Americans struggle through a day in the recession

2009-05-04 10:20:44

By SHARON COHEN, AP National Writer Sharon Cohen, Ap National Writer Sun May

3, 7:57 am ET

It's a rainy spring morning and Tamara Ogier plants herself at a table in a

Spartan room in the Atlanta federal courthouse, computer and tape recorder at

hand, ready to hear another day's stories of financial ruin.

Couples facing foreclosure. Down-and-out real estate agents. Merchants who've

shut their doors. Some clutch folders, some couples hold on to each other as

they sit on pew-like benches, waiting to tell the court-appointed bankruptcy

trustee how they ended up deep in debt.

"I understand the assumption that we're the guys in the black hats," Ogier

says, but "there are a lot of times when I'm actually able to do a lot of

good."

It's a sunny morning 745 miles away, as Jerry Miller tools along Iowa's back

roads, grumbling about folks who can't manage their money. He has just one

credit card. He has no debts, but at almost 75, he feels he needs to keep

working just to keep pace. He wonders, too, if he'll have to sacrifice for

other people's mistakes.

"I can't believe because they got themselves in this situation, it's falling on

us to pay it back," he says, heading to the first pharmacy where he'll make

deliveries on this day. "Lord, you're going to set a college kid loose with a

credit card? Buy a house that costs ten times your salary?"

He punctuates his disapproval with his favorite expression: Pffffft.

It's morning in America but it's not a good morning.

The nation is suffering in a deep recession, there's no denying that:

Unemployment is at its highest level in more than 25 years. The auto industry

is on the skids. Foreclosure and for-sale signs are as common in some

communities as street lights.

And more bleak days seem to be ahead.

Many private economists expect the monthly jobless rate will climb to 10

percent by the end of the year it already has surpassed that level in states

such as Michigan, South Carolina and Rhode Island.

The bankruptcy rate is rising, too. Nearly 1.2 million debtors filed for

bankruptcy in a year period ending in April, according to federal court records

collected and analyzed by The Associated Press. In March, nearly 131,000 sought

bankruptcy protection an increase of 46 percent over a year earlier.

Those are the numbers. Then there are the people.

This is the story of one day, and how Americans spent those hours in the shadow

of economic distress, from worried debtors in a Georgia courthouse to a

prospective home buyer in Michigan, from a worker in the Rhode Island food

pantry to an Arizona contractor struggling to find jobs.

On this April day, no one person typifies hard times: In California, it's a

homeless Army Reservist who joined up when he couldn't find work and sleeps in

his 17-year-old car. In Florida, it's a Jaguar-driving pawn shop customer who

sells DVDs for gas money. In South Carolina, it's an unemployed factory worker

who finds comfort in prayer.

And in Greenwich, Conn., home to hedge fund billionaires, it's David Rabin, who

lost his $100,000 job last October as a senior vice president for a small

financial services firm. He spends part of his morning in his basement, job

hunting.

In better times, Rabin would be preparing for his annual spring golfing trip

with three buddies at his condo in Myrtle Beach, S.C. Instead, the 48-year-old

Rabin, wearing jeans, a blue hockey sweat shirt and white sneakers, is poring

over Monster.com and other online job boards. He sends out 10 resumes a day,

but has had few nibbles in six months.

A day earlier, he learned he didn't get a job recruiting members for a gym.

That hurt.

"I didn't sleep a freakin' wink," he says. "If I don't fit that job, what the

hell am I going to do?"

Rabin's wife, Lauren, has a marketing job. And he receives $476 weekly

unemployment about a quarter of his former salary that runs out in July.

Both checks keep them afloat.

Rabin copes by keeping busy. He and Lauren compile a daily list of chores. Each

time he completes one, he checks off a box.

Today's list: Drive his 19-year-old son to school. Search online for cheaper

auto and home insurance. (No luck there.) Look for work; his target area has

expanded to Buffalo, N.Y., Ohio and Florida any city where he has friends or

relatives. Walk the dog. Buy flip flops for his Florida-bound wife. Work out at

the YMCA. Paint the basement.

"You have no idea how humbling all this is," he says. "It's extremely humbling.

I'm ready to go to Stop & Shop and start bagging groceries."

"I've been in this situation before and I wasn't nearly as frightened," he

says. "This is the Great Recession we're in."

___

But watching Jim Juristy work, you wouldn't know that we're in hard times.

A nursing supervisor in Morgantown, W.Va., Juristy will spend his 12-hour shift

at Ruby Memorial Hospital trying to fill jobs, calling, cajoling and charming

nurses to come to work.

