Latest news with #FrenchCanadians
Boston Globe
6 days ago
- Sport
- Boston Globe
After 60 years, Lewiston's place in boxing lore will be cast in bronze
At a time when boxing was the sport of kings and championship fights of this caliber were global events, Ali knocked out Liston less than two minutes into what is perhaps the most unusual championship boxing match in history. 'I saw the punch,' Platz said. 'I saw him swing.' Others didn't, and still others wondered if Liston, a heavy favorite, threw the fight, for whatever reason. Advertisement But that was for the pundits to argue over. For Lewiston natives such as Platz and Hewitt, what happened that Tuesday night in May of 1965 was nothing short of a phenomenon, when people all around the world heard of Lewiston for the first time. The nostalgia wrapped in civic pride on the 50th anniversary convinced Platz, an architect and developer, and Hewitt, an artist, and eventually many others, that Lewiston's moment in history needed to be preserved, forever, in bronze. They turned to Zenos Frudakis, the Philadelphia-based sculptor known as the Monument Man, to create Zenos Frudakis stood next to his Muhammad Ali statue in clay. Frudakis Studio, Inc. That effort will culminate on Saturday, May 31, six days after the 60th anniversary of the fight, when the Ali statue is unveiled at the entrance to Bates Mill No. 5. Advertisement The symbolism is rich. It was mills such as No. 5 that put Lewiston on the map more than a century ago, attracting thousands of French Canadians to move south and work in the textile and shoe factories along the Androscoggin River. But those mills started closing in the 1950s, and by the time Muhammad Ali showed up, the decline of the city's industrial base was at full steam. Platz was heavily involved in efforts to redevelop the old factories, such as those in the Bates Mill Complex that house the Baxter brewing company, one of Lewiston's newest, burgeoning businesses. 'This was always a very diverse community, built by immigrants,' Platz said. 'When the factories started closing, Lewiston had to re-invent itself.' The Baxter Brewing Co. building on Thursday, March 6 in Lewiston, Maine. Brett Phelps for The Boston Globe No one represented reinvention more than Ali, the brash fighter from Louisville who shocked mainstream America by converting to Islam and changing his name from Cassius Clay after becoming heavyweight champion in 1964 by defeating Liston in Miami in their first fight. Ali later shocked even more in 1967 by refusing to fight in the Vietnam War, saying, 'I ain't got no quarrel with those Vietcong.' The rematch was supposed to take place in Boston, at Boston Garden. But Massachusetts officials were wary. Just a few months earlier, Malcolm X, the Black nationalist leader, had been assassinated as part of an internecine feud in the Nation of Islam. Heavyweight boxing champion Muhammad Ali arrived at his training camp in Chicopee, Mass. to launch final preparations for his May 25 title rematch with Sonny Liston in Boston. The match was moved to Lewiston seven days before the event. AP Ali had broken with Malcolm X prior to the assassination, and Massachusetts law enforcement and boxing officials feared retaliation at a high-profile bout. Racial tension was high in many cities. Advertisement Just 17 days before the scheduled bout, the fight was moved to Lewiston. All over the world, boxing fans asked, 'Where is Lewiston?' But in Lewiston, even as a boy, Platz could sense the energy and optimism the heavyweight title fight brought. 'The excitement was palpable,' he said. Hewitt remembers thinking of Ali and Liston, stars in the ring who were not embraced by most Americans because they were Black, as symbolizing something else in Lewiston's past. Heavyweight boxing champion Muhammad Ali (Cassius Clay) whispers an aside to Angelo Dundee, his trainer, during a poolside press conference at his quarter in Lewiston nearby Auburn, Maine on May 24, 1965. Harry Harris/Associated Press 'Ali and Liston, having survived that racial trauma, were a lot closer to the French Canadians, who faced a lot of discrimination when they showed up here in such large numbers,' Hewitt said. 