American letter | Who wants $20,000 to move to Cumberland?

(Cumberland, Maryland) A 75-year-old woman enters Curtis’s with her cane and walks with difficulty to the cash register.

“ Hello, Sweetheartwhat can I do for you? », asks the boss.

I mentally review with a smile all the ways in which I have been welcomed from east to west in restaurants over the past six months.

Honey, Hon’, Brother, Love, Babe, Sweetie…

The grandmother will pay the bill to her family. She orders 22 mustard hot dogs with the famous and secret “Coney Island” sauce, in memory of the grandparents who arrived in New York by boat.

The classic Curtis, that is.

” No problem, Baby. But yes, I’ll bring them to you in the car, you know,” replies Gino Giatras.

“My grandfather came from Greece, he founded it in 1918. Curtis, it was more American. My father took it over, now it’s me. I worked here when I was 5, the 56-year-old told me.

— Do you have children?

— No, after me it’s the end of the line.

– You could sell…

– Never. They will destroy our name. It’s 16, 17 hours a day, six days a week, no one wants to do that. »

Curtis is to Cumberland what Schwartz’s and the Pool Room are to Montreal. It’s probably the only thing that hasn’t changed since the glory years of this deindustrialized town in northern Maryland. From 40,000 people in the middle of the 20th century^e century, the city has declined continuously for 50 years. There are less than 19,000 people here now.

Its economic history is that of so many medium-sized towns. 200 kilometers upstream of the Potomac River, which opens into the capital, Cumberland is on the oldest American “national” road and the first railway line.

The presence of coal in this region of Appalachia attracted several industries. German glass, tire and textile factories and breweries employed thousands of people. All have been swallowed up by competitors, moved, closed and the city has been emptied of its vitality since the 1970s.

Hence this idea which has gone around the country: paying people to come and live here. For $20,000, how many people would be willing to move to Cumberland?

The city received 1,500 requests.

“The response was completely overwhelming,” Ken Tressler, the city’s finance director, told me. Ruth, our employee, was overwhelmed. We had to sort through the requests, they came from Las Vegas, Florida, everywhere, many were not serious…”

The program offers $20,000 to those who come to build a house costing less than $150,000 (we don’t want to finance the rich) and commit to staying there for five years. Or $10,000 to purchase an existing building, plus $10,000 for renovation. You have to have a job. And no criminal conviction.

“It’s a small pilot project, the City put in $100,000, the State $100,000,” said the municipal manager, still in shock from having seen Stephen Colbert talk about it to CBS.

There are now 20 candidates left. A committee will conduct interviews. And within six months, the 10 new citizens should settle down.

“In the grand scheme of things, 10 families isn’t a lot when you’ve lost tens of thousands of people. It’s just one way to promote the city and attract people who will attend our schools and pay taxes. A lot of money was spent renovating the city. »

The idea is not new. Several small towns in the United States and Europe use this lever, the economic effects of which remain doubtful, but which, for $100,000, gave tremendous publicity to the former second city of Maryland, which everyone has forgotten.

Fred Voss is walking with two bowls of pet food, a dog and two cats when I intercept him. He moved here in 1999 and fell in love with the place.

“It’s a beautiful place. There’s some kind of spiritual vibration here, I can’t explain it. There are all these churches, these synagogues, but it’s deeper, there is the deep artistic life, I tell myself that there is a connection with the confluence of the waterways, the Potomac and Wills Creek, and it goes back to the First Nations… And believe me, because of my work, I also know everything that is wrong here.

—What is your job?

— I’m a prosecutor, I handle drug trials…”

Apart from esoteric influences, the price of houses should not be neglected.

The city is two and a quarter hours by train from Washington, and equidistant from Pittsburgh and Baltimore. A bike path can take you from Pittsburgh to Washington. You can make something new out of outdated industrial stuff, apparently.

Don Fischer, fine brush in hand, is redoing the lettering in the Curtis window. Roads guys smashed the window during renovation work in the city center.

“This is not a job you do for money,” he said, applying a red line. It’s sad, but the country is losing all its crafts. We can’t repair anything anymore, we don’t know how. The lettering is done by computer…”

But like almost everyone I’ve met, he likes the idea of ​​attracting young families.

“It’s the best thing the City has done, it will come back into the City’s pockets immediately,” opines Gino Giatras.

A young family enters Curtis’s home. Julie and Josh Horevay were born here, and returned to raise their daughters. Their parents worked in the factories that closed, and they went to work in Nashville and Baltimore.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that there is a renaissance, but after the brain drain, we feel a buzz says Josh, who is a caterer and sits on the board of the town’s Montessori school. Julie is a photographer.

“We have 20 more children this year. I see young people settling in. We must not think that the industrial years will return. But we can revive a community with creative people. I don’t trust the people at city hall that much, not at all actually, but if it brings energy to the city, so much the better. »

Gino leaves the counter and comes to find me, all upset. He shows me a photo of a doctor from Cumberland, born in Montreal. According to him, this nephrologist looks just like me. He sends a photo of me to his wife. He calls her.

“Honey, he’s the same, right? She agrees: like two drops of water! Incredible, Yves!

“My mother never talked to me about that, Gino…”

I ask him where this superb European spicy mustard comes from, without coloring. He refuses to give me the slightest clue.

“I’m out of business if I reveal my secrets, you understand? »

He just as stubbornly refuses to let me pay and thanks me for stopping by.

In Cumberland, you pay for the visit.