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Cape May Now it's the country's largest collection of Victorian buildings that seems at risk. I'm standing on a corner in the seaside town of Cape May, New Jersey, gaping at yet another block of pastel, gingerbreaded homes. Architectural consistency—over 600 Victorian houses, shops, inns, and gas-lit B&Bs—is what earned Cape May designation in 1976 as a National Historic Landmark District, a distinction only a few towns can claim. That status now hangs in the balance, and with it the kind of experience Cape May offers visitors. Besieged by gridlock and new, non-Victorian construction, the town has been on the National Park Service's "endangered landmark" list since 1995. Driving among the big, postmodern houses invading the east side of town, I can see the problem: It's suburbia-by-the-sea, with not a Victorian detail in sight. And as for parking, I had trouble finding a space downtown even on a cold November Sunday ("bird-watching weekend," I was told). These pressures have erupted in a battle over restoration plans for Cape May's biggest historic hotel, Congress Hall. Opened in 1816, the four-story, Tuscan-yellow hotel and its spacious lawn occupy an entire beachfront block near the town center. The lawn has hosted events from weddings and croquet matches to John Philip Sousa's 1882 performance of his Congress Hall March. Developer Curtis Bashaw plans lobby shops, new convention space, and, most controversially, parking for 202 guest vehicles on the lawn. In a court challenge, local opponents charge that the changes compromise historic authenticity, aesthetics, and Cape May's right to its landmark status. Bill Bolger, who manages the landmark program at the Park Service's regional office, issued a warning to that effect last year, only to be "superseded" by Park Service headquarters in Washington. The national office conditionally granted Bashaw's company a 20 percent federal tax credit for the restoration. George Lesser, co-plaintiff in the lawsuit, accuses Washington of bucking to political pressure, which Washington denies. With the lawn as a summertime parking lot, hotel guests, neighbors, and passersby will face a sea of metal. Bashaw is willing to consider an alternative parking area only if the hotel doesn't have to pay for it. In truth, it's the same parking dilemma that confronts the whole town, whose population mushrooms from 5,000 in winter to 40,000 on peak summer weekends. Should visitors park on the outskirts and ride shuttles into town, as they already do in Charleston, SC, and Savannah, GA? Victorian streets crammed with automobiles lose a lot of charm. But Cape May Mayor Jerry Gaffney doesn't think visitors will accept off-site parking, and Bashaw's solution at Congress Hall degrades what people come to see. Strolling past the town's frilly facades, its porches and gables and scalloped siding, I would say that for now, there's plenty to keep us visitors coming, but with too much traffic and nondescript architecture, Cape May could become just another seaside resort—one more taffy stand on the crowded Jersey shore. To comment on parking and historic preservation: Log on to this month's Tourism Forum, www.nationalgeographic.com/traveler or contact Cape May Chamber of Commerce (P.O. Box 556, Cape May, NJ 08204; +1 609 884 5508; www.capemaychamber.com) or Office of the Mayor (643 Washington St. 08204; mayor@capemaycity.com). Visitor information: Cape May County Department of Tourism, P.O. Box 365, Cape May Court House, NJ 08210; +1 800 227 2297; www.co.cape-may.nj.us. The information in this story was accurate at the time it was published, but we suggest you confirm all details before making travel plans.
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