'The KKK was intimidating French Canadians who were coming down to work in the factories. When I was a young man, the narrative I learned was the people of Lewiston didn't like the KKK, that they supported the American spirit, which was that people came to work, and good luck to them.' St. Dominic's Arena, also known as the Central Maine Youth Center, and now as just the Colisse, held only 4,000, the smallest venue for a championship fight in the modern era. But whatever it lacked in size, it made up for in gritty character. The Ali and his wife Sonji gestured at a press conference after his successful title defense in Lewiston, Me., May 25, 1965. ASSOCIATED PRESS Robert Goulet sang the national anthem, mangling a couple of words. Prior to the opening bell, boxing royalty mingled inside the ring: Joe Louis, Rocky Marciano, Floyd Patterson, James Braddock. The fight was, in the end, anticlimactic. At 1:44 into the first round, Ali landed that phantom right, and Liston went down in a heap. Advertisement Ali stood over the fallen Liston, yelling, 'Get up and fight, sucker!' Liston did get up, but had already been counted out. That image, of Ali standing over Liston, Zenos Frudakis with the molds for the Ali statue. Frudakis Studio, Inc. The statue of Ali created by Frudakis is more subtle than that angry image of Ali, Frudakis was commissioned to make the statue before the 'Lewiston has this inner strength,' Frudakis said. 'They can take a punch. They can get knocked down. But they always get up.' Hewitt believes it's a message that resonates in old mill cities across New England. 'Lewiston represents Fall River, Waterbury, Holyoke, all these towns that have tried to remake themselves,' Hewitt said. 'The thing about Muhammad Ali and these towns, he didn't win every round, but he fought every round. That's like Lewiston.' Another irony not lost on Hewitt and Platz is that Ali might have been the only one named Muhammad in Lewiston that night 60 years ago. Now, two decades after Sub-Saharan Africans became the latest wave of immigrants to re-invent Lewiston, Muhammad is a common name in Lewiston. Advertisement 'What happened to the French?' Hewitt says. 'They're Somalis now. We get up and keep moving forward.' Charlie Hewitt's "Hopeful" sign on the side of Bates Mill No. 5 in 2024 where the Ali statue will be unveiled. Craig F. Walker/Globe Staff Kevin Cullen is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at
Yahoo
6 days ago
- Yahoo
The Canadians no longer visit down the shore — but why'd they come here in the first place?
Avalon Campground in Cape May Court House was a top destination for Canadians who were regular summer visitors to the Jersey Shore starting in the 1970s. (Beach photo courtesy of the Greater Wildwoods Tourism Improvement and Development Authority) Last week while in Avalon, I stopped at the Cape May County Habitat for Humanity to look for deck furniture. I didn't find any, but while looking through used books and sofa sectionals, I found a mug featuring a maple leaf. 'Eh?' it also read in an equally bold red. A Canadian mug in a South Jersey Shore second-hand store might seem like an oddity, but it's becoming an artifact of another time and a signifier of the once-strong-but-now-fraying relationship between this part of New Jersey and Canada. According to Statistics Canada, Canadian car trips into the United States this March are down almost 32% compared to March of last year. Things don't look better for the summer either. According to a New York Times analysis, summer plane ticket sales from Canada to the U.S. are down 21%. If this winter's dip in Canadian snowbirds flying to Florida (and selling their Florida properties) is any indication, the Jersey Shore, particularly Cape May County, could see a similar drop. But in all the 'will they or won't they' coverage I've seen about the issue this year, I noticed one thing left out: why Canadians — in particular French Canadians — came here in the first place. Like the drive from Quebec to Wildwood, it's a long and sometimes winding journey. In the 1950s and 1960s, South Jersey Shore towns were in trouble. Where they were once the only place people could go to escape stifling summer heat, the advent of air conditioning and swimming pools meant that relief could be found close to home instead — no long train or car ride required. Atlantic City turned to gambling. Cape May County? French Canadians. In 1970, Quebec legislated a two-week holiday for all construction workers for the end of July, a move that rippled out beyond the industry, with many residents of the province also taking that block of time off for summer vacation. Les Quebecois were also, theoretically, one day's drive away, so starting in 1968, the county pitched them on better beaches, warmer water, and cheap accommodations in motels and rooming houses in Wildwood and in campgrounds that