A BRIEF HISTORY IN TESTIMONY(Part II)
On the drive up to camp that first year on July 3, 1946, we first had to make a stop in Manhattan to pick up the deed. It was very hot, and the drive took a long time. We decided to stay overnight in Saratoga, but we couldn't find anything that was suitable, available or within our means. We continued north and finally around midnight found lodging in Warrensburg. We stayed overnight and then went on to Brant Lake the next morning, July 4th. We arrived around 9 a.m. Although the grounds were beautiful, a lot of work had to be done. I had been serving the Lord in Virginia and came back at the prompting of Uncle Hans and Brother Gordon. Apparently Brother Waldvogel had gotten light that I should serve at camp, and he relayed it to Gordon. I prayed about it and felt it was of God. We had intentions of coming to the property much earlier, but the deed and other legal papers were delayed for two weeks. That is why we could not begin cleaning and getting things ready until we received word. At that time, when things did not seem to be moving too quickly, Uncle Hans helped test Gordon's faith by asking him, "Are you sure it's the right thing?" Brother Gordon was a little upset. In addition to the beautiful lodge, the original buildings at camp included a boathouse, a dining room (which is now the library), a kitchen off the lodge, a storage room (where Brainerd's Hut now stands), and next to that storage room was an ice house. This was torn down in 1947 and a children's dining room was built. Later it became Mayhew Manor. An old barn stood where the laundry room is now, which came down years later. There was a little cabin right behind the old kitchen, which was moved down to Cherub Inn, and then much later down to the Village. In those early years of camp, the lake was quite a closed community. There was a lot of talk and competition between those wealthy people?who had the fanciest car? the best cook? which cook had the best recipes? Before we went up, Caroline and I went to Manhattan shopping for cutlery. It was a very hot day. We found something we liked, but we didn't have enough money with us. Then we remembered that Lilly Schilly [Kreuzer] worked nearby, so we went to her job and borrowed some money from her. That first year the Mitchells were there with their children, and Joanne and I swam across the lake. Later the Sailers moved to camp. Trudy Sailer was just a few months old. Before Karl Sailer built their home, they stayed where the office is now, in Camp Belle, which had been an apartment for Mr. Freedman's sister. I have such good recollections of the early camp days. Each year things got organized better. I consider camp my home. I was there almost every year since 1946, and I am thankful for the years I was able to serve the Lord there. One of the first things we had to do at the camp in 1946 was to arrange for drinking water. Mr. Freedman had just put in electricity a few years before he died, but the pump to get water from the lake was run by a windmill on Watch Rock. Since the place had been vacant for so long, by the time we got there and looked things over, the windmill was smashed and good for nothing. The pump also was very dilapidated. We decided not to use a windmill and instead to run an electric line over to Watch Rock to drive a pump. But it was just after the war, and supplies like that were almost impossible to get. We had been in touch with the Health Department, and one of the men there told us about a place in Plattsburgh that had just installed new pumps. He suggested that maybe we could contact them and find out about the old ones. I remember Edwin and I drove up there and got a pump and a motor. That was a real miracle. The people in Ridgewood were very generous with furniture and other things we needed for camp. And the young people were very involved in the work and pitched in to drive these donations up. My truck made seven trips that first year! I remember Gordon Waldvogel helping to drive some of those times. The second year we had a big flood. The water level was about five feet higher than usual. It came up and over where the bridge is, and you could take a boat right over the road across into the swamps. It was up to the floor level of the Boathouse, perhaps an inch below. You could dive right out the front door. All down the lake the roads were flooded. One day our friend and neighbor, Mr. Meade, called and asked if we could come across the lake and pick him up and take him as far as our place. He wanted to go to town, because there was some word that the dam was about to wash out in Horicon. We had just painted our rowboats the day before so Arthur Waldvogel decided to take a canoe over. It was kind of a cloudy and rainy day. We later found out that Arthur had to go back far into the brush to get Mr. Meade. Another neighbor lady heard them calling to each other through the fog, and she thought somebody was shouting for help and was drowning on the lake. So she got on the telephone and spread the news. Mrs. Meade, knowing her husband was out