November-December 1998November-December 1998
By Michael Bruce Johnson
Photographs courtesy of the author
Camp Parsons opened for its first season in July 1919. Even the most optimistic Scouters could not have imagined that the camp would be celebrating 80 summers of camping in July 1999.
 (Top, upper left) On Mount Rainier, Harold "Bud" Fisher rests his arm on the shoulder of his buddy, Charlie "Too Fat" Daggett. (Below) At camp, Daggett (seated) poses with tentmates and (arms folded) with fellow swimmers, including Fisher (with boy on back). |
Located on Washington State's Olympic Peninsula, which then included the westernmost point of land in the United States, the property was an old logging camp before the Scouts arrived. The camp was on a long, natural reach of inland salt water called Hood Canal, which skirted the foothills of the Olympic Mountains.
Much of the Olympic wilderness was still unexplored--a virtual frontier sometimes referred to as "The Last West."
It must have seemed more like the Wild West to the 100 Scouts who came to the new camp in 1919.
At night they could hear the cries of cougars in the not-too-distant woods. And a mountain lion bounty hunter had set up his camp, with many impressive pelts on display, at the edge of the Scout property.
Indians, as they had for countless generations, continued to make their annual migration to favorite spots near the camp.
About the only characters needed to make the Scouts' experience similar to the Wild West movies they'd seen in theaters were some notorious western outlaws--real desperadoes.
It wasn't long before some showed up.
The first person to meet these unwelcome visitors was a Scout named Harold Fisher, from Seattle's Troop 52. Harold (his friends called him "Bud") was awakened in his tent one night by two armed men.
The men had robbed a bank at Port Townsend. When they tried to hold up a store in Quilcene, just down the road from the camp, one bandit had been shot in the leg.
Although scared (who wouldn't be?), Harold kept his cool and went to awaken the camp director, H. B. (Harry) Cunningham.
"There are two men here who want to see you," the Scout announced, "and you better come!"
Harold and Cunningham returned to where the armed men waited and were astonished when one of them ordered Cunningham to remove the bullet from the wounded man's leg. The camp director protested that he was not a doctor, but the two men had heard that Scouts knew first aid, and there was no talking them out of it.
The camp had no electric lights, so Harold held a candle as Cunningham somehow extracted the bullet (leaving future generations of Camp Parsons Scouters to wonder if he had, like a good Scout, used his pocketknife). During the "operation," Harold could barely keep his hands from shaking, aware that the other robber was holding a gun on the camp director and him.
With the bullet removed, the two outlaws prepared to leave. But first they warned Harold and Cunningham not to tell anyone about the incident, or the two would return and "blow your heads off." (Cunningham kept the incident a secret for more than 50 years; there's little doubt that Harold did likewise.)
Harold Fisher, who was the only African-American Scout at Camp Parsons in 1919, had another ordeal at camp that summer. On visitors' day a mother learned that her son was Harold's tentmate and she promptly decided to take her boy home. Fortunately, camp director Cunningham was able to get her to change her mind and she left without her son.
Despite these distractions, Harold apparently enjoyed his time at camp. He completed his First Class rank, picked up a merit badge in pioneering, and won the right to wear the coveted camp badge on his sleeve.
Fate had given him a special opportunity. Scout summer camp was meant for all boys--regardless of race, ethnic background, creed, or social class. With his ability to overcome obstacles and his positive attitude, Harold helped to bring that principle to life.
The boy continued with his Scout activities after camp, signing up for the Seattle Scout council's annual climb of Mount Rainier. He was joined on the climb by his good friend from summer camp, Charlie Daggett.
Like "Bud" Fisher, Charlie Daggett had a nickname at Camp Parsons. In Charlie's case, the name was not a pleasant one, although he probably bore it good-naturedly.
It seems Charlie was a bit on the chubby side, and to the other boys he was known as "Too Fat" Daggett.
Pictures taken at camp that summer suggest that Charlie liked to eat. He may have been chagrined when he found the camp dining hall not yet completed and Bill Petty, the cook, preparing meals on the beach, using an old saw blade as a makeshift grill.
When his mother came to camp on visitors' day, Charlie probably told her how much he missed her home cooking. But then Cook Petty fired up the camp's shiny new wood-and-coal range, and in the newly finished dining hall, produced what the campers must have considered the most elegant meal ever served at a Scout camp--before or since.
Imagine how Charlie greeted a menu like this: roast young pig, au gratin potatoes, lots of homemade bread, tomatoes "cooked the way the boys like 'em," and rice pudding for dessert. No doubt Charlie's mom left camp that day assured that her boy was being well taken care of.
A highlight of Charlie's first summer at Camp Parsons was his involvement in "the great cougar scare."
The incident began one night after taps when two Scouts--Gilbert Russel and Julian de Des Rochers--started out for a small cabin about 200 yards from the main campground. They were going to spend the night there, as one of the requirements for earning the 1919 Camp Parsons badge.
Suddenly, out of the depths of the forest, they heard a weird sound, and then another, like a cross between the cry of a baby and a huge tomcat.
Cougar!
Gilbert and Julian quickly forgot about spending the night in the woods. Julian fled back to camp by himself, where he bribed his brother with a quarter to spend the night with him in his tent. Meanwhile, Gilbert--who hadn't realized Julian was going to make a break for it--was left shaking under the dark trees until he was "rescued" by adult staff members.
The camp challenge became trying to do what Gilbert and Julian had set out to do--sleep in the remote cabin.
And who volunteered? None other than Charlie Daggett--with another brave Scout, Stanley Richardson.
The strange noises in the dark woods were probably "just the little birds singing in the trees," Charlie said (apparently not aware that birds rarely sing in the dark). They made it to the cabin and were bedded down when weird animal cries resounded through the woods. "It's a cougar fighting a bear!" Charlie whispered to Stanley.
Then they heard the distant voice of Bill Petty, and the two Scouts jumped from bed and dashed through the woods. (Being chubby didn't prevent Charlie from keeping up with Stanley on that occasion.)
At the session's last campfire, the staff revealed--to the boys' astonishment--that the whole escapade had been a hoax. They cheerfully imitated the "wild cougar" sounds which had echoed through the camp.
At that point, it was best not to remind Charlie of his dark night in the cabin. All things considered, however, the evidence suggests that he had a fine time at camp that first summer.
Charlie later joined Stanley Richardson and Harold Fisher on the council climb of Mount Rainier. He was one of the 14 (out of 32) who made it to the 14,400-foot summit.
And as far as his nickname went, it's too bad he got stuck with it in the first place. But one thing's for certain: No matter what they called Charlie Daggett in 1919, he was one great Scout.
The Rev. Michael Bruce Johnson is the author of The Boys of Summer, a history of the Chief Seattle Council's Camp Parsons, from which this column was adapted. More chapters of the text and much more information about the 80-year-old facility can be found on the Camp Parsons Web site at http://weber.u.washington.edu/~sbode/parsons.html.
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