lined Route 9 just inland of beach towns like Sea Isle, Avalon, Stone Harbor, and the Wildwoods. In 1970, Cape May County opened a tourism office in downtown Montreal to further bind the regions. In 1973, a tourism official told The New York Times that they spent 75% of its promotional budget to attract Canadians. By the mid-1970s, the Canadians had taken over. Motels in the Wildwoods gave themselves names like Canadian and Quebec Motel, and venues booked Canadian stars like singer, radio, and television host Michel Louvain and Lousie-Marie Houde, a.k.a. Mademoiselle Quebec. In 1977, Atlantic City hosted Quebec Day to thank their Canadian visitors, with a flag raising, cocktail party, concert, and fashion show featuring Quebec-based artists. 'Two weeks after the Fourth of July, cars were backed out all the way to Route 9 to see if we had campsites,' said Lenny Catanoso, 74, who until last year owned Avalon Campground in Cape May Court House with his sister Marlene. Their parents opened the business in 1967, and they were teenagers working there when the influx of Canadians started coming in. For part of July, 'every car in town was Canadian. I haven't seen anything like it,' said Larry Lillo, 77, Wildwood Historical Society secretary and owner of the Holly Beach Train Depot. Lillo has also held a gamut of jobs during his lifetime in Wildwood, including ice cream salesman, lifeguard, and firefighter. 'It wasn't just the mother and father and the kids. It was the grandmother, aunts, and uncles. The whole gang would come down and stay in apartment houses here,' he said. I saw it too, as a kid who spent all of her summers in the 1980s and 1990s in Avalon Campground. While my family's summer place is now in Avalon proper, we were there then for the same reasons as the Canadians: It was more affordable than on-island accommodations and offered more things to do for large family groups that might include parents and kids but also grandparents, cousins, and that guy who isn't really your uncle but that's what you call him. For the last two weeks of July and the first two weeks of August, 75% of the campground's bookings were French Canadians, according to Lenny Cataonoso. You could see it — and hear it. The U.S., New Jersey, and Canadian flags all flew at the campground pools (where, yes, you could usually tell who was Canadian by their penchant for Speedo bathing suits). When it came time for me to pick a language to study in middle and then high school, I picked French, not because I had young girl dreams of Paris, but because I thought it would help me get a summer job down the shore when I was old enough to do so. I never got the chance. By the time I was old enough to work, the Canadian dollar plummeted in value, and the parade of Quebec license plates coming down the shore just about stopped. Marlene Catanoso, 72, remembers her father working the phones, offering regular Canadian visitors half-price tent spots. The Cape May County Montreal office closed in 1995. The relationship hasn't entirely died out, though. Gen X and Millenial Canadians come back so their kids can have the same kind of magical Jersey Shore experience they had when they were younger. Cape May County still has a French language website and Facebook and Instagram accounts, and the county tourism department has a public relations consultant focusing on Quebec and the Toronto region of Ottawa. Before the pandemic, about 8% of Cape May County visitors were from Quebec. Marlene Catanoso said that older Canadian visitors stopped coming to their campground during the first Trump term, but COVID had a much bigger impact. 'For two years, we had a campground that was half empty,' she said. It wasn't just that the Canadian border was closed, but accommodations in the area shifted to attract locals who didn't want to travel either. To cope, Avalon Campground converted sites that once had bare-bones amenities with tent campers in mind and upgraded them with sewer, water, and better power, in order to accommodate RVs, campers, and mobile homes — and charging for it. Diane Weiland of Cape May County's tourism department insisted that other factors, like the value of the Canadian dollar and a stagnant Canadian economy, are playing a bigger role in keeping the Canadians up north this summer than political discontent (though she did note that the Canadian Automobile Association has declined to run their ads; and Canadian news outlets won't be covering U.S. destinations this year). But she believes the region will be OK, as local