http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-amish20-2009apr20,0,5794881.story
From the Los Angeles Times
Layoffs are driving change among the Amish
Church leaders in northern Indiana relent and allow
followers to collect unemployment checks. It's become a matter of
survival.
By Joshua Boak
April 20, 2009
Reporting from
Goshen, Ind. — The Amish are defined by their religious beliefs, shunning
automobiles, insurance and electricity in their homes.
But some in
hard-hit northern Indiana realize they can no longer avoid one modern idea:
unemployment checks.
The Amish church frowns on government aid, but it
relented on unemployment checks after a wave of layoffs stung laborers in this
settlement about 90 miles south of Indianapolis. Church leaders justified the
decision because workers are collecting on the unemployment taxes they paid into
the system.
"No one says go out and do it," said Eli Miller, 72, an Amish
bishop who also prepares income tax returns. "But when they have to feed their
families, we thought it would be OK to accept some of it, even though we would
rather not."
The March unemployment rate in LaGrange and Elkhart
counties, where much of Indiana's Amish population is concentrated, stands near
19%, about 4 percentage points higher than in Wayne County, Mich., home to
Detroit and the American auto industry.
More than half of all Amish men
here work in factories, a trend that accelerated over the last two decades,
according to an analysis by Steven Nolt, a history professor at Goshen College.
Increasing land prices and a growing population made it nearly impossible for
farming alone to sustain the Amish community, so the men found steady salaries
in assembling recreational vehicles, an industry socked over the last year by
high fuel prices and then the credit crunch.
The job situation is dire
enough that Larry Herschberger, a 27-year-old Amish man let go last May by RV
builder Jayco Inc., went a step beyond receiving unemployment. He began
worshiping as a Mennonite, a denomination that allows its followers to drive
cars. That decision, as well as one to purchase a 1999 Chevy Tahoe, frustrated
his family and in-laws.
"It's been hard," said Herschberger, shrugging
his shoulders.
"If I got to make a living, I've got to drive," he said,
sitting in a booth at the 5 & 20 Country Kitchen in Shipshewana, Ind., where
his wife once was a waitress.
The restaurant sits at Indiana State Road 5
and U.S. Highway 20, but it might as well be at the crossroads of the Amish and
mainstream America. "California Dreamin' " by the Mamas and the Papas played as
waitresses in bonnets served plates of fried chicken. Herschberger currently
draws a paycheck as a handyman for the restaurant's owner, who also has several
rental houses and a business assembling boat trailers.
Other laid-off
Amish want to stay within the faith. Several have sought work at the Country
Woodshop in Goshen.
"I don't even write down the applications anymore,
I've had so many people," said its Amish owner, Noah Bontrager, who spent 11
years building RVs before launching his company.
Bontrager cannot afford
new hires. Orders for his hardwood tables are off by 30%, so Bontrager had to
shave a day off the five-day workweek. His shop has 18 Amish craftsmen and two
non-Amish employees, one to manage the e-mail and Internet and the other to
drive the delivery truck.
Between sunrise and 2 p.m. quitting time, the
craftsmen can saw, hammer, sand and stain 31 dining room tables. Stores as far
as Alaska and Florida sell the tables, which retail from $750 to
$2,200.
As long as the economic picture doesn't worsen, Bontrager figures
he will not need to fire anyone. Yet he recognizes that businesses such as his
must expand to fill the permanent employment void left by closed RV
factories.
"Our goal would be to have this be the furniture belt for
America," Bontrager said.
The Amish have adapted to economic crises
before. During the Depression, some men were permitted to register for driver's
licenses, according to research by Nolt. That special exemption is less likely
to happen this time, the professor said, because the Amish have come to view the
horse and buggy as core parts of their identity.
This recession is
especially brutal because the Amish factory workers became accustomed to earning
annual salaries of $60,000 to $100,000, which provided for mortgages and
shopping trips. A fiberglass basketball hoop hangs above a buggy in one
driveway. The Wal-Mart has a hitching post. And some Amish men are as attached
to their cellphones as their beards.
Gary Zehr, the LaGrange County
economic development director, said the recession was forcing the Amish to
reconsider their careers: "Here's how an Amish guy put it to me: 'All of the
sudden, we've got to use our brains again.' I think what he meant was that you
have to think about how you will support your family, instead of just going to
work."
In past downturns, the jobless simply scratched around to find
other work. This recession has cut much deeper, said Herschberger, who had
worked at Jayco since February 2001. The initial round of layoffs at Jayco
involved recent hires, so the Amish elders did not see a reason for anyone to
collect unemployment until the layoffs spread, he said.
"A lot of the
older guys dragged their feet on unemployment, until they saw the younger guys
couldn't make it," Herschberger said. "Several people were like, 'We can live
off the land again.' The old people have to accept that times have
changed."
jboak@tribune.com