that were taking entire bags and ‘dancing’ them over to an open window, to toss them to the grass outside. Quite pleased with our detecting and presuming these two would find a way outside to claim their booty to take back to camp, an inspired plan from our side developed. Due to construction for the Town Hall, a cache of asphalt roofing shingles was found, and a few broken up into smaller ‘bite sized’ pieces. They were generously smeared with roofing tar– that oozing, coagulated, super sticky, black as midnight substance. This was exchanged in a pilfered bag for the real chips, and left under that window. With stealth and purpose a Staff watch was set up, when the Dance finished, the ‘purps’ snuck back, then were heard the horrified sounds that turned into surprised cursing as they met with vigor the secret contents. Not only were they caught for the crime of snack snatching, add on the staff derision and series of jokes in poor taste at their deserved expense, and the final insult of being ‘tar-handed’ (remember, that goo is meant to bind for years in all conditions.)

The Senior Dance has sustained itself for over four decades. Our appreciation to the leaders of the Ladies that pulled together their part, many for long time periods. Joining Prudence Nichols were Betty Hastings, Amy Nemeth, Prudence’s Granddaughters– keeping contact throughout the years, as interest rose and fell, as Girl Scouts became scarce and other sources drawn in. Those that can claim to be participants in the early Kirkham years have probably reached sixty-years old. In more recent times, the Lempster Town Hall became replaced by its similar and more modern counterpart in Goshen. To counter conflicts with other activities and sports practices, the date was changed from the entrenched Tuesday to a weekend night.

Applause to those that see it fitting to put in the effort to continue this monumental of our traditions. In the category of ‘glory is only fleeting,’ it is worth noting that when you reach that revered age of most senior of Senior scouts, and you walk away from a three year Dance run– by the same time the next year you will be bending over preparing to ‘be dunked into the icy-cold waters of Dodge Pond.’