Linda Beigel Schulman smiled as she watched 25 young campers from Fort Lauderdale and Miami spend an afternoon frolicking in a rural Florida spring. The scene brought back memories of her murdered son, Scott Beigel, who loved attending summer camp.
That's why Beigel Schulman raises money in his name so they and children elsewhere can attend sleep-away camp. It's something she and her husband, Michael Schulman, have done annually since the 2018 massacre at Parkland’s Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School that left her son, two other staff members and 14 students dead.
The Scott J. Beigel Memorial Fund sent 264 children ages 9 to 16 to seven sleepaway camps this summer in Florida, New York, New Jersey and Massachusetts, most of them underprivileged or touched by gun violence.
“Being here is fun, it really changed me. It's good you get to be around other people.”Esteban Martinez, 13
“We want to take them out of their environment, send them to camp and let them just be kids,” Beigel Schulman said. “Let them leave their woes and their troubles and everything behind. Let them meet new friends. Let them learn how to trust.”
Scott Beigel became a geography teacher, in part, so he could keep attending camp and give children the same opportunities he had. He started at 7 as a camper, became a counselor in his teens, and, eventually, an administrator. He loved the sense of community such camps provided and how they helped younger generations appreciate the great outdoors.
He would have kept returning but he was fatally shot at age 35 on Feb. 14, 2018, after heroically herding 31 students to safety inside his classroom.
“Scott loved camp — that was Scott's happy place,” his mother said. “I remember him saying, ‘I don’t quite know what I want to do, Mom.’ And I was like, ‘Scott, the writing’s on the wall. If you want to keep going back to camp, you have to go into teaching, because it’s the only profession that’s going to let you have summers off.’”
The program started with 54 children in 2018 and has grown steadily since. More than $360,000 was raised this year — all paying for the campers' enrollment and transportation. Once in the program, children can return each summer if they maintain good grades and stay out of trouble. At 17 and 18, the fund pays for them to be counselor trainees.
Beigel Schulman is not alone in honoring a loved one lost at Stoneman Douglas. Most other victims' families have also started foundations that award scholarships, promote school or gun safety, or fight disease.
It was almost 90 degrees (32 degrees Celsius) and muggy on a recent morning at one of the Florida Sheriffs Youth Ranches, this one cut into the woods an hour’s drive north of Orlando. Pushing through the heat, administrators and counselors got their 38 campers outside for archery, biking and working through an obstacle course as a team.
The Beigel fund financed 25 of the campers. The counselors are a mix of volunteer deputies and college students. It's the one camp with a law enforcement theme the foundation sponsors.
“We are showing them who is behind the uniform in this atmosphere where you can feel like you belong and you’re out of your own comfort zone," said Elisha Hoggard, the ranches’ programs vice president. “It’s giving the kids an opportunity to have a genuine positive interaction with a law enforcement officer.”
Hoggard said most children attending the ranches' camps are recommended by an officer as needing a boost. Maybe the students are running with the wrong crowd or are new at school and not making friends. Or, perhaps, their parents are divorcing or they had a traumatic experience.
Broward County Deputy Al Hibbert, one of the counselors, said it's important that city kids like those from South Florida get a chance to interact with nature.
“They don't see this kind of life and to know that they can enjoy being away from their community,” Hibbert said.
“It makes me think cops aren't that bad. Because in the real world, cops are aggressive. They are just humans at the end of the day.”A.J. Kozak, 15
The campers are required to make their beds, clean their cottages, share their food and treat each other with respect. Cursing is not allowed.
Esteban Martinez, 13, conceded he is often shy, so coming to camp for the first time gave him a chance to make new friends.
“Being here is fun, it really changed me. It's good you get to be around other people,” Esteban said.
A.J. Kozak, 15, said camp gives him a chance to interact with the police in a way he doesn't back home.
“It makes me think cops aren't that bad. Because in the real world, cops are aggressive," he said. "They are just humans at the end of the day.”
A highlight of the Florida camp is the high ropes — while cinched tight into a safety harness, willing campers walk across a 40-foot (12-meter) pole stretched horizontally that inclines from 15 feet (4.5 meters) to 25 feet (7.6 meters) above the ground. The courageous next climb to a thin cable stretching another 10 feet (3 meters) up, grabbing ropes strung from above to keep their balance as they walk across.
“This is a biggie — I am deathly afraid of heights,” screamed Isa Marti, 14, as she edged onto the pole. She felt some pressure after her friend, Hazel Stampler, crossed. A few years ago, an assailant drew a gun on Isa’s family during an argument at a park. No shots were fired, but she and her brother took cover.
As Isa inched forward, she repeatedly wanted to quit and be lowered to the ground. Still, she didn't stop, encouraged by other campers. After letting out a mild obscenity, which drew a counselor's admonishment, she made it across — and climbed to the cable above, one of few who did.
“I kinda love this,” she yelled as she worked her way across the wire, drawing other girls' cheers.
After being lowered, Isa beamed as Hazel greeted her. They talked about how scared they were but pushed through.
The ropes exercise “helps you overcome your fears, which will help you grow,” Hazel said.
The next morning, the campers bused to nearby De Leon Springs State Park, donning life jackets before jumping into the water. Some socialized with kids from other camps or came with their families.
Beigel Schulman looked at the tableau of playing, splashing children and couldn't help but wish her son could see it.
“Isn't this great? All of these kids together — it doesn't matter what ethnicity, what religion, what this, what that. They are all one. If they could only bring this back home, it would be amazing,” she said.
