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Recollections of Camping at Cook Forest State Park in the Early-Mid 1950s

On Sundays, there would be a church service in this ramshackle construction, and my father would run the service when we were there. A Mr. and Mrs. Earl Leisure (according to a diary written by my father) hauled in a trailer full of folding chairs and an old pump organ for the church services, and if the weather was really nice, the chairs would be set up in the circle in the center of the campground rather than in the large tent. Our family’s fee for our campsite – normally fifty cents a night – was waived in return for Dad conducting the Sunday worship services. In 1956 a Reverend Huff from Erie, Pennsylvania also performed some of the services.

There were actually relatively few things to do at Cook Forest if, like us, you didn’t spend any money whatsoever on anything like renting canoes or engaging in other activities that cost something - filling your time for a whole month could be a challenge for a little kid who didn’t really want to just sit around and relax. We would always make several visits to the fire watchtower, where we would climb up the long staircase and sometimes (not always) be able to get into the little cabin at the top where we could look out over the amazing forest. Sometimes the trap door in the floor of the cabin which allowed entry would be locked, so we would crouch on the steps just under the floor and gaze around.

Several times a week we would leave the campground in the car, turning left and driving down the hill to where the Clarion River crossed Route 36. Just on the other side of the bridge, which was outside the park, was a little store that sold some food, souvenirs, candy and odds and ends. We got a nickel a week allowance, so we would generally use this nickel to buy candy. For some reason I remember in particular buying little sticks of hard candy that were hollow in the center. We loved to drink water through these ersatz straws, imagining that the candy was flavoring the water.

We would frequently go swimming in the good old swimming hole. This pond had been created by damming a large stream, thereby creating a small swimming area. There was a “beach,” so to speak – an array of small stones lined one side of the pond. As I recall, the water became deep very suddenly, so you really had to watch yourself if you didn’t know how to swim. The water was always very cold. Our favorite activity was to swim across to the far side of the pond (or walk along the top edge of the dam itself) and climb down the edge of the dam to the stream below. The water spilled across the top of the dam, and you could slip in behind the sheet of water at the foot of the little dam – which was probably no more than thirty feet wide and only about five or six feet high – and hide there in the shade. We thought that this was the greatest fun. My mother, who was quite a large woman, had the uncanny ability to float on her back on the surface of the water without any effort – she was extremely buoyant, so much so that she could actually go to sleep while floating in the middle of the pond, which amused the other swimmers. It was amazing!

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