Postville, Iowa (population 1,478), seems an unlikely place to find a sizable Jewish population, let alone an ultra-Orthodox Lubavitcher population. It is, after all, in the heart of pork country, and the world headquarters of the Lubavitchers is far away in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. But when the Hygrade meat processing plant, just outside Postville, went belly-up, threatening the town with decline, Sholom Rubashkin bought it and turned it into a glatt kosher processing plant, complete with shochtim and a rabbinical inspectorate. By the late 1980s, "Postville had more rabbis per capita than any other city in the United States, perhaps the world."

The enterprise was a huge international success, with its kosher meats exported even to Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. The Jewish population grew to 150, and they were rich. The town was saved, and the people were grateful. All's well that ends well? Not quite. The Hasidim kept to themselves, did things their own way, and basically had no interest in integrating into Postville. And why would they? Their laws are strict, their mission clear, their community defined by race and religion. They are not interested in watermelon socials or coffee klatches at the diner. Their little boys do not swim with their little girls, are not educated together, and do not go on play dates with goyim. Small-town Iowans, on the other hand, are very friendly. They know each other's news, they support each other's businesses, they wish each other Merry Christmas, they want you to feel at home. They don't like that the new townspeople stomp up the street hunched over, talking in a foreign language and looking straight through them when greeted. They really don't like it when one of the newcomers drives around town with a 10-foot candelabra strapped to his car playing music at full volume for eight consecutive winter nights. They don't actually know about menorahs or Hanukkah.

Into this comes secular Jew Stephen Bloom, a professor at the University of Iowa. By the time he arrived in Postville, the town was riven along religious lines. One of the townspeople was running for mayor on the sole platform of annexation of the land on which the plant stood. Rubashkin was threatening that he'd shut the plant and leave if that came to pass. Bloom closely considers both sides, and the result is a wonderful book. It is a fascinating tale of culture clash in the American heartland: the John Deere cap meets the black fur hat. It is a book about identity and community and what it means to be American. It covers all the things you aren't supposed to talk about at the dinner table--religion, politics, and even sex. It is full of suspense: Will the plant be annexed? Will the Jews leave? And it is also Bloom's exploration of his own sense of belonging. --J. Riches


From Publishers Weekly
Bloom's account of a vicious clash between the residents of a small, intensely Christian town and the group of Lubavitcher Jews who open a highly successful kosher slaughterhouse there is a model of sociological reportage and personal journalism. In 1987, after a Hasidic butcher from Brooklyn bought a slaughterhouse in Postville, Iowa, and began to relocate Jewish and immigrant workers to the area, the town began to change. While some residents were suspicious and anti-Semitic, most were happy to see the town rise above its previous financial destitution. But the Lubavitchers, who traditionally live and work within their own closely knit communities, were not interested in fitting into Postville, and many were dismissive of, or overtly hostile to, its original citizens. After the Lubavitchers started buying real estate and exerting greater influence on the town's finances, longtime Postville residents began to feel marginalized, yet their reactions caused the Jews to become more isolationist. The slaughterhouse also caused problems: workers were paid below minimum wage and were uninsured, women workers were sexually harassed and fighting among the (often illegal) immigrant workers escalated. Finally, the town took legal action to gain more control over the slaughterhouse. Bloom, a professor at the University of Iowa, writes cleanly and with great insight and temperance about these events. As a secular Jew, he also weaves in his own story as he tries to find some common ground with the Lubavitchers. His book proves an illuminating meditation on contemporary U.S. culture and what it means to be an American. Agents, David Black and Gary Morris. BOMC and QPB selection; 8-city tour. (Oct.) Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.


From Library Journal
When a group of Hasidic Jews opened a kosher slaughterhouse just outside the small, financially struggling town of Postville, IA, their arrival brought financial benefits as well as cultural conflict with the locals. In order to force the slaughterhouse administration to pay taxes to the town, the Postville authorities decided to annex the land where the slaughterhouse was located and held a vote to see whether the townspeople support this idea. Bloom (journalism, Univ. of Iowa) came to Postville not just to investigate the story but to reach out for a bit of his Jewish heritage, which is hard to maintain in Iowa. He was frustrated by the Hasidim, who at first wanted no part of him and then sought to convert him and his family, and they were angered by his refusal to take their side. By the end of the story, Bloom realizes that he can maintain his Jewish identity and live in the middle of the Iowa farmbelt, the Hasidim realize that they may have to make adjustments to stay in Postville, and the people of Postville realize that the Hasidim are there to stay. Part cultural history, part search for identity, this book makes for balanced, interesting, and insightful reading, but a glossary of Jewish terms would have been extremely helpful. For American studies, Iowa history, Jewish studies, and social studies collections.ADanna Bell-Russel, Library of Congress Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.


