Every year in the summertime, dad sits down and writes a rhyme
Cazedero Music Camp and the rediscovered photos of Carol Baldwin
Sweet dreams my wonderful child. At camp don’t be too wild.
In August 1988, my dad, Rick Levine, wrote, “Sweet dreams my wonderful child. At camp don’t be too wild.” It was the sign-off in my annual summer camp poem sent to me at Camp Whittle in Fawnskin, CA. It was the last summer of my family living in Los Angeles; this was the first of a handful of summer camps I went to. I started 6th grade the next month at a new school in Bellevue, WA. The next summer I would be a camper at Camp Orkila on Orcas Island (which I wrote some queer history about in this previous post.) Since it can never be about one thing, this is a two-part story about my love for summer camp and a recent discovery of a collection of incredible photos taken by a woman named Carol Baldwin from the 1960s.
A few months ago, while at work (I’m the archivist at a small arts non-profit called Women’s Studio Workshop), we received an email from a community member named Sarah who had inherited several boxes of black and white wedding photos taken by her grandmother between the 1950s and 60s. Since she didn’t know any people in the pictures, she was curious if someone would want to use them for an art project before she took them to the dump. Sarah’s mother, feminist artist Linn Underhill (1936–2019), had saved the photos, and Sarah shared that Linn had used some of them in 1986 for her piece called "Forever,” which makes this story even more special.
I said yes. I love looking through pictures and figured there may be a couple I’d want to use for mail art. The rest would be set aside for collage materials at WSW, or I’d figure out someone who could use them.
A few weeks later, Sarah dropped four large bins, and after a week or so, I started to flip through to see what was what. I realized that “some wedding photos” meant that Sarah’s grandmother, Carol Baldwin, was a successful wedding photographer and ran a seemingly busy studio. The bins were organized with folders labeled with family names that included contact sheets, negatives, and prints from over 50 weddings. A few had her stamp on the back, and a handful of client notes about which photos they wanted printed and what size.
I came to box #4, flipped through a few, and my jaw dropped when I realized I was not looking at weddings but hundreds of gorgeous photos of what looked like the most beautiful summer camp with giant redwood trees, creeks, and campers all in tow with instruments. Instruments in bed, instruments under the trees, in groups, solo, next to the creek, in various configurations. It was then that I noticed that these folders were, in fact, labeled “Music Camp.” I knew I was looking at something very special; these photos were stunning. Not only were they capturing the vibrant life of what looked like an incredible place, but they were also profoundly intimate. I slowed down and started looking for clues.
Let me pause here. Did you look at these photos? They're unbelievable, and this is just a sprinkle of Baldwin’s camp magic. It’s worth noting that not only did I love everything about summer camp when I was a kid, but my favorite movie was The Parent Trap. This was in the 1980s, so we are talking the original 1961 Parent Trap with Hayley Mills, watchable on the Disney Channel, or rented from Blockbuster. I loved The Parent Trap because it was a camp movie that centered girls, and because, as an only child, I always daydreamed that maybe I had a twin somewhere, so this was a real heavy hitter. When flipping through the Music Camp pictures, I could taste The Parent Trap, conjure the smell of a pine forest, and hear the loudness of the mess hall. In a nutshell, Baldwin’s photos are the actual flavor of camp.
While flipping through the stacks, I discovered a brochure between two prints: Cazadero Music Camp. I instantly did a search, it’s surprising what sticks around for 50+ years. Women’s Studio Workshop has been open since 1974, so maybe the music camp was still up and running… and bingo! The internet tells me that Cazadero Music Camp's mission is to “bring the love of music and learning to youth,” and they have been doing so for more than 65 years. The next step was twofold: email the camp director to see if she was interested in the photographs and get permission from Sarah to donate her grandmother’s photos if there was interest. An archivist matchmaker, if you will. Living my dream.
It was a success. Camp director Emily Wainacht enthusiastically returned my email, and Sarah was thrilled that the camp photos had found a home. I was able to spend a bit more time with the pictures before packing them up, and although Sarah wasn’t sure what her grandmother’s relationship was to the camp, she had some theories. I also deduced that they were clients since I found the photo she took that was used in the brochure (see image above). I feel confident that I would have eventually found the camp without the brochure, since upon closer inspection of the many contact sheets, you can see the camp name on both signs and campers’ shirts. Regardless, it’s a story with a happy ending. I got to be a part of these photos journey, learning about their creator, Carol Baldwin, who had an incredible eye. The historical value captured in her photographs should be celebrated. I’m so grateful to Sarah for bringing them into my life and reminding me of the deep value of documentary photography. May we all be so blessed to stumble across such an incredible unknown collection and get it to where it will serve the current community.
I’ll end by noting that summer camp was my first experience, paired with Girl Scouts, in understanding what community was and could be. It taught me some foundational lessons I carry with me today, and I was privileged to have had that time and experience.
In honor of Music Camp, I’d like to share a lyrical verse from the last camp poem my dad sent. It’s my favorite, and if you know my dad, or not, hopefully it will make you smile imagining him writing to 14-year-old me.
Of course we stumble and occasionally fall,
But this is part of learning it all.
So we may gain a sense of ease;
A sense of flowers, birds, and trees,
Of ocean’s waves and winds of change
As the stuff of life does rearrange.
For all things change with time
In harmony with the planets’ rhyme;
In harmony with the planets’ beat;
So close your eyes and move your feet.
Trust the inner voice that you hear
And dance your dance! You’ve nothing to fear,
For you are part of the cosmic scheme—
So dance your dance and dream your dream.