KEVIN CULLEN
In my closet sits a wooden box filled with the stuff I had when I was a Boy Scout: my uniform, neckerchief slides, pocket knife, merit badge sash, handbook and a bunch of little pins and patches, from Tenderfoot to Eagle Scout.
Tomorrow, the Boy Scouts of America will mark its 100th anniversary. In those 100 years, an estimated 112 million American boys have joined up, pledged the Scout Oath, promised to obey the Scout Law, and vowed to “be prepared” for whatever might come their way.
No other youth organization has served so many boys. And few have served so long and so well. Look through the list of presidents, Supreme Court justices, astronauts, brain surgeons and clergymen … you’ll find a lot of former Boy Scouts.
My grandfather was the scoutmaster of Troop 8 at Edison School in the 1940s and 1950s. It was a big, active troop, and they went on camping and canoeing trips to Canada and Wisconsin.
Even as a little kid, I dreamed of going on camping trips, too, and building lean-tos, learning about Indians and wearing a snappy green uniform, covered with badges. And, best of all, NO GIRLS!
At 9, I joined Cub Scout Pack 13 at old Washington School. Mrs. Metz, who lived at the corner of Robinson and Lafayette streets, was our den mother. We worked on crafts at her kitchen table every Wednesday after school.
The next year, we moved to Westville. I couldn’t wait to turn 11 on May 29, 1965, so I could join Troop 34, sponsored by American Legion Post 51. Our scoutmaster was Joe “Poochie” Chmielewski, a World War II Navy veteran who worked at the GM Central Foundry in Tilton.
It was never “Mr. Chmielewski,” just “Pooch.” Looking back, I can see that the man was a saint.
He and his wife, Dorothy, could have spent every weekend at home, quietly watching TV. Instead, they packed 30 or 40 kids, plus their knapsacks, duffel bags, sleeping bags and tents, into pickup trucks and drove them to Westville Lake, Raccoon Lake and Marshall Lake for “campouts.” Two assistant scoutmasters, Johnny Shapuras and “Catty” Serpinas, helped out.
We’d laugh, tell jokes, set up camp, cook, play flashlight tag, “Where’s Charlie?” and “King of the Hill,” and learn how to tie knots, lash sticks together, use compasses, build fires, sharpen hatchets, and identify constellations, tree species and animal tracks. We’d go swimming in the summer and sledding in the winter. We’d cook marshmallows and eat charred hot dogs. Some of us learned Morse code, and could converse — very, very slowly — using dots and dashes.
We’d always have a big bonfire, using unusual kindling: cracked bowling pins from Post 51’s bowling alleys. After the plastic shell melted away, the maple inside would burn for hours.
During the Baby Boom, Boy Scouts were everywhere. There weren’t many after-school activities then, and nobody had a computer. More than 6 million boys and adults leaders were involved in Scouting in 1972; it’s about 4 million today.
From about age 11 to 14, my friends and I lived and breathed Boy Scouts. We read “Boy’s Life” magazine. We had patrol meetings once a week, and troop meetings every Thursday night at the Legion. We paid 10 cents weekly dues and the Legion bought the whole troop free Cokes once a month. I still remember how thrilled we were when the Legion bought 10 or 15 new tents for us.
My brother, Pat, was in the troop, as were many of our friends, including Cliff Kinney, Tommy Mitchell, Bruce Cappello, Bobby Shapuras, Steve Shapuras, Gene Hart, Chuck Wellman, Jimmy Payne … the list could go on.
We were constantly working on projects and learning things needed to move up through the ranks: Tenderfoot, Second Class, First Class, Star, Life and Eagle. We all took Red Cross first-aid classes.
Many merit badges require the Scout to perform some sort of service to his school, troop, town or country. One big project was installing American flags on each parking meter post in Westville on important holidays, then taking them all down again.
Our troop never ventured more than 50 miles from home, but we had a lot of fun. We’d play tricks on Pooch, dunk kids in Raccoon Lake, stay up all night on “fire patrol” and fry some of the ugliest pancakes ever.
Pooch and Dorothy expected us to be gentlemen, and we usually were. If we acted up at a meeting or on a campout, we were disciplined. We wore our uniforms to every troop meeting, and to school on Boy Scout Day, Feb. 8.
The Boy Scouts taught me how to swim, how to cook and how to take care of clothes and equipment. It taught me how to hike for 20 miles and not get blisters, how to tie a knot that wouldn’t slip, how to sleep in the woods and not get wet, how to start a camp fire and identify poison ivy. I eventually became junior assistant scoutmaster, so some leadership skills must have been mixed in there, too.
Every time I have written a resume, I have mentioned that I am an Eagle Scout. I’m sure that it has helped me get a job. The first eight astronauts were all Eagle Scouts, and so was my uncle, Stan Dawless. Only 2 percent of all Boy Scouts ever reach the rank of Eagle, so it’s something to be proud of.
The Boy Scouts of America is a patriotic, service-oriented youth organization, based on timeless values. Scouts set goals and work toward them. They work together. They learn useful things. The Scout Law calls on boys to be trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.
The Scout Oath is as valuable to a kid of 11 as it is to a man of 81:
“On my honor, I will do my best, to do my duty to God and my country, and to obey the Scout Law; to help other people at all times, and to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight.”
And the motto, “be prepared,” really can’t be any better.
Organizations for boys come and go. Few last 100 years. I know why the Boy Scouts of America has.
Danville native Kevin Cullen is a former Commercial-News reporter. Reach him at irishhiker@aol.com.