Richard Bernstein,
"...a riveting tale of cultural clash so sharp and irreconcilable that it challenges easy assumptions"


From Booklist
Few ethnographers would select a small Iowa farming community as a likely locale for studying ethnic conflict. But when devout Lubavitcher Jews decided in 1987 to locate a large kosher slaughterhouse near Postville, Iowa, this obscure town grew taut with ethnic tension, as easygoing locals suddenly found themselves confronting a militant religious community indifferent, at times even contemptuous, of their long-standing traditions. As a recent transplant from the West Coast and as a Jew skeptical of Lubavitcher theology, Bloom chronicles Postville's culture wars with a clear-eyed objectivity. Recoiling from both redneck anti-Semitism and Lubavitcher self-righteousness, he ferrets out the truth about how rabbis conspired to shield a favored son involved in a local robbery and shooting. He likewise exposes all the political maneuvering behind a referendum intended to drive out the Lubavitchers. Yet in probing the suspicions that separate Jew from Gentile, he also uncovers surprising affinities between the two communities. In our national struggle to bring harmony out of ethnic diversity, Bloom offers an antidote against both illusion and despair. Bryce Christensen
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

FROM OUR EDITORS

Bookseller Reviews

If you want to learn what "rapid demographic shift" means, visit Postville, Iowa. In this tiny (population: 1500), remote (twenty miles fro the closet McDonald's) rural community, outsiders were rare. Until recently, the term denoted visitors from Cedar Rapids or Prairie du Chiene. But then something happened. A group of ultra-Orthodox Jews moved in. First came the rabbis, dozens of bearded, long-coated black-hatted rabbis, wearing prayer shawls and intoning Hebrew prayers as they walked down Main Street. Postville was hardly prepared for these strange-looking men, but they were even less prepared for the change that these devout Lubavitchers would bring with them. Opening a kosher slaughterhouse in an abandoned meatpacking plant on the edge of town, they brought economic prosperity to Postville, attracting more outsiders. But Lifelong Postville residents eyed these new intruders warily, wondering whether their alien ways were corrupting their undisturbed hamlet. Stephen G. Bloom's narrative of ethnic strife and difficult assimilation places us on both sides of the chasm. First-rate journalism.

FROM THE PUBLISHER

A conflict between two deeply rooted traditions raises the specter of anti-Semitism and provokes a struggle over a community's future.

In 1987, a group of Lubavitcher Jews, among the most orthodox and zealous of Jewish sects, opened a kosher slaughterhouse just outside tiny Postville, Iowa (pop. 1,432). When it became a worldwide success, Postville found itself both revived and riven, as the town's initial welcome of the Jews turned to confusion, dismay, and even disgust. By 1997, the town voted on what was essentially a referendum: yes or no on whether these Jews should stay.

A laboratory of ethnic strife, Postville is at the leading edge of the new wave of immigration in the heartland. Its story digs deeply into the questions that haunt America nationwide: how to build community, how to accommodate diverse but equally powerful traditions, how small towns can compete with big money. Stephen Bloom's vibrant, dramatic portrait of Postville's troubles is a haunting metaphor for America today.

About the Author:

Stephen G. Bloom is an award-winning journalist and has been a reporter for the Los Angeles Times, the San Jose Mercury News, and other major newspapers. He now teaches journalism at the University of Iowa in Iowa City, where he lives with his wife and son.

FROM THE CRITICS

Robert Eisenberg - Chicago Tribune

...a vastly entertaining and original piece of real-life social drama.

A gripping portrayal of a confounding collision.

New York Times

A gripping portrayal of a confounding collision.

Publishers Weekly

Bloom's account of a vicious clash between the residents of a small, intensely Christian town and the group of Lubavitcher Jews who open a highly successful kosher slaughterhouse there is a model of sociological reportage and personal journalism. In 1987, after a Hasidic butcher from Brooklyn bought a slaughterhouse in Postville, Iowa, and began to relocate Jewish and immigrant workers to the area, the town began to change. While some residents were suspicious and anti-Semitic, most were happy to see the town rise above its previous financial destitution. But the Lubavitchers, who traditionally live and work within their own closely knit communities, were not interested in fitting into Postville, and many were dismissive of, or overtly hostile to, its original citizens. After the Lubavitchers started buying real estate and exerting greater influence on the town's finances, longtime Postville residents began to feel marginalized, yet their reactions caused the Jews to become more isolationist. The slaughterhouse also caused problems: workers were paid below minimum wage and were uninsured, women workers were sexually harassed and fighting among the (often illegal) immigrant workers escalated. Finally, the town took legal action to gain more control over the slaughterhouse. Bloom, a professor at the University of Iowa, writes cleanly and with great insight and temperance about these events. As a secular Jew, he also weaves in his own story as he tries to find some common ground with the Lubavitchers. His book proves an illuminating meditation on contemporary U.S. culture and what it means to be an American. Agents, David Black and Gary Morris. BOMC and QPB selection; 8-city tour. (Oct.) Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.

Library Journal

When a group of Hasidic Jews opened a kosher slaughterhouse just outside the small, financially struggling town of Postville, IA, their arrival brought financial benefits as well as cultural conflict with the locals. In order to force the slaughterhouse administration to pay taxes to the town, the Postville authorities decided to annex the land where the slaughterhouse was located and held a vote to see whether the townspeople support this idea. Bloom (journalism, Univ. of Iowa) came to Postville not just to investigate the story but to reach out for a bit of his Jewish heritage, which is hard to maintain in Iowa. He was frustrated by the Hasidim, who at first wanted no part of him and then sought to convert him and his family, and they were angered by his refusal to take their side. By the end of the story, Bloom realizes that he can maintain his Jewish identity and live in the middle of the Iowa farmbelt, the Hasidim realize that they may have to make adjustments to stay in Postville, and the people of Postville realize that the Hasidim are there to stay. Part cultural history, part search for identity, this book makes for balanced, interesting, and insightful reading, but a glossary of Jewish terms would have been extremely helpful. For American studies, Iowa history, Jewish studies, and social studies collections.--Danna Bell-Russel, Library of Congress Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.\ Read all 6 "From The Critics" >

WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING

Intelligent and absorbing. The book goes beyond politics and reads like a novel, nevertheless it should be mandatory for those who go on about diversity and multiculturalism without having thought things through. A fine and courageous piece of work. — (Frank Conroy, author of Stop-Time)