SixtySomthing: 1957 Boy Scout Jamboree at Valley Forge

I was looking for a picture of me at Saufley AAF just outside of Pensacola, FL for an OCS reunion and I came across a batch of pics of my Scout Troop and the trip of our then very short lives.

Scouting for me being 72" tall and weighing 98 lbs (In high school) was the only activity from which I could derive a feeling of self worth and accomplishment.

My scout master, Julius Walker (Jay) McKay, was a graduate of the Citadel and served as the officer in charge of a battery of quad 50s in Europe during WW II; he was a Lawyer in Columbia who was a bachelor and had time and resources to be one of the finest leaders and educator of young boys and later young men that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Although I am a person of many words, none could fit the dedication and commitment this man had for the boys of Troop 4 of St. Martins-in-the-Fields Episcopal Church. To steal a phrase, "Surly goodness and mercy shall follow him all the days of his life, and he shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

I may not have all this right, but Jay was a member of the law firm McKay, McKay, Black and Walker and they were on retainer with the Southern Pacific Railroad.

In 1957 the Boy Scouts of America held a Jamboree at Valley Forge, Virginia. Jay decided that we, Troop 4, should attend. Jay knew almost everyone in the flat lands of SC including Strom Thurman and Fritz Hollings. So he started gathering materials and support for the scouts to build a stockade block house that could be disassembled and reassembled. All this was accomplished on his property we called Holly Springs several miles out hwy 76, I think. We had a friend of Jays sew up enough canvas to make tee pees for all who were going to the Jamboree. We spent hours painting the designs on the canvas and making all of our Indian costumes that we wore during our "rain" dance. When the time came, I was given the job of driving the troop moving van that was a donation from one of the members of the church. I had to make several round trips to transfer all the stuff for the block house, tee pees, chow, rolls of binders twine, a couple sets of uniforms and all the patches and stuff we owned to trade at the Jamboree from the church to the loading platform of the Southern Pacific Railroad. I might have been 15. We loaded the freight cars, mounted the passenger cars, said our farewells and started on a journey none would soon forget.

There were over 50,000 Scouts at the Jamboree and we arrived in our own personal Pullman Car and two freight cars that cost the scouts nothing other than the Registration at the Jamboree. I can feel the excitement right now. What an experience for most of us who had never been out of the state of SC. What a great week! This was how a young boy, with the proper model and a man who created discipline by example learned the values of sharing, working for success of the Troop, respect for elders, firearms and mother nature. I was not big or strong enough to play any high school sport, but Scouting, hunting and fishing with my scout friends were, in the long run, a far better growth pattern than I probably deserved. Two of my early years best friends are in one or more of the attached pics. The only one with a name is Tommy Turner the other is wearing a black cowboy hat in one of the pics and his name is Rock Garick. He and I ride motorcycles to this very day and remain good friends. Tommy and I spent all our days when not in school, hunting and fishing. We carved long bows from lemon wood and made arrows from dowels procured from the local saw dust floor hardware store. The dowels cost money so we were very careful in their construction and care. We would practice all day long. You could kick a wax milk carton in the air and Tommy and I could each put an arrow in it before it hit the ground.

We had no bird dogs so Quail hunting was nothing more than walking through a woods with hope to flush a covey up. Although we both had shot guns given to us by our fathers, the shells were beyond our means. So we purchased a Wamo Sling Shot and doubled the length of the surgical tubing. We discarded the leather sling and replaced it with a piece of hog hide that was wider and longer than the piece that came with the Wamo. 25 cents for a round cardboard tube of BBs and we are ready for the hunt. We would pour about half the BBs in our mouth and spit four or five into the enlarged hide sling. You are going to have to take my word for this, but if a bird jumped up, you can pull, aim and release in half the time it takes you to get off a round from a smooth bore. As soon as you released, you turned the hide inside out and spit more BBs into the sling and you were ready for any singles. If we flushed three coveys, we would bring home at least two birds brought down by the Wamo. I will admit we did find that many a time we had wandered onto a piece of property for which we had not permission to hunt.

All this activity was unconsciously woven into our lives with the Scout troop. Above all, we, the pubescent, understood the value and power of loyalty and honesty with each other. My first job out of college was in NYC and it took less than a couple of day to realize that these two precious traits from childhood held no value in the big city. The United States Marine Corps made it clear that loyalty and honesty were not just traditional ideas but a way of life when life depends on the reliability of those on your flanks.

I will never forget the scorn, embarrassment and disappointment of my father when he found out I had lied to a neighbor. In my day in Columbia, SC, a place in the deep south, to tell a lie was not just a mark of rudeness and improper rearing, but marked your mother and father as well. Shame is one hell of teacher. This is especially true if its your actions that bring it to the door step of a loved one. It's in short supply these days.

If you have read this far and in the unlikely event you are wondering why you received this email or why I took the time to tell you the story, the answer is personal and simple. When I looked at the pictures of the Jamboree, I was alone in my bedroom and all these memories started to flow back into my conscience. You are fortunate I only told you a couple, there are a lot more.

I was proud of my time in the Scouts and I thought about each of you individually and how, in my memory, we had shared through accident or coincidence, a number of life's lessons in a dozen different ways. Its all a little mushy but I thought some might find it refreshing from today's news.

Rock:Pass along to Damo if you like.

I have attached some pics of the Jamboree. I took most of them with a Kodak Brownie, great camera.

Enjoy.