Woodcraft Rangers

In my last column about summer camps, I mentioned being a camper and a counselor at some Woodcraft camps. This boys’ youth group was important to me and deserves attention.

My twin, Theo, and I didn’t join Cub Scouts because you had to be 9 or 10 years old. But our parents thought that we were ready for some kind of activity beyond religious school.

Theo and I wanted to join Little League, but its games were on Saturday mornings. We already enjoyed swimming at the beach in Santa Monica, and our grandmother, Saide, taught us to ride bicycles. We also played ping-pong and took painting lessons in Mrs. Abby’s backyard studio. Soon we began learning to play musical instruments.

Woodcraft Rangers met one afternoon a week after school. Dad was still at his office, so Mom became our leader or “guide” until we entered seventh grade. Our “tribe,” known as the King Snake, usually met in a public park, and learned “Indian” — the term then in use for Native Americans — lore.

I’m not sure that Theo, our friends and I were fully aware that Native Americans still lived in Southern California. The one most familiar to us was “Tonto,” the Lone Ranger’s sidekick, on the TV show that ran from 1949 to 1957. Theo and I once met Jay Silverheels, the actor who played him.

Woodcraft Rangers had an ethical dimension. Its purpose, which as little boys we didn’t fully grasp, was citizenship. Civil and kind behavior toward one another, Jews and Gentiles alike, was expected. Another emphasis was developing a reverence for nature, including animals, plants, land, water, weather and the solar system.

There was a third emphasis: becoming more spiritual or developing respect for some kind of heavenly order. Boys learned many "Indian" words and names, including Wakonda, “The Great Spirit” or our creator. We summoned him during our weekly “council meeting,” which included various speeches made by the first and second chiefs, the recitation of 12 tribal laws and the Omaha Tribal Prayer to Wakonda.

There were no references to the decimation of "Indians," the seizure of their lands or their continuing isolation and suffering. Could you imagine a youth group based on the admiration of Jews in pre-Inquisition Spain or elsewhere before Israeli statehood?

Woodcraft’s focus on "Indian" lore came from founder Ernest Thompson Seton (1860-1946), a Canadian naturalist, folklorist and illustrator. In 1902, seeking a way to prevent delinquent boys from damaging his property, he founded the Woodcraft "Indians."

Soon thereafter, British army officer, Robert Baden-Powell, had a similar idea, and founded the Boy Scouts. Seton and Powell encouraged each other, and the library and museum established at one of Scouts’ most renowned camps, Philmont in New Mexico, were named in Seton’s honor.

Instead of uniforms Woodcraft Rangers wore “honor bands,” which were orange sashes placed diagonally across their herculean chests. The bands were decorated with multicolored “coup” feathers, which represented accomplishments in various fields. The acquisition of a certain number of coups led to higher awards. Eventually, a Ranger could advance from the “Little Lodge” to the “Big Lodge,” which was expressed through a larger honor band.

In some ways Woodcraft resembled Judaism in its emphasis on acquiring knowledge, doing good deeds, building communal bonds, and showing respect and reverence for a higher authority. It may have also resembled Judaism in its strict gender role differentiation. While Jewish girls were valued within the family, their public roles were limited in the 1950s.

Our King Snake tribe would never have flourished for six years without Mom’s leadership. She was soon one of a slowly emerging group of women who joined the organization’s board of directors. Eventually, she became its first woman president and its first Jewish president. In 2003, in recognition of fifty years of leadership, she received Woodcraft’s highest honor, an "Indian" name, which few of us could spell or pronounce.

Woodcrafts four summer camps made it popular in Southern California. Their idealism, Spartan conditions and pervasive fun, brought together both affluent, middle class and less privileged kids with male counselors from many backgrounds. Without Woodcraft’s camps, Theo and I would not have interacted with Black or Hispanic people. We would never have been exposed to so many varieties of non-Jewish food. What in the world was shepherd’s pie?

There were a few instances when my Rangers’ background surprised others. After attending Woodcraft’s camp at Lake Arrowhead for two summers, Theo and I were sent to our Temple’s coeducational camp in Malibu. One day, when I was wearing a Woodcraft T-shirt, a counselor asked me how I acquired it. When I proudly explained that Theo and I were campers at Lake Arrowhead, he was amazed and wondered how we tolerated Camp Hess Kramer’s comfort and luxury.

When I was 34 and a graduate student, at Hebrew Union College in Los Angeles, a Shabbat retreat was held at Lake Arrowhead. The camp belonged to the Jewish Community Center in Long Beach. Upon arriving, I immediately recognized the place as the former Woodcraft camp. At our Saturday night campfire, I was excited to tell many Woodcraft stories before reciting a verse from the Omaha Tribal Prayer: “Wakonda, a needy one stands before Thee; I who sing am he.”

Thank you, Wakonda, for so many blessings. As we also say in Hopi: Lo Lo Mai, Lo Lo Mai. “May the Great Spirit guide our footsteps.”

GEORGE M. GOODWIN, of Providence, is the editor of Rhode Island Jewish Historical Notes.