WHEN RECESSION HITS HOME
"The Jewish community is
fighting for one of the first times
because there is not enough
money to do all the things it
wants to do."
Alan Goodman
what to do. We keep hearing,
lost my job.' "
Before Shabbat a few
weeks ago, a long line of
clients were waiting outside
Yad Ezra on 10 Mile Road,
just west of Greenfield Road.
A passerby assisted an elder-
ly Soviet woman with her
packages, placing them onto
a pushcart.
"I try to tell them not to
feel badly," Mrs. Eizelman
says. "I say we all need help
at some time. That is why we
are here. But they are very
proud.
"I didn't realize how many
people were affected. And it
is getting worse. In the last
month, we've had 10
families from Farmington
Hills."
Standing outside the pan-
try was a Soviet man and his
son, waiting for their turn to
request food to supplement
their family for one month.
In line with the Soviets were
a few American women, anx-
iously waiting with their
heads held low.
Jewish Family Service
can't always provide enough
money to make rent
payments for suburban
lifestyles. And JFS and Yad
Ezra officials offer reasons.
Some of these families of
the unemployed live in the
northwest suburbs, with two
late-model cars and hefty
monthly mortgages. They
don't qualify for public assis-
tance, yet they don't always
have money for food.
Even those families living
modestly are, not always
candidates for welfare and
food stamps. Many come to
Yad Ezra for food.
A 33-year-old woman from
Oak Park carries grocery
bags from Yad Ezra to her
car, a late-model, four-door
Eurosport. She and her hus-
band, a 42-year-old
unemployed welder, have
two children ages 8 and 11.
This is the third time he
has been laid off in a year,
she says. They found renters
to take over the mortgage on
their Madison Heights home
before the bank foreclosed.
Now they live in a family
member's home in Oak
Park. They never lived an
extravagant lifestyle, just
dining out once a week and
catching a movie on occa-
sion.
"We always lived modest-
ly," she says. "But now we
are stuck at home. No
movies. No nothing."
The woman's husband is
hoping to secure work
through a temporary employ-
ment service. "Maybe some-
day I will be able to come here
and help other people," the
woman says.
A four-person family, in
which the husband and wife
lost their jobs, came to JFS
from Farmington Hills. One
parent worked in sales; the
other was a medical profes-
sional.
JFS was able to provide
some help. Then they sent
the family to Yad Ezra. The
parents since have secured
new jobs, but they still are
Catching up on outstanding
loans. In addition, they must
take care of day-to-day ex-
penses.
lthough the numbers
requesting help from
JFS are relatively
small, the total requesting
assistance from JFS has
jumped 63 percent from last
year. Between September and
December 1989, 70 families
received JFS grants. This
year over the same time
period, 111 families secured
emergency funds from JFS.
One problem facing the
Jewish community in 1991,
Mr. Goodman says, is that
those being laid off from
white collar jobs often are in
sales —positions which don't
always afford health and
unemployment benefits.
"These people exist on
commissions. They have
houses, nice cars and then,
suddenly, they are laid off.
That's a real tough spot
when there are no benefits,"
Mr. Goodman says. "They
are between a rock and a
hard place."
Alan Goodman,
executive director, Jewish
Family Service.
Mr. Goodman says those
who seek help from such
places as JFS, Yad Ezra and
public assistance usually do
so as a last resort. First, they
borrow money from relatives
and friends.
"They find it hard to ask
for help because they don't
think they are poor," Mr.
Goodman says. "People live
on credit. Their charges are
high. We can't always help
when people come to us with
an $1,800 mortgage."
One family which re-
quested help from JFS lived
in a large suburban house,
financed two new cars, but
had no food in the refrig-
erator.
"They borrowed from
friends and relatives for as
long as they could," Mr.
Goodman says.
With plummeting funds
from United Way, the Allied
Jewish Campaign and the
government, Jewish agen-
cies like JFS are in a quan-
dary. The massive influx of
Soviet Jews during the
recession puts more con-
straints on the Jewish corn-
munity.
"Can we absorb them?"
Mr. Goodman asks. "We
don't have a choice. Even
before the recession, we had
a hard time integrating
Soviets into the work force
because of such barriers as
language.
"These are sophisticated
people and their presence
will enrich us," Mr. Good-
man says. "But now we are
dealing with resettlement
and the recession. Jewish
poor has always been an
issue. Now it is more in-
tense."
Bob Davis, clinical super-
visor for the JFS financial
assistance program, adds,
"The '80s bubble has
definitely burst. Having a
job is no longer security."
Those seeking assistance
from JFS, Mr. Davis says,
have ranged from elderly
people on fixed incomes to
young families in their mid-
30s in which two members of
a household are out of work.
"If the numbers coming
here aren't great, it is be-
cause they are going to their
families and friends for help.
They are taking second mor-
tgages and trying to tough it
out.
"People are waiting for it
to be over," Mr. Davis says.
"Most expect it to be over
soon."
Roger Goodenough, Jewish
Vocational Service's job
placement supervisor and
recruiter, says he doesn't
keep statistics. But, he says,
"The lead time for seeing
people is up to three weeks.
We can hardly see them fast
enough.
"We are seeing a lot more
people in Oakland County
who are having a hard
time," Mr. Goodenough
says. "This is a white-collar
recession, and the white col-
lar is not prepared. Many
have worked their entire
lives and have never had to
write a resume. Now they
have to sell themselves all
over again."
This year, JVS has
counseled workers with
larger incomes, ranging
from $30,000 to $50,000, Mr.
Goodenough says. Many are
middle managers over 50.
"They are more educated
this time and come from the
middle class," Mr.
Goodenough says. "The
recession 10 years ago was
blue collar, mostly
automotive. There are not as
many blue collars to lay off
anymore."
The stories are endless.
The union plumber whose
daughter recently got mar-
ried could barely make ends
meet. He lost $20,000 in the
stock market and was laid
off for seven months. Union
wages were insufficient. He
sold a bond to pay for the
wedding.
And the certified public
accountant who had been
working for a large firm,
making $70,000 a year,
suddenly, found himself out
of a job.
Construction and real
estate have also taken a
beating. Samuel Kreis, vice
president for construction len-
ding for Comerica Bank, at-
tributes this to an oversupp-
ly of commercial buildings.
The housing market, he
says, slowed greatly, leaving
some builders with mild or
no sales between October
and February. Now, things
are slowly picking up, he
says. Historically, con-
sumers do not spend greatly
on houses, appliances,
clothes and home im-
provements during bad
economic times.
Just ask Ralph Josephson,
37, of Union Lake, husband
of Saundra and father of
daughter Kirby, 2.
A builder for seven years,
Mr. Josephson started a
remodeling business after
splitting up a few years ago
with his brother, who moved
to Arizona.
When he started, the busi-
ness was busy, bringing in
an estimated $200,000 a
year in sales. But last
November, the business took
a dive.
On his books was one
job, remodeling a basement.
In December, he remodeled a
kitchen. In January, he had
one phone call. And in
February he had nothing.
In the past few months,
Mr. Josephson has been bid-
THE DETROIT JEWISH NEWS
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