I saw some great things as a Boy Scout. Mount Rainier and the Olympic Peninsula from sleeping bag level; the Bright Angel sandstones of the Grand Canyon; lightning dancing on the Tooth of Time at Philmont Ranch near Cimarron, New Mexico; Alan Shepherd demonstrating the Bell Rocket Belt as tens of the thousands of Scouts from around the world watched in awe in an open amphitheater at Lake Pend Oreille, Idaho; Boer War hero Lord Robert Baden Powell's widow addressing us all in the glow of flashbulbs.
But the most amazing thing I saw was a footlocker owned by one of the camp staff at the Boy Scout Camp near Belfair, on an island in Puget Sound. I don't remember this lad's rank -- he was probably 16 or 17 and he might have been a Life Scout -- but he had two well-drilled adjutants who did the actual carrying, and you would think they were bearing the Ark of the Covenant. He would make the rounds of the different camps somehow uncannily dodging the grownups. He would sweep in quickly with his two followers n lockstep behind him with the footlocker, creating an instant buzz among the rest of us, mostly tenderfeet, second and first-class kids.
Then having prearranged to use one of the tents, he and his men would set the footlocker down and as we gathered round, his adjutants would open the locker then step out side to keep watch for adults. Our jaws would drop as we beheld the treasures within, freshly re-stocked by our hero who wheedled his way into town regularly on the garbage run.
Neatly stacked in dense rows and gleaming in their fresh wrappers, contraband candy stuffed the locker like gold doubloons in a pirate's chest: Necco Wafers, Snicker bars, Hershey Bars, Milky Ways, PayDays, Look bars, Switzer's Licorice bars, Three Musketeers, Junior Mints -- they were all there, the very best stuff. He also had a small selection of cigarettes available singly or by the pack, with complimentary matches. His prices were truly outrageous, too: 25 cents for a candy bar that in those years when Lyndon Johnson was president cost a nickel at the store.
But no one uttered a word of complaint; indeed we felt honored to squander our meager purses for these forbidden treats and he took our money with silent efficiency, as time was not on his side.
Why were we so spellbound? It wasn't just the sweet-tooths of puberty that so transfixed us. No it was a thing far more powerful and far more in control of our minds and bodies at ages 12, 13, 14 and 15. You see, in the lid of the footlocker was a Playboy foldout; some of us had never actually seen one before and, stuck out in the woods with nothing but other guys around (there WAS a Girl Scout camp on the far side of the lake, and we heard rumors of reckless midnight swims), this was proof that God, the devil or at least this enterprising smuggler loved us. SCHWING!
I heard the Scout who owned the footlocker was eventually caught,stripped of his prodigious profits and sent home in disgrace.
I do not know what ever became of him, but suspect he might have made a lawyer or even a congressman, assuming he survived the draft and Vietnam.

I too have memories, fond and otherwise, of Troop 456's annual ten day hikes. They usually took place in a National Park such as Rainier or Olympic. The good memories include cutting bows for our bedrolls (Try that today!), campfires, rolling monster rocks, shooting stars, glissading, and snipe hunts. Then there were some grindingly long uphill hikes wearing the pack designed for the Spanish Inquisition, otherwise known as Trapper Nelson. Oh, and freezing in a 8 pound sleeping bag made of waste wool, being eaten alive by mosquitoes, and dehydrated carrots cooked in a No. Ten can.

Unfortunately, we never had such an enterprising fellow in our troop. We did have a few items of contraband, mainly comic books and candy bars. I was in middle-management, Star, Patrol Leader at the zenith of my Scouting career.

Seriously, I likely would not have developed a passion for the outdoors and experiencing remote places absent BSA. I hate to see them bashed.

Brice: Sounds like you also were in the Mount Rainier Council.
Yeah, I remember bugs, heavy sleeping bags wet with rain and Vienna sausages on undercooked BisQuik rolls.
I had forgotten about that Trapper Nelson pack. One of our Scout leaders was into mountaineering, and steered us to REI when it was still in an old squeaky-floored building near Pike Street Market. So we soon graduated to 1960s pack frame design and belly bands. WOTTA RELIEF!

Bill, a great story. As I was reading down line by line, I knew there just had to be something in there about a playmate. You must have had one heck of a childhood. Thanks for sharing.

I will also be thinking of a playmate after day 10 on the trail at Philmont this summer! Great story. When I was on camp staff I was responsible for bring back cases of soda for the staff on my mid-week night off. The trading post charged 50 cents a can but I only charged a quarter. I had a friend that worked in the dining hall who could get me ice to keep the sodas cold.