Some sixth grade Fair Haven boys at Stokes Photo/David Struve
Well, the iconic Stokes trip happened last week; and, by all accounts it was a trip soaked with fun … and rain.
The tradition has been altered over the years. Most recently, the trip’s time of year changed. It now happens in the fall when it used to happen in late spring. It also now takes seventh-, not sixth-graders, tripping in the woods for a week of hands-on outdoor education. And there are no RFH senior counselors called CATs along for the trips of more recent, well, decades.
Nonetheless, the longtime tradition is and always has been rife with tales of the trip.
This featured snapshot back into the woods in 1978 at Stokes focuses on a few RFH counselor guys (and a sixth grader) who seem to have happened upon some sort of sight or adventure. Lost boys? Perhaps.
This reprise was originally published on June 9, 2022 in honor of the usual end of May to early June Stokes trip. History has taken a turn and those sixth graders, still going to Stokes, are now going at the end of September. Here’s to looking back on the Stokes experience and how it was written about by former longtime Fair Havenite, Stokes parent and Red Bank Register editor, Art Kamin. Indulge in our experience of the Stokes past when it was a relatively new tradition …
When it comes to Fair Haven kids tripping to Stokes State Forest in the sixth grade, old news is always good news and mess hall time means bug juice and Sloppy Joes. And in 1974, it also meant the long arm of the Fair Haven law was cooking up the grub and keeping the kids in line … up.
Yes, back all those decades ago, one of the Stokes helpers was Louis DeVito, eventual police chief, but then lieutenant on the force. We know Bill Lang was in the kitchen cooking up some mischief and goulash, too. Stokes even made the paper back then. That’s because the editor of The Daily Register was Fair Havenite Art Kamin. His daughter, Brooke, was on that trip. So was he. Back then, such things were still newsworthy — the real sort of community journalism brand.
Besides, he thought Stokes was quite the height of hands-on outdoor educational experiences, so he wrote what he knew in a column about it in 1974 when he was there with Brooke’s class. And he knew way back then that Stokes would always be talked about. He was right.
“They’re still talking about Stokes here,” his lede said. “The memory, it seems, will linger on for month after month and year after year. It will transfer from class to class.” Right again. It’s 48 years later and it’s still something to talk about. The lingering? Well, Stokes is its own good ghost.
Kamin had also tripped to Stokes with his son, Blair, in 1969. For the article he did in ’74, though, Fair Havenites John (Jack) and Steve Croft took the photos. Yes, Fair Haven had its own little family of journalists. It still does. Ahem. And, this one is still talking about it.
We’ll get back to Kamin’s own Stokes parent experience at some point, like his misadventure doing the compass thing with the Pathfinder class and getting a gaggle of goofy sixth graders lost. That tidbit somehow didn’t make the column. Everyone did hear about it, though, from the lost kids, who just thought it was a great adventure — even though they were late for dinner.
Hey, Kamin had a way with words, not direction for sure. There was also a time when he drove a group of Girl Scouts to Camp Sacajawea and didn’t make it there until after nightfall. A bunch of giddy girls waiting thought that group had gotten abducted by aliens. They made up fireside stories about it to go with their before-lanterns-out S’mores. Then the leaders remembered Kamin was driving. And, hey, to be fair, let’s not forget that there were no GPS gadgets back then — just compasses, maps and bifocals.
If he were still alive, he’d be emailing me with an editorial note, for sure, probably about something innocuous like “Pathfinder wasn’t the actual name of the class, Elaine.” He knew the truth and may try to argue some of my semantics or proper names, but couldn’t deny a factual report from the most reliable of sources — a bunch of very frank sixth graders.
But we digress … back to those kids being late for dinner with a full plate of angst, giggles and anticipation. There was a long arm of the law in the kitchen, order outside of the mess hall — with the raising of the hands of the gathered to shut their yaps, stand at attention and get in line — and some popular grub being served up inside.
That grub, or a favorite of the kids’ anyway, was good ol’ Sloppy Joes — giant vats of it. Do kids these days even know what that is? It’s a mess of hamburger, some sort of tomato sauce and seasonings slopped onto a soft bun. No one really knows who Joe was, but the thing was very sloppy. To accompany the Joes, there was what we called bug juice. That would be Kool Aid — the green dye number 5 kind. And it was laced with what our parents thought was the healthy alternative of cancer-causing saccharine. Who remembers that? Oh, we clamored for the bad-for-you bug juice and the green tongue it gave us. Slurp.
