My family gathered to celebrate my father’s 94th birthday in Albuquerque, New Mexico on June 19th, 2019. We spent a lot of time reminiscing about my father’s fascinating life and that of our family’s over about forty-eight hours. My oldest brother, Dave, my sister-in-law, Judy, my older brother Rick and I went for a hike along the Rio Grande on the morning of the second day. As we hiked, I asked Rick what was one of the happiest times of his life and he responded, “Camp Dewitt. The whole purpose of life was simple, and that was to beat the Grays and we often did.”
Camp DeWitt was a private boys camp on Lake Winnipesauke near Wolfeboro, New Hampshire. My father taught history in Wilmington, Delaware and spent his summers working at camps. In 1964, my father started working at Camp Dewitt as the Waterfront Director when I was 3 years old. My two brothers attended as campers and my mother and I spent most of the summer there at the beach or shopping with other wives and daughters. My parents and I lived in a three-room cabin on Family Circle that actually had our last name “Noice” on the cabin. My single cot was in the kitchen (which was basically a sink) and I always remember looking out the window next to my cot in the morning at the pine trees above. The possibilities for the day were endless. The setting was bucolic. Pine trees, sandy beaches, rustic cabins and a beautiful 27-mile lake. It’s only, in retrospect, that I realize how ideal the situation was because, outside of my dad working 6 days a week, everything else was recreation and relaxation for the rest of us in the Noice Clan.
Here is why Camp DeWitt was so magical:
For ten years, I never spent a summer in the suburbs of Wilmington, Delaware. Our family never belonged to a neighborhood pool, we never owned a beach get-away and, for most of that time, did not own an air conditioner. As I look back, I cannot imagine living in suburban Delaware during the hot, humid summers while most of my friends escaped to the beach or local pool. The mountains and lakes of New Hampshire were the norm for me, and my family and I can appreciate now what a serene and magical escape it was.
My brothers were able to learn all sorts of skills at the camp, including archery, arts and crafts, tennis, swimming, football, baseball, sailing, riflery, canoeing and rowing. They both went backpacking in the White Mountains and on overnight canoe trips. For me, girls and boys too young for camp were able to use different facilities when the campers were on rest hour or at meals. I loved the giant trampoline and swimming in the lake. My mother enjoyed not having to cook as we ate every meal in the main dining room. I remember a massive stack of white bread on every table and a giant milk dispenser that even had my favorite: chocolate milk. My father learned how to repair used sailboats for campers to use. He also led canoeing trips into Quebec province. I remember my whole family going on a sailboat for several hours on Lake Winnipesaukee after camp ended, with my dad at the helm while time stood still.
Every summer, there was a small gang of kids for me to hang out with that were either girls or boys too young to be campers. We knew every trail in the camp and every back route to get somewhere to avoid disrupting the campers on their daily schedule. There was Slippery (Soap-Soap) Rock, which was a huge slanted rock right on the lake that was not frequented by campers and an excellent place to go swimming. There was a PA system that announced reveille, meals and taps. I can still smell the pine-scented air from the trail my mother and I would walk down to go get breakfast. I wasn’t a camper so there was no place for me to “be” except for meals and the trampoline right after lunch. Most of the families would sit on the beach in the afternoon and I would swim out into the lake, past what seemed like countless sandbars hoping to make it to Plum Island. No schedule. No responsibilities. Just time in a beautiful spot.
My father had Wednesdays off. When he was off, more times than not, we went off to explore New England. We usually went to Ogunquit Beach in Maine at least once a summer, where my dad always brought a shovel so that we could make huge sit-in sandcastles. My dad would bury one of us, if not all, up to our necks in sand. The highlight was going to the Kancamagus Highway and Rocky Gorge. At the time, we were allowed to go sliding down the frigid rapids and slippery rocks in our bathing suits and getting out before going over the impending waterfall. My male cousins from Florida were campers as well and they could not stand the freezing water temperatures. There were also the trips to Alton Bay and Wolfeboro, with the main intent to acquire ice cream or maple candy. My mother used to take us to the Hansel and Gretel Shop, which had an enormous selection of penny candy and a large pool to go fishing for plastic fish. In case of rain, my mother and I went off shopping to the Bass and Pandora outlet of tax-free Manchester.