Not only is Juristy in a relatively secure profession, but he lives in a

thriving area (the county's jobless rate is a relatively low 4 percent), home

of West Virginia University and some recession-proof employers.

A former coal miner, the 54-year-old Juristy made the unlikely transition in

the mid 1990s after his mine closed. With baby boomers aging, he thought health

care would be a growth industry. So he went to nursing school.

"I figured I could adapt or become a dinosaur. And dinosaurs became extinct, so

I thought I'd darn well better adapt," he says.

On this April morning when WVU Hospitals which include Ruby Memorial had

200 job openings, TV news is announcing higher-than-expected March unemployment

rates.

Juristy doesn't hear a word. He's telling a supervisor: "We need seven nurses

at 11, and we have three. It's a good day!"

He calls charge nurses and approves overtime. He tells his wife, Stephanie, a

part-time clerical worker at the hospital, to start calling contractors, a pool

of nurses from Maryland, Pennsylvania and West Virginia who earn $42 an hour

(but no benefits) by working extra shifts.

When she starts dialing around 10:30 a.m., there are 11 jobs to fill.

___

At the opposite end of the country, in Scottsdale, Ariz., 36-year-old Mark

Zimmerman is struggling, too. The contractor's printer spits out an estimate

for a project he never would have taken two years ago: replacing concrete

blocks supporting a carport.

The numbers aren't pretty: Three days of labor. About $35 an hour for his

workers. Another $250 in material. Zimmerman does some fast math on a handheld

calculator. He gets 10 percent, so he'll make a meager $109.

"That doesn't cover me for anything not my time sitting and putting the bid

together, not my time driving out to go look at it," he says. "I'm actually

losing money."

But Zimmerman wants to make sure his two full-time workers don't leave to find

other jobs before the construction industry picks up. He hands the estimate to

his assistant.

"$1,594?" she asks, eyebrows raised. "That's it?"

The downturn in construction has rippled across the Sun Belt, from Arizona to

Florida, where the pawn shop is often the stop of last resort.

At Best Value Jewelry and Pawn in the working-class town of Fort Pierce,

manager Scott Herman first noticed trouble signs about 18 months ago. As

construction dried up, so many workers wanted to pawn or sell tools that Herman

had to stop accepting them.

In St. Lucie County, the jobless rate in construction hovers around 40 percent;

foreclosures (about 10,000 in 2008) more than doubled from a year earlier.

Standing behind glass cabinets in a store filled with diamond rings, pearl

bracelets, stereos, televisions, even centuries-old silver Spanish coins,

Sherman says he hears a similar refrain.

"I need to make sure my electric bill stays on ... I can't make my mortgage

payment."

At 10:55 a.m., Tim Salyer, a 42-year-old unemployed construction worker,

proffers an acoustic guitar in a beat-up case. He lives with his mom, who just

lost her job as a nurse.

"Trying to hang in there," he says, sunglasses covering his left eye, blinded

in a car crash at 16. "There is no work out there."

Salyer pawns his guitar for $50. He'll need $62 to retrieve it.

"I can't believe I gotta part with it. I played it all night last night, so

hopefully I got it out of my system. Hopefully, I'll be able to get it back,"

he says with a heavy sigh. "But I'm riding on reserve in my car. Gotta put a

little gas in there."

Outside, Salyer clutches the cash, glancing at his 2004 purple Chrysler. He and

his mother can no longer make the $300 monthly payment.

Soon he'll head to the dealership to give it up.

"So long PT Cruiser," he says, wiping his brow in the sun.

___

By late morning, Tamara Ogier, the Atlanta federal bankruptcy trustee, has

wrapped up about 30 interviews.

She is a gentle-but-firm interrogator, sifting through the financial records of

the debtors, looking for anything of value a home, a car, a diamond ring

that can be sold to satisfy creditors.

It takes just five minutes to hear how a life has unraveled.

A 40-year-old former accounting consultant, looking forlorn and wearing a

button-down shirt and dark pants, tells Ogier in a near whisper that his

clothes are all he owns. His business fell off last summer.

"I'm just hoping things will turn around," he says later, adding that he plans

to return to school to take more accounting courses.

A Vietnamese couple who owned a hair and tanning salon explain, through a

translator, they have a staggering $600,000 credit card debt. The husband was

getting free credit cards in the mail, and using one to pay off the other.

