Saga of the Sanpitch Volume 13, 1981 - Sanpete County

Forest Ranger Merrill Nielson, who was stationed at nearby Lake Ranger Station, and Deputy Forest
Supervisor Serrin Van Boskirk took us on a nature hike and taught us to identify many native plants. I still
remember the beautiful columbine, bluebell, paintbrush, elderberry, wild geranium, niggerhead, and the
names of the trees in the forest. These men also showed us how to fight and prevent forest fires, and to keep
from getting lost in the woods.
Food never tasted so good. Cook Frank Bohne and his helpers were experts at preparing camp meals.
They served mutton we got from a nearby sheep herd, beans, potatoes, and all the trimmings, including
gallons of Dixie molasses we spread on bread for dessert. We ate each meal like it was to be our last one.
Swimming in Cleveland reservoir was a special delight and we all swam every day in our birthday suits.
Swimming races were held, and some of the boys passed tests for advancement, including qualifying for
swimming merit badges.
There was one crisis. Senior Patrol Leader Theodore Christensen supervised the boys while they were
swimming. One of the swimmers came running up to Theodore with tears streaming down his cheeks and
cried, "We can't find Paul anywhere. He must have drowned." There was a frantic, fruitless search for the
missing boy, then the boys were ordered to dress and return to camp. There in his tent, on his pine bough
bed, Paul was found peacefully sleeping.
Foot-races were held daily on the smooth slope of the reservoir just above the water level, which made
an ideal racetrack. A baseball game was played with the boys against their fathers, and the boys won by a
small margin. We leaped and rolled and tumbled in a large sawdust pile which had been left by an old sawmill.
After supper each night everyone gathered around the campfire for a program. There were stories and
recitations, appropriate talks by the leaders, and peppy stunts acted out by the patrols. But the part I enjoyed
most was the lusty singing of songs. We sang patriotic songs, church hymns, and many of the lively songs
from the Boy Scout Songbook. We always bellowed forth our favorite ditty, which ran something like this:
HO FOR THE SLUM
(Tune: I am a Utah Man, Sir)
When you've hiked a half a hundred miles your legs begin to shake,
And your stomach caves together with an awful empty ache,
When you pull up by the campfire in the evening with your chum,
There's nothing does the business like a pot of steaming slum!
Chorus: Ho for the slum, boys! Mulligan tra la la la,
It sticks to your ribs, boys, tra la la la la la la la la la.
Throw in a hunk of bacon and the laces from your shoe,
A bottle of sarsaparilla and a pound or so of glue,
Rice and bread and breakfast food, a cherry and a plum,
Season it with castor oil and you'll have a bully slum!
Chorus
Throw in a chunk of meat boys, potatoes cold or hot,
Grab a piece of sweitzer cheese and chuck it in the pot,
Jelly, beans and pie crust, prunes and spearmint gum,
Stir it with a crowbar and you'll have a bully slum!
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