The camp had many traditions, including snipe hunts (a futile hunt for an imaginary bird), a beauty contest where my dad dressed up like Miss Delaware and Campfire Circle. I’m not sure why the camp brats like me were included, but I can remember sitting at the huge campfire and what seemed like the entire camp sitting around as my father came in from the dark as Big Chief Chibougamau. The biggest event of the entire summer was the All Camp Relay Race, which pitted the Blues and the Grays against each other. Each camper was assigned a team and number when they started camp. My brothers were Blues, with Rick as number 24 and Dave as number 67. And most events had some sort of competition pitting the Blues against the Grays. It all came down to the last day of camp and the All Camp Relay, and I was always rooting for the Blues to win. I can remember the race started at the camp entrance and went through the entire camp, including swimming and sailing races until it came down to the two team captains sitting at a table eating a container of graham crackers. The first one to whistle was the winner. So, there were two teenagers mowing through 20 graham crackers without water and trying to whistle. They were surrounded by hundreds of spectators and held all the hopes of bragging rights until the next summer.
I think of the sacrifice my dad made for all those summers so that my family could have a terrific summer in what I will always think of as an idyllic setting. The camp was sold many years ago and is now a residential community, but I still go back whenever possible to put my toes in Lake Winnipesauke and to smell the pine-scented air. I think back to a time where I had no worries, and anything was possible. Magic.
20 thoughts on “The Magic of Camp DeWitt”
Great story about Camp Dewitt. I was there too from 1964 to 1970 and remember your father and all the idyllic memories. I must remember your mother too as you remind me of someone I once knew in the past. I have gone back to the Camp and saw it’s demise when the camp was sold off to a failed real estate venture and Cabin 4 as well as other cabins ended up as discarded remnants in the nearby property. Don Boyer was Science teacher and Paula Boyer and I were from the same class at Cornell years later
Thank you Michael! I have been back several times and still love the lake. My brother Dave and I both went to Cornell. I think Paula was the same year as Dave. He graduated in 1979 in Engineering. What about you? There is a FB page on Camp DeWitt that has many photos.
I was surfing the internet for anything on Camp Dewitt and came across your delightful article. I was a camper from 1965 – 1967. To this day when Summer camp topics come up I fondly talk about Camp Dewitt. I was recruited by the Dick Working to become a camper. I was friends with Danny Baker and John Regal. My bunk counselor and tennis instructor was John Whitbeck. I remember counselor Dave teaching me chess and climbing Mount Washington. When I caught a 14 pound bass, Tom the head cook baked it and I had it for dinner. To many fond memories to list them all. I would have gladly returned in1968 but my tennis game took off and I spent Summers playing tournaments and eventually teaching tennis. Many things I learned and experienced at Camp Dewitt have been helpful through the years. Thanks for writing an article about a time and place that was truly magical and reminding us campers how lucky we were.
Steven Yale Lasover
Hi Cathy Noice: Here’s another Taylor checking in. I was at Camp Dewitt
for six years (!944-1949) and had a great time. About a month ago I ago found
a tennis trophy I had won as a Midget A in 1948. The racquet was missing
which is kind of symbolic of my age. Murray Houser and Anson Taylor (yet another)
were two of my favorite counselors. Used to lose yearly to my friend Chip Ide
for the athletic prize. Chip was a fabulous athlete at Williams. I went to Middlebury,
didn’t play any sports, but ran into fellow campers from Dewitt. Best wishes, Derry Taylor
I was a camper and really enjoyed your perspective.
