6 days ago
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
