3 Myths About Door County’s Chicago Connection

2011 “Pure Michigan” Winter Outdoor Boards

You can take the boy out of Door County, but you can’t take the Door County out of the boy. This is abundantly clear when I catch up with old friends from the peninsula who, like me, now live in Chicago.

Inevitably, talk turns to the peninsula, how business is going, whether or not people miss it, and for some, their plan to get back there.

I’m not immune. After a few months of intermittent living in the city and explaining my origins to hundreds of people, I’ve noted three big myths about Door County’s Chicago connection.

1. Door County has a strong Chicago marketing presence.

In this international city there are a lot of destinations going after the tourism dollars of its residents. Montana and Wyoming have stunning billboards at major intersections downtown and along the interstate.

But in Chicago, nobody out-markets Michigan, a state attacking the city’s tourism marketplace.

Our Lake Michigan sister across the shore peppered the city with billboards this spring full of images Door Countians would like to call their own – kayaks on a sunset-painted beach, waves rolling onto a rocky shore, and a solo tent in a secluded forest campsite.

The state’s winter series featured a man climbing the ice up a bluffside, a snowboarder flying down a mountain of fresh powder, and a pair of snowmobiles roaring down a groomed trail.

“If you watch television for an evening you’re guaranteed to see a Michigan ad doing a wonderful job selling their shoreline,” says my friend and fellow Door County native Rian Hill, who has lived in the city for three years. “Michigan does a far superior job playing on emotions. Living in a city is like holding a breath, and Michigan gives you the impression that it is where you can let that breath out.”

This is what we’re competing against – or not competing against.

In 2010 Michigan spent $28.8 million on its “Pure Michigan” campaign, according to an Oglivy and Mather report. Wisconsin’s 2012 budget is $15 million.

You don’t see Wisconsin ads here, let alone Door County.

“If I wasn’t already familiar with Door County,” Hill told me, “I don’t know how I’d ever know it exists.”

• Door County is a quick and easy get-away from Chicago.

I make the trip home regularly, and it’s not a big deal. But I have ties to Door County. For those who don’t, the sand dunes of Michigan’s southern shore and the warmth of Lake Geneva are less than two hours away.

When people want a quick get-away here, they think of renting houses on the sand dunes of Michigan’s western shore, less than two hours away.

A five-hour drive to Door County (more with traffic) simply doesn’t compete with those short jaunts. This is especially true for modern families who don’t take weeklong vacations.

Those with kids are investing thousands of dollars in summer sports camps and leagues. A closer destination means it’s easy for one parent to drive a child back for a game and not disrupt the entire vacation.

• Everyone in Chicago knows about Door County.

This myth has struck me louder than anything.

It’s easy to think that we’ve long since saturated the Chicago market with the Door County brand. Growing up seeing so many Illinois plates on Highway 42 I felt like the entire city of Chicago visited Door County every weekend, but few of the hundreds of people I’ve met have even a passing impression of the peninsula.

This lack of recognition is most glaring among those under age 40, a generation that hit their 20s when a semester living abroad became a right of young adulthood, pushing vacation standards higher.

Then consider that a huge chunk of the city’s population came here from across the country or around the world. Door County, I’m sad to say, is a phrase that means nothing to them. I might as well tell them I’m from Brown County, or Walworth County. It’s nothing but a municipal designation.

If they moved here between age 25 and 45, they’re not socializing among groups of Baby Boomers going on about years of Door County vacations either. Even much of that demographic seems to lack an association with Door County.

Hill is the general manager of one of the city’s top restaurants, the James Beard award-winning North Pond in Lincoln Park. The clientele there is older and wealthier, just the demographic we think Door County has cornered in the Midwest.

“I don’t think I’ve heard Door County mentioned there more than once or twice,” he says. “If you’re not a legacy property owner, you don’t know Door County exists. We’re living largely off the ties of the past.”

(Note that Hill, who left Door County five years ago, still says “we” in reference to his hometown. The Door County blood runs deep in natives.)

“But the Tribune and Sun-Times write about us all the time,” you plead?

Sorry, few are reading those. The city is not buzzing about it. I have a subscription to the Tribune. I’m the only one I know who does. Nobody else in my apartment building even gets a newspaper.

The battle for Chicago’s tourists is fierce, and expensive, begging the question of whether Door County can even afford to compete here. But if the peninsula wants to remain a premier destination, can it afford not to?