Hi Cathy Noice – This is Jim Donohue checking in! I remember your family – my Dad was Ed Donohue and served in different roles at Camp DeWitt from 1962 through 1965! We so enjoyed the beautiful setting, and all the great activities they had for us! My Dad’s day off was Friday, and he and my mom, Betty, would take us and we would often travel to the beaches of Maine before anyone heard of Kennebunkport, and others. Or they would take us to Boston for the historic sites. We frequented the Old Man of the Mountains, the Flume, Mt. Wildcat, Pinkham Notch, Storybookland and no summer was complete without a trip to the shoe factory outlets and the Pandora sweater factory outlet in Manchester, NH. My youngest brother, Ted was also too young to be a camper – so you were probably at the natural sandy beach at the cove with your mom, and mine. I still live outside West Chester, just 15 miles from Wilmington. Thank you for the trip down memory lane. Jim Donohue
I was at the camp in 1950 and 1951 with Mr Boyer’s Haverford School group of boys. Later my son spent two summers at the camp. Mr. Boyer was my 4th grade teacher at Hartford. He was the best teacher I ever had. A great man.
I loved DeWitt, it was the best place to be for a young boy. I am now 80 years old now, but will always remember my summers at DeWitt.
Hi, My name is Rick Pizzi,
I went to camp DeWitt 1944-1948, Don;t remenber the names on this site. Sorry to see all the houses that i built there and surrounding area. Inevitable though. I also went to Fay school , Graduated in 1949.
Hi Cathy. My dad, Ed Baker, worked with your father at camp. My brothers, Mark and Dan, were campers during those years. I know my mom has photos from camp with you in them … and I think even one or more with both of us in them. That was many, many years ago!
I enjoyed reading this and forwarded the link to my mom and brother!
I remember you and your family. We spent a lot of time at the beach. How wonderful to connect again.
Cathy, my mom read this tonight and said it brought back lots of memories. She was so happy I shared it with her. My mom had forgotten about your dad at the campfires so that was one memory she loved. I’ll see my brother, Dan, this coming week so I’m sure he’ll add something I can share as well.
We did spend a lot of time at the beach. You and I were two of those kids you mention who couldn’t “go to camp” but yet experienced a lot of time on the shores of Lake Winnipesaukee. I remember visits to Maine and bringing back lobsters. I still love Maine lobsters to this day! We also had a crazy raccoon who loved to visit us on the beach. Do you happen to remember that? We have photos of the raccoon on the beach chair. If you send me your personal e-mail, I can send some photos taken during our time there.
wonderful memories of a such great place – or as Donald Boyer used to say during our morning gatherings “beautiful, beautiful Camp DeWitt”…
I was both a camper as well as counsellor in the late 70s, early 80s, spending 4 summers at DeWitt, flying in from Venezuela each summer. I really enjoyed everything at camp, from the great setting, the mountain and canoe trips, the people, the Blue and Gray competetions and the very special spirit it did transmit. It was a time which did have a strong impact on me, and I do still remember it as one of the best times in my life. So much, that I have been sending my two kids to Camp Birchmont on Lake Wentworth for several summers (we do live in Barcelona, Spain), as I wanted them to savour and cherrish a similar experience. After several years as campers they now have become counsellors themselves – camp in wonderful Lake Winnipesaukee leave a clear and resting mark on you! 😉
Yes Roland – it truly is a magical place to savor!
Your memories of Camp DeWitt took me back, as so many of us have experienced. I spent my happiest childhood summers there (1956–1961) as a daughter – not a camper. My Dad, Owen Southard ,was the tennis counselor and a teacher during the school years. I played with Paula and a girl named Dolly along with many others. I learned to swim at the Big Rock and remember the paths, the Sunday night campfires , and dining hall. I’ve gone back, as an adult, twice. Once to find the cabins in disrepair and once to discover the residential area it became. The smells are the same. Thank you for writing this lovely testimonial to such a special place.
Thank you Marilyn!
I worked on the DeWitt waterfront from 1968-1972. “Mr Noice” (as he was known) was great to work for. He offered advice gently when he thought it necessary, and did whatever he could to make the program work. Those were wonderful summers.
Thank you! He was also Big Chief Chabogamo!
I’m sitting here smelling the pines. I attended Camp Dewitt in the late 60’s and remember Ben Noice very fondly. Sailing was my favorite activity, and he taught me how to do it. Great piece on Ben and on the camp. Thank You
Thank you so much! He was a great sailor, teacher and father. Cathy