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I n 1965, when ranchers began buying land in the township of Liberty, another group of people had its eyes on the Kickapoo Valley. On first arriving in the Vernon County seat of Viroqua, Gideon Miller remembered making quite a stir as he and his colleagues descended the steps of their Greyhound bus. Two ladies saw them, he recalled. “They asked the driver to inquire where we were to perform that evening.” One of the men with Miller said, “Tell her we are not the Beatles.”1 Forty years ago an assembly of good-humored Amish men might have stopped traffic anywhere, with their wide-brimmed black felt hats, their untrimmed beards and clean-shaved lips, their black trousers held up by suspenders, their black vests and black jackets fastened with metal hooks and eyes rather than buttons.2 Miller’s group was Old Order Amish, one of the Anabaptist religious sects that also included the Mennonites, Hutterites, and Brethren.3 They had decided to leave the urban congestion around their settlements in Geauga County, near Cleveland, Ohio.4 Farmland in Ohio had become scarce and expensive, making it hard for new generations to obtain enough land to farm. Conflicts over land use and zoning were on the rise. Their ability to control contact with what they considered an intrusive modern society had also become a challenge. For those Amish who wanted to limit the temptations that a secular world offered their children, and to ensure that farming remained their core occupation, the rural isolation of the Kickapoo Valley made migration out of Ohio a hopeful prospect. Their reconnaissance began in the township of Clinton, where they toured a few farms on the market.They also assessed real estate trends, looking for signs that more land would come up for sale. The group returned 85 4 Outsiders Figure 8. Amish land ownership in the township of Clinton, 1966–95. Today the Amish own more than half the land in the township, and their settlements have spread throughout the Kickapoo