business owners have said that American travelers have been picking up Canadian cancellations. So, as the unofficial opening of the summer begins, and more restaurants, bakeries, bike shops, and arcades open for the season, we don't know what will happen. But it's hard to see how this more than half-century relationship can repaired, at least during this administration, when the president insists that Canada is going to be the 51st state, pushes punitive tariffs on Canadian goods at who knows what whim, and eggs on the imprisonment of foreign travelers for things like a visa mix up, translation mistake or having tattoo equipment. If I were Canadian, I wouldn't come here. Heck, I'm an American with a beach house and don't know if I want to be here this summer. I guess we'll see, eh? SUBSCRIBE: GET THE MORNING HEADLINES DELIVERED TO YOUR INBOX
Yahoo
22-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
For Memorial Day, remembering the 14 flyboys who died in Palm Beach County during WWII
Fourteen flyboys, young men in their 20s and late teens — some married, others just out of high school — along with their hopes and dreams died three days before Christmas 1943 in likely the deadliest air crash in Palm Beach County. A final adieu was never broadcast far and wide, and their story hardly ever told until a Palm Beach Post reporter learned what happened 70 years later. They came to be known as The Forgotten 14. It was smack in the middle of the most destructive war mankind has ever known. The 14 servicemen loaded onto a bomber in the wee hours of Dec. 22, 1943 to travel to a secret destination from Morrison Field, which later became Palm Beach International Airport. They flew in a bomber, the 24H. A previous model had had problems lifting off the runway. One of the servicemen, Bert Sauls, called his family ahead of the flight, worried: "We'll never make it. We're overloaded." Read the Post reporter's full story: The Forgotten 14: A story never told They cleared the end of the runway and then clipped the tops of three or four Australian pines about three-quarters of a mile from there. Engine parts were found at the base of those trees. The plane bounced off the ground and came down in a cow pasture. Then the full fuel tanks burst into flames. Onlookers, many awoken by the sound of the crash, raced to the site. They said they couldn't get past the "sheet of flames." They did manage to rescue two survivors — Artillery Gunner Howard Sewell and navigator Radamés E. Cáceres. Sewell told an officer from his hospital bed that the engines had no problems; they were "purring like a kitten." Within 36 hours of the crash, he and Cáceres were gone. The oldest of the 14 was pilot Samuel Gerald Dean, of Helena, Montana at age 27. He met his wife, Louise, not long before he signed up, which was about a month after Pearl Harbor — Dec. 7, 1941. She followed him from base to base and was pregnant when he died. Sam Jr. would be born about two months after the crash. 2. Dean's co-pilot was Edward Joseph Wolbers of Loveland, Ohio. He died days shy of age 27, a Christmas baby. "He was a wonderful person," his sister-in-law Dorothy Wolbers said in 2014. 3. Cáceres, like Dean, enlisted about a month after Pearl Harbor. The 21-year-old single man hailed from Cabo Rojo, Puerto Rico. 4. Bombardier Douglas Laurent Dauphin, 22, of St. Claire Shores, Michigan descended from French Canadians. He was the only one of six brothers who didn't make it back. He and Henrietta had been married three months. 5. The only Floridian was master gunner Sauls, 20, who came from Mango, a little settlement east of Tampa. "My dad was a Christian, and he wanted to fight for his country," daughter Sylvia Diane Sauls Waugh said in 2014. Sauls's second daughter, Linda Louise, would be born two months after he died. 6. Staff Sgt. Kenneth N. Markle, 25, the radio operator, was another one from New York — Middletown in the Hudson Valley region. 7. Artillery gunner Louis Karp, 25, another staff sergeant, had been a clerk in the Bronx when he enlisted on Nov. 14, 1942. He is buried in Queens in Mount Lebanon Cemetery. 8. James Henry "Jim" Henderson, 21, a second artillery gunner, had already lost his cousin Pete to noncombat injuries when he enlisted in October 1942. He was single and a civilian truck driver. 9. Douglas Vincent Schmoker, 20, another artillery gunner, also signed up in October 1942 and was single. He'd had two years of high school. 10. Sewell, one of the initial survivors of the crash, had turned 19 two weeks before the crash. He hailed from Erie, Pennsylvania and had a girlfriend. 