It’s about 6:30 AM in Ocean Grove, and the air smells like salt spray and old wood. Most people think of the Jersey Shore as a place for neon lights and Boardwalk fries, but here, tucked right behind the Great Auditorium, is something that feels like a glitch in the matrix. Or maybe a time machine. You’ve probably seen the photos of these canvas-walled structures, looking like something out of a Civil War encampment. That’s the Ocean Grove tent city. It isn’t a homeless encampment, and it isn’t a temporary festival setup. It is a living, breathing community that has persisted since 1869.
Walking through these narrow "streets" is weirdly quiet. You’ll see a woman in her 70s watering petunias in a window box that is attached to a piece of heavy-duty canvas. You’ll see a kid running barefoot between a wooden shed and a porch that looks like it belongs on a Victorian mansion, except the "house" part is made of fabric. It’s basically a neighborhood of 114 tents that people wait decades to get into. Literally. The waiting list is legendary. If you put your name down today, you might be dead before your number comes up. Honestly, that’s not even hyperbole.
What is the Ocean Grove tent city actually?
Let’s clear something up right away: these aren't your typical Coleman tents from Walmart. They are semi-permanent structures. Each one consists of a wooden platform, a wooden "cabin" at the rear that houses a small kitchen and a bathroom, and a large canvas front section that serves as the living area and bedroom. When summer ends, the canvas comes down. The wooden skeletons stay.
The Ocean Grove Camp Meeting Association (OGCMA) owns the land. They’ve owned it since the Methodist "camp meeting" movement took over this stretch of Monmouth County in the late 19th century. Back then, thousands of people would flock to the shore to escape the heat of the cities and find some spiritual revival. They slept in tents because it was cheap and mobile. Over time, the town grew up around them with those massive, ornate Victorian houses, but the tents just... stayed. They became the heart of the town’s identity.
People often ask if you have to be Methodist to live there. Not technically, but you do have to agree to the OGCMA’s mission. It’s a religious community. There’s a certain vibe you have to be okay with. For instance, for a long time, you couldn't even drive a car into Ocean Grove on Sundays. That rule finally bit the dust in the late 70s after a court case, but the spirit of "quiet contemplation" is still very much the law of the land in the tent colony.
The weird logistics of living in a canvas house
Imagine living in a house where you can hear your neighbor three doors down sigh. Privacy? Forget it. If you’re frying bacon, the whole block knows. If you’re having an argument about whose turn it is to wash the dishes, the folks next door are basically participants in the conversation. It takes a specific kind of person to love this.
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- The Setup: Every May, the "tenters" arrive. They spend days scrubbing the wooden floors and hauling in furniture.
- The Stuff: You can't fit much. Most people have these clever, folding furniture setups or just live very, very simply.
- The Heat: There is no central air. You have fans. Lots of fans. On a humid July afternoon, it gets brutal.
- The Storms: When a Nor’easter blows through, those canvas walls shake and rattle. It’s loud. It’s scary. It’s authentic.
There is a rhythm to it that you don’t find in modern suburbs. People sit on their "porches"—which are really just the front edge of the wooden platform—and talk to everyone who walks by. You can’t be a hermit in the Ocean Grove tent city. It’s physically impossible.
Why the waiting list is 20 years long
You might think pay-to-camp sounds like a raw deal, but the demand is staggering. The yearly ground rent is surprisingly affordable compared to the astronomical prices of Jersey Shore real estate, though the OGCMA has raised rates over the years to keep up with maintenance. But it’s not just about the money. It’s about the legacy. Many of these tents have been in the same families for four or five generations.
When a tent becomes available, it doesn’t go to the highest bidder on Zillow. It goes to the next person on the list who has cleared the interview process. Yes, there is an interview. They want to make sure you’re going to fit into the community. They aren't looking for party animals or people who want to blast Metallica at 11 PM. They want people who value the "holiness" of the space.
The controversy you won't see in the brochures
It hasn't all been peaceful hymns and salt water taffy. The Ocean Grove tent city and the Camp Meeting Association have been at the center of some pretty heated legal and social battles. Because the OGCMA is a religious organization that owns the land—including the beach and the boardwalk—there’s a constant friction between their private religious rights and public access laws.
