As wages fall, workers slip from middle class - Amid the demise of manufacturing jobs, the birthright of a nice home, college for the kids is under si
As wages fall, workers slip from middle class - Amid the demise of manufacturing jobs, the birthright of a nice home, college for the kids is under siege
By Tim Jones
Copyright © 2007, Chicago Tribune
July 25, 2007
DAYTON, Ohio - No job lasts forever, especially a $30-an-hour assembly line job. Cheryl Seaton recognized that a long time ago, which is why she went back to college to pick up a degree that would insulate her from the economic wreckage she sensed was coming.
It didn't help. When the end neared for her auto parts assembly plant last year, Seaton, 52, walked off the loading dock, armed with a bachelor's degree. In January she began work as a mental health caseworker for a third less money.
Seaton is paid $9.45 an hour, less than what her 21-year-old daughter earns as a truck dispatcher.
"I got a four-year degree, and that and a dollar will get me a cup of coffee at McDonald's," Seaton said.
This is one of the painful, personal back stories of the dramatic demise of American heavy manufacturing, especially in the Midwest. In old industrial cities such as Dayton, home of the Wright brothers and creative spark for the electric ignition, shock absorbers and the automatic transmission, thousands of manufacturing workers who lost their jobs are absorbing the bitter reality that their new jobs almost always pay substantially less than their old ones did.
Dayton's poverty rates are soaring, and the middle-class birthright of a comfortable home, college for the kids and maybe a cabin by the lake is under siege. Mortgage foreclosure rates are among Ohio's highest. A Dayton food pantry operated by the AFL-CIO handed out 28,000 boxes of food in 2005. Last year that number exploded to almost 250,000, and labor officials expect the figure to top 300,000 this year.
"This is not a union issue, it's a community issue," said Kristie McElfresh, vice president and director of AFL-CIO Community Services of Greater Dayton. "The gap between the haves and have-nots is huge, and there's nobody in the middle."
The middle in Dayton used to be represented by General Motors and Delphi Corp. workers who formed the backbone of a city with a storied industrial history.
More than 6,800 of those jobs have been eliminated in the past 18 months, and more job losses are almost certainly coming. Delphi, the giant auto parts supplier that filed for bankruptcy in 2005, is selling or closing about two dozen plants, five of which are in the Dayton area, and drastically cutting wages for workers who remain.
Jason Deaton, 30, worked as a laborer for Delphi for seven years. Last year he earned about $63,000, and with his job and his wife's teaching position they topped $100,000 in income. Deaton received a $70,000 buyout last year and is training to become a police officer. He'll graduate in August and hopes to be on a police force early next year. There is no job guarantee.
The pay cut will be at least a third and possibly more than 40 percent, Deaton said. He has a 3-year-old son, and his wife is pregnant. He is worried.
"Sometimes I wonder, 'Why did I walk away?'" Deaton said. "But I look at where the U.S. is going in manufacturing, and it's not in the U.S. I don't want to be 40 or 50 and worry about being outsourced."
Charmaine Trayvick left her job at the GM truck plant last year and is now working part time for the Transportation Security Administration at Dayton International Airport. Her wages have been cut by a third.
"The Lord had something different in mind for me, and it's not making trucks."
'This is going to be a struggle'
Trayvick is happy to be out of the physically demanding assembly job, but she knows her part-time job at the TSA isn't a long-term solution for a single mom with an 11-year-old son. "This is going to be a struggle at some point," she said.
Dayton is among dozens of cities, big and small, where wages have slipped or stagnated while poverty rates have jumped. A common remark heard from industrial workers around the Midwest is echoed by 33-year-old laborer Ken Fitzwater, who expects to lose his $30-an-hour job at a Dayton Delphi plant later this year.
"I figured this was a job for life," said a bitter Fitzwater.
Julian Peasant, 50, earned $85,000 at a Delphi plant last year. He expects his job to end before January. He looks at his son, who works at another Dayton assembly plant, and sees the future: $13.72 an hour.
"I don't know what I'll do," Peasant said, "but I won't go to Wal-Mart and have an 18-year-old tell me what to do for 6 bucks an hour."