Hey, this was the era of the frozen Swanson TV dinner being a very cool luxury. So, yes, Sloppy Joes were gourmet. There are faint memories of some fruit being served. Maybe. The Hamburger Helper variety of food and goulash were mostly what stood out, though. With Bill Lang commandeering the ’70s foodie menu, though, we know there was also some spaghetti and meatballs at some point. And the kids clamored for all it, putting Joe first on the popularity list, of course.
From the looks of the Stokes mess hall doings of more recent years, though, it seems as though meals have gone a healthier route. But, who knows, in another 50 years, the mess may be a neat pile of proper nutrition pills — at the Mars Stokes.
Still, there will probably be a Fair Haven on Mars for the Mars Stokes experience in another 50 years from now. After all, this kind of community experience is the kind that binds and transcends time and even galaxies. What became the Stokes tradition began in 1967. That was, indeed, a at least a couple of lifetimes ago — 55 years, to be exact.
As Kamin said, “Stokes in this municipality only means Stokes Forest in northern New Jersey.” Still true. “And Stokes Forest, to seven years of sixth graders, means much more than what has become a nationally recognized environmental project.”
Much more, indeed. For instance, the greatest of lessons learned from the Stokes experience, as described by Kamin, are “developed” rather than immediate. “Time has a way of making the Stokes experience more meaningful,” he said. Right again. They’re still talking about it, writing about it.
Why more meaningful with time? Well, it all goes back to the community family ideal. And ideal is what it was and is in Fair Haven. “After all, Stokes is a community effort and the 130 sixth graders who take part in it sense this early,” Kamin said. Yes, they do. And, for generations, it gives them something to talk about, to write about, to emulate.
Speaking of emulation … I will, with full humor, interject my own editorial note to Kamin that he couldn’t argue — and certainly can’t email about. He said that all the kids were 12. Not all, Art, including your son, Blair, who had turned 12 that summer of ’69. The copy editor missed that one. Some of those sixth graders had summer birthdays. I know. I share that summer birthday and some kid birthdays with Blair and the Kamins. Bobbing for apples comes to mind. Hmmmm. Just had to slip that note in. But, back to the community thing — as if it ever really veered.
This Fair Haven kid was a sixth grader at Stokes in 1972, and, again, in 1978 as an RFH camp counselor, dubbed CAT. We haven’t made it to the Stokes on Mars yet, but the “more meaningful” notion is ever evolving and expanding, starting with the mess hall mindset and bringing it all neatly back to community with a word spill. While most may have never gulped bug juice again, it will never be plain ol’ Kool Aid again, either.
And I’d bet just about every Fair Haven kid who ate in the Stokes mess hall has a hankering for Sloppy Joes or goulash to ease homesick pangs. And when the long arm of the law reaches out, some will remember the ladle at the end of the arm serving up the slop in the ’70s.
Now, raise your hand if you want to get back into that mess hall to gobble up a plate of community as it should be. I have a hankering. That would be Stokes Mars 2072 for me. Aha! Still ’72. See? They say that we come back to what our soul loves. See you at the Stokes Mars mess hall, kids. My hand is raised.
Square dancing at Stokes in the 1970s Photo/courtesy of Lisa Ericson
A reprise from 2019 in honor of the annual tradition of that trip to Stokes State Forrest. In honor of wrapping up the Stokes experience with that last dance … Dance on and dose doe, sixth graders!
A reprise in honor of the culmination of the usual end of the sixth graders’ trip to Stokes State Forrest
It’s all about another stoked for Stokes moment. The year was 1976, and a bunch of girls gathered in their cabin for that classic snapshot of sixth grade bunk mates.
Hanging at the Stokes dining hall in ’78 Photo/courtesy of Jill Sorrentino
Well, COVID may have put off the sixth graders’ trip to Stokes State Forrest, but it didn’t quash it.
It just moved the tradition and fun to locals’ summer fall instead of spring/summer. And the week full of outdoor learning, pranks and bonding came to an end this week.
Today would have been the day that the happy little campers came home from their post-Memorial Day week of adventure with classmates, teachers and parents.
So, we take a look back at some Stokes moments of bunking, hiking, pranking, do-se-doing your partner and all-around exploring back in the 70s, from youngsters to those high school counselors. Remember those?
