In almost any work environment you have a pretty wide range of ages. But, typically, the younger end is in their 20s at a minimum. For most jobs, at the end of the day you go home and your social life and professional life are separated.
Camp is different though. Much of the staff is under 18, and the overwhelming majority are under 21. Maybe things were different in Camp prior to 1984 and the passage of the National Minimum Drinking Age Act of 1984 (23 U.S.C. § 158). But when I attended camp, the drinking age was 21. Ostensibly.
My proposal would have been to establish alcohol free zones around camp, but not an outright prohibition. Unfortunately, this was neither legal nor logical, so it didn't happen. But it sort of did. Almost without exception there was no drinking in front of the scouts, and as far as I know, no-one was running programs with the scouts while under the influence. So these were the alcohol free zones.
The Rock House and the Voyageur cabin were not alcohol free zones. The nice part about Summit was that no scouts stayed up there overnight, with the exception of Sunday nights and Friday nights when scouts were preparing to depart and return from treks, respectively. Even then, the camp sites were quite far away from where the staff lived. Looking back on it, they were really unnecessarily far away. Before we got rid of the old style canvas tents and wooden platforms it resembled a WWII refugee camp. There were far too many tents in each campsite, you could have accomodated a group of 50 or more in each site. There is something a bit unnerving when you are surrounded by empty tents in the middle of nowhere. I guess you sort of feel like there has been some sort of apocolypse, because it just seems that there should be more people. Regardless, while the scouts were living the Alaskan Experience with several square miles of property each, we were huddeld in the Rock House.
In the other camps, the staff sleeping quarters were separate from the scout camping areas, but they were located in a central area. The lack of privacy and the fact that tents really provide no sound insulation meant that you had to be more creative in your partying at these other camps. Finally, you can only cram so many people into a tent.
At the beginning of every summer there was training. As part of this training, we always had some instruction on the alcohol policy at camp. The stated policy was no alcohol on camp property. One summer, for whatever reason, we actually had a debate on this. You would have thought that the debate would have involved whether those who are 21 can possess alcohol on base provided that reasonable precautions were followed. You would have been wrong. Rather, it was pure comedic gold. At this point I was 21, so I didn't really have a dog in the fight but it consisted of people, all under the age of 21, arguing that they should be allowed to enjoy alcohol responsibly. Really passionate arguments consisting of lines like "I am an adult, I can vote, if I want a drink at the end of the day that should be my choice" or "I don't see why camp is being so strict about this, what's the big deal." It was as if New York State law didn't apply and it camp was making arbitrary and capricous rules. The best part of this, was that it was very strictly moderated, by the Piton. I have written about the Piton a few times before, very much the renessaince man and had to put up with a lot of things that he was not paid nearly enough to deal with. He was my director for a few summers and really loved working with him. He ran this debate like a professional moderator with very strict time limits to make your argument and he was not afraid to cut you off. The result was a foregone conclusion, there was no way camp could just abrogate the State law and lower the drinking age - but that didn't stop people from trying.
The end of the year party was an exception. Sort of. All of the senior staff members knew about it, but would begrudgingly let it proceed. This party was open to the entire camp staff. Immediately before the party, there was the staff banquet. It was a good dinner and people were presented with various gag gifts - almost all in good spirits but some that may have crossed the line. One young lady of questionable morals was presented with with a maternity dress. On the other end of the age and fertility spectrum, a cantankerous older guy (not Roger) was presented with the A.H.O.Y. (Asshole of the Year) award.
Sometime after the banquet the second part of the end of the year party would begin. Importantly, at this point there were absolutely no scouts left, the party typically happened at the end of closing staff week where all the staff gets the camp ready for winter. I think the Load will remember other locations, but I remember at least a few parties taking place at the Butler Building. When you hear Butler Building, you may think of a very posh cottage where Butlers are trained. The sort of place where you need a top hat and a monacle to gain admittance. It couldn't have been further from the truth. My understanding is that there is a corporation called Butler Manufacturing that specializes in pre fabricated buildings. We had one of these buildings at our camp.
It was really more of a shell of a building though. Metal columns anchored to concrete footings and a large corrugated metal roof. The floor was dirt, but it provided some protection from the elements. There was a smattering of random stuff stored there, a lot of lumber, some big plastic barrels that were empty, and an ancient road grader, with dry rotted tires and flaky yellow paint. I don't know the last time it ran, but it had been quite awhile. It was a good place though because you could fit a ton of people there, it was up a road that people didn't generally travel and there was nothing to break. Plus, there was rudimentary power so at least you had some illumination. Across from the building was a large field for overflow capacity. And there was a keg. But that was it, it was pretty spartan as far as parties go. But we loved every second of it. At least for me, it represented the end of the summer and it was a chance to see people from the other camps that you typically did not see. Everyone was generally in a good mood. And though no one would talk about it, there was a sense of sadness for another summer had come to an end. So even though you knew that each drink took you closer to your last, it seemed to taste a bit better than the one before it.
For the most part, nothing bad happened. Yes, people drank too much, some of them far too young to drink. I remember seeing a pretty stocky 16 year old, stumble along, beer stains streaking down his shirt. He was walking towards me with a beer in one hand and all of a sudden he just did a complete face plant right into the dirt. He didn't even try to break his fall. It was like a belly flop done on land. Amazingly, and seemingly most important to him, he didn't spill much of his beer. The best part was he got up and kept walking as if nothing had happened.
Those who were new to the juice of the barley were surrounded by more experienced drinkers. Perhaps it is just the rose colored glasses of summers gone by, but it seemed that no-one let anyone go too far. And even if they did, someone was there to help them to make sure they got back to where ever they were sleeping that night. I don't know if it is still a tradition. I think leadership came up with the idea of moving the banquet back so that it would end later. I am not sure if they really thought that would work though. It wasn't like people would say "Man, I would have been up for starting a party at 6, but I cannot live the rock and roller lifestyle necessary to start a party at 8"!
At least for one night, if you were old enough to vote, or hell even get a learner's permit, you were old enough to drink. I think drinking in the woods, surrounded by friends, is far less dangerous than learning to drive anyway.
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