11. George M. "Pud" Durrett, due to turn 23 three weeks later, was one of four brothers to join the military. Durrett of West Point, Mississippi was the only one to die. 12. Robert H. Watson, 22, of Fresno, California, attended Fresno State College for one semester in 1939. He had a brother in the Navy. 13. Harold Edwin Richards, 25, from Elmwood, Nebraska, worked for Nabisco when he enlisted more than a year before Pearl Harbor. In December 1942, he was transferred to the Army Air Corps. He'd married Verna Faye Miller on March 15. 14. James Dixon "Big Jim" Fore, 22, from Whiteville, North Carolina, was the first in his family to graduate from West Point. Two days after graduation, he married his wife, Theo. They didn't get the send-off they deserved until now-retired Post staff writer and historian Eliot Kleinberg happened upon their story. Kleinberg, who wrote the Post-Times history column for decades, was corresponding with the U.S. Air Force Historical Research Agency in Alabama when a researcher told him they had a number of files about Morrison Field. Day after day, fat envelopes began to arrive. Many were reports of minor plane mishaps. "Then I came across one that stopped me cold," he said. "It listed 14 names. In the column for injuries, each box read, 'F' — Fatal. Fatal, fatal, fatal. — Fourteen times." He thought he knew everything important that had happened in Palm Beach County and the Treasure Coast during World War II. But not this. "I stood up and walked right into the Post library and pulled out the microfilm roll for December 1943," he said. "And there it was. A small article. Five paragraphs. The next day, two paragraphs. Then nothing." Kleinberg had months — in time for Memorial Day 2014 — to tell their story, including finding photos to show all of their faces. He did. He tracked down and called relatives. "Many were touched, and a little confused, that I was writing this seven decades later," Kleinberg said. "I told them simply that the first time around, we hadn't." Holly Baltz, who has a passion for history, is The Palm Beach Post's investigations editor. You can reach her at hbaltz@ This article originally appeared on Palm Beach Post: For Memorial Day, remembering 14 World War II flyboys who died in PBC
Yahoo
22-05-2025
- Business
- Yahoo
Maine will aggressively encourage Canadian visitors, Mills assures business owners
May 21—KENNEBUNK — Gov. Janet Mills reiterated a warm invitation to Canadian visitors this summer during a roundtable discussion Wednesday with local business owners, who shared with her both concern and cautious optimism as the start of tourist season fast approaches. "Maine has a brand, and I think it's a good one," Mills told a group of 10 Kennebunk-area business people gathered inside a small room at the Seaside Inn. "We want to protect it." Mills said that although President Donald Trump's tariffs on Canadian products and his dismissive rhetoric toward the United States' northern neighbor have been damaging, that doesn't mean the upcoming season will be a bust. She pledged to continue supporting businesses and encouraging visitors not to blame Maine — or boycott us. To that end, the governor directed the state Department of Transportation to install 13 metal signs at major border crossing that will read "Bienvenue Canadiens." The Office of Tourism also is printing hundreds of signs to offer to businesses that want to hang them. "It's a simple message, but I hope it's a powerful one," Mills said. Mills also announced that she and other Northeast governors have set a date of June 16 to meet with the premiers of nearby Canadian provinces to talk about the importance of maintaining good relationships despite the tensions between Trump and new Canadian prime minister Mark Carney. State officials are predicting a decrease of about 25% in Canadian visitors at a time when Maine is still trying to return to pre-pandemic numbers. Last year, 797,900 visitors from Canada spent an estimated $497.7 million in Maine. The York County town of Kennebunk is one of many tourist-reliant communities up and down Maine's expansive coast that are preparing for the season amid uncertainty. "I am concerned that the president's rhetoric is making Canadians feel very unwelcome," Mills said. Local business owners agreed. Ken Mason, who owns the Seaside Inn where the roundtable was held, said his establishment has heard from many former Canadian customers who don't plan to visit Maine this year. It's not the