on the lake, and knowing he had trouble with his heart, imagined all sorts of things. They got in touch with camp, and then Charlie Kreuzer and Charles Hofflander went off in a big rowboat looking. Gordon, Caroline, Gritli and I kept walking up and down the shore. I went down to the Cottage. Somehow my boot came off, or I took it off?I don't remember why. But just then I saw what looked like an empty canoe, and I walked back to the Boathouse with my boot in my hand and said, "Well, I think Art's gone." Of course they all looked at the boot and thought the worst. We continued watching. First we thought we could see the canoe. Then we couldn't. It was hazy and everyone was imagining things. Elizabeth Lindau said, "Wouldn't it be terrible to start camp with a funeral." But meanwhile, Art and Mr. Meade were paddling over to camp. Art saw the two Charlie's coming towards them, and he later told us he wondered why those two guys took one of the newly-painted boats and were having a good time. When Art finally made it to the Boathouse Gordon was all excited and asked, "What happened?" Allen Meade responded, "Well' we're getting a lot of rain." Finally it was all explained, and Mr. Meade called his wife. Caroline said, "I knew Artie could take care of himself. I knew nothing was wrong." Our arrival in 1939 at Bolton seemed endless, but we endured. It was a ten-hour drive on Route 9 from Red Hook, where the Taconic Parkway ended. No Thruway or Northway existed. Bolton was a very small town with one commercial building that contained the post office, a gasoline station and a small store. We could hardly wait to get to Trail's End, our housekeeping cabin. The main room in the cabin had a large table and chairs and was used for eating, worship and fellowship. Every morning we sang, worshipped and read the Word. Each camper was asked to comment on the verses we read, and if nothing came to mind, the usual comment was, "It's self explanatory." Brother Gordon always elaborated on the chapter, though, and it was here that I was first taught never to take a verse out of its context. Our song service was different also. We sang a capella (12 male voices), and the favorites were "Dare To Be A Daniel" and "Mansion Over The Hilltop," the latter one being the one we sang the loudest and most often. We ended our day with evening worship, giving us time to pray and wait on the Lord. One Sunday night we were taken to the Baptist church in Bolton Landing. An evangelist gave an interesting sermon on "Mighty to Save," but he had fierce competition from a nanny goat wandering about in the side yard. The fellows had a hard time keeping the laughter inward, but we managed to keep control?with the help of Brother Gordon's guiding eye. In the mornings, our free time was spent pitching horseshoes, hiking or playing softball in the cow pasture located behind the cabin, but the afternoons were usually spent by the lake at the town beach which had a nice long dock. The Lord directs our steps without our knowing why or how. I had taken a lifesaving course in high school, so I served as one of the first camp lifeguards. There was a large rock sticking out of the water about one hundred feet from the end of the dock where we swam. We made good use of this rock to sit and rest. It was also used as a hiding place for our baths and occasional night swims. Of course these times were never long enough, and Brother Gordon often had to come down with his big bright flashlight and bring us back. We had a great time. It was the start of something that increased in the years that followed and still lasts to this day. I was 14 years old in 1939. That year and the next I was a camper in Bolton. We left Ridgewood for camp after the Sunday night meeting. It was past midnight, and it took us 14 hours to drive up. We had a flat before we got out of Westchester and the next morning a fan belt broke on another car. But we had a good time. Charlie and Tony Kreuzer went up that first year, too. They were pretty young at the time, but they had a car with a rumble seat and a broken or missing speedometer. I remember them pulling along aside of us and yelling out, "Hey, how fast are we going?" Another time Charles Andrews got a ticket for speeding. Anthony Galeoto brought a pair of boxing gloves up, and Charlie Krezuer and I began throwing punches at each other. Suddenly he stopped and said, "This is no fun." We had good times of worship around the table in one of the cabins. We memorized Psalm 15 one year. Many good memories come back to me when I think of those days. The drive to Pilgrim Camp from Waukegan, Illinois in 1946 took us three days. We had an old, off-white Ford with a very bad set of springs. The children, Paul and Joan, were restless and uncomfortable in the back seat as we neared camp and drove over those bumpy roads. We finally arrived at Brant Lake towards evening, tired and weary. But Gordon met us, rubbing his hands and ever joyful. He barely gave us a chance to go to the washroom. He insisted on dragging us all over and showing us around. We went up into the