Over and over, Ogier calmly asks the same questions: Will they receive any life

insurance or inheritance within the next six months? Have they bought a vehicle

in the last six months?

These kinds of crushing debts are unimaginable to Jerry Miller, the frugal

Iowan. He has never bought a new car and still lives in the house he got for

$8,500 in 1960, the house where he and his wife of 54 years, Barbara, raised

six kids.

This is a man who once logged every purchase he made in a year down to a .29

cent pint of ice cream.

As the silver-haired grandfather heads toward another pharmacy on his

five-stop, 160-mile route, Miller talks about fiscal responsibility. It's not

just about money, he says. It's reputation, too.

"If you've got a good name, they can't take that away from you," he says,

jabbing a finger in the air to make a point.

It would have been nice, he adds, if he had a choice about retirement. But

Miller says he needs the cash from this 15-hour a week job to pay for health

care for himself and his wife.

Just after 12:30 p.m., Miller arrives home in Conrad, Iowa and the veteran of

many recessions has some parting words:

"This, right now, is something different," he says. "You've got to have faith

in the system. But can you tell me, where did all the money go?"

___

It's just past 1 p.m. in Morgantown, W.Va., and Jim Juristy still needs 10

nurses to cover all shifts.

No sweat.

"If you had 10 people call off in a coal mine, that's a whole unit," he says.

We have the resources and the people we can call who are willing to come in.

It's an opportunity to make more money. That's why people work."

The search goes on.

___

In San Francisco, Khaaliq Parker, 32, is mounting his own search.

The unemployed auto mechanic is holed up in a cubicle at Career Link employment

center in the Mission District, checking e-mail for responses to resumes he has

sent out.

"The job market is really tough," he says. "It's crazy. I don't give up."

Parker was laid off a year ago and has been homeless since December. Until

then, he had lived in Oakland with his wife and 4-year-old son and her parents,

but he says they kicked him out when he wasn't making progress looking for

work.

So he sleeps in his 1992 red Mustang.

Today is a good day, all things considered. Parker receives his first

$422-monthly workfare assistance check; he washed city buses in the morning to

help earn that. He also squeezes by with food stamps and $60 a month from the

Army Reserve.

Parker, clad in a gray ARMY T-shirt, joined several months ago to bolster his

resume and get job training. He may be headed to Afghanistan within a year.

He's resigned to it.

Parker is far from alone. In March, the nation's jobless rate rose to 8.5

percent more than 13 million Americans. The recession, experts say, has

eliminated more jobs as a proportion of the work force than any downturn since

1958.

The crash in the housing market is partly to blame.

Take Joe (no last name, please.) He says he was a well-known real estate agent

before the housing bubble burst. Now he's jobless, driving a 2005 Jaguar,

carrying some DVDs and a red suitcase-like tool kit into the Fort Pierce, Fla.,

pawn shop.

"It's sad, it's real sad," he says over his shoulder. "And it's embarrassing."

Moments later he returns, hopping into his Jaguar, looking defeated.

"Got some gas money now," he says, "so I guess I'm doing OK."

Paul Maples quit his job as a medical technician in January and can't find a

replacement. Doing odd jobs around his girlfriend's downtown clothing store is

not enough.

He enters the pawn shop, hauling a big box of stereo speakers in one arm and a

chain saw in the other.

"Fridge is empty," he announces, "but we're getting by."

The news isn't good. The pawn shop dealer has no need for the chain saw. And

$15 is his final offer for the speakers.

"No, those are $200 speakers!" Maples protests.

"Sorry, that's the best I can do," the dealer says.

Maples shakes his head in disgust, plunks the speakers in a red wheelbarrow and

wheels them down the street.

"Times are tough," he says, "but they ain't that tough."

___

Rhode Island has weathered some of the toughest times in this recession. In

March, the state's unemployment was 10.5 percent.

At the Woodlawn Baptist Church, in a poor section of Pawtucket, the number of

families visiting the weekly food kitchen has doubled since the winter.

By 3:15 p.m., workers have stacked tables with boxes of red tomatoes and yellow

apples, containers of onions, kaiser rolls and whole-grain bread, lemon

meringue pie and crumb cake.

Carolyn Profughi, the church clerk who runs the pantry, spends a lot of time

listening to other people's troubles.

"You want to try to help them as much as you possibly can," she says. "Some of

them bring their children with them your heart just goes out to these

kiddos."