tariffs, Mason told the governor, it's their honor. "French Canadians in particular are very proud," he said. Trump has derided Canada, saying it should become the 51st state. Other businesses in York County say tariffs are having a big impact, and owners worry about having to eat the increased costs or raise prices and pass them on to consumers. Michelle McGuire owns a local bakery, Boulangerie, and said the cost of items such as eggs and chocolate has eaten into her already-thin profit margin. Kiersten Wilcox, who owns KW Contemporary Art gallery, said tariffs are hurting her, too, but she's worried about broader economic uncertainty. "I'm in a luxury goods business," she said. "And people aren't spending money like they did before." Kim Howard, with the Old Orchard Beach Chamber of Commerce, said hospitality bookings are down between 10% and 20% so far, and for campgrounds, the number is higher. But anecdotally, Howard said, there have been small signs of hope. Some Canadians who canceled earlier this year are coming back, she said. "I hate to use this phrase but we're cautiously optimistic," Howard said. "We just need the weather to hold." Ed Hodgdon with the Maine Beaches Association, a state-designated marketing agency for York County towns, said he, too, has seen a subtle shift recently. "So long as we don't hear any more talk about a 51st state, we're hopeful," he said. Copy the Story Link
Washington Post
25-03-2025
- Politics
- Washington Post
When Benjamin Franklin failed to make Canada the 14th colony
Madelaine Drohan is a senior fellow at the University of Ottawa's Graduate School of Public and International Affairs and author of the forthcoming 'He Did Not Conquer: Benjamin Franklin's Failure to Annex Canada.' Why would Canadians want to join a country whose leaders no longer believe in its founding values? I recently reread a letter Congress sent to Canadians, inviting them to join the emerging American union. Aside from the veiled threats about what would happen if Canadians did not accept the offer, as well as a couple of digs about their inferior status, it contains some stirring stuff about what Americans stood for and hoped to achieve. I use the past tense because the country's current political leadership does not appear to support these ideals. For those of you scratching your heads — letter? what letter? — it was written in 1774, when Canadians and Americans were fellow British colonists. (Yes, some Americans have been eyeing Canada for that long.) It was sent to the Province of Quebec by delegates to the First Continental Congress, including Founding Fathers George Washington, John Adams and John Jay. In it, they described in glowing terms the country they sought to build and the values that would serve as its foundation. They thought — wrongly, as it turned out — that the Canadians of that era, who were overwhelmingly French-speaking and Catholic, could not help but see that it was in their best interests to join a group of English-speaking Protestants in their fight with the British government. (The Declaration of Independence was still on the horizon.) The letter is worth reading today because the delegates laid out the things they thought made their system of governance so much better than what existed in British-ruled Canada. They also listed the rights French Canadians were entitled to as 'English freemen.' It is unclear whether they had a tin ear or whether they honestly thought French Canadians would want to see themselves as English. The first of these rights was that Americans should have a share in their own government because they would choose their own representatives, approve their own laws and would not be ruled by 'edicts of men' over whom they had no control. They clearly felt strongly about this point because they made it several different ways, citing the Enlightenment thinkers Beccaria and Montesquieu, and also what they called the histories of many nations. 