Diary: Robert Morgan, Wildacres

At home I would have been tying bean strings and hoeing corn in the hot fields. Instead, I was sitting on the porch high in the Blue Ridge Mountains talking about German philosophy

Robert Morgan’s grandfather’s farm in Green River, North Carolina; a school picture from around the time he went to Wildacres; Wildacres, on Pompey's Knob in the Blue Ridge Mountains

In the spring of 1961, a number of strange and exciting things happened to me. I applied to the early admissions program at Emory College at Oxford, Georgia and was accepted. Emory at Oxford admitted students after their junior year in high school if they had good SAT scores. I had saved enough money from bean farming and selling my cow Ginger to pay for a year of college, with the help of a small work scholarship. In September I would be leaving home for Oxford, Georgia. Emory was best known as a medical university. My vague plans were to study something having to do with science, and perhaps pursue a career in medical research.

Also, in the spring of 1961 the principal of East Henderson High School announced over the intercom that one student from the school would be selected to attend a Civitan Club camp at Wildacres, near Little Switzerland, in the mountains east of Asheville. Those interested should come to the school office to apply. Uncharacteristically I hurried to the office and submitted my name. I was in a mood to try new things but thought it unlikely I would be chosen.

Much to my surprise I was selected. Perhaps no one else applied. In any case, after school was out in early June, I found I was headed to Wildacres for a week. I’d never been away from home before. Attending the Civitan Club camp seemed good practice for going away to college in the fall. I bought a duffel bag in which to carry my things, and new chukka boots made of heavy green corduroy cloth. I was a little scared, but mostly I was curious.