Camp offenses spoil fun

They pulled a boy, or maybe two, from their beds and hauled them to the lake, according to a sheriff's report. One crying boy begged, "Please stop, please stop, please stop."

The hooded man answered, "I will kill you. I will kill you."

The counselors said it was meant as a prank.

But some boys were so scared, they barricaded their cabin doors with mattresses and cots. Grant LeDee, then 9, still has nightmares. "We stayed awake all night to protect ourselves," he recalled.

The camp, written up by state regulators, fired the counselors and called the Sanilac County sheriff. Camp officials said the episode last July was unfortunate but isolated, and said they've tightened oversight.

Each summer, 350,000 youngsters attend 380 sleep-over camps across Michigan. The vast majority have a safe, fun time.

But records show that state regulators have cited dozens of camps during the past three years for problems ranging from fire hazards and unsafe drinking water to exposed raw sewage and food-safety problems. Counselors have been cited for abusing children and for lax supervision.

At one camp, counselors tied up children and hung them from poles or threw them in a river as part of a "game" to get them to admit their belief in God. At another, Girl Scouts took nude photographs of each other. At others, counselors assaulted campers, including one who repeatedly attacked children with a stun gun.

Each year, 25 to 30 camps have problems serious enough that they are not able to come into substantial compliance with state regulations and are issued provisional licenses. That means camps are supposed to receive greater scrutiny from regulators.

Although serious incidents are the exception, they show what can go wrong when counselors aren't properly screened or trained, when children aren't adequately supervised and when camp buildings and equipment aren't safely maintained.

"The system is pretty good," said William Shipp, director of camp licensing at the Michigan Department of Consumer and Industry Services. "For the most part, what camps are doing with kids is pretty good."

Shipp supervises a staff of 10 inspectors responsible for visiting each of Michigan's residential summer camps at least once each year while camp is in session. Camps are told what week inspectors will arrive but don't know the exact day. Inspectors look at camp staffing, health services, food service, activities, policies and facilities.

County officials also conduct annual environmental health inspections, which cover a camp's water supply, food service, sewage disposal, general sanitation and site safety. Camps receive fire-safety evaluations by private firms at least once every two years.

Shipp said the most common problems include incomplete records on the staff hired to work with children, or proof that they've been properly trained; incomplete safety equipment for water activities; problems with well water supplies, and fire-safety hazards, including failure to remove bolts or hook-and-eye latches used to secure doors in winter.

Such problems generally are not serious or widespread, Shipp said, and are usually quickly corrected.

Campers tied up

At Wolverine Christian Service Camp in Columbiaville in Lapeer County, the state found that counselors tied a camper upside down to a pole by his ankles during the summer of 1999. During the same session, other children were reportedly tied up and thrown into a river, and one child was tied up in a dark room and threatened with paddles. The camp is supported by a group of 30 independent metro Detroit churches.

According to an August 1999 state report, the roping and tying were part of game called "Underground Church." The purpose was to get children to say they believe in God.

"The game is considered inappropriate for any age camp group because of the ridicule and the threats of violence," the report said. "Children were not protected during the game (you cannot hang campers to poles, crosses, etc.)"

To comply with state demands, the camp dropped the game from its activities list and the camp was given a provisional license. A new camp director has been hired and the camp was in compliance with state regulations last summer, Shipp said.

Wolverine camp administrators said they don't think they did anything wrong.

"My understanding is those stories were embellished by fourth- through sixth-graders," said Brian Webb, the camp's new director. "The game can be done with older kids. It was the right execution -- with the wrong group."

The staffer in charge of the game was asked to leave the camp for a while, Webb said, but "has an outstanding history of working with children and still works with children" in another capacity.

Nude photos found

At Camp Playfair, a Girl Scout camp in Sanilac County, girls took nude photos of each other last summer. No counselors were found to be involved, but the camp director was cited for failing to notify police or state authorities after finding out about the photos.

The state put the camp on a provisional license last summer after a camper's mother complained. She discovered photos of the girls on a roll of film her daughter brought home. The girls were ages 9 through 12.

Since then, the director and another camp official have been replaced, said Karen Micklatcher, executive director of the Girl Scouts Michigan Waterways Council. The council "took immediate action as soon as we found out," she said. This year, counselors will undergo more intensive training and the camp has a new system for handling problems.

"Our camp has outstanding programs, and I would hate for an isolated incident that happened once over our 40-year history to tarnish what the Girl Scouts and this camp is doing for girls," she said.

Camp officials are on track to have their full license restored after a meeting with state officials in June.

Fire, water safety

Some camps have had health and safety problems.

Regulators have notified Camp Wakeshma in Three Rivers in St. Joseph County that they intend not to renew its license for this summer because of a fire safety issue.

"The camp has refused to cooperate with us and fix things or allow us to work with them," Shipp said.

The problem: Regulators want a fire alarm system installed in the camp's 73-year-old lodge.

