Camp fixture Howard Garfinkel steps down from post

Five Star's Howard Garfinkel has helped a plethora of coaches and players catapult their games to the college and pro ranks. Kevin Armstrong/SI.com

STROUDSBURG, Pa. -- This is how it ended for Howard Garfinkel.

Sitting at the scorers table just inside the doorway of a Poconos Mountain barn last Wednesday, the inimitable Godfather of Five Star basketball camp was in his element. Wielding a microphone in his left hand and carrying on with his New York basketball shtick, the 77-year-old served as the public address announcer for the camp's time-honored Orange and White Classic.

As tradition would have it, the fabled all-star game, which serves as the camp's closing ceremony of sorts, was the first time all week that campers were allowed to dunk. With the handcuffs off, alley-oops went awry and dunk attempts devolved into basketball decadence. All the while, Garfinkel feigned indifference at the self-indulgence.

That was, of course, until a failed alley-oop by two members of a team that was trailing by 10 points in the third quarter.

"That's it! That's it! I'm not even announcing that one!" Garfinkel barked, throwing down the mic on the folding table in front of him. "Why don't you just lay the ball up instead of trying to dunk! You're down by 10!"

Not as familiar as he once was with names and numbers of the players, Garfinkel still knew that what roiled his stomach would make Naismith roll in his grave. Having sold his share in the camp two winters ago, this was his swan song. Held on as a consultant through this summer, Garfinkel was consigned to the sidelines. Once the home of the game's purity, Garfinkel was watching a new era continue its push against fundamentals. "I've had second thoughts," Garfinkel said when asked about any regrets. "My health bars me from doing the camp the way I want to do it. I don't want to deal with the NCAA. Was it a bad move by me? I'd do it again, but I think about it, yes."

At one time, Garfinkel was the most powerful figure in the grassroots basketball scene. From starting the High School Basketball Index as a scouting service to making Five Star a must-see destination on the recruiting trail, the Damon Runyon character's contributions were woven into the game's fabric. For this summer, though, at each of the six sessions that he worked, he was more of a sideshow, greeting returning players and coaches. One such visitor was former Virginia coach Pete Gillen. "There's a lot of types of poverty in the world -- you can need money, possessions and a lot of things," says Gillen, who has been linked to the camp for years. "Howard will never be poor in friends. He's the reason we come back. There will never be another Garf."

He is "Garf" to friends, "gruff" to those who don't know him. To have coaches regale you with stories of their Five Star experience is to be brought inside the fraternity born out of the camp's orange-clad cult, most of which was recruited by Garfinkel. At its height, Five Star was the premier teaching camp. Chuck Daly was the camp's first lecturer. Bob Knight brought the drill stations in 1967. Rick Pitino started Station 13. All the same, Garfinkel's fingerprints were on the scene. "Hubie Brown as a clinician was a treat!" says Garfinkel of watching Brown perform. "Like seeing Fred Astaire dance for the first time, you get goose bumps. He is the best clinician living, dead or yet to be born."

The top players have come and gone, too. Michael Jordan donned the orange shirt, as did LeBron James and Isiah Thomas. Garf's all-time camp team includes: Jordan, Moses Malone, Vince Carter, Alonzo Mourning, Reggie Williams, Jeff Ruland, Elton Brand, Ron Artest, Stephon Marbury, James Blackmon, Mike O'Koren and Lloyd Daniels.

As potent as the name players were in attracting attention, it was the coaching and the lectures that enabled Garfinkel to carve out his niche in the basketball landscape, leaving indelible Rushmore-esque figures in the Poconos Mountains. "We had [Bob] Knight in 1967 for $50 per day, and he was great, he said there would be seven days of stations," Garfinkel said. "He wanted a raise to $100 a day the next year. We couldn't afford that. But we had his stations to build off, priceless."

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