“It’s been in effect for 104 years,” said Sonia De Paoli, a 71-year-old Canadian board member. “And suddenly, with this new administration, it’s not.”
Under the new rules, only Canadian library members could briefly continue using the main entrance—until October 1, when even they would be required to either enter from a renovated Canadian-side door or pass through a formal port of entry. No more slipping over the line to grab a book. No more shared door.
Inside, things are still the same. Canadian toddlers still crawl over the black line. Americans still browse the French-language stacks. People still pause for photos—posing, laughing, stretching one leg into Canada, the other in the U.S.
But now, to get to the symbol, you have to confront the border.
“Why do we have to use the back door? We’ve been doing this forever.” — Sonia De Paoli
The library’s community didn’t take the news quietly. Rallies were held. Flags were raised. A GoFundMe campaign launched to renovate the old emergency exit on the Canadian side and turn it into a proper entrance—complete with parking, ramps, and accessibility upgrades. It cleared $140,000 in days.
Sylvie Boudreau, president of the board, was stunned: “It’s overwhelming. Contractors started work immediately. I never thought in my wildest dream this would happen.” The U.S. may be closing a door, but the Haskell community is building another.
Still, the change cuts deep.
Penny Thomas, a Newport resident, didn’t mince words: “I’m embarrassed. We are treating our neighbors in an unconscionable way.”
And across the border, the sentiment is similar. Stanstead Mayor Jody Stone made his frustration public: “We have too many reasons to cherish our relationship. And it’s not one man that will change that.”
He ticked off the connections: water system, hockey arena, joint sewer facility. The communities are twins, not neighbors.
For decades, the Haskell was the physical heart of that relationship. A place where division made space for connection.
“Inside the library, it’s business as usual.” — Sylvie Boudreau
The Haskell has always been peculiar. The opera house stage is in Quebec; the seats are mostly in Vermont. The front entrance is American, the stacks Canadian. The building has two addresses, two phone numbers, and no clear allegiance. Its quirks became legend: “The only library in the U.S. with no books.” “The only opera house in the U.S. with no stage.”
Performers leave their autographs on the backstage walls, dating back to the 1920s. Visitors crouch by the black line, snapping photos of their cross-border stance. Couples get engaged astride it. Families meet there during immigration bans. One play, A Distinct Society, was even inspired by it.
At one point, someone floated the idea of hosting a Beatles reunion at the Haskell. It didn’t happen—but it tells you something that it felt possible.
“We refuse to let a border divide what history has built together.” — Sylvie Boudreau