attic and he showed us all those treasures and those marvelous dishes. Mostly staff was there at that time. I remember Caroline and I going to town and buying flowers. She was in charge of the planting. I also remember hiking up Swede Mountain with Paul, my husband, Edwin Waldvogel and Gordon. There were so many blueberries. It was kind of dangerous getting at them, but if you climbed down over the side, facing the mountain with your back to the drop, it wasn't too bad. We picked at least a dishpan full, and when we returned, all those German ladies cleaned them and prepared them for pies. After that, our family went to camp almost every year. It was the highlight of the year to vacation at Pilgrim Camp. We all enjoyed it. The kids loved it. We'd always find them in the woods catching those orange colored salamanders, and of course we would have to get jars from the kitchen to put them in. The salamanders, that is. We would take one of those big grey rowboats out past the island and get off on a nice sandy beach there. We did quite a bit of rowing in those days. We used to sleep up in the Boathouse as a family, which was a lot of fun. I'm getting on in years now. They say you don't get old, you just get shiny. But I have such wonderful memories. Caroline and I would go out in a boat and sing. Oh my, that was so much fun. Art Waldvogel and I would sit on the swing and play Scrabble. I remember Mrs. Lydia Waldvogel being there. I asked her once if she was going to take a nap and she told me she never took naps, because once she started she would have to do it every day. Another time several of us were sitting on the Lodge porch and we saw a wonderful display of northern lights for over an hour. There are also memories of untold blessings and glorious times spent in the sweet presence of the Lord. That overshadowing presence! So very wonderful. Those were precious, precious times, and I will never forget them. In 1942, at the age of 13, I had my first opportunity to be a camper. This took place at Bolton on the shores of Lake George, in three cabins--Anna Wanna, Trail's End and Winnie Winkle. While at camp during those early years, I met some exceptional people who became good friends--Sal Gaglio, Rolf Bocker, Robert Kalis, Ed Gadzaliszyn, Tony Kreuzer, Ed Potts, Ernie Bieber, Joe Oswald, Jack Hellerman, to name a few. In 1943, during a ten-minute after-dinner worship service in Trail's End that lasted two hours, I gave my heart to the Lord and have never regretted doing so. In 1945, we did not go to Lake George, but under the direction of Brother Karl Sailer, many boys from the Ridgewood church went up to Camp of the Woods. While there we celebrated the end of Word War II in the Pacific, V.J. Day?all of us Ridgewood campers (almost 20 people) riding through the town of Speculator, inside and outside of Brother Karl's 1934 Pontiac, with railroad flares blazing. In 1946, when Brother Karl was led to be involved with Pilgrim Camp, he asked me to spend the summer with him, working at Pilgrim Camp. (I had been working part time for him at his business, the Forest Lumber Company.) That first year at Brant Lake, the area behind Pilgrim's Rest was cleared to make way for cesspools, the ice house was demolished and the original Cottage was remodeled. One of my assignments that year was to supply the cooks with wood, which was the fuel used for cooking. I also had to remove all garbage and trash and burn it. Many of my friends from Lake George were also working at Pilgrim Camp. I had a wonderful summer and left for home the Saturday before school started. Again in 1947 Brother Karl asked me to work at camp for the summer. But this time I had to start by making several trips up and moving the Sailer's household belongings to Brant Lake. The last trip up was to take Mrs. Sailer, Paul, Karl, Edwin and 3-month old Trudy and Mrs. Kreuzer. After two flats, many stops and 12 hours of traveling, the Sailers and their car arrived safe and sound in their new home. That same year, while helping to unload the suitcases and baggage of arriving campers, I noticed a cute young girl trying to look brave in a strange place. I don't remember if I helped her with her suitcase, but she impressed me as a classy girl from Maspeth. Up to that day, I thought my four sisters and my mom were the only important girls in my life. Fortunately for me I found that not to be true. (In 1953, after returning from service the U.S. Army, I married that pretty girl, and it was the best thing I ever did!) Our family grew and it was a great joy to have each of our four daughters spend time at camp as campers and in later years become part of the camp staff. Two of our daughters were baptized in water at Brant Lake, and one was filled with the Holy Spirit at camp. Many Memorial Day weekends were spent as a family preparing camp for the coming season. So Pilgrim Camp has meant very much to our family. I am very thankful to the Lord for all the people who had the vision for camp and also for permitting me to spend two full summers at Pilgrim Camp during the first two