Monowi, Nebraska: Requiem for the small town

Monowi had always been a small town. But it contained, within living memory, a school, a church, and a general store. And a tavern, of course--the only business still operating. Elsie Eiler, the proprietor, is also the town's mayor. This gives her the unique privilege of renewing her own liquor licence every year.

You see, in addition to being Monowi's mayor, she's also the town treasurer and tax collector. As well as being the only resident taxpayer. She is, in short, the sole resident of Monowi, and has been ever since her husband died several years ago.

What happened to the thriving town of Monowi to shutter its store, its church, and its school? Why are all its streets overgrown with grass? Why have all of its houses been left to collapse, many of them still containing the possessions of their last inhabitants? And why is the only business still standing a tavern?

We can trace the demise of this town back to the excessive regulations that have gradually made everything in town unprofitable, except getting people drunk. And oh--by the way--state regulations make it so unprofitable to transfer Elsie's liquor licence that she's stuck with running the tavern herself until the day she dies. So when she dies, so dies the town. The irony is that her tavern has no lack of customers; they just, for one reason or another, don't happen to live in Monowi.

Nebraska can be a hard place to make a living--especially for farmers. The Amish who followed Yost Yoder from Juniata County, Pennsylvania out to Gosper County, Nebraska 130 years ago found that out. The dry plains just didn't yield the kind of harvests they were used to, and within 25 years they had all packed up and moved back to Pennsylvania, where even to this day their hard-working and simple-living descendants are known as "Nebraska Amish."

They were the first Amish to leave Nebraska, but they weren't the last.

More farmers moved into Nebraska in the years leading up to World War One. Railroads crisscrossed the state, making it possible for farmers to sell their harvests to consumers thousands of miles away. Those who could hang in there through the lean years would make it all back, and more, when they harvested a bumper crop with the latest machinery. But the War brought many changes to Nebraska, including the first in a series of regulations that drove hard-working farmers and merchants from the rural areas, and from the state as a whole.

It started with the decree from the Nebraska State Council of Defense that banned teaching foreign languages in all schools in the state. This draconian measure, unthinkable today, was intended to inspire patriotism in the populace. A year later, they even banned the use of foreign languages in churches.

The Amish had the unfortunate distinction of not only using German in their church services, but also teaching it in their schools (so that their children would know how to read their German Bibles). Despite the fact that they had come to America for the very reason of escaping service in the Kaiser's armies, they were now labeled--for purely linguistic reasons--as enemy sympathisers. When the government moved in to shut down their parochial schools, the peace-loving Amish had had enough. To a man, they left the state--and have never returned, except to visit the graves of their ancestors. No one noticed it at the time, but the depopulation of rural Nebraska had already begun.

The War was now over; the State Council of Defense disbanded--but the regulations, as they always do, continued to mount. With the Amish gone, tractors began moving in. Mechanization now made it possible for one man to do the work of dozens. Children were no longer indispensable farm hands, but liabilities. The country schools that the Amish had left the state to avoid attending withered and died for lack of students to fill them. And as the schools closed, it was no longer feasible for families to live in the rural areas. Commutes to school stretched out to fifty, sixty, even seventy miles.

Back in Washington, D.C., legislators were reaching deeper and deeper into the pockets of Americans across the country, but spending that money disproportionately in urban districts. At the same time, legislators in Lincoln continued, year after year, to add to the ever-burdening list of regulations that everyone in the state, urban or rural, had to follow. It just wasn't cost-effective anymore to operate small stores and groceries. Selling raw milk became illegal, putting small dairies and the farms that supplied them out of business. Before long there was hardly anything that could be done profitably in the sparsely settled rural areas, except for getting people drunk. The demand for that never went away--not even in the cities, where the growing populations depended more and more on the largesse of the population at large. Driven from downtown by the rising crime rate, business and employed citizens moved to the suburbs.

Such is the foreseeable end of the overregulated populace: abandoned, decaying small towns and city centers, inhabited by hopeless drunks. EDIT SEPT 2024: Here is a rare YouTube video featuring Elsie, still the only resident of Monowi.

Hutterites to the rescue--Maybe.

Since my post on the immanent demise of Monowi, Nebraska is too old to update, I'll add this link here. And if the link goes dead, the text is below. Upshot: Monowi may just end up being bought by a Hutterite colony. They won't need the tavern.