This day, Christine Fuss, 46, sips a paper bowl of Italian wedding soup in the

church basement and talks of how she lost her job as a hairdressing instructor

last year because of complications from multiple sclerosis. She shares a leaky,

bare-bones apartment with her cats and goldfish.

"No food, no money, no help," she explains.

She pauses, holding a spoonful of soup near her mouth.

"Spent out," she continues, adding that she has recently begun feeling

desperate.

"There's a lot of God in me," she adds, "because otherwise I wouldn't keep

getting up."

Lynette Davis leans on her faith, too. Tonight, the widow joins a friend for a

weekly Bible study group at a red-brick church a dozen miles from her South

Carolina home, where about two dozen parishioners sit on folding chairs. They

begin with a hymn and prayer, then turn to the book of Matthew.

Over three decades, Davis has worked at a now-shuttered Russell Stover candy

plant, a textile mill that closed when the jobs moved overseas and an auto

parts factory that trimmed its work force leaving her unemployed since last

June.

Finding work in Marion County, where unemployment exceeds 20 percent, seems

near impossible. Davis recently enrolled in a technical college, hoping to

become a pastry chef.

She's not one to despair.

"I have running water," she says. "I have lights. I have my kids and I have my

family. I feel good about life. There is always someone out there worse off

than I am. ... I was brought up to know the Lord will make a way and that's

what he has been doing."

One day, she says, her light and water bills were due "and I didn't have a

dime. I went to the mailbox and there was a check. All I could say was 'Thank

you, Jesus.' I know it wasn't nobody but him."

___

As night approaches, Jim Juristy has four open beds and figures the 11 p.m.

shift will get by OK if he can just get two more nurses for the West Virginia

hospital.

"Actually, this has not been that bad a day," he says.

Enough people call in. At 6:35 p.m., he has reached his goal.

___

Ten minutes later, Ballroom B at the DeVos Place convention center in downtown

Grand Rapids, Mich., is humming with anticipation.

About 450 people are waiting to bid on nearly 75 foreclosed homes being

auctioned off this night. For the right price, one family's misfortune can

become another's American dream.

Auctioneer Mike Carr tries to break the tension with a mock auction, supposedly

for a Las Vegas home. When the bidding stops at $1 million, a photo is flashed

on a large TV screen an old flatbed truck carrying a rundown shack. How could

someone fork over $1 million for a house, Carr asks, without seeing it first?

Laughter ripples through the crowded ballroom.

Tonight's first property for sale is a mobile home on 3.62 acres. Its previous

value: $199,900. The starting bid: a lowly $1,000. Within two minutes, the home

is sold for just $15,000.

Next up is one of four houses that Marilyn Heidenfelder wants to bid on three

bedrooms, 2,280-square-feet, valued at $204,000. She's hoping to buy a place

for her 41-year-old daughter, a school bus driver and mother of three, who

recently lost her house when her mortgage increased $350 a month.

Heidenfelder hasn't told her daughter, so she wouldn't get her hopes up.

The 61-year-old retiree is bargain hunting tonight. She doesn't want to spend

any more than $20,000. But the bidding quickly exceeds her limit. The first

home she wanted goes for $105,000.

The auction continues at a breakneck pace, with tuxedo-clad men in the audience

prowling the aisles, shouting the latest bids to the auctioneer as houses are

flashed on five TV screens. Carr doesn't stop for an instant.

Heidenfelder is no more successful when the three other houses she had scouted

out are sold. The cheapest one goes for $45,000 more than twice what she was

willing to pay. And it didn't even have a furnace.

Shortly after 7 p.m., she leaves with her $2,500 cashier's check and without

a home. There were $10,000 houses, she notes, but "they were trash."

Heidenfelder is disappointed. "There were too many people," she says. "It was

too competitive."

Lynette Davis is heading home, too. Her Bible study is over, the hymns sung,

the prayers spoken.

"This takes a lot of things off my mind," she says.

As she makes her way outside, the birds are singing, the leaden sky brightens

and finally a glimmer of sun breaks through the clouds.

___

EDITOR'S NOTE: Contributing to this story were John Christoffersen in New

Haven, Conn.; Nigel Duara, in Iowa City, Iowa; Amanda Lee Myers in Phoenix;

Evelyn Nieves in San Francisco; James Prichard in Grand Rapids, Mich.; Brian

Skoloff in Palm Beach, Fla.; Bruce Smith in Charleston, S.C.; Vicki Smith in

Morgantown, W.Va.; Eric Tucker in Providence, R.I.; and Dionne Walker in

Atlanta.