years. How well I remember 1946. Before graduating from high school, I was approached by the Gardiners and asked if I would consider helping open up this camp at the start of the summer. My parents were very agreeable, and so it came about that I was Pilgrim Camp's first housekeeper. Al Horn drove us up. Gordon and Caroline Gardiner, Sister Gritli Sager and I all squeezed into a very small car. That was the start of my adventure that summer. In those days it was a big deal to drive upstate. It took much longer than it does now. That didn't deter Gordon from insisting on a few side trips of an historical nature. I remember eating in a restaurant called Smith Brothers. By the time we reached Warrensburg, it was too late to continue the trip. I shared a room with Sister Gritli in the only hotel there. The next morning we drove to Brant Lake. Seeing this place for the first time was thrilling for me. The lodge was a collection of hunting trophies, antiques and Indian relics. Most of these items had to be carried upstairs for storage. Gordon had a great time rummaging through everything, directing that the liquor be poured out, furniture moved and playing cards and chips discarded. We scrubbed floors, washed windows, and got rid of many spider webs. You name it and I did it all joyfully. That's because the Gardiners made it all seem like an adventure?a discovery into a new world. Caroline gave me the task of cleaning the dining room (which years later became the library). She gave me carte blanche in arranging all the curios and dishes. I understand that it remained this way for many years until the Palace was used as the dining room. I was told that wherever I chose to sleep had to be cleaned first. When Annamarie Onkes arrived with her family, we decided we wanted to bunk in the cottage down the road (which was later named Cherub Inn). So we had our job cut out for us as we cleaned that place, getting rid of dirt and evicting the many mice. Eventually the first group of boys arrived. They were all of different ages. My future brother-in-law, Bob Kalis, was among them. There were no counselors and no scheduled camp activities for them as there are now. I had a terrific time that summer, including the wonderful times we gathered for our worships. It was truly a privilege for me to have had a part in the beginnings of Pilgrim Camp. In the ensuing years, camp became a special part of my life. Later on, after Rolf and I married, it continued for us as it has for our children and our children's children. Karl Sailer, Edwin Waldvogel and I went up to Brant Lake in June 1946 to prepare the property for opening. We stayed at The Rising House in Chestertown until the real estate closing. The property had 16 buildings, including a large ice house for storing huge hand-sawn ice blocks in sawdust. All cooking was done on a wood stove. Cherub counselors heated water in pails for baths. Oil lamps were used until electricity was installed. Mr. Hutsteiner, a local Christian man, a friend of his and I cleared all the timber in the area east of the Lodge. Karl and other men (including Joe Schilly) did a lot of work on the grounds, making use of the many cedar logs taken from the property. The first four wooden rowboats were very large and were made in town. A dock had to be made and board walks repaired. Two World War II life rafts were purchased. The first official session was for the boys in July. It was a very difficult time. The ten or so campers had to bunk in scattered buildings, and construction and repairs were everywhere. Gordon conducted morning worship. I recall the final evening of that first boys' period. Rudy Josenhans and I made a lighthouse with a lantern perched above a big barrel with a sheet to give it shape. Brother Hans Waldvogel gave a challenging devotional message on Watch Rock, after which we were awed by a glorious display of northern lights. Great shafts of blue and white light scintillated from a huge hub overhead. Then from a boat below Arthur Waldvogel sang, "Let the Lower Lights Be Burning," and following each verse we on the rock responded with the chorus. As a climax, Art played taps on his trumpet, and the echoes reverberating from mountain to mountain offered a gracious finale to an otherwise stressful camp session. Sal Gaglio stayed on a few extra days due to a sprained ankle. While visiting with him on the Lodge porch he quietly received Jesus as his Savior. This was possibly the first camp convert. The second session in July with ten junior boys was a pleasure. For our creation study we used a large sand-filled flat as a base for trees growing in the Garden of Eden. A dahlia blossom was the tree of life. Sister Gritli made Adam and Eve of clay. A lizard served as the tempter. Gary Hoss, James Cooper and the Somma twins were in this orderly group. I returned in 1947 and was the counselor for 14 boys. Art Waldvogel had 12. On the second floor of the Palace, in what is now the adult dining room, we had a chapel. This is where Ron Klaus received his baptism in a glorious evening meeting. During one of those