Leaving Philadephia for F&W in the 1950's.

On a warm September afternoon in Philadelphia, I sat down with Bill Schwarzschild, age 88, whose eyes still light up when he talks about his first ride to camp in 1950. Picked up at White River Junction in an open-body stake truck—a mode of transportation that would raise eyebrows today—Bill was about to begin an adventure that would shape not just his summers, but his entire life. 

When $600 Could Save a Life 

In 1950, Bill's parents paid $600 to send him to camp—equivalent to over $8,000 today. But this wasn't just about summer fun. With a polio epidemic in Philadelphia that claimed over 300 lives that summer,  families who could afford it sent their children away from the cities. "I was glad my parents could afford it," Bill reflects. "I had a bunch of friends with polio."    

What they got for that investment was transformative. Bill credits his F&W experience with literally saving his life during his eight years in the Air Force, where he learned to lead based on what he learned in the Vermont wilderness. "It taught me to be comfortable in the woods. Self-reliance," he says. When asked what F&W should never stop doing, his answer was immediate: "Teaching self-reliance." 

The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same 

Bill's memories paint a picture of camp life that would be both familiar and foreign to today's families. There was no electricity except at the Main Lodge, where square dances were held on nights when they fired up the generator.     

Some details have evolved—what Bill knew as "Submarine Island" (now Paradise Island) got its name from how the dam's opening and closing affected access. They had "The Monster" and they would take out the center section and see who could run back and forth ten times without losing their balance.  

And there were hippies before the term “hippie” existed.  The F&W gardener’s three children were all named after medicinal plants and his first co-counselor went everywhere with a barn owl on his shoulder.  “It lived in the cabin with us.  It stunk!  The kids hated it! “  

Lessons in Humanity 

Perhaps most remarkably, one of Bill's favorite counselors was a young German named Pete Schiller. This was just after World War II, and Bill's Jewish family had lost 15 members in the Holocaust. Yet this experience became "one of the best experiences of my life to that point, as I learned that not everybody of one group was bad." 

This wasn't unusual for the progressive-minded Webb's, who were also hiring Japanese staff like Tatsuo Arima, who would later serve as a UN diplomat. The commitment to diversity and inclusion—revolutionary for the 1950s—remains a cornerstone of F&W values today. 

Tamarack Farm, 1950

Learning to Make Your Own Fun 

"One summer it rained all the time," Bill remembers, "and we just took cardboard boxes and slid down the hill. The idea was to learn to have fun. And to take care of yourself... to learn how to live in the wilderness."    This is reminiscent of  "Mattress Sliding", which campers still enjoy on wet days. 

This resourcefulness, this ability to find joy in simplicity, echoes through every F&W generation. The spirit remains the same: creativity, resilience, and the confidence to solve problems with whatever's at hand. Whether it's sliding down hills on cardboard in 1950 or using cardboard for banquet decorations,  there is an ongoing  culture of making magic from very little. 

Robert Frost reading his poems at the Calvin Coolidge Birthplace 

A Legacy That Endures 

Bill went on to become a Scoutmaster for many years, crediting his F&W experience with making his troop successful. He served eight years in the Air Force, where wilderness skills learned at camp quite literally kept him alive. His own son attended Timberlake and became "a world-famous marine biologist and ecologist, teaching and running the Atlantic Coast Lab for UVA." 

Throughout his life, Bill continued to give back—he started the library at Indian Brook (now Firefly Song) and supported the camp financially throughout his business career. When people ask where he grew up, his answer is always: "At The Farm & Wilderness Camps." 

The Thread That Connects Us All 

As I listened to Bill's stories, I was struck by how much has changed—and how much hasn't. Today's campers arrive by car and bus rather than stake truck, but they still experience that same mix of excitement and nervousness heading into the unknown. They have electricity in the lodge without needing a generator, but not the cabins. Most of all they still learn to find joy in simple pleasures and form deep connections with counselors who become lifelong influences. 

The camping industry has evolved dramatically since 1950, but F&W's commitment to its core values remains unwavering. Joyful play, purposeful work and rugged outdoor living—these aren't just nice ideas from a bygone era. They're the living, breathing heart of what makes F&W extraordinary, generation after generation. 

Bill's parting wisdom rings as true today as it did 75 years ago: "The idea was to learn to have fun. And to take care of yourself." In a world that seems to change faster every year, some things—the most important things—remain beautifully, powerfully constant. 

What F&W memories connect you across the decades? We'd love to hear your stories of how camp shaped your life. Share them with us here.