Dave,
I remember the old docks and the old old docks. The main wood dock we
would paint each year, white with a mixture of sand and paint in red
"WALK".
Campers walked down the left side, staff on break the right. If you
walked down the center path to the tower you had better of had a good
reason! ha ha.
The old old docks (floats) where those giant donouts; one for the
counselors one for the staff. And out there in the center was a
stationary platform. I am a little hazzy on this, because I was
6 or 7 but i think there may have been a platform for a lifeguard on
the center platform.
I think that platform had its demise when some of the counselors had
a
small party one evening. You probably remember.
Then those three docks where replaced with wooden ones that where
chained down to cement blocks. I remember each summer we would go
diving for the chains. But the best part was bringing the docks on
land at the end
of the summer. We would drop the chains and push them to the shore.
Then we had to carry them and place them adjacent to the boat house.
We would get all the man power we could muster on one side and have
BIG HERB on the other!
I forget when, but finally that entire dock was replaced with the
light-weight aluminum styrofoam one. I think at that point we just
left the docks in place for the winter.
I do remember that each Summer we would drag a bag of crystals
(hydrocholoric acid?) through the water to kill all the weeds. One
year we weren't very careful and instead of just dragging it behind a
boat we brought it into the boat. The following morning there were
foot prints over our freshly painted dock.
We where all mystified but Herby came down to size up the situation.
He went over to the boat, turned it on its side and we saw daylight
passing through it. He summized that the same monster that ate
through
the boat then took a walk on the dock with their acid drenched
sandals!
Of course, the prior day he was watching us work, while he was
sitting
in that black jalopy and shaking his head. And G-d forbid he should
confront us; nope, we had to get the bad news from Marty!
Scrubbing the lemons each Summer was no treat either.
Fred J.
1959-1974