early years, the girl campers were bored with everything the camp offered. The counselors were pulling their hair out to interest them. So at a staff meeting, Gordon Gardiner led a powerful group prayer on their behalf. The change was radical. They opened up to the Lord in their worships, God met them in a mighty way, and they wept when they had to leave. I was only sixteen and fresh off the asphalt streets of Brooklyn when Anthony Galeoto convinced my parents that I attend the first Pilgrim Camp session at Brant Lake. As in most lives, many concerned friends have input in seeing that a soul is exposed to the saving grace of the Lord. My parents were godly and prayed incessantly for me. A few days before our group session was over, I injured my ankle playing baseball. Sister Gritli thought it best for me to convalesce for a few more days after the other fellows left. It was during this period of confinement that the Lord got my full and undivided attention. Charles Hofflander was alert in challenging me while I was reclining on the Watch Rock porch. Hesitantly I entrusted my life to the Lord Jesus, wondering if He could "keep me" from the evil influences of the Brooklyn streets. He has kept me by His grace and mercy, for which I am eternally grateful. After the boys had spent several summers up at Lake George, the young ladies also went up in 1942 and 1943. When the property was purchased on Brant Lake in 1946, on August 10th a group of us young ladies went up, too. I was among that group. We took the bus from the Port Authority terminal in New York on Friday night at 11 p.m. We rode all night through every small town, stopping along the way to take on and let off passengers. Towards morning, by the time we arrived in Chestertown, the sun began to show through. Several taxis took us to Brant Lake, and we were ushered into the beautiful museum-like lodge. We had a time of orientation that morning after breakfast in the quaint dining room, and after breakfast we went into the lodge for worship. Brother Hans Waldvogel was there and exhorted us that while there are many outdoor activities we could enjoy, that the Lord would like to make it a place where people could meet the Lord and be changed. He suggested that we use the library. Then we were all assigned our rooms. I was assigned to what is now our camp office, which four of us shared. That summer changed my life. When I returned home, I didn't have to tell my mother what the Lord had done for me; she immediately saw it. The following two summers I worked at camp for the entire summer. In 1947 the Palace was built. At that time the boys came up in July and the girls in August. Later this was reversed when August proved to get real cold. I remember being a waitress, housekeeper, a junior counselor. I was kept busy every moment. Sometimes I would have to get up at 6 a.m. to wash the bathrooms or cabins. Or else I would help Sister Gritli iron. Then I would help waitress. At that time, we all helped each other dry dishes, set tables, or whatever needed to be done until we were all finished. It was a lot of hard work, but I always managed to get a swim in. During those years, camp was always in my summer plans?either working as a staff member or later on attending for a short vacation. What wonderful memories! I wouldn't exchange them for all the worldly pleasures. Of course that is where I first met Bob Kalis, whom I later married. Together we ministered at the Emmanuel Pentecostal Church. As our children came along, we took them to camp, too, and they looked forward to it every summer. In 1987, when the Gardiners passed away, we were asked to be the directors. Although we knew it wasn't an easy assignment, we felt it was a great privilege. We served in that capacity until 1992, when Bob became ill. He passed away in January, 1994. Camp will always hold a hallowed place in my heart. It changed my life and it has changed so many lives. It has strengthened and encouraged people on their pilgrim way. In the summer of 1946, while I was vacationing at Camp of the Woods in Speculator, New York, Caroline Gardiner, Frieda Naujock and Milton Waldvogel visited me from nearby Brant Lake, where the Ridgewood fellowship had just purchased a camp. Caroline thought I would be interested in seeing the property, so I drove over with them. As we looked over the place with the lovely buildings, I thought "What an ideal and beautiful vacation place!" Caroline said to me, "Elisabeth, I would love to ask you to come and help here, but I hesitate since I know you have a good job and a good salary." She did not know that the Lord had already been dealing with me. I replied, "Jesus has already begun dealing with me about this, so I will make it a matter of prayer." Within two weeks time I quit my job and was on my way to Pilgrim Camp. What a joy to serve the Lord there. There was such wonderful cooperation. I am so thankful for Pilgrim Camp and for the presence of the Lord so greatly manifested there. I have always looked upon it as my "alma mater". Continue to Part Three Return to Part One |