'All these histories demonstrate the truth of this simple position, that to live by the will of one man, or sett of men, is the production of misery to all men.' The next of the great rights that the colonists felt Canadians were lacking was trial by jury, which in their minds ensured that those accused of crimes would receive their fair day in court. They then moved on to 'liberty of the person' — explaining that this was protected by a writ called habeas corpus, which would immediately cause any illegal restraints on individuals to be removed and redressed. Freedom of the press was the last great right the authors of the letter thought Canadians would said it was important because it advanced truth, science, morality and the arts in general, but also because ready communication between subjects meant 'oppressive officers are shamed or intimidated into more honourable and just modes of conducting affairs.' The authors looked to Montesquieu to make what they thought was an important point about the separation of powers. The system in Canada, where the governor made the laws and selected the legislative council and the judges, injured and insulted Canadians, they wrote. 'When the power of making laws, and the power of executing them, are united in the same person, or in the same body of Magistrates, there can be no liberty, because apprehension may arise, lest the same Monarch or Senate should enact tyrannical laws, to execute them in a tyrannical manner.' Still channeling Montesquieu — who had died nearly 20 years earlier — the authors said he would have undoubtedly told Canadians to seize the opportunity to be 'conquered into liberty.' He would also have told them they were 'a small people, compared to those who with open arms invite you into a fellowship' and that it was in their interest 'to have the rest of North America your unalterable friends' rather than 'your inveterate enemies.' One last part of the letter is worth mentioning: the section on religion. It was meant to calm any fears the French-speaking Catholics might have had about uniting with the largely English-speaking Protestants in the American colonies, given that religious wars had raged for centuries. If the French Canadians joined the colonies, the authors said soothingly, the result would be like the Swiss Cantons, where Catholic and Protestant believers 'lived in the utmost concord and peace.' This might have had more impact if the delegates had not also approved a letter to the inhabitants of Britain in which Catholicism was described as 'a religion that has deluged your island in blood, and dispersed impiety, bigotry, persecution, murder and rebellion through every part of the world.' The French-Canadian clergy made sure that second letter was widely distributed to their flock. Aside from the protestations of religious peace, the delegates seemed sincere in what they saw as the many attractions of the system of governance they were building. Indeed, it has served the United States well for many years. But today, President Donald Trump, his Cabinet and his party are dismantling the foundations laid 250 years ago. There are plenty of reasons an overwhelming majority of Canadians tell pollsters they do not want to be Americans. Why would they join a country led by politicians who are trampling on its founding values? A free press? Trump has attacked and belittled America's media for years. When he called the flow of immigrants into the United States an 'invasion,' he prepared the ground for dismantling the right of habeas corpus. Fair trial by jury? Convicted of 34 felonies, Trump called the verdict 'disgraceful.' The collapse of separation of powers is evident in the lack of pushback from Congress. And Canadians watch with horror as 'one man, or sett of men' — Trump and his coterie — slash and burn their way through federal institutions and mores. When the French Canadians did not reply to that 1774 invitation, the Continental Congress authorized an invasion the next year. About 1,700 troops in the newly formed continental army swept up Lake Champlain, easily taking Montreal and Trois-Rivières, while about the same number went overland through what is now northern Maine. They met outside the walls of Quebec City, the last remaining British stronghold in Canada. What Americans portrayed as a war of liberation to free Canadians from British tyranny ended in humiliating disaster. Faulty intelligence had led the Americans to believe the French Canadians would welcome the invasion. Some did. But the majority sat on their hands and watched as American troops failed to take Quebec City in December and then fled for home when British reinforcements arrived by ship in May. Even the intervention of Benjamin Franklin, who traveled to Montreal in April 1776 to intercede with the French Canadians, did not help. As Jean Chretien, Canada's prime minister from 1993 to 2003, told a cheering Ottawa crowd on March 9, Franklin was politely told 'Non, merci.' Canadians did not want to become the 14th colony in 1776, and — for what may be even better reasons — they do not want to become the 51st state now.
