Lou Ehrenreich:  “My Most Unforgettable Character”
            by Dan Schwartz

 David Jones, both a cabin mate and college classmate, mentioned the excerpt from Chuck Schudson’s letter describing the now immortal 1966 Canadian Truck Trip.  Reading through the site’s other “memories,” though, there’s one glaring omission.  In its heyday, the Reader’s Digest, that great chronicle of Middle America, ran a monthly feature on an unsung hero, “My Most Unforgettable Character.”  I had always wanted to submit the following piece. 

As I look back over more than a half century on our rare planet, my six summers at Kawaga rank amongst the best of my life.  There are many reasons:  the innocence of youth and nostalgia for a time long since past:  arriving by overnight train into a transformed world of lakes, pines, and summer’s endless promise; a host of “firsts”:  my first time away from home; my first tennis lesson; my first (and last) role in a play; my first trophy, and my first kiss—alas, one of the kitchen girls (sorry, Mom); and, the growth of a desperately, shy 10-year old into a still shy but increasingly confident young teenager. 

My family had (and has) been part of Kawaga for four generations.  In the early 1900s, my grandfather befriended a fellow Rabbi (and Hungarian) who had just come north from Montgomery, Alabama.  Grandpa Sam helped introduce “Doc. E.” to his Chicago congregants whose young boys who might be interested in attending “summer camp.”  One of those was his own son, Jim, my father, who attended Kawaga during the Great Depression in the 1930s.  My brother, Steven and cousin, Michael, and I were all campers in the 1960s.  And, now my brother’s two boys, Sam and Charlie, are “swimming the bay” and working towards their Indian names in the new millennium. 

I still recall the evening Lou arrived at my parent’s starter home in Skokie, Illinois to show us a scrapbook of Camp pictures.  Not sure that I had much say in the matter, but Mom and Dad didn’t have a lot of money in those days.  Whatever it took, though, I was in the Northwoods for the start of camp in 1960. 

My memories for the following summers are many and rich, well preserved in The Pineneedles of those years.  But, throughout, one image overshadows all others: Lou. 

• An electronic click of the P.A. in the morning stillness, followed by scratchy static, and then a booming voice over the P.A.:  “Rooooooool Out!  Daylight in the Swamp!  Everyman a Tiger!  Rooooooool Out!” 

• Presiding over meals, carefully suppressing a smile when the Mess Hall erupted into “Down with a Big E” to avenge some aggrieved party’s real or imagined wrong. 

• His large frame tucked into the back bench sitting next to his beloved wife, Dag, during Sunday morning services. 

•  Holding court during a coveted “night in Bid-a-wee.” 

•  Entering the Big Council Ring and solemnly declaring, “As G-d gave us the fire, so gave He us the waaarmth of friendship.”  

And with Tom Karpan, whose memory he eloquently celebrates elsewhere in these pages, making the rounds each night, high beams marking their progress and asking, “Everybody in?  Everybody all right? Goodnight fellas.”  And, every Cabin’s boisterous answer, “Good night, Lou.  Goodnight, Tom.” 

From sunrise to sunset, from curtain up in June to the season finale in August, Camp Kawaga was indeed, Lou’s show.  And, he ran it with purpose, discipline, and above all, principal.

Underneath the daily activities, cheers and travails of camp life, Lou’s beliefs and values shone through.  The “Kawaga Ideal” says it all.  Amidst a fiercely competitive environment, knowing how to lose ranked on par with going all out to win.  Respect for others’ values and beliefs were a constant theme, but no better illustrated than Sunday mornings in the Rec Hall. With an all-but Jewish crowd, Lou’s service remains the only Jewish liturgy I know that prominently featured The Lord’s Prayer.  And, whether it was Shop or Nature Club, Archery or Baseball, overcoming obstacles and doing your best was what mattered most.  He had a word—and even a silver cup for it—“Camp Spirit.”  

Sure, Lou had his faults.  The fiendish “Polar Bear Club” was, for example, his doing:  barely awake, young braves dashed down to the ball field for calisthenics and a plunge into the frigid Sinker Tank, while he spun tunes like “Running Bear” or “Little Polka Dot Bikini” over the loud speaker system. 

At times, Lou could be quite harsh.  His creative punishments were liberally handed out to those whose conduct he disapproved:  dragging a metal garbage can around camp in front of one and all; watching the mosquito trap's neon
glare as it zapped another bug---with your shirt off; and, other reprimands aimed at bringing miscreants back into the fold were all part of the script.

 To be fair, though, none of this came as a surprise.  If you were caught harboring contraband pop or candy bars, you joined the “green bucket brigade. “ If you were unruly after lights out, you almost certainly found yourself hugging a tree or balancing large rocks in outstretched arms.  And feeling pain in the morning was, well, no doubt, essential to “walk like a man”—one of the highest accolades Lou could bestow.

 When Banquet Night ended, we sadly boarded the buses for the short ride to Woodruff and the train ride home—realizing that the wonders of growing up in a world that Lou called home would, with our trunks, be packed away until June again rolled around on the calendar. 

So, Lou, I’m sorry that we never had a chance for a proper good-bye.  “Thanks for the memory”—and for all that I am today because of the summers I spent on the shores of Kawaguesaga.

Kawaga Alumni Association