A Eulogy for Doris Beaver Brown

Good afternoon. My name is Valerie Richardson. Like all of you here, my life was touched by a woman named Doris Brown. But, to most of us, she was known simply as Beaver. Beaver Brown. Just hearing her name makes us smile. And even though the world is a much sadder place without her in it, it is not possible to celebrate her life without smiling. I first met Beaver at Camp Latonka during the summer of 1963. My parents drove down the dusty road to camp and dropped me off with my trunk in front of a trim, tanned, stern-looking woman with short hair, crisp white shirt tucked into dark green shorts, and spotless white tennis shoes. I was petrified. In a few short moments, however, I saw a twinkle in her eye and a smile that kept slipping out, and I knew all was going to be fine. That was the first of many summers spent in the woods at Girl Scout Camp Latonka on Lake Wappapello. Many of us feel like we were partly raised by Beaver at Camp Latonka. I know we did a lot of growing up there. Doris Brown was born July 27, 1930, in Harvey, Illinois. She was an only child. Her dad, Roscoe Brown, was a store manager for the Kresge Company. The family moved to Hannibal, Missouri, when Doris was 6 years old. She graduated from high school in Hannibal in 1948, and received a degree in physical education from Culver-Stockton College in 1952. Her first job was as a P.E. teacher for the high school in Kinderhook, Illinois. But during her summers off, she ventured back to Hannibal to be a counselor at Girl Scout Camp Oak-a-tipi. This was right up her alley, as she had been a Girl Scout all through her years in Hannibal. When she got to camp, Mrs. Giles, the camp director, told the counselors that they were all to have camp names. Some of the counselors already had camp names, but for those who did not, Mrs. Giles wrote some names down and put them in a hat. As you can guess, Doris drew the name Beaver and the rest was history. She would always get a kick out of telling this story, because those of us who were in awe of her always assumed the name had to have some special significance. But, she simply drew out the name Beaver, said hmmm, OK and that was it. Meanwhile, Camp Latonka had opened its gates to campers in 1951. By 1954, the camp committee had decided it wanted to have a CIT (counselor in training) unit, and they hired Beaver to come and direct it. She would work four weeks at Latonka, then would go back to Hannibal and finish out her summer at the camp there.

But when Beaver arrived, she was told there was not going to be a CIT unit, and she was going to direct the Pioneer unit instead. Beaver said that was fine and quickly became friends with everyone there. Ilena Aslin, Cotton Boll executive director, and camp director the first few summers, said everyone loved Beaver. Beaver came back the next summer for eight weeks and directed CIT. Near the end of the summer, Beaver accepted Ilenas offer to join the Cotton Boll staff as a field director, and continued to work at Camp Latonka during the summers. After a couple more years, Ilena felt confident in turning over her camp director position to Beaver, and for the next 20 years, Beaver directed Camp Latonka, and became a role model to thousands of girls. Back in the old days, they didnt have camp sessions called Mom and Me or Horse Heaven. No, we had very mystical names for our sessions - they were called: Session I, Session II, Session III and Session IV. Each session started on a Sunday afternoon, went for 12 hot, humid days; everyone got picked at the same time, and the next session started again on Sunday. But, oh! Those were 12 magical days that we lived for each year. And though all of us have our own special memories of campfires, hikes, canoe trips, and singing in the dining hall, what I remember most is the friends I made. I think Annabeth Miller put my thoughts into words when she said that what made camp so special was that Beaver created an environment that allowed these friendships to grow. What we didnt realize was that Beaver worked really hard behind the scenes doing all those many, many tasks that often no one but she would think to do. Nancy Wood shared with me that one of her first memories of Beaver was when she spent a session at Camp Latonka in 1960 or 61, while her mom, Elizabeth Wood, served as a volunteer counselor in Gypsy Dell. Nancy was actually too young to be at camp, but they put her in Shady Oak so she would be with girls closer to her age. She recalled that she couldnt sleep because she was terrified of all the night-time noises, and one night around midnight she heard someone coming down the path past her cabin. She peered up over the rail and through the screen and saw that it was Beaver carrying a can of kerosene. She watched as Beaver carefully filled a lantern hanging by the outhouse, and then lit it. Nancy said she often wondered why the camp director was taking care of such a small task, and one that obviously someone else had forgotten to do. She said it wasnt until years later that she realized all the little things that had to be done to make something like camp run smoothly. And that is exactly what Beaver did, and that was why she was so good at what she did.