Jan Groenland, the camp's director, said he's been balking for four or five years at spending $4,500 for an alarm system. He had instead installed boat horns at each door and hoped that would suffice.

"We can clear our lodge in 1 minute, 30 seconds," he said. About 1,100 children, ages 8-15, attend the camp each summer.

Groenland said he'll install the required system and expects the camp to pass inspection in mid-May, in time for summer.

A Tuscola County camp operated by Joy of Jesus, a Detroit faith-based community organization, canceled three weeks of camp last summer because drinking water from an underground well showed indications of coliform bacteria.

State inspectors told camp officials they could hand out bottled water to campers, but Joy of Jesus decided to shut down July 23.

"I made the decision not to continue with the camp because I was very concerned," said the Rev. Eddie Edwards, Joy of Jesus program founder. "We didn't want to take any chances. Knowing something and not taking any action and crossing our fingers and letting it get by is just not good enough."

No campers became ill from the water, said Tuscola County Environmental Health Director Ed Kimbrue, whose department conducted the water safety tests.

The camp in Kingston in Michigan's Thumb had other problems. State inspectors cited it for not having a properly credentialed health officer. Inspectors also found bad record-keeping, citing the camp for lacking pre-camp training reports and a written health service policy. The camp also lacked health history statements from staffers and emergency treatment cards for campers.

For this summer, Joy of Jesus has hired a consultant to improve staff qualifications and make sure the camp meets licensing requirements. The camp has replaced its well cap, installed new pumps and flushed the well system with chlorine, Edwards said. State officials expect to receive the results of water quality tests by May 1.

At Camp Blodgett in Ottawa County, regulators found a dishwasher that didn't wash or sanitize, soiled frying pans and appliances, and swollen containers of tartar sauce during a pre-summer 1999 inspection.

Last summer, records show, inspectors were concerned about sloppy record-keeping of the staff and qualifications. Regulators will meet with camp officials next month to make sure the camp meets standards for this summer.

Camp Blodgett officials said they have hired a year-round administrator and site manager to correct problems.

"We have a new dining hall, a new kitchen, brand new shower facilities and we're cleaning up old problems as quickly as we can," said David Sebastian, a camp board member.

Corrections usually quick

When bad things happen, the consequences for a camp usually involve being written up in a report. Camps that operate without a license can be charged with a misdemeanor and face a fine of up to $1,000. But state law doesn't provide for fines for inspection violations.

Even so, Shipp said, most camps quickly correct problems without fines. And the threat of a provisional license -- or license revocation -- is enough.

"The ultimate adverse action is to shut them down," Shipp said. It's extremely rare for the state to do that. He recalls just one camp being forced to close in his 18 years with the state.

Will Evans, a national expert on camp safety, said Michigan's camp inspection system is better than most. California and New York have the toughest oversight, he said, and most states rely on minimal health standards.

Evans is director of safety education for the Markel Corp., which insures about 25 percent of the nation's camps.

Evans said that as many as 15 campers die each year nationally, including terminally ill children at special camps. About two-thirds of deaths are attributed to accidents, such as drownings, he said.

"No camp can guarantee a child's safety, just like a parent can't guarantee it at home 24 hours a day," Evans said. But Evans said camp directors consider safety a top priority.

The LeDee family, whose sons Grant and Aaron, then 7, attended Camp Ozanam last summer, think parents need to check out camps.

"I trusted the people in my church who said that this was a good camp," said Christine LeDee, the boys' mother.

Grant is in counseling, she said.

"Picture a living hell," she said. "That's what this family has been going through because of that camp."

Camp Ozanam is run by the Society of St. Vincent DePaul, a Catholic organization. Camp administrators said what happened last summer was a terrible breach of standards. They said the camp has a rich history of providing free summer camp to more than 100,000 poor children since 1923.

Camp Director Michael Levandowski said new procedures are in place, such as close supervision of counselors at night.

The scary episode last summer apparently evolved from a camp tradition of telling ghost stories. Counselors took things too far, Levandowski said. The camp remains licensed and will be open this summer.

One former counselor from last summer, Jason Devon Young of Detroit, was charged in Sanilac County with assault and battery for allegedly hitting a camper on the back of the head repeatedly. A warrant was issued for his arrest in January, said Sanilac County Prosecutor James Young, though he has not been arrested.

Jason Young denies hitting campers, but acknowledges he scared kids as "a joke, a game." Young said he attended the camp as a youth, and the same thing was done to him.

The LeDees said what happened to their boys was no joke and have hired Southfield attorney Geoffrey Fieger's firm.

Levandowski said he regrets what happened.

"Camp is one of the last great vestiges of a fun, safe place for kids," he said. "That we had staff members that made children feel unsafe, that is truly unfortunate and truly something we apologize for and don't want."

Contact TAMARA AUDI at 313-222-6582 or audi@freepress.com. Contact PATRICIA MONTEMURRI at montemurri@freepress.com.