A Hutterite colony in southwestern Manitoba is considering the unusual step of buying a shrinking rural town and moving in. The tiny population left in Mather, Man., 170 kilometres southwest of Winnipeg, have learned the neighbouring Willow Creek Colony wants to purchase the community — including houses, a post office, an arena and the streets tying them all together. The approximately 30 residents of Mather were baffled by the offer, according to the owner of the local autobody shop — and he says a number of them, like him, don't plan to go anywhere. "It was maybe a little more bewilderment and shock, I think, than anything," said Bob Yake, 69, referring to a meeting last month where the Hutterite colony explained why it wanted a town that is a shadow of its former self. Buying town a 'running start' The Hutterites — anabaptists who live minimalistic, self-sufficient and communal lives — have grown beyond the ability of their colony to support their population, they told their neighbours. When that happens, Hutterite colonies split up, usually starting slowly in a new location. Typically, a few homes pop up, linked to water and sewer systems the colony members have constructed. They build more homes then, and places to work so the new colony can become self-sufficient. It can take a decade or more for one colony to become two. But in Mather, the Hutterites probably saw opportunity, according to an author finishing a book on Hutterite history. A town with existing infrastructure could be a "running start" toward establishing a new colony, said Johnny Hofer, a former teacher at James Valley Hutterite Colony, near Elie, Man. Hofer, who has heard of Willow Creek's plans, believes their thinking is outside the box, and virtually unheard of. "If you buy a town like that, the sewer system is there, the electrical is there, the houses are there, there's a couple bigger buildings," he said. "You don't get that [often], where you can buy something and then have 24 houses available to you overnight." Hofer said there are few similar cases he could think of, aside from a colony near Portage la Prairie, Man., which was fashioned out of an airport base, and a South Dakota colony that bought a seniors' home on the edge of a town. But Jock Lehr, a former University of Winnipeg scholar who wrote his own book about the Hutterites, said a similar move occurred nearly a century ago, when Hutterites bought a Mennonite community near Plum Coulee, Man. Blumengart Hutterite Colony has been in existence since 1922. Mather won't be bought: residents Willow Creek leadership are planning to make purchase offers to each property owner in Mather, but according to Yake, the colony must convince everybody to sell, since outsiders cannot live within a colony. He doesn't see that happening. "I'm personally not angry at the Hutterites or anything. I can see their point of view: they're overpopulated, and by their own rules they have to split off and start again," Yake said. "But I'm almost certain that they're not going to come up with enough loot to persuade everybody to clear out." Mather isn't growing, he says, but it isn't extinct either. "We're not quite dead yet as a community." The Hutterite colony declined an interview request on Friday. "Willow Creek Colony is in the early stages of discussions with individual property owners," Andrew Marshall, a lawyer representing the colony, said in an email Saturday. "A private question and answer session restricted to residents of Mather and immediately adjacent land owners is being held on Monday prior to any offers being made. Further information will be available as discussions progress." Google Maps More Story continues Jamie Dousselaere, the reeve of the municipality of Cartwright-Roblin — which includes Mather — did not return a request for comments. Art Harms, chairman of the local urban district of Mather, declined an interview. Other community members also declined to speak. In Yake's 41 years in Mather, he's seen two grocery stores, a school, a hardware store, a bank and an insurance agency wind up operations, as the population slipped from close to 120 residents to about 30 people. The hall and post office are still around. The rink is now a horse-riding arena. They're at the point in their life where they want to move or go somewhere else or do something else — and they see it as a way out. - Mather resident Phil Lees Yake hasn't received a direct overture, but was told by neighbours the Hutterite colony was offering around 1.5 times the assessed value for properties. That won't come close to letting him move elsewhere and buy a home, he said. At 64 years old, Phil Lees says he's one of the youngest people living in Mather. The grain hauler thought somebody was pulling his leg when he heard the Hutterites wanted to move into town. "There are some people who are kind of excited about it," Lees said. "They're at the point in their life where they want to move or go somewhere else or do something else — and they see it as a way out." But the community is split, he said. Some of his family members want to stay, while others are fine with leaving. He estimates there are 18 households in the community, and figures at least six of those homes have occupants who aren't going to be uprooted. "I don't want to move, let's put it that way," Lees said. "We're not excited about going. It's home. It's where we live and it's who we are."

A short post, for a change

I wrote earlier about the government regulators running the Amish out of Nebraska. Now, not having any "Krauts" on which to wreak their vengeance, they've gone after the homeschoolers.

The Amish have returned to Nebraska

In earlier posts I wrote about the Nebraskan legislature running resident Amish out of the state--but according to this data, they're moving back:

Map: U.S. counties with extant Amish settlements as of 2010,  Association of Statisticians of American Religious Bodies.


Amish communities are spreading at the rate of nearly 15 a year. Since they need lots of land to live on, that means emigrating to wherever land is cheap and Amtrak routes (red lines on the map) or bus lines allow them to get back home to visit. Or to return, if things get too hot for them in their new home.

The two Nebraskan counties now recording Amish residents are directly to the East and South of the beleaguered town of Monowi, now only one obituary away from becoming a ghost town.

