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TENSION ON THE HOME FRONT: ONE MENNONITE COMMUNITY'S EXPERIENCE DURING WORLD WAR II
By Franklin Yoder
Perhaps no event affected the Mennonite Church during the twentieth century as profoundly as World War II. At every level of the church, from churchwide organizations to local communities, World War II forced changes that fundamentally reshaped the church and its relationship to the surrounding society. Like almost all Americans, Mennonites suddenly found themselves in a maelstrom of events that pulled them in even when they preferred to remain on the fringes and out of the spotlight.
In a very real way, two circumstances that had allowed Mennonites and Amish living in the United States to maintain a low profile--the depression and isolationism--abruptly ended when Japan bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Public attitudes changed in a flash as the United States called on its citizens to support a war that to most people seemed morally right and political essential. Between 1941 and 1945, Mennonites and Amish pacifists faced many trying situations as patriotic citizens questioned the actions and loyalties of people they saw as cowardly, opportunistic, and disloyal.
In Johnson and Washington Counties in Iowa, home to a large Mennonite and Amish community, relations grew strained during the months following Pearl Harbor as Mennonite positions on nonresistance and conscientious objection increasingly drew the attention of local non-Mennonites. Events reached a breaking point in late May and early June of 1942 when vandalism and physical threats dramatically brought underlying tensions to the surface. A powerful explosion in the early morning of June 4 at the home of Daniel J. Fisher was heard all over Kalona, a town of several hundred people located in northern Washington County. In addition to the explosion at the Fisher home, several young men exploded dynamite near the homes of Lewis and Arvilla Yoder and one other Mennonite family.1 While the explosions were frightening, they did only minor damage, breaking a large window in the home of Dan and Ida Fisher. During this same time, several area Mennonite church buildings near Kalona and Wellman were splattered with yellow paint.
2 Fisher, who lived in Kalona and was bishop of East Union Mennonite Church, had attracted attention because he worked closely with young Mennonite men facing the draft. Fisher had been serving the congregation at East Union for more than thirty years when World War II erupted. In his role as a minister, he frequently gave young men advice when they received draft notices and he met with local draft boards when they made it difficult for people seeking conscientious objector status. He had done similar work during World War I and knew what it meant to be singled out and labeled as unpatriotic and anti-American. He was known for his patience, optimism, and a soft-spoken style that contrasted with the stridency displayed by some ministers and bishops.
Lewis and Arvilla Yoder lived on a farm approximately one mile north of Kalona and were the parents of Duane R. Yoder, one of the first conscientious objectors drafted in Washington County. In addition to farming, Lewis Yoder had a thriving mule-trading business and occasionally dabbled in buying and reselling farms. He and Arvilla regularly attended East Union church but they did not hold important positions within that congregation. Yoder was well-known within the surrounding community and traveled more widely than most local farmers as he attended auctions in search of mules, horses, and bargains in land. He was known for his ability to match mules and create a team that was comparable in size, build, appearance, and temperament. Yoder had a reputation as a good farmer and businessman--he was someone who could make money.
In addition to the explosions and yellow paint, a third event meant to publicly humiliate and target Mennonites occurred in downtown Kalona. Three Mennonite men--including Dan Fisher and Lewis Yoder--were hung in effigy from the awning of a hardware store on Main Street. Paper signs attached to the figures identified them as Dan Fisher, Lewis Yoder, and Paul Snyder.3 The hangings took place during the night. When people arrived in Kalona for work or to do business, they could hardly miss seeing the stuffed caricatures of the three Mennonite men as they hung prominently in a busy part of town.
The figures hung undisturbed for several hours. Leroy Miller was a Mennonite businessman who owned an oil distributorship a few blocks east of the hardware store where the hangings took place. By mid-morning, he realized the figures would not be removed unless someone complained. He went to the mayor and urged him to have them taken away. The mayor, who was not a Mennonite, had them cut down but whoever took them down did not remove them completely. Instead, they were laid in a vacant lot alongside another store a block to the west on Main Street. While not as visible as before, passersby could still easily see the figures as they lay sprawled a few yards off the street.
A few days after these various acts of vandalism, five young men were arrested and charged with illegal use of fireworks. Since two of the men were scheduled for induction into the armed forces, they were allowed to plead guilty to disturbing the peace, pay a five-dollar fine, and enter the military. Each of the remaining men paid a $300 bond and was bound over to a grand jury on the fireworks charge.4 All of the men arrested lived near Richmond, a small village a few miles south of Kalona. Richmond was in the center of an old rural settlement dominated by Czech Catholic farmers and it was home to Holy Trinity Catholic Church. The English River, which lay between Kalona and Richmond, marked an unofficial but very real line separating Amish and Mennonites to the north and Czech Catholics to the south. Both communities were insular, solidly rural, and ethnically and religiously homogeneous.
The young men responsible for the violence and vandalism had acted impulsively, probably had been drinking, and were looking for a way to vent their frustrations with pacifists. On the night of the bombings, they had been celebrating a friend's induction and imminent departure for the uncertainties and potential dangers of combat. Their actions were important, not because of who did what to whom, but for what they revealed about the social dynamics of the local community. Residents in small rural communities rarely air their disagreements openly, even when those disagreements are profound. The incidents of early June 1942 placed the issue of national service and loyalty at the center of the community, whether people wanted it there or not.
The events in Kalona exposed divisions in the community and embarrassed and humiliated local Mennonites and Amish. Mennonites and Amish who did business in Kalona found themselves in awkward circumstances, unsure of whom to confide in or to trust. Keith Yoder, the youngest son of Lewis and Arvilla Yoder, said his father went to town the day of the hangings and returned home very shaken. Lewis Yoder had many friends in the Kalona business community but he now wondered who his friends really were.
