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> -----Original Message----- > From: Cordell, Arthur: ECOM > Sent: Monday, July 21, 2003 4:41 PM > To: FUTUREWORK (E-mail) > Subject: Laid-Off Factory Workers > > A long story. One that is well known. The WSJ seems to be saying good > bye to factory workers. > ================================== > > Laid-Off Factory Workers Find Jobs Are Drying Up for Good --- Structural > Changes Strand Many With Basic Skills --- > 21 July 2003 > The Wall Street Journal > BUTLER, Pa. -- The two Karenbauer brothers and their cousin, Danny > Mottern, have worked alongside each other for much of their lives. Working > with their hands comes naturally to all three. As young boys they were > dispatched to feed the cows and plant corn on their grandfather's 134-acre > farm. > Later, they all ended up in the same Trinity Industries Inc. factory, > building parts for railroad cars. Brad Karenbauer, 39 years old, was a > tool and die man. Mr. Mottern, 42, was a welder. Jim Karenbauer, 60, ran > the forge shop. They found challenge and satisfaction in their ability to > take a rough piece of metal and fashion it into the door or roof of a > sturdy railroad car that could whisk people, coal and grain across the > country. > "I was making something. I had something to show for myself at the end of > the day," says Mr. Mottern. > But Trinity started laying off workers in 2000 and a year ago, in a bid > for efficiency, shut down the Butler factory where the Karenbauers and Mr. > Mottern worked. After, the three men have began scrounging for work. They > moved from job to job -- shoveling snow, stocking a Wal-Mart Supercenter > -- but nothing has added up to the pay or fulfillment of their old jobs. > While hundreds of factories close in any given year, something historic > and fundamentally different is occurring now. For manufacturing, this > isn't a cyclical downturn. Most of these basic and low-skill factory jobs > aren't liable to come back when the economy recovers or when excess > capacity around the world dissolves. > Railroad cars, unlike buggy whips, are still needed, as are toys, > appliances and shoes. But the task of making these goods is increasingly > being assumed by more efficient machines and processes. Or they've been > transferred to workers who earn less and live in another country. While > these changes have been going on to a limited extent for years, the > economic slowdown has greatly accelerated and broadened this historic > shift. By some estimates, roughly 1.3 million manufacturing jobs have > moved abroad since the beginning of 1992, the bulk in the past three years > to Mexico and East Asia. > Other plants around Butler also have closed, including one that fabricated > steel and another that made vinyl siding. Hundreds of manufacturing > workers have been left without jobs and their options for similar work > have narrowed significantly in this city of 15,000, an hour north of > Pittsburgh. > "For people who work with their hands, there isn't going to be much out > there for them for long," says Brad Karenbauer. > After he was laid off last summer, he couldn't keep up with the rent on > his apartment. He moved with his girlfriend, Lisa Schnur, and their infant > daughter into a trailer owned by Ms. Schnur's aunt. > Meanwhile, a landscaper gave Mr. Karenbauer odd jobs, mowing lawns and > putting down mulch, paying him under the table. That lasted until the snow > fell. He doesn't mind getting dirty or working outside and admits he's not > comfortable behind a desk. "That's just not my cup of tea," he says. > "Hands on is what I like to do. I like to work hard. Growing up, if there > was work to do, you did it. After a while, you just got used to it." > Now he finds himself stranded in the labor pipeline along with a > generation of assemblers, welders, and tool and die men who learned their > trade on the job and know little of computer-driven machines and new age > manufacturing techniques. In June, manufacturing cut 56,000 jobs, the 35th > consecutive monthly decline and the longest string of layoffs in that > industry since World War II. > "We're saving corporate jobs by moving production jobs to lower-cost > areas," says Daniel Meckstroth, chief economist with the Manufacturers > Alliance, a public policy and business research group in Arlington, Va. > The shift also means income for secretaries, maintenance workers, and > counter people in lobby coffee shops and staff parking garages. > Furthermore, off-loading much of the low-skill production work saves money > and makes companies more competitive. That means they can focus on > innovation and potentially create other jobs. > Stan Donnelly, whose Alexandria, Minn., company makes plastic parts for > big equipment manufacturers, imports tools from China to save money. In > the long run, bypassing U.S. toolmakers is a mistake, he believes. Those > kinds of jobs helped create and sustain the middle class, and he's not > sure displaced workers will learn new skills and become higher paid. > "Look, we've got millions of people who have failed to get through high > school. If their minds are not their salvation, what's wrong with letting > their hands be their salvation?" asks Mr. Donnelly. "Over the last two > centuries, America has developed a balanced society, with opportunities > for a large cross section of people. We're gutting that." > In Brad and Jim Karenbauer's childhood home, work was part of the natural > rhythm of the day, filling the space between school and supper and most > daylight hours during weekends. If they weren't helping around their own > house, they were dispatched to their grandparent's farm, as were Danny > Mottern and other cousins. They plowed fields and stacked hay. Surrounded > by John Deere tractors, they learned how to take machines apart and put > them back together. > Their grandmother fried up homemade sausage in her iron skillet to welcome > them back from the fields. Afterward, they relaxed under an oak tree, with > a bottle of pop and, when older, a cold beer. > The Karenbauers' father worked in a small fabrication shop, welding steel > for bridges and buildings. With six kids, money was tight, but they never > felt poor. They had a half a cow in the freezer. "If you didn't have it, > you didn't need it," says Brad Karenbauer. College wasn't an option. Even > if they had the money, he wouldn't have gone: "I was not a school-oriented > person," he says. > In their community, working with machines was nothing to be ashamed of and > there were plenty of opportunities to make a comfortable living. Brad > Karenbauer took three years of welding in high school and after graduation > in 1981 worked 16-hour days for a brother-in-law who had a boiler-repair > business. "It was a blast," he says. "My brother-in-law didn't believe in > an eight-hour day. You went to a job and stayed until it was done. I was > bringing home more money than I could spend." > Then as now, manufacturing paid more and had better benefits than many > other jobs. In Butler County, population 174,000, about 20% of the work > force is in manufacturing, but those jobs contribute 30% of the county > payroll. Nationwide, manufacturing jobs averaged $54,000 in pay in 2000 -- > 20% higher than the average of what all American workers earn, according > to the National Association of Manufacturers. > One of the prized jobs in Butler County was building railroad cars, an > industry with a storied past. A century ago, the flamboyant Diamond Jim > Brady, who made a fortune selling railroad parts, and engineer John Hansen > built the world's largest freight-car plant, half a mile long, in Butler, > according to local historian Ralph Goldinger. > Inside, more than 1,110 welding machines melted steel pieces together, > producing at its peak 27,000 railroad cars a year. At first it was called > Standard Steel Car Co., but the company merged with Pullman Inc. of > Chicago, to become the well-known Pullman-Standard Co., whose posh cars > made comfortable cross-country travel a reality. > Civic-minded Pullman donated its eight-acre ballpark to Butler in the > 1940s. The New York Yankees sometimes played exhibition games there, > giving locals a chance to cheer Whitey Ford, Joe DiMaggio and Lou Gehrig. > Streets were named after the company founders. Mr. Hansen built a mansion > with seven fireplaces on West Pearl Street. It still stands today. > Jim Karenbauer started at Pullman in 1965, when he was 22 years old and > fresh out of the Air Force. He worked in the storeroom, then transferred > to the forge department because he could learn and earn more. Eventually, > he became foreman, earning $32,000 a year when Pullman closed its doors in > 1982. > Jobs were scarce, but he found one with the Butler Township zoning > department, inspecting buildings and property. He quit after three years. > "I couldn't take the politics," he says. He sold insurance for a while, > walking up and down Butler's streets, knocking on doors. > Two years after Pullman closed, Trinity came in and started making > replacement parts for railroad cars in the same factory. Jim Karenbauer > got a call in 1987 asking him to run the plant's forge operation. "They > got the old Pullman guys who knew how to run that stuff," he says. About > six months later he brought home applications for his younger brother and > cousin. > While Jim Karenbauer made the coupling rods that hook together railroad > cars, Mr. Mottern welded chutes for coal and grain cars. Brad Karenbauer > moved around the floor adjusting machines that were clogged or not working > properly. He learned the tool and die trade, the craft of making the tools > that form parts, from his supervisor. "He took a liking to me and taught > me," Mr. Karenbauer says. That sort of informal teaching was invaluable to > companies and workers who couldn't afford other education. And for > generations, it sufficed. > A die, or mold, shapes a metal part much as a waffle iron shapes a waffle. > Brad Karenbauer's job of maintaining them was critical and he was paid > relatively well. At the time he was laid off last year, he earned $14.50 > an hour. > For him, the challenge of figuring out how to fix problems was as > rewarding as the pay. "I loved my job. I never did the same thing every > day. I'd build a new die. Or fix the old one that died," he says. > Co-workers voted him "employee of the month," which was noted on a sign > outside the plant and acknowledged with a $150 gift certificate from > Sears. "I bought a couch with that," he says. > Once he was invited to Trinity's headquarters in Dallas to explain his > solution to a glitch that had been causing many pieces of a metal post to > be scrapped. He figured out that the post was moving slightly when it was > in the press, causing a wrinkle. He built a device to hold it firmly. His > cousin, Mr. Mottern, came up with a design to replace a part that had been > made by welding two pieces of metal together. That eliminated the welding, > and helped the department make twice as many pieces of higher quality. > His employers gave him a framed certificate and a grainy video of his > talk, which he still shows visitors. "All the bigwigs were down there," he > says. > Trinity closed the Butler plant and in 2002 and one other, citing the > slowdown in the rail industry. "We no longer needed to maintain all the > facilities previously supporting our parts business," it said in a > statement. The company, which has operations in Mexico, the Czech Republic > and Romania, said the Butler work would be done at its plant in Texas. > "We'll never find a job like that," says Mr. Mottern. While working at the > Trinity factory, he was able to buy 40 acres of land. He cleared a hilltop > and built a tidy ranch house at the end of a long driveway, flanked by > tiny evergreen saplings. A barn is filled with a half-dozen pieces of John > Deere equipment, including a 1952 model he and his cousins rode on their > grandparents' farm. > "I'm not going to lose this," he says. "I'm willing to work so I know > someone out there is going to hire me. I always figured I could just go > and work with my hands. It's all I know," says Mr. Mottern. > After Mr. Mottern was laid off last summer he worked for a landscaper. > That winter he shoveled snow and ran errands for an elderly judge. Mr. > Mottern doesn't want to leave Butler because his family and girlfriend are > here. > He and Brad, his cousin, sometimes meet for a breakfast of eggs-over-easy > and home fries at Eat'N'Park restaurant. They often discuss their growing > fear that they are becoming obsolete. Both feel they are behind on > computer technology, which is increasingly important in factories. Brad > Karenbauer recently saw a John Deere tractor with a computerized panel in > the engine. "It was way out of my league," he says. > Prospects for workers with their skills are dim. Pennsylvania has lost one > out of 10 manufacturing jobs, or 90,300 jobs, in the past three years. > Industrial cities such as Butler have been disproportionately hit by job > loss. Earlier this year, unemployment in the county jumped to 7.3%, the > highest level since 1994. > Moreover, even though inflation-adjusted output by manufacturers > nationally is expected to grow 36% over the next decade, employment is > expected to grow only 3%, or by 577,000 jobs, according to the > Manufacturers Alliance. The bulk of the new jobs will be given to those > with computer, mathematics and management skills, while production workers > are expected to decline as a share of all manufacturing occupations. > The Butler Eagle carries some "help wanted" ads, but the skills and pay > don't fit their levels. United Plate Glass Co., with 45 employees, plans > to expand, but it can't afford these workers. "They have 10 to 12 years > with a company and I can't afford the salary level they have reached," > says President William Cully. > It's especially tough for midcareer workers with family responsibilities. > Almost 40, Brad Karenbauer has three kids. Along with his 14-month-old, he > is supporting a 17-year-old daughter and 13-year-old son. He passed over a > job paying $6.50 an hour. Another paid $8 an hour, but involved industrial > chemicals, which he thought would be dangerous. Mr. Karenbauer has a > friend from Trinity who went to work for the township, making $13 an hour. > "I'd take a job that makes that," he says. > So far, though, he hasn't found one. The $7,000 in his 401(k) is gone. He > used it to buy a car and pay off debt. With his unemployment running out > and in need of health insurance benefits, he finally took a job in April > at Harmony Castings, a 60-person foundry that paid $8.85 an hour. He drove > 45 minutes to get to the foundry and worked a midnight shift. > Standing in one spot eight hours a night, he took one aluminum part after > another and grinded off burrs to smooth them. "To be honest with you, I'm > not liking it at all," he said shortly after taking the job. "It's > repetition and I hate repetition." > For challenge and additional cash, he buys broken weed eaters and lawn > mowers at yard sales to repair and sell at a profit. He recently bought > one for $15, put in a new spark plug and sold it to a friend -- for $15. > "They were in the same predicament I'm in," he says. > His cousin, Mr. Mottern, lucked out and landed a job, also in April, > working on a railroad track crew. It pays $12 an hour, a $1.30-an-hour pay > cut from his old job at Trinity, but after a winter of shoveling snow and > summers of planting trees by the highway, he is thrilled. The job also has > the potential for benefits. "I'm going to go down and bust my rear end for > them," he says. > Most of the available jobs have been at malls. Mr. Karenbauer's older > brother, Jim, now works at the Wal-Mart Supercenter, which opened last > year. "There's four or five of us here now," says Jim Karenbauer, > referring to his former Trinity co-workers. He refinanced his house a few > years ago to pay for his daughter's college, and lost a chunk of his > retirement savings when the stock market sank, so he can't retire. > He'd prefer work in a forge department but couldn't find a job in one. At > Wal-Mart he makes $6.25 an hour, half of what he earned at Trinity. He > stocks shelves with VCRs and rings the cash register. He wheels television > sets out to the parking lot on a dolly. "Lifting them into the car is the > hard part," the 60-year-old says. "They get pretty heavy." > After a month at the casting foundry, Brad Karenbauer recently gave up his > job. He couldn't juggle the night shift and taking care of his daughter, > while his girlfriend worked. A landscaper put him to work mowing lawns and > doing odd jobs for cash. The work will dry up again once winter arrives, > so he's still looking. > He doesn't regret not going to college, or working with his hands. "I > think I've done better than my father," he says. "I just wonder where > things are going. That trade of working with your hands is just about gone > now." > ============================================================== > _______________________________________________ Futurework mailing list [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://scribe.uwaterloo.ca/mailman/listinfo/futurework