So, there may be hope for Monowi. Once its last residence dies and the tavern closes down, don't be surprised if an Amish community buys out the whole town and turns the former tavern into a bent-and-dent bulk food store.

The upcoming American Civil War

America is going to experience a civil war. Whether this will be her first, second, or third Civil War will be left to the historians to squabble over, but this one will be different than the War of American Independence (in which rival political parties warred each other) and the War Between the States (in which federalists battled statists). This time the war won't be between the North and the South, or between Whigs and Tories, it will be between the Cities and the Countryside. What happened in Louisiana following Hurricane Katrina served as a prelude for what is to come.

UPDATE JULY 2013
This website, excerpted below, vindicates the above.

“That a majority of Colorado Republicans with the most conservative voting records are from Weld County speaks volumes about our county,” Saine said. “This shows that the Democrats from areas such as Boulder and Denver really are out of touch with the rural values we espouse here.”
Garcia said since they have come out on this issue they have received calls from counties in other states asking commissioners about the issue.
“We have received phone calls from citizens in the Nebraska panhandle complaining about how they are having the same issue with Omaha that we are having with Denver, Garcia said. “Then last week we talked to people in New Mexico who are interested in part of peeling part of the state off and joining with Texas.
“In each of these cases rural residents are being disenfranchised by the populated urban areas of their state who are attempting to pass regulations that may make sense in a city but are not necessary in rural areas.”

The Hand of God

This is such an incredible story I decided to offer it without comment. It's from the Whiskey & Gunpowder website (a site usually devoted to investment advice)
**********
And finally, a reader named Jon, from Virginia, forwarded this very interesting message: "You might be interested in a life-defining event during this time. (It was) ... some time in March of 1968, but I wonder if what happened to me relates to this Red Star Rogue event that I only learned about recently (Red Star Rogue is a book about the foiled Nuclear Attack on Pearl Harbor in March 1968).

"I was a very young pastor in Lincoln, Nebraska, just out of seminary. I was praying late one night in our church office when I felt a tremendous terror: it was like I could "see" a Satanic figure entering the front doors of our church, walking down the main aisle of the sanctuary getting ready to turn left toward our offices. I have never, ever experienced such utter horror and fear. I was praying frantically, confessing any sin, but suddenly found myself desperately screaming in prayer for the safety of our country. After a long time, toward about 2 AM, as I remember, I felt it was over and that we were OK. At the time, I had the strong impression (and had told others later) that some nut case in Russia was about to pull the nuclear trigger. I naturally had doubts about my discerning such an event, because it all sounded so implausible. But at the same time I couldn't account for my prayer experience that was so unspeakably real and powerful.

"That week I told friends about this prayer experience. Five of them told me that they had felt it necessary to pray for the safety of the country that week, something that was very unusual for them, so I felt that I wasn't the only one that sensed the danger. I have had a few other similar experiences like this (like for personal protection or healing), that proved to be valid, but never, ever anything so intense and terrifying.

"I always wondered what in the world was going on during that time, but never had any possible answer until Thursday of this week, when I read a summary of Red Star Rogue."

"So, ya gotta wonder, Who ultimately controls the destinies of nations!"
************

Well, on second thought, I will make a brief comment. This story strikes home.

I've never personally experienced a prayer session quite like this one, but I've received emails from people who did. Several of them concerned the 2000 election. At that time, several people were convinced that the fate of America tottered in the balance, and if George Bush lost the election great disaster would result. They were convinced that only desperate prayer would sway the vote to his side. What happened? A vote so close as to be inconceivable; the president of the United States won with a minority of the popular vote by winning the electoral college by a margin of some 250 votes out of an electorate of several million in the State of Florida. No national election before or since has been won by such an infinitesimal percentage of the vote. Perhaps one less person praying would have swung the vote the other way. I know one woman in Florida who was rushed to the emergency room on Election Day. She felt such a heavy weight of responsibility on her to cast her vote for Bush that she obtained, and filled out from her bed in the hospital, an absentee ballot--knowing that it wouldn't even be counted unless the vote turned out to be extremely close.

It was.

But God's hand does not always protect America. Nor does he always offer his people the opportunity to pray their country out of mortal danger.

On September 10, 2001 I attended a chapel service at the headquarters of a mission agency. One of the volunteers was there with a message on her heart from the Lord. It was such a burden to her that she had to share it, though she had not spoken in that chapel before, nor has she since. Her message: Muslims hate Israel so much (because the Jews are God's chosen people and they aren't), that they even hate America just for supporting Israel. They are doing their best to suicide-bomb Israel into oblivion, and WE ARE NEXT.

The next morning I awoke to the news of 9/11.


(disclaimer: This blogger did not vote for George Bush in 2000).