A few years ago, there was a massive stink about the boardwalk pier being shaped like a cross. Then there’s the ongoing tension regarding LGBTQ+ rights and whether a religious organization can restrict certain activities on land that the public uses. In 2007, a controversy erupted when the OGCMA refused to allow a same-sex civil union ceremony at their boardwalk pavilion. The state eventually ruled that because they received a tax break for "green acres" public land, they couldn't discriminate. It’s a complex, messy intersection of First Amendment rights and civil rights that makes Ocean Grove a fascinating case study for law students.
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But inside the tent colony? Things stay remarkably shielded from the outside world. The residents tend to be fiercely protective of their way of life. They see themselves as stewards of a dying tradition.
What it’s like to visit as an outsider
You can’t just walk into someone’s tent. That should be obvious, but you’d be surprised how many tourists try to peek behind the canvas flaps. However, the OGCMA does run "tent tours" occasionally. If you can snag a ticket for those, take it. Seeing the creative ways people squeeze a kitchen, a dining area, and a bedroom into a space smaller than a Manhattan studio apartment is impressive.
If you’re just wandering through, be respectful. These aren't museum exhibits; they are homes. People are napping, reading, or eating lunch three feet away from the sidewalk.
- Walk the "Labyrinth": The layout of the tents is intentional. It’s designed to encourage walking and face-to-face interaction.
- The Great Auditorium: You can't talk about the tents without the Auditorium. It’s a massive wooden structure that seats 6,000 people and has one of the largest pipe organs in the world. The acoustics are insane.
- The Coffee Shacks: There are little spots nearby where tenters congregate. If you want the real gossip, that’s where you go.
Misconceptions: No, it’s not "Glamping"
People love to use the word glamping. Stop. This isn't glamping. Glamping implies luxury. The Ocean Grove tent city is many things, but "luxurious" isn't the first word that comes to mind. It’s rustic. It’s damp when it rains. You’re sharing your living space with the occasional spider or Jersey Shore mosquito.
It is, however, an intentional community. In an era where we barely know our neighbors' names, the tent city is an anomaly. People look out for each other. If an elderly tenter hasn't been seen on their porch by 10 AM, someone is knocking on their wooden doorframe to check in. That kind of social safety net is rare these days.
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The future of the tents
Climate change is the elephant in the room. Ocean Grove is right on the Atlantic. Hurricane Sandy in 2012 absolutely devastated the boardwalk and damaged several structures. The tents are fragile. While the canvas is removed in the winter, the wooden platforms and the "back houses" are vulnerable to storm surges and rising sea levels.
There’s also the generational shift. Will the great-great-grandchildren of the current tenters want to spend their summers without A/C and privacy? So far, the answer seems to be a resounding yes. The waiting list isn't getting any shorter. There is a primal pull to this place—a desire to strip away the digital noise and just... exist.
Thinking about trying to live there?
If you’re seriously considering getting on that list, here’s the reality check:
- Patience is a requirement. You’re looking at a 10 to 20-year wait.
- Commitment matters. This isn't a weekend rental. The Association expects you to be there, to participate, and to respect the heritage.
- It’s a lifestyle choice. You are buying into a 19th-century religious retreat model. If that sounds stifling, you’ll hate it. If it sounds like a sanctuary, you’ll never want to leave.
The Ocean Grove tent city remains one of the most unique housing experiments in America. It survives not because it’s efficient or modern, but because it provides something modern life has largely discarded: a forced, beautiful, and sometimes loud proximity to other human beings.
Actionable Steps for the Curious:
- Visit in the "Shoulder" Season: Go in late May or early September. You’ll see the "set up" or "take down" process, which is a feat of engineering in itself.
- Check the OGCMA Calendar: Don't just show up. Look for choir festivals or organ recitals at the Great Auditorium to experience the full cultural context of the tent community.
- Respect the Canvas: If you walk through the colony, stay on the paved paths. Treat the area with the same privacy you’d want in your own living room.
- Research the History: Visit the Historical Society of Ocean Grove museum on Central Avenue. They have incredible archives on how the tent designs have evolved (or haven't) since the 1800s.