In the 1960s, it was quite common for a family of Cheeseheads to pack into the station wagon and head toward Illinois with open wallet, open trunk space and open hearts, craving a simple, economical, low-fat kind of bliss: colored margarine.
It was the height of the Oleo Wars, imposed by an obscure Wisconsin law enacted in 1895 that prohibited the manufacturing and sale of dyed margarine.
Until the ban was lifted in May 1967, hoards of Wisconsinites would cross the border, load cases of the congealed emulsion into their cars and bring an estimated ton a week of the unnaturally yellow variety back into America’s Dairyland.
For decades, the Illinois/Wisconsin border has served as a kind of Persian bazaar for residents of both states who frequently traverse in pursuit of that which is illegal, unavailable or pricier back home.
The border commerce dates back to at least 1955, when Illinois instituted the sales tax, a foreign idea at the time in Wisconsin, which didn’t enact its own general sales tax until 1969. According to Milwaukee historian John Gurda, the natural consumer instinct took over and spiked sales on larger-ticket items in Wisconsin, such as automobiles and appliances.
In 1974, the Illinois General Assembly approved a state lottery, 14 years before Wisconsin’s. “People would travel down Highway 41 to buy lottery tickets by the dozens in the 1970s,” says Gurda. “Places on the Illinois side of the border really relied on it. There was a lot of revenue from Wisconsinites and their lottery tickets. Now those businesses have to survive on a more level playing field.”
When The Big Game, a lottery played in seven states, including Illinois, had its record jackpot of $230 million in May 2000, droves of Wisconsinites showed up. Shop owners in Winthrop Harbor, Illinois, just south of Kenosha, said at the time that the majority of their ticket sales came from their northern brethren.
But Wisconsin has had its allures as well, none perhaps as enticing as its liberal drinking laws, which, from 1980 to 1986, set the age limit at 18. You can only imagine the piles of pimple-faced, parched Illinois adolescents sidling up to Wisconsin bartenders and asking for cold ones.
Flatlanders have also come here because, since 1990, the only place you can legally gamble in Illinois is on riverboats. Thus the magnetism of land-based casinos run by Wisconsin’s Indian tribes. Anne Simaytis, spokesperson for the Potawatomi Casino, says a significant slice of its revenue and attendance comes from Chicagoans. The Menominee tribe in northern Wisconsin hopes to cash in on that market as well with its proposal to build an $808 million casino at Kenosha’s Dairyland Greyhound Park.
More liberal fireworks laws in Wisconsin prompt thousands in the Land of Lincoln to ditch their sparklers – one of the only legal fire-works in Illinois – and flock north to buy bigger, brighter and louder firecrackers. “Sixty percent of our customers are from Illinois,” says Ken Michel, manager of Blackjack Fireworks in Caledonia. “Fourth of July, that number climbs to probably 70 percent.”
Retailers have also recognized the general benefit of a border location. Christine Hahn, marketing manager of Prime Outlets in Pleasant Prairie, estimates that over half of the shopping center’s customers come from Illinois. The outlet mall has done so well drawing people from both the Milwaukee and Chicago areas that they are in the midst of a $25 million expansion to add 30 stores by next July.
“We’ve got the perfect location,” Hahn declares.
Meanwhile, the Illinois state police have begun cashing in on hasty border hoppers. Beginning in July, they started using special camera-equipped vans to photograph the license places and mug shots of drivers speeding in construction zones. If caught, drivers are mailed a $375 ticket, which could easily blow all the dough saved on the other side of the border.
