Camp Winaukee is a prestigious all-boys, all-sports, all-day sleep away camp located on the pine scented shores of gorgeous Lake Winnipesauke in New Hampshire. I spent five summers there where I learned skills in every sport imaginable from Division I college athletes and coaches, the great preponderance of whom came from North Carolina. Most of the campers hailed from New York and New Jersey. The camp was founded in 1920 then taken over in 1934 by Jessie “Doc” Sobel, an All-American football, lacrosse and water-polo player at Columbia University. Upon the occasion of Doc’s passing in 2001, the camp invited all alumni to write letters of remembrance. The following was my contribution.
Remembering Doc Sobel
I can’t really say that I knew Doc well in a personal way. But his presence in my life was nothing less than significant, and the gift of Winaukee that he gave to my family will endure through the rest of my lifetime.
The first time I met Doc he came to our home in my small, rural town of Newton, N.J. He came to recruit my brother Andy who was 14 years old and a great, great athlete. I was 10, and I guess I was kind of like the player to be named later. Or maybe I was like Monte Towe and my brother was like the great David Thompson who always insisted on the less talented Towe being a part of any deal he was in—even if Towe didn’t get to play that much. (Surely, all those North Carolina counselors understand that reference.)
Doc sat in our living room with my parents, my brother and me. He was all class and dignity. His velvety intonation and perfect diction could easily have landed him a successful career in broadcast media. I was thinking, “This guy is very cool.”
Doc guided us through an impressive photo album showing all the camp facilities. My brother noted the many green banners covering the dining hall ceiling. Doc explained that each one represented a Tri-State Championship the camp had won in competition against other camps. “What do you get when you lose?” asked my brother. “Lose?” Doc said, peering through his reading glasses with a sly, semi-smile. “We never lose.” We were a competitive family. We liked Doc immediately.
That summer of 1975 my brother and I went to Camp Winaukee. My big brother instantly became a hero, leading Winaukee to a Tri-Sate basketball championship, scoring 26 points in the final game of the tournament.
I wasn’t sure if I would fit in. I certainly couldn’t name all the “Five Towns.” I didn’t even know what they were. I didn’t own a Fila warm-up suit. Every kid in my bunk had a different pair of sneakers for each sport. They even had two pairs of cleats—one for baseball and one for soccer. All I had was one pair of sneakers—white, canvas Converse All-Stars.I played every activity in those shoes. My Dad said he played in Chuck Taylors in high school and they were just as good as those new leather shoes. Oh Dad … But Doc Sobel had built a highly principled camp where a shy kid from a small town could stand on equal footing with any kid from anywhere.
The sneakers didn’t matter. The merit did.
I spent the next five summers at Winaukee until I was too old to go anymore. I loved the emphasis on competition. I learned from counselors who were amazing athletes and skilled teachers. Some camps have Color War. We had Tribal War, Olympics and a Color War like no other.
Doc, your vision of sports as high drama was way ahead of its time. You built a camp that daily reinforced certain themes that will never go out of style: (1) The constant testing of yourself in the preparation for and in the heat of competition; (2) the magic and selfdiscovery that comes from just being a member of a team; and (3) the value of honoring those who played, won and lost before you.
Doc Sobel gave a lot of young men a place to grow and learn. He gave me a place to mature and excel in ways I understood more and more after my camp years were over. Thank you, Doc. My name may be indelibly etched on some rock near Lake Winnipesauke, but your spirit lives in the hearts and minds of legions of men everyday.
To future generations of Winaukee campers who will never meet Doc, I say this: Hold the fort. It’s worth it.
David Hollander (1975-76, 1978-1980) Best All-Around Camper 1980
