I Was a Boy Scout!

Now when someone is referred to as a “Boy Scout” it generally means they are honest.  I’m not sure I completely fit that term; however, I was an actual Boy Scout in the 60’s when many boys were members of the Cub and Boy Scouts.  And no, I wasn’t molested, and I don’t think anyone was in Troop 185 in Philadelphia.

Our Troop was distinct for several reasons:

First, it was one of the few Kosher Troops in America. We had two sets of dishes. We didn’t travel on Saturday or light fires on that day.  I learned the valuable lesson that if one lost a meat can opener, you didn’t use the milk one but instead stole another patrol’s opener.  We also had two sets of dish cloths, one with red lines and one with blue lines.

Second, our very dedicated Scoutmaster was a stickler for details and in some ways acted like a drill sergeant. I still remember him telling me that my Mom had not sewed on my badges correctly and would have to redo them even though they were off less than a quarter inch. He would come to new scouts’ homes to test them on their Tenderfoot badge requirements. In many ways he was unpleasant, and today he would be an anachronism, but in retrospect it was a good experience for me.

Third, we had three or four weekend camping trips a year, many in bad weather because they were never cancelled.  I remember one during December 1960 where we almost froze, but also remember having fun listening to the Eagles win the NFL Championship game.

Fourth, our Troop, along with two national troops made up of scouts from all over the country, traveled to the 1961 Israeli Jamboree.  Looking back it was an incredible undertaking for the leadership.  Each scout’s family paid $600. The total budget for the trip was $25k. We did a pre-trip campout at a local scout park, Breyer Scout Training Area in Philly, then were bussed to another park, Schiff Reservation in New Jersey, where we met the other scouts.

We arrived at Idlewild Airport (now JFK) and boarded an ancient DC6B propeller plane that took us to Ganger, Newfoundland; Shannon, Ireland; and Athens, Greece, before finally landing at Lod Airport (now Ben Gurion). I have an 8mm movie of us lining up on the tarmac to walk up the stairs. We then camped in the backyard of the Lod Airport Hotel before starting a tour of the country in army trucks during the heat. The tour was interesting, but tiring. The Jamboree was fun.

After a few weeks in Israel, we boarded an Alitalia Caravelle (my first time on a jet) to Rome, where we stayed in a hotel, and then flew to Paris, and finally took a boat train to London where we were met by scout families who took us in.

It was my first of 11 trips to Israel, and I could see the country grow in some areas and get shockingly more religious in others.  My memory may be fading, but I can’t remember seeing one religious family on my first trip.

I’ve recently found a list of the scouts on the trip, and started contacting them to see what has happened to them over the past half century. I will write about them in a future post because there are some interesting trends.

One thing I did learn was that Terry Klasky, who was my tent mate, was killed in the Air Florida Crash in Washington, D.C., in 1981. That was the crash where Lenny Skutnik was on the banks of the Potomac with others watching people struggle in the icy water.  Skutnik dove in and saved a woman, and was honored by President Reagan at the State of the Union address, starting a tradition where other heroes were invited and honored.

Terry was the first friend of mine who died or was killed. There have been others. More later.