Dayton and Montgomery County officials anticipated the disruption and built an 8 1/2 -acre job center, where they help direct people to be trained for jobs in health care, trucking, heating and cooling, law enforcement and other fields. The center is next to a large St. Vincent de Paul secondhand store.
Worst of layoffs yet to come
Lucious Plant is the center's workforce development coordinator. He says the worst of the layoffs is yet to come.
"This is a drama that is not complete," Plant said.
The same goes for the effects. McElfresh, noting that more than 25 percent of the job eliminations involve households with at least two assembly plant wage earners, expects demand at the food pantry to increase this year beyond 250,000 monthly food boxes.
"They come in, pick up the food and leave. They don't talk about their situation," said Marion Kelly, a retired meat cutter who volunteered to run the pantry.
Last month Montgomery County, with a population of 531,000, reported 1,310 mortgage foreclosures. Voters in Dayton turned down a school tax proposal, and there is talk of teacher layoffs.
"I don't know that anyone is insulated from the domino effect of lost income in the community," Plant said.
Many workers last year received lump-sum buyouts of up to $140,000, depending on years of service. Tony Curington, 56, a former United Auto Workers union vice president, walked away with the maximum. He is on his wife's health insurance and is working as a consultant to the job center, helping people find work.
Curington said many ex-assembly line workers didn't manage their money well. These are middle-class wage earners at risk of slipping into poverty.
"They bought expensive toys or paid down debt. Now they're equity-rich and income-poor," Curington said. "And I think a lot of them are waiting for that $25-an-hour job that doesn't exist anymore. ... There's a whole lot of rethinking going on."
Seaton can't help but rethink her situation. She did not get a buyout. She qualified for a GM pension and has health insurance. However, she drained her savings and borrowed from an insurance policy to pay college loans. Seaton has a mortgage, and her daughter lives with her. Her car is 11 years old, with 140,000 miles on it.
Seaton knew she would take a financial hit as a caseworker, earning perhaps $30,000 to $35,000 a year. At her current wage she's making less than $20,000 a year.
"I feel satisfied that at least I have a job that I enjoy. There are people in worse situations," Seaton said. "But at $9.45 an hour, I can't save anything and I can't do anything."
----------
tmjones@tribune.com
By Tim Jones
Copyright © 2007, Chicago Tribune
July 25, 2007
DAYTON, Ohio - No job lasts forever, especially a $30-an-hour assembly line job. Cheryl Seaton recognized that a long time ago, which is why she went back to college to pick up a degree that would insulate her from the economic wreckage she sensed was coming.
It didn't help. When the end neared for her auto parts assembly plant last year, Seaton, 52, walked off the loading dock, armed with a bachelor's degree. In January she began work as a mental health caseworker for a third less money.
Seaton is paid $9.45 an hour, less than what her 21-year-old daughter earns as a truck dispatcher.
"I got a four-year degree, and that and a dollar will get me a cup of coffee at McDonald's," Seaton said.
This is one of the painful, personal back stories of the dramatic demise of American heavy manufacturing, especially in the Midwest. In old industrial cities such as Dayton, home of the Wright brothers and creative spark for the electric ignition, shock absorbers and the automatic transmission, thousands of manufacturing workers who lost their jobs are absorbing the bitter reality that their new jobs almost always pay substantially less than their old ones did.
Dayton's poverty rates are soaring, and the middle-class birthright of a comfortable home, college for the kids and maybe a cabin by the lake is under siege. Mortgage foreclosure rates are among Ohio's highest. A Dayton food pantry operated by the AFL-CIO handed out 28,000 boxes of food in 2005. Last year that number exploded to almost 250,000, and labor officials expect the figure to top 300,000 this year.
"This is not a union issue, it's a community issue," said Kristie McElfresh, vice president and director of AFL-CIO Community Services of Greater Dayton. "The gap between the haves and have-nots is huge, and there's nobody in the middle."
The middle in Dayton used to be represented by General Motors and Delphi Corp. workers who formed the backbone of a city with a storied industrial history.
More than 6,800 of those jobs have been eliminated in the past 18 months, and more job losses are almost certainly coming. Delphi, the giant auto parts supplier that filed for bankruptcy in 2005, is selling or closing about two dozen plants, five of which are in the Dayton area, and drastically cutting wages for workers who remain.
