We are heading into the final stretch of an election campaign in
Canada. Here is a story from the Globe and Mail about Campobello
Island, NB.

Canadians with that long-distance feeling

Campobello Islanders have long considered themselves more like
Americans, but 9/11 and now the rise of Stephen Harper seem to be
changing all that, SHAWNA RICHER reports

By SHAWNA RICHER
Saturday, Jun 19, 2004

CAMPOBELLO ISLAND, N.B. -- For nearly as long as it has been inhabited,
this pretty little island in the Bay of Fundy has lived happily with a
split personality.

It belongs to New Brunswick, but is sundered from it by a chunk of
coastal Maine, and getting back and forth is difficult. Seasonal boats
in July and August ferry Campobello residents to nearby Deer Island and
then Back Bay on the mainland. Otherwise residents must cross a bridge
and go through U.S. customs at Lebuc, Me., drive 130 kilometres and
re-enter New Brunswick at St. Stephen.

It's easy to see why islanders lean closer to their American neighbours
and sometimes feel disconnected from Canada. But that inclination may
be changing. For years, Campobello's 1,200 or so residents moved
between countries with relative ease to shop, socialize and visit the
doctor. But the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, have made crossing
the border a hassle. Some islanders now do so only if they have no
choice.

And there's another reason they're starting to feel a bit more
Canadian. Campobello is located on the watery fringe of St.
Croix-Belleisle, a long-time Tory riding, and the rise of Conservative
Leader Stephen Harper has made the island's 900 registered voters more
interested in the political process.

"I think people here do care very much about politics and about how the
process affects them," says Conservative incumbent Greg Thompson, the
only MP forced to leave the country to reach every part of his riding.
"I don't sense they are disconnected. But it's an unusual set of
circumstances. The geography makes it very difficult for people who
live there to relate to the mainland. Life here is so much more
complicated."

Just 16 kilometres long and less than five across, Campobello Island
became English property with the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713 and received
its name from the navy captain who was given title to it 57 years later
by the governor of New Brunswick. ("Campo bello" means beautiful field
in Italian; but the governor's name, Lord William Campbell, may have
been a factor as well.)

After the American Revolution, ownership of the island was in dispute
until a boundary treaty in 1840. By then, English settlers and a group
from New England had built a thriving community. By the late 1880s,
Campobello was being touted as a summer playground for the well-off of
Boston and New York.

Among them was James Roosevelt, who first visited in 1883 with his wife
and year-old son. Future president Franklin Delano Roosevelt spent his
childhood summers here, romanced future wife Eleanor, took vacations
and, less happily, contracted polio. Today, the 2,800-acre Roosevelt
Campobello Park, featuring the couple's 34-room Dutch colonial cottage,
is the island's major visitor attraction and the world's first park
managed jointly by two countries.

It celebrates FDR's life here -- and symbolizes the islanders' deep
American roots. They have long relied on their U.S. neighbours. Many
women give birth in Maine hospitals; in fact, people from Campobello
are allowed to use American doctors for many procedures covered by the
province.

Despite their isolation from Canada, they are also passionate about
many issues that raise the ire of other rural Canadians -- taxes,
government spending and the gun registry. And like other Atlantic
Canadians, they fret about the fishery.

But what vexes them most is something unique to their geography: the
cross-border problems that plague their daily lives. Tighter security
means more questions, more hassles. The mad-cow scare hasn't helped.
Many residents used to buy groceries in St. Stephen, but they can no
longer bring back meat. Shopping in Maine means paying duty -- and U.S.
prices.

"Oh, the bridge," moans Holly Henderson, 36, who works at Family
Fisheries Restaurant. "It's just crazy now. It didn't used to be. But
people will go over a lot less than they used to. I go almost every
day. I have family over there. And to shop. But it's never easy."

Residents are constantly torn. "If we want to shop, we go to the U.S.
and we deal with customs even for small items," says Wayne Ingarfield,
vice-principal at Campobello Consolidated School. "Or we drive all the
way to St. Stephen. Otherwise, you find yourself paying duty on a can
of paint or a box of nails."

To that end, Mr. Thompson, who is almost certain to be re-elected, is
proposing that trucks bringing goods to the island be sealed at St.
Stephen and allowed to reach Campobello without being searched at Lubec.

He may be a mainlander, but he acknowledges that life can be difficult
for his island constituents -- something he gets a taste of at election
time. He must make several visits to Campobello, as well as nearby
Deer, Grand Manan and White Head islands. A day's campaigning turns
into two for each visit and he tries to get to each community twice.
"We have our own way of campaigning," he says. "It's not sophisticated
by city standards. The geography means you rely on word of mouth and
the friendships you have built over time with constituents. We don't
rely on polls or voter profiles. Everything comes from the doorstep.

"If you have to become known in a five-week campaign, it's probably
already too late. Here, the individual matters more than the party."

But Betty-Jo Newman, 32 and a lifelong resident who works with Ms.
Henderson at Family Fisheries Restaurant, is not so sure. She suspects
that an islander's political persuasion is hereditary.

"You're either born Liberal or Conservative, and you stay that way for
the rest of your life," Ms. Newman says. Her own family is
Conservative, she says, and she "will probably" vote on election day
(Conservative, of course), but she says she hasn't encountered a lot of
talk about the national exercise in democracy.

"Sure, we have the same concerns as other Canadians. Except that we
live on an island, and we're pretty isolated all the time. That makes
us different. But I think we're used to it. We've got to solve our own
problems. People get by. What choice is there?"

Twenty years ago, the fishery was a going concern on Campobello.
Wharves surrounded the island. Now, just three remain, although
offshore aquaculture sites for farming Atlantic salmon and rainbow
trout have filled some of the void caused by the decline of the
traditional fishery.

Similarly, the school used to employ 20 full-time teachers. Now, there
are 13. "This is the kind of place where all the young people talk
about leaving, but few ever do," Mr. Ingarfield says. "They could
always fall back on the fishery, but that isn't the case any more."

Unlike the exodus to the city or to Central Canada that takes place
elsewhere in the Atlantic region and across the Prairies, people on
Campobello tend to stay, as Ms. Newman and Ms. Henderson have. And if
Mr. Harper forms the next government, it may become more desirable to
do so.

Sonny Flynn, who ran here unsuccessfully for the Conservatives in last
June's provincial election, has been trying to rally support for a
year-round ferry to Deer Island.

Mr. Thompson backs the idea and thinks he can get it done, with a
privately run boat from Campobello that would connect with the
government-owned ferry that services Deer Island all year long.

"That would make life a whole lot easier, but I'm not holding my
breath," Ms. Henderson says. "We're pretty isolated and it's always
been that way. I can't see that changing too much.

"As for politics, I'm not sure there's much of a difference. We just
live our own lives here. We just do our own thing. It's a good place to
live."

Shawna Richer is a member of The Globe and Mail's Atlantic bureau.

© 2004 Bell Globemedia Publishing Inc. All Rights Reserved.

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