Press coverage of the events of June 4 was uneven but it followed a clear pattern. On June 10, the Iowa City Press Citizen carried an Associated Press story with the headline "Report Tension Subsides in Wellman, Kalona Area."5 The article described the explosions, the yellow paint on local churches, and it named the young men charged with the crimes of disturbing the peace and unlawful use of fireworks. The article made almost no editorial comment. The only reference to the moral or legal nature of this activity came from a quote at the very end of the article when John Owen, the county attorney for Washington County, stated that "any such community activity in wartime has more than local significance." The article also noted that one cause of the difficulties was a rumor that Dan Fisher had coerced young men in his church to claim conscientious objector status. Fisher, who was quoted in the article, said those rumors were "absolutely untrue."7
Outside observers, who were removed from local antagonisms and were more objective, understood the broader threat of vigilantism and vandalism. In their minds, dynamite and yellow paint were more than a physical and psychological attack on individuals, they were a potential assault on basic freedoms. These persons may not have agreed with Mennonite positions on war and nonresistance but they realized the importance of protecting the rights of a minority of people who they believed were worthy citizens.
It is likely that local residents viewed Mennonites and Amish with greater suspicion and even jealousy than did outsiders. The emotionally charged atmosphere in Kalona and Wellman caused larger issues of freedom of religious expression and the right to not bear arms to appear less important than at a state or national level. Constitutional and legal rights quickly faded in the local patriotic wartime fervor. In the eyes of many non-Mennonites, Mennonites and Amish were insular and appeared self-absorbed, a fact that encouraged suspicion and allowed accusations and assumptions to go unchallenged. The public silence of Mennonites and Amish may have conveyed a sense of aloofness and even arrogance that offended non-Mennonites.
These events were stark reminders of a fundamental difference between Mennonites and non-Mennonites in Kalona, Wellman, and the surrounding communities. While people always knew Mennonites and Amish were pacifists, war placed that issue squarely in front of the community. Whenever a local man was killed in the fighting, it was a vivid reminder to his family, friends, and neighbors that he had paid the ultimate price while others were shirking their duty. During years of peace, nonresistance lay beneath the surface of most conversations and interactions. It was there but seldom discussed or acknowledged. Now, as fighting raged overseas, it was an issue that few people ignored.
The violence and threats during the spring of 1942 revealed a great deal about Mennonites and the social and economic structures of their local rural community. Mennonite isolationism and their affinity for agriculture and farming made them easy targets and placed them at a political and social disadvantage. It is also revealing that the antagonists were also from a rural, closely-knit, religiously oriented community with social structures similar to those in Mennonite communities but with a very different view of national responsibility and patriotism. In what may have been efforts to assimilate, Czech citizens, along with many other ethnic groups, have often shown an almost fanatical loyalty to the United States during times of war. Local Czechs displayed this zeal and Mennonites and Amish felt its impact.
Within the broader context of World War II, these were not major events. When compared to the destruction of war, Nazi atrocities against Jews, and the suffering of people all over the world, hangings in effigy, explosions, and vandalism in Kalona and Wellman and the surrounding area were insignificant. Yet, for people in southeast Iowa, these events shook the local Mennonite community. The bombings were violent and potentially dangerous and both the hangings in effigy and the bombings were psychologically intimidating.
People in a small community can tolerate only a limited amount of open conflict and disagreement. This is especially true when the disagreements are over issues as fundamental and intractable as religious belief, patriotism, and service to God and country. Today, Mennonites and Amish around Kalona and Wellman rarely discuss these events openly. To a casual observer, people appear to have forgotten those times. When asked, people are often reluctant to talk about issues they feel might reopen old wounds or unnecessarily stir feelings of animosity. However, when people did talk, they clearly remembered what had happened and they still felt some of the fear they felt in 1942. Fifty years after the end of World War II, those memories continue to shape community dynamics. Mennonites, like everyone who lived during that time, have vivid memories of war and just as World War II shaped a generation of Americans, World War II also shaped a generation of Mennonites.
1. The third family was not identified but it may have been Paul and Katherine Snyder. I relied heavily on oral interviews to gather information, corroborating when possible with newspaper accounts. Over the past several years, I interviewed several people and I asked other specifically about these incidents. The people included Wallace Fisher, Ruth Fisher, Kenneth Hershberger, J. John J. Miller, Grace Tiessen, Dale E. Yoder, Donald D. Yoder, Duane R. Yoder, and Keith E. Yoder.
2. Iowa City Press Citizen, June 10, 1942.
3. Paul Snyder was an outspoken critic of military service and worked as a postal carrier in Kalona. Because he was a federal employee, he was often targeted by those who believed it was wrong for Snyder to criticize the organization that was also his employer. Also, Snyder's son had joined the Navy and Snyder's unhappiness with that decision was well known among local young people.
4. Iowa City Press Citizen, June 10, 1942.
5. Iowa City Press Citizen, June 10, 1942. Iowa City, a city of approximately 18,000 in 1942, is located seventeen miles north and east of Kalona. The Press Citizen served Johnson County and northern Washington County and carried national wire service stories. Its reporters would have felt fewer restraints about reporting local, unpleasant news.
6. Iowa City Press Citizen, June 10, 1942.
7. Des Moines Register, June 17, 1942.
Franklin Yoder is an academic advisor and teaches history at the University of Iowa. He is a member of the Historical Committee of the Mennonite Church and attends Kalona Mennonite Church.
Mennonite Historical Bulletin, October 2000