There were RFH seniors chosen to be counselors, dubbed CATS. Each couple of CATs was assigned to teach/counsel sixth graders in their area of expertise. There were bug experts, hiking troopers, rowing aficionados, swimmers, and story tellers, dancers, singers and guitar players.
There was a square dancing night. And there was plenty of practice that ensued before it. What square dancing song stands out in your memory? And how about those campfire nights? Song always sung? How about the traditional story told? Who got lost in the woods with the compass/pathfinders class? Who was a CAT?
An obituary isn’t long enough to relay all of the cool things a person got to accomplish in their lifetime. My mom got to travel all over the world … Had homes in California, New Jersey, Massachusetts and Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. Dragged her four girls all over the country and Canada (sometimes kicking and screaming, because we didn’t know we were gonna do and see something cool). One time she asked us if we wanted to go see Chicago? We started moaning, so she went by herself. Turns out that she meant THE BAND CHICAGO! Which I loved … I had to listen from out side the stadium … but I learned to pay attention when plans where being made … Rest in Peace Mom!
Longtime Fair Haven and Sea Bright resident Maryana Sheahan Robertson passed away on June 11 after a long illness. She was 80.
Maryana Robertson in the 1960s Photo/courtesy of the Robertson family
Known as a spirited adventurer and traveler with a passion for cultural immersion, Maryana was born in Cambridge MA. She graduated from Hopkinton High School there, where she played on the girls basketball team and was in glee club, in 1956. She then met her late husband James Robertson and they moved to Fair Haven and raised four daughters there. The Robertson couple lived in Fair Haven until 2000. Maryana then lived in Sea Bright until 2019.
To the Stokes trip students of the 1970s era, the Robertson parents may be remembered as the birding couple, leading kids through the woods with binoculars and teaching them about various species, their sounds and distinguishing characteristics.
At home, James was president of the Mommouth Wine Society and for years the two hosted wine tastings at their Fair Haven home. “They loved being close enough to NYC to go into the city every chance they could for dinner and a play or musical,” daughter Suzanne Robertson Tranfaglia said.
Maryana had a nursing degree from Brookdale Community College. In addition to her zest for adventure, travel and cultural immersion, she was known as a passionate animal lover who rescued many cats, dogs and even a duck. She loved spending home and travel time with family.
Predeceased by her husband, Maryana is survived by: her brother Paul Sheahan and wife Lydia, of Brooksville FL; her daughters and their spouses, Suzanne and George Tranfaglia, of Orlando, FL, Kathleen and Mike Grady, of Long Branch, Sheila and Joseph Eskridge, of Sea Bright, and Bonnie and John Travers, of PA.; and her grandchildren, Maria Tranfaglia, Ryan Eskridge, and Patrick and Christopher Travers.
This little crew grew up together. And years later they ended up reliving a sixth grade tradition as adults.
They are Jenny Costello (Jones), Dwayne Reevey, now a Fair Haven police officer, and Andy Dougherty. The three lived on Parker Avenue in Fair Haven across and down the street from one another.
Their parents were all friends and they all had the Stokes experience as Fair Haven schools students. This time around, they were counselors, with Andy Dougherty pretty much running the show from the schools’ end.
Much has changed about the annual trip right after Memorial Day to learn and camp out in the state forrest, but some things never do change — like childhood friendships and memories that connect for a lifetime.
So, our Retro Pic of the Day captures just that. Call it a little time capsule.
Get in for a little trip back …
This editor not only took the trip, way back in the early 1970s, but was also CAT at Stokes. I forget what the anagram stood for, but CATs were RFH seniors who were chosen to take the trip as sort-of junior counselors.
The RFH administrators chose leaders, who had to have above a certain GPA and a expertise or talent in a specific area.
I, along with my acting compadre, Kevin Carpenter, were sent to entertain the kids. We had to spearhead the dancing (poor kids) — and, yes, there was square dancing (yikes) — sing songs around the campfire, like Hang Down Your Head Tom Dooley (so uplifting) and tell stories about the Jersey Devil and scare the bejesus out of the kids.
We were a pretty well-behaved lot of semi-nerds, but we did like to have some fun that I’m confident would have gotten us banned nowadays — like raising one poor girl’s bra up on the flagpole for the morning wake-up bugle call and capsizing one another’s canoes.
Oh, there were more pranks, but the mention of them may tarnish some respectable RFH parents’ reputations, so I digress.
Did you go to Stokes? What was your favorite memory?
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