Summer Camp, Part Three: Geronimo junior staff- Chapter One

Recently I followed up my account of Camp Arrowhead with my years as a camper at Camp Geronimo. Today I continue the series with my recollections of my years as a junior staff member of that camp. It's largely a story of increased access: a story of seeing more than is presented to the general public. In my telling of it, perhaps it will become apparent that the public is not interested in hearing any more than they are told. I guess we'll see about that. I find that it's an exceptionally expansive tale (even by the standard set by parts one and two of the series), so I'll be splitting it up into chapters.

When I was fifteen, a friend from my Boy Scout troop had already begun working at the camp the year before, and was no longer with us when we went for our week there. He had seen what was on the other side of the divide, and was full of inside stories and jokes. He suggested that year that I join him- immediately. I was surprised by the notion that I could so suddenly change from camper to staffer- that I could stay beyond that Saturday all the way through the end of the summer. I somehow had the idea that I would not meet the high standards of the camp, and anyway needed to warm up to the idea, so that year I declined.

The following year would be another story. If I recall correctly, my friend had not forgotten about drafting me for service, and I was ready this time to go down to the interviews for camp staff. It was terrifying. I was sixteen now, and had never had a job of any kind or interviewed for something. The process somehow felt like auditioning for a major motion picture role or immigrating through Ellis Island. There was a picture and paperwork, and there were several interviews. The camp's staff was divided among numerous departments such as the Rifle Range, Aquatics and others. One had to list their three preferred areas, and then interviewed with someone from them.

One of my preferences I don't recall, but the other two were the Commissioner's Shack and the Nature Lodge. The former I chose because it didn't appear as if their responsibilities were especially time-consuming or onerous. They were responsible for caring for and lending out the tools and supplies that troops would need during the week. In addition, they served as the headquarters for the liasons that worked with those troops, seeing that they cared for their campsite and fulfilled their service project responsibilities. I thought I'd like working there fine. It turned out that a friend from grade school was doing the hiring, but he unfortunately had no slot for me.

This was because there were two tiers of junior staff members. Fourteen and fifteen year-olds were CITS: unpaid gophers who generally were there for half the summer and receive as compensation only scrip for the camp store. I always thought it was amusing that the answer to child labor laws was to get around them by just not paying the children. At sixteen and older, you were a Counselor, and made a miserly wage. Each area would be approved for so many of each. A place like the Commissioner's shack had a small staff, and only one or two paid positions. It seemed at that moment to my youthful mind that I would be out of luck