Lake Geneva, 1930’s Style

Call me a sap, but one of my favorite scenes in Christmas Vacation is the scene where Clark finds himself trapped in the freezing attic and decides to while away the day watching old black and white family videos. He wraps up in the sort of old clothes that tend to be tucked away in attics, and his eyes go all dewy as he watches those old films. I love that scene, and the way I imagine Clark felt then is exactly the way I feel when I watch a video like the one I’ve embedded in this post. The fact that this video doesn’t feature anyone from my family is a minor detail that doesn’t detract from the sentiments that are so vividly portrayed.

I stumbled upon this video online one day, and found the imagery and narrative quite captivating. I may be young, but I live and breathe Lake Geneva, so a video that features a Lake Geneva that I have only seen in still photographs is a rare treat for me, as I think it might be for you. The video, shot by Frank Meyer, narrated by his son Dick Meyer, and compiled by Dick’s son John Meyer is a collection of frames filmed one summer in the 1930’s, set against the backdrop of George Williams College and the peerless lake that I love. Both Dick and Frank are now deceased, but their involvement with College Camp is lasting, a dedication that is evident by the “Meyer Lodge” sign that still hangs over the entrance to one of the college’s buildings.

What I find so enthralling about this video is the pure simplicity of it. Not just the simplicity of the filming or the commentary, but the simplistic life that was, and is, a summer spent at the lake. There are no Cobalts tied to the piers. No Viking stoves in the lakeside cottages. Even so, consider that the pure joy on the faces of those captured in these films has everything to do with the lake, and very little to do with much else. In my world today, people come to the lake with surprising skepticism. They look at the water and proclaim it too busy. They walk the land and question the ten steps that lead from the house to the lakefront, and they wonder if those ten steps aren’t three too many. They look at small galley kitchens and imagine Viking suites and Sub Zero’s, one for the food, and one for the wine. They gasp in comical horror at porches with sloped floors, always forgetting those floors were built with that pitch to encourage drainage. They look at the lake and wonder how on earth their kids could ever dare swim in something so big and wild, without nary a private beach to hold their little hand as they timidly wade in. (don’t worry, there are beaches, just not at most associations)

No, our fathers and grandfathers and their spouses didn’t think much about those things, instead they thought about how wonderful that lake would feel after the hot and bumpy drive to the lake. They thought about cool lake breezes, and argued about their medicinal qualities. They marveled at the steam boats that slid by, and practiced their dives once their steaming splendor passed. They spent summers doing something that many families today can’t seem to comprehend. They relaxed and played and went swimming and boating, and at the end of the day they retreated to their cottages and tents, and felt blessed that they’d get to relive the same activities in the day to follow. That is exactly what I’m trying to sell, and that is exactly what so many customers and would be buyers fail to understand. That also is why if I sound frustrated today, it’s because I am.

I was glad to find this video, because it brings my verbose writings to life, without any directing or editing. So yes, I’m struck by the simplicity of it all, but I’m also amazed that the life I see lived one warm summer in the 1930’s is pretty much the same sort of summer I experienced in the 1980’s. Sure the swim suits were Ocean Pacific brand, and the steamers were replaced with Sea Rays, but racing between piers and diving to impress the girls were still the preferred afternoon activities. Much like the summers of the 1980’s that I splashed my way through, the summer of 2010 that my children will splash through will be very much the same. I don’t know if OP clothing still exists, and rag tag (wait for that post later this month) might be deemed a little too dangerous now, but the summer of 2010 will look pleasantly similar to the summer that our friends in the Meyer family filmed nearly 80 years ago.

Do me a favor today, and watch this video. Then email the link to some of your friends who might need a little help understanding what it is a summer home is supposed to be. The video starts a little slow, but the film features some great shots of the George Williams lakefront, as well as some nice sailboat and steam yacht shots, and some classic film of the shoreline as filmed during a boat ride. It’s a wonderful video, and on days like today, it makes me long for another summer at Lake Geneva, and makes me promise to myself that I won’t fret away the summer as I have done at times in years past. I hope you feel the same way, because of the 80 or so summers that we’re all hoping for out of life, way too many of them have already been wasted.