Born: August 14, 1927
Died: May 16, 2003
Married:
Children:
Dr. Marion Craig Potter, known as Junie, was a daughter of Dr. Craig Potter who owned a camp on the eastern end of Deer Island on Upper Saranac Lake.
From a booklet on Chapel Island written by Junie Potter:
Marion Craig Potter, Jr., M.D., a fifth generation physician, received her B.A. at Mount Holyoke College and her M.D. at the Medical College of Pennsylvania. She is not an author or a journalist. She is an avid admirer of the Adirondacks.
In 1939, stepping out of the family car and thrilled with the fragrance of pine and charmed by loon calls, she vowed to return annually. In 1950 her parents purchased a long-deserted and run-down camp on Deer Island. Her father, Dr. J Craig Potter, became involved in Chapel Island activities, and "Junie" followed his interest. She chaired the Chapel Committee in 1989 and 1996-97 and occasionally piloted the Chapel Bound.
For over 50 years she has attempted to maintain the wilderness character of Upper Saranac Lake and the "uniqueness" of Chapel Island.
Upper Saranac Lake Association Centennial YearLook, 1901/2001
TIR NAN OG #865
Dr. Marion Craig, "Junie" Potter
It was 1947 when my sister, Georgia, was a guest at Bircholm, a camp on the west end of Deer Island. On the other end of the island were two camps, long deserted. One was Camp Edgewater owned by Mr. Ferris Meigs, a lumber baron of the 1800s, [it is possible that she has Ferris Meigs confused with Sherwood B. Ferris] and further to the east was Deer Camp, owned originally by Ferris but then sold to Rockwell of New York City. While strolling the path that is on the periphery of Deer Island, the guests noted activity at the latter camp which had been empty for twelve years. Learning that the place would be for sale, Georgia, knowing that we had always wanted to live on Deer Island, called home. Our parents were out, but it didn't take a minute for us to decide that we would rent it for the season. That was a $300 decision.
A few weeks later, Georgia and I paddled our 15' Peterbourough canoe to the property with supplies necessary to maintain us for a few days. We laid our sleeping bags out in the guest house which seemed to be the clean-est place. Mice ran over us and bats swooped past us all night. In the morning we man-aged to get a fire going in the old iron cook stove even though the gathered wood was wet. Joined by our parents, we set about making the camp livable. Many shovelfuls of dirt were removed from each room, and pots and buckets were spread across the floor to catch the water from the leaking roofs. Every roof leaked. The summer was cold and wet and seldom did we take off our sweaters and slickers, inside or outside. We called the camp "BloopBleep" after a song, popular at that time, about a dripping faucet.
To keep the stove going we bought hundred pound bundles of scrap wood from the Oval Wood Works. One hundred pounds of ice, traveling on the bumper of our woody wagon, was only seventy-five pounds when it reached the icebox. Both came across by canoe. We fell through rotten boards, slid down wet floors which sloped because the supports were gone, and sunned on the big front rock when the sun made an unusual appearance. In spite of the problems, we continued to love t he camp. My father offered Mr. Rockwell $1000, only to have it turned down. We mailed him specimens of the rotten wood and worn out linoleum, but were told that the price was $10,000. We left in September, heart broken.
Three years later there was a phone call. Mr. Geisman, across Bull Point Bay, who had previously bought the Meigs camp and torn it down, (the granite rocks which formed the foundation of the camp were later slid across the ice to support the Island Chapel) had now purchased the Rockwell camp. Recalling how we had liked the camp, he offered to sell at the price he paid, adding $50 for lawyers' lees. Thus $2050 bought one of the oldest camps on the lake, a superb view, 445 feet of waterfront, a unique guest room with a boulder for a wall over which rain water ran, and a beautiful dining room with six foot windows on six of the eight sides of the room, Within a month, we were trudging across the ice to review our new summer home, only to find that everything had been removed, with the exception of the iron stove, the icebox, and a few chairs. Gone was the beautiful guide boat which had been stored in the living room, all the imported china, a whole set of silverware, the dining room table (octagonal to match the octagonal room), chairs, rugs, oil lamps and much more. The next month we arrived with a sled and dragged the necessary furniture, rugs, cooking equipment and bedding across the ice. A dining room table was rolled over, and suffered a small crack. The summer of 1951, we tore down the ice house, barn, laundry, maids' quarters and a few other buildings. One room was dragged into the woods on rollers to serve as a tool house. The hurricane of 1950 had left the wood shed high atop a huge root of a pine tree, and this shed was rebuilt. We learned to use two bit axes and a two man cross-cut saw. Mother split wood with remarkable skill. Dad fell off a roof as we reshingled but no serious injuries occurred in spite of our inadequacies. We enjoyed every minute and never regretted the purchase.
So it is no wonder that the camp was renamed TIR NAN OG after the island of rock and moss that was Peter Pan's home. An island where no one grows old.
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