Boy scouting recovered, if you call avoiding certain death recovered, from the lunatic 1972 “Improved Scouting Program” by recalling Green Bar Bill Hillcourt to active scout duty.
Today’s insanity out of Dallas/Ft Worth is identical in all important ways to ISP including the unisex (ummm non-gendered) “SCOUTS:BSA” renaming of Boy Scouts.
Membership dropped to less than two million by 1980. Boy Scouting survived because there were tens of millions of furious grown-up Boy Scouts in 1980, glad to risk their sons in a restored program.
Today, in 2018, there are not tens of millions of former scouts of any persuasion to rescue Boy Scouting from the BSA Inc.
No, I’m afraid this time BSA Inc’s suicide attempt will be a 100% success. The dead cat bounce of SJW rallying to the cause will burn out by the time the current 500,000 Boy Scouts are told they are no longer Boy Scouts, just unisex “Scouts.”
That will be that. The SJWs will move on to the next bastion of bourgeois capitalist society to smash. There were never going to be homosexuals joining that weren’t already members in the closet. The girls will soon enough resent being laughed at as #FakeBoyScouts and that will be that.
BSA Inc may very well survive — as an overpriced outfitter of poorly made, fragile, Chinese clothing and equipment that resembles outdoors gear. REI anyone? Dick’s anyone? Not exactly a growth segment, Communist Outdoors enthusiasts. Even the true tomboys will tire of it, without boys to annoy.
Alas, poor Boy Scouts ! I knew ye.
A group of Boy Scouts sat around the campfire in the failing light, feeling the freeze-dried gruel they had eaten for dinner beginning to percolate in their stomachs. They stared fixedly at a pot of water in the coals, in which one of the boys was attempting to boil his contact lenses. Big smooth-crowned jays swooped down from the trees and rummaged for leftovers in the pine needles, and every so often the scouts heard the brisk tappity-tap of a mule deer skirting the campsite. The air was rich with the smells of ponderosa pine and Tetrox, a cleaning agent that keeps campfire soot from sticking to cooking pots but that if ingested in even microscopic quantities will cause—as the scouts had been warned by their ranger—“a terminal case of the squirts.”
It was decidedly not the sort of campfire scene that Lord Robert Baden-Powell must have envisioned when he founded the Boy Scouts in 1908—ruddy-faced youngsters sitting around the fire in puttees and campaign hats, singing the Whiffenpoof song. These boys sang no songs, and their trail uniform was minimal: a T-shirt that read “Ragin’ Cajuns—Troop 10—China, Texas.” They were gritty, cynical, and a little profane, and they violated the stereotypes of the Boy Scouts as much as, in some subtle way, they confirmed them. A stranger stumbling upon their campsite might not have immediately taken them for Boy Scouts, but neither would he have taken them for just an ordinary group of boys. They had collective qualities of efficiency and harmony that could only have come about through training and a sense of tradition.