It was also in the summer of 1960 that the Osage Society was started at Camp Latonka. At Camp Oak-a-tipi, Beaver had been involved in an honorary group that had an initiation ceremony, and she thought that would be a great idea for Camp Latonka. So, she did a little research, found out that the Osage Indians had camped on the St. Francis River, and she thought thats perfect. Plus, she read that they had had beautiful women and fine horses, or beautiful horses and fine women, she couldnt remember which, but either way she thought that described Camp Latonka! Well, one thing led to another and the Osage Society was inaugurated. Campers who attended for four years were stolen away to a secret ceremony and became members of Osage. It was what we all lived for to make it to that fourth year and get initiated! I remember how horribly disappointed I was when my family moved to the east coast the fall after my third summer at Latonka. I grieved over that more than you can imagine. Well, I must have whined enough that my parents said that if I would save my money until the next summer, I could ride the train back to Missouri and go to Camp Latonka! I remember saving my pennies, marking over 200 Xs on my calendar, packing my duffel bag weeks in advance, and finally boarding the train from New York to Missouri. I also remember Beaver greeting me at the check in table that summer, grinning from ear to ear, and saying: What the heck are you doing here? It wasnt long after the Osage Society was formed that Beaver almost had an Indian uprising on her hands. One morning, she walked into the dining hall and was met with a sign that said Join the Chippewah! Now, she thought: What in the world? Apparently, some of the staff had gotten it into their heads that if they spent four sessions at camp during one summer that it should be counted the same as one session a summer for four years, and they should be entitled to join the Osage Society. But she said they had a pow-wow, called a truce and agreed that it should be the same for staff and campers, and it should be four years. Somehow, the Osage Society has survived with no further uprisings, and without burning the camp down from our kerosene-soaked, well-padded torches, and according to April Isbell, to date, there are 1,558 members of the Osage Society! While all this was going on, Beaver had yet to meet her friend Harryette Campbell. Harryette had become involved in Girl Scouting when her niece, Jane, was a girl, and also served as volunteer registrar for the council. Its hard to imagine that position being filled by a volunteer, but Harryette did it from her dining room table, and registered more than 5,000 girls a year during that era. All the while, Harryette had heard about Beaver, but had never met her. In fact, Sally Winchester had told her for over a year that she needed to meet Beaver, because they had so many of the same interests.

Then one day, she was asked by a friend to fill in on a bowling league for someone. She said she was intimidated by this team member named Doris Brown, who had the highest bowling average in the league. Harryette got up and on her first roll, threw the ball into the gutter, but Doris looked straight at her and said, Thats okay, it doesnt matter. A few weeks later, while they were bowling, someone came by and said Hey, Beaver and Harryette looked at Doris, and asked Are you the one everyone calls Beaver in Girl Scouts? After that, Harryette and Beaver became great friends. Harryette stayed in the bowling league. It bothered her that she couldnt beat Beaver at bowling, so she thought she would invite her to play tennis. Harryette was a great tennis player, so she thought, Maybe I can beat Doris at this game. Well, she said, Beaver beat the socks off her. She tried several other sports, including swimming, and still couldnt beat her at anything. Finally, she challenged Beaver to table tennis. Harryette had been the table tennis champion at Lilbourn High School, so she thought surely she could beat Beaver at that. No luck. Finally, Harryette said she gave up. Not only was Beaver a great athlete, she was also a pretty fair mechanic. She could take apart any appliance or small machine, fix it and put it back together. She could figure out how just about anything worked. I also have to squeeze in here that Beaver was honored by Cotton Boll Council in 1975 with the Thanks Badge, the highest award for adults in Girl Scouting. Never one to boast or toot her own horn, Beaver was humbled by this honor and probably thought she didnt deserve it. But I know she cherished it. When Beaver retired from Cotton Boll Girl Scout Council in 1980, Ilena said her job as E.D. was never again as fun. She said Beaver was the most wonderful person to work with, and it was fun and exciting planning events, trainings, round-ups, field days, Girl Scout birthdays, and everything with her. After Beaver retired, she and Harryette traveled the world together. From the Caribbean to Milan, the Greek Islands to Jerusalem, and from cruises to riding camels in the desert, these two friends saw places that most of us just dream about. One thing most people dont realize about Beaver is how shy she was. She would spend hours and hours working and preparing for a Girl Scout training. According to Harryette, it was more like a Broadway production than a training session for volunteers. Everything had to be just right because Beaver was so nervous about getting up in front of a group to speak.

Her sense of humor seemed so natural, though, and what a ham! There was not a girl at Camp Latonka who wouldnt go on safari with her on her legendary lion hunts. She would go through the motions of climbing trees, swimming the river, crossing the bridge, and crawling through tall grass, and at the end, after outrunning the lion, a whew, we made it, and everyone felt that we had truly conquered something, even if it was only our inhibitions about being silly for a while. She was also a person of great courage. She had to re-learn to walk at least twice in her life: once, after a devastating automobile crash three decades ago, and again earlier this year, during a particularly debilitating part of her illness. I never heard her complain or grumble, unless she was chastising herself for not meeting her own expectations. Her attitude was, thats life; lets get on with it. So, as you leave here today, remember the fun, remember the songs, remember the secret campfires, and the lion hunts. But also remember that Beaver was a person of enormous character and courage; a friend, confidante and mentor, who served as a wonderful role model, and guided us through an important part of our lives. And to you, Beaver, we sing:

Each campfire lights anew the flame of friendship true; The joy weve had in knowing you will last our whole lives through.

Farewell, dear friend.