Jason Deaton, 30, worked as a laborer for Delphi for seven years. Last year he earned about $63,000, and with his job and his wife's teaching position they topped $100,000 in income. Deaton received a $70,000 buyout last year and is training to become a police officer. He'll graduate in August and hopes to be on a police force early next year. There is no job guarantee.
The pay cut will be at least a third and possibly more than 40 percent, Deaton said. He has a 3-year-old son, and his wife is pregnant. He is worried.
"Sometimes I wonder, 'Why did I walk away?'" Deaton said. "But I look at where the U.S. is going in manufacturing, and it's not in the U.S. I don't want to be 40 or 50 and worry about being outsourced."
Charmaine Trayvick left her job at the GM truck plant last year and is now working part time for the Transportation Security Administration at Dayton International Airport. Her wages have been cut by a third.
"The Lord had something different in mind for me, and it's not making trucks."
'This is going to be a struggle'
Trayvick is happy to be out of the physically demanding assembly job, but she knows her part-time job at the TSA isn't a long-term solution for a single mom with an 11-year-old son. "This is going to be a struggle at some point," she said.
Dayton is among dozens of cities, big and small, where wages have slipped or stagnated while poverty rates have jumped. A common remark heard from industrial workers around the Midwest is echoed by 33-year-old laborer Ken Fitzwater, who expects to lose his $30-an-hour job at a Dayton Delphi plant later this year.
"I figured this was a job for life," said a bitter Fitzwater.
Julian Peasant, 50, earned $85,000 at a Delphi plant last year. He expects his job to end before January. He looks at his son, who works at another Dayton assembly plant, and sees the future: $13.72 an hour.
"I don't know what I'll do," Peasant said, "but I won't go to Wal-Mart and have an 18-year-old tell me what to do for 6 bucks an hour."
Dayton and Montgomery County officials anticipated the disruption and built an 8 1/2 -acre job center, where they help direct people to be trained for jobs in health care, trucking, heating and cooling, law enforcement and other fields. The center is next to a large St. Vincent de Paul secondhand store.
Worst of layoffs yet to come
Lucious Plant is the center's workforce development coordinator. He says the worst of the layoffs is yet to come.
"This is a drama that is not complete," Plant said.
The same goes for the effects. McElfresh, noting that more than 25 percent of the job eliminations involve households with at least two assembly plant wage earners, expects demand at the food pantry to increase this year beyond 250,000 monthly food boxes.
"They come in, pick up the food and leave. They don't talk about their situation," said Marion Kelly, a retired meat cutter who volunteered to run the pantry.
Last month Montgomery County, with a population of 531,000, reported 1,310 mortgage foreclosures. Voters in Dayton turned down a school tax proposal, and there is talk of teacher layoffs.
"I don't know that anyone is insulated from the domino effect of lost income in the community," Plant said.
Many workers last year received lump-sum buyouts of up to $140,000, depending on years of service. Tony Curington, 56, a former United Auto Workers union vice president, walked away with the maximum. He is on his wife's health insurance and is working as a consultant to the job center, helping people find work.
Curington said many ex-assembly line workers didn't manage their money well. These are middle-class wage earners at risk of slipping into poverty.
"They bought expensive toys or paid down debt. Now they're equity-rich and income-poor," Curington said. "And I think a lot of them are waiting for that $25-an-hour job that doesn't exist anymore. ... There's a whole lot of rethinking going on."
Seaton can't help but rethink her situation. She did not get a buyout. She qualified for a GM pension and has health insurance. However, she drained her savings and borrowed from an insurance policy to pay college loans. Seaton has a mortgage, and her daughter lives with her. Her car is 11 years old, with 140,000 miles on it.
Seaton knew she would take a financial hit as a caseworker, earning perhaps $30,000 to $35,000 a year. At her current wage she's making less than $20,000 a year.
"I feel satisfied that at least I have a job that I enjoy. There are people in worse situations," Seaton said. "But at $9.45 an hour, I can't save anything and I can't do anything."
----------
tmjones@tribune.com
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