When Clarence “Razz” Rasmussen first stood on the grounds that would become Red Arrow Camp, he was surrounded by echoes of a bygone era. The property, once the bustling year-round retreat of the Wright family, had sat vacant for over a decade. Its history as the heart of the H. W. Wright Logging Company logging operations around Trout Lake remained visible in the sprawling compound: stables, carriage houses, clerk quarters, and even an ice house. At its center stood two grand log cabins, each with sweeping wrap-around porches. One served as the Wright family’s residence and guest quarters, while the other was a dining hall for the family and their many visitors.
This wasn’t merely a “cottage,” despite the modest name. The Wright Cottage was a hub of activity and hospitality, supported by a small army of hired staff, including groundskeepers, clerks, and stablehands. Among them was a young cook, Ernest “Red” Hauer, a diminutive 5’4” man with an oversized personality. Known for his simple but hearty meals—meat, potatoes, canned vegetables, pies, and pancakes—Red cooked for the Wright family and their guests with an unpretentious skill that left an impression on everyone who dined there.
In the 1890s, Henry Wright, the patriarch of the Wright family and founder of the H. W. Wright Logging Company, poured his energy into the compound. Yet tragedy seemed to shadow the family. Henry passed away suddenly after leaving the cottage to catch a train during the winter of 1901, leaving his eldest son, James, to take over operations. James carried on his father’s work, maintaining the property as a cherished retreat for his family, including his widowed mother, Caroline. Red adjusted his menus to Caroline’s preferences, continuing his role as the heart of the kitchen. But Caroline’s heartbreak grew when James died abruptly of typhoid fever in 1906. The loss devastated the family, and with the Wright Lumber Company shifting its operations away from Trout Lake, they found the memories tied to the cottage too painful to revisit. The family abandoned the property, leaving it to fall silent as the years passed. Staff dispersed, and Red, still deeply attached to Trout Lake, sought other work in the area.
Trout Lake in the early 20th century was a landscape scarred by the logging industry. Entire forests of towering white pines had been felled, leaving the land bare and vulnerable to fires. Local newspapers reported that one could stand at the train station in Boulder Junction and see Trout Lake’s shores—a sight once obscured by dense pine forests. The devastation spurred Wisconsin to begin conservation efforts, and Red found work as a cook at the Forestry State House near Cathedral Point, contributing to the state’s early initiatives in reforestation and preservation. Red documented this era with his trusty camera, capturing images of dams, tree-planting operations, and the remaining log drives. These photos are a poignant visual record of a region transitioning from exploitation to restoration. Even as he worked on these projects, Red’s love for Trout Lake and its people never wavered, and it was this connection that would ultimately bring him back to the Wright’s kitchen.
By 1920, the abandoned Wright Cottage found a new purpose. Clarence Rasmussen, known as “Razz,” had purchased the property with a bold idea: to transform it into a summer camp for boys. A teacher at Milwaukee Country Day School for Boys, Razz envisioned a camp where boys could grow through adventure, camaraderie, and the rugged beauty of the Northwoods. He frequently visited the property with friends and colleagues, planning the camp’s future while exploring the grounds and dreaming of its potential. On one such visit, while picking up mail at the Trout Lake Station, Razz struck up a conversation with station owner Enoch Blaisdell, a man renowned for knowing everyone in the Northwoods. Razz mentioned he was looking for a camp cook, and Enoch pointed to a man sitting at the far end of the bar, enjoying a Boilermaker. That man was Red Hauer. Razz approached Red, and the two struck up an immediate rapport. Red’s sharp wit, hearty demeanor, and lumberjack-like toughness appealed to Razz, and the idea of returning to the Wright property intrigued Red. When Razz explained his plans to turn the cottage into a boys’ camp, Red agreed on the spot. Nearly a decade after leaving the property, Red was returning, this time not as a cook for the Wright family but as a cornerstone of the camp’s operations.
Between 1920 and 1922, the Wright Cottage underwent a transformation into Red Arrow Camp, with Razz and Red working tirelessly to make the vision a reality. Red became camp’s first photographer of sorts, capturing the property’s evolution through his camera lens. His photographs document the rustic charm of the camp’s early days, from constructing new facilities to candid moments of camaraderie between Razz and his friends. Despite their age difference—Razz was only 27, while Red was in his late 40s or early 50s—the two shared a similar sense of humor and an easy friendship. Photographs from this time show Razz wrestling with friends on the frozen lakeshore, pulling exaggerated faces for the camera, and sharing laughs with Red. The partnership between the energetic young camp founder and the seasoned, sarcastic cook became a defining feature of Red Arrow’s early days. Red’s photographs captured a rare look into camp’s spirit as it came to life. His images immortalized the moment of transition when the Wright family’s legacy gave way to a new chapter of adventure, learning, and growth for generations of boys spanning over a century.
“Trim flush at bottom
small bevel at top
tack on sides
cut off at bottom only”
For most of its existence, Red’s photo album was believed to be tucked away in the Program Office near the Rec Hall, quietly guarding its century-old memories. At some point, the album’s journey took it far from the shores of Trout Lake to Bob and Sue Krohn’s cabin in Steamboat, Colorado. Years passed, and as Sue prepared to move to Arizona, Steve Greve visited to help her pack. Among the boxes and belongings, Steve noticed a collection of old Red Arrow Camp photos, albums, and documents. Intrigued by the significance of these relics, he asked Sue if he could take them back to safeguard their legacy. Sue agreed.
The album made its way to Steve’s attic, where it remained safe for years. When it finally resurfaced, it became a time capsule of Red Arrow’s earliest days. Over a century old, the album showed the marks of time—many photos had fallen out, others were damaged, and some had even been cut out. Yet, nearly fifty photos remained intact, their details offering a vivid glimpse into the camp’s past. These photos have now been carefully archived as part of a larger effort to preserve Red Arrow’s history.
The rediscovery of the photo album was only the beginning. Alongside it were personal notebooks, journals from Razz and Paul Waterman, and thousands of additional photos. These materials collectively form a rich historical archive that sheds new light on Red Arrow Camp’s origins, and it’s founders.
Razz’s journals, in particular, provide a window into the camp’s earliest days, detailing his vision, challenges, and the friendships that built its foundation. Paul Waterman’s writings add another layer, chronicling the evolution of camp life and the enduring spirit of adventure that defined Red Arrow. Together with the photos, these documents bring to life the story of a camp that has remained a cornerstone of the Northwoods for generations.
