Amish America

English in the Country

Amish tourism did not begin with Witness.  That 1985 film just made it worse (or better, depending on how you look at it, I suppose).

David Luthy, writing in The Amish Struggle with Modernity, tells us that the first Amish-themed novel came out in 1905 (wait a minute--back when many of us English were still riding around in buggies!), the first Amish postcards around 1915, and the first tourist booklets in 1937.  Oh, and the first reality show in 2004.  Can't forget that. 


After the tourist books came the tour buses and Rosanna of the Amish and Amish Acres and then Weird Al and so on and so forth.  And for many Amish (dramatic voice) life has never been the same. 

That doesn't necessarily mean worse, though.  All those tour buses that crowd the roads carry nice English folks that like quilts and hickory rockers and all sorts of homey things like that.  They also come equipped with credit cards.


At the same time, I'm sitting here thinking how bizarre it would be to have people come from 500 miles away just to drive past my house, point at me while I worked in the yard, and snap photos of my kids. 


Still, respect to the Amish, most of whom are able to ignore it, doing their best to be friendly when tourist season hits.   The worst I've ever heard is some light complaining  (i.e. 'I can't stand going into town in the summer'.  'People drive too fast'.  'Now watch me smack the camera out of that Englisher's hands.' Uhh, ok you got me.  That last one was a bit of a stretcher). 



The postcard is from a really nice site, Penny Postcards, with pictures of, you guessed it, old-timey penny postcards.  Here's one more.  Neat!

Today's tack-on: I know it's thankfully long-gone, but still couldn't resist adding this gem of a quote from a CBS fat-cat on aforementioned reality show.  Why I love Hollywood:  

"To have people who don't have television walk down Rodeo Drive and be freaked out by what they see, I think will be interesting television," said CBS chairman Leslie Moonves, who also oversees UPN. "It will not be denigrating to the Amish."

Aaah, interesting, not denigrating.  I get those two mixed up sometimes.

Here comes Bishop Yoder...call me back later!

photo from Wired magazine 

In Amish Country, Lancaster County, a quiet behind-the-scenes battle is happening--it's business vs. the bishops, in a discrete tussle over modern America's favorite portable gadget, the cellphone.

Tensions have risen over the now common device.  "Sometimes I wonder if we're not getting to a point where some of our people don't respect church authority the way they should," says a frustrated spokesman for Amish bishops.  That's from an article out today at Lancaster Online. 

 

So why is the mobile phone so big here, where elsewhere (though definitely not everywhere) in Amish America it's pretty rare?

 

Many say it comes down to one factor, and one factor only:  business.

Lancaster County is one of the most entrepreneurial of all settlements.  The phone has gradually snuck its way into the community, apparently starting way back in the 80's.  Many Amish business owners now have them. 

The requirements of running a bumping wood shop, retail sales business, or construction crew now somehow seem to demand technology that Amish have long managed to do without.

But are these increasingly prosperous Lancaster Amish entrepreneurs getting something wrong here? 

Some take that view.  Church leadership often worries about members' priorities.  In Kraybill and Nolt's Amish Enterprise, an Amishman from another community comments that the Lancaster Amish are 'almost hyper about making money...some businesses are very successful and handling A LOT of cash and are RICH period.   That affects the types of houses they build for themselves and for their children, where they travel, where they eat, and what they own.'

Whether that's on the mark is another issue altogether.  But back to the phone--with more and more Amish depending on cottage industry, is it really that indispensable to succeed at business?  After all, Amish have had thriving businesses since well before the cell or even the landline were that common.

In Kraybill and Nolt's Amish Enterprise, one shop owner complains that 'conservative leaders "say that you can run a business this size without a phone.  I'd like them to try it.  You really can't."'

But another Amishman in the Lancaster Online article feels differently: "A cell phone would come in handy, but I don't need it," he says. "You get your wants and your needs mixed up sometimes.

"Besides," he adds, "I'm not aware of any church district in Lancaster where they actually are allowed."

Amish business--the downside?

Those Amish are too darn loud.

So say the neighbors.

It seems the 'peaceful people' in one PA community are getting their share of noise complaints, but not because of any late-night throwdowns.

No public power means the Amish have to find other ways to juice their woodworking equipment.

The idyllic calm that many assume defines life in Amish America, is, in reality, often more like a deafening roar.

If you've ever been inside an Amish woodshop, or even around back while a housewife runs the diesel generator that powers her washing machine, you know the noise can be overwhelming.

One unhappy homeowner says the commotion starts around half past five in the morning.  Then, it's "like having a lawn mower going around your home, continuously for the next 10 hours."

Ouch.

No wonder it is expected to bring down local property values 20 to 30 percent.

And that's not the only complaint about Amish businesses, as described in a local Newswatch 16 report.

Will the Amish concede?   A meeting had been scheduled between the business owners, homeowners, and local authorities.

A compromise should be reached--perhaps by constructing some sort of muffling device?  Just don't expect the Amish to switch over to public electric.

In any case, it's just another obstacle to negotiate for the Amish, as yesterday's barefoot farmers continue to be replaced by today's crafty entrepreneurs.

Amish for Sale

'Amish' sells. 

Whether it's an overpriced bag of trail mix or a six-figure kitchen cabinet installation, people gravitate towards the implicit quality of anything with the Amish label. 

Exactly what does that label mean anyway?

Does tobacco grown in the general vicinity of Amish country count as 'Amish'?  What about an RV produced at a factory with Amish workers?  Does an Amish person actually have to make the product, or sell it, or just handle it at some point along the way?

'Amishness' is a bit of a mystery.  Just where does it come from?

There really is no regulatory body for this sort of thing.  Would be nice if there was.  Then the Amish could get rid of some of the freeriders. 

Truth be told, most Amish don't like explicitly promoting their products with their name.  But a lot of other people do.  Freeriders on the Amish name are all over the place in Amish Country.  The Amish find this slightly annoying.  But they live with it.  Suing is out of the question, and how could you do it, even if you wanted to?  There is no 'Amish' trademark.


It's still one heck of a brand, though. 

P before C

In the Amish world, 'P' comes before 'C'. 

Production is the 'P' in this instance.  Consumption is secondary--even though some Amish have credit cards, they are used much less liberally than those of most modern Americans.  No, the Amish are producers first--and what they produce has grown in scope in recent years.  Classically linked with farming, the group has lately undergone an entrepreneurial revolution of sorts.  Kitchen cabinets and lawn furniture are two examples of the wide range of products made by Amish wood shops.  A steady stream of quilts, leather belts, toys, machinery, and books flow out of other Amish home-based enterprises.  Amish wealth has grown steadily as a result of their industry.

'Waste not, want not' remains a way of life here.  A drive through any significant Amish settlement reveals that not much gets tossed out.  Wood shavings, a by-product of the aforementioned shops, go for two bucks a bale, according to one hand-lettered sign.  Excess eggs and produce are staple tourist buys.  Discarded tires are converted for cart wheels in the congregations that permit rubber coverings.  The Amish are richer today than at any time in their history.  Still, value is wrung out of each and every item.

What if we had the same dedication to avoiding waste?  Might be useful for the environment.  It would certainly be helpful to our wallets.