By Kristi Webb, Trustee
In 1939, the camp we now know as Timberlake was first called Mehrlicht. It probably tells you everything you need to know about my family that “mehr licht” (“more light”) were the last words of the poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. The camp name was given up after a couple of years because no one could understand it on the telephone, and besides, war with Germany was coming.
But on July 5, 1939, twenty-eight little boys – and, more importantly, their mothers – were arriving for Opening Day. Unfortunately, the two oldest Webb children, Rob and Sukie (Miki had not yet been born), came down with measles.
Grandma Susan felt that she had to stay with them, which meant she, Susan, couldn’t greet the arriving families.
Fortunately, Grandma Susan was an identical twin. Thus, it was her sister, Harriet Howard, who stood beside Grandpa Ken at the top of the hill up from the Lower Barn – where the Trading Post is now – and welcomed the mothers of the new campers, introducing herself as “Mrs. Webb.” No one was ever the wiser.
In fact, this wasn’t the first time that Grandma and her twin had traded places; Grandma once interviewed for a job for Harriet when her sister couldn’t get back to Massachusetts in time for the interview. She always said, very proudly, “And I got the job, too!”
Another little-known chapter in F&W history concerns our Caribbean camp, Seaforth. Ken had a fairly rare disease of the connective tissue and was often in pain; he and Susan had vacationed in the British Virgin Islands one winter, and he found that the warm water really helped him. Ever the dreamer, he enthusiastically recruited Rick Hausman and Paul Stone to set up a primitive camp for boys on Long Bay Beach, Virgin Gorda, BVI. By all accounts, the boys had a splendid time for the two summers, 1969 and 1970. Unfortunately, in addition to the distance from VT, making a connection to the rest of the camps very difficult, Seaforth was built underneath manichiel trees that dripped toxic sap onto those below when it rained. Three years ago, my husband and I visited Virgin Gorda and spent a lovely day finding the site of Camp Seaforth. We even to talk with the island’s governor, who remembered Grandpa, and to Laurie Rhymer, the local man who became Assistant Director.
Every summer, I look over the Fairgrounds on Fair Day – the joyful campers, smiling parents, excited alumni, tired staff and Trustees – and imagine what Grandma and Grandpa would have to say about F&W thriving for 80 years. Actually, I don’t have to wonder: they wrote it down, and their reaction is the title of their final book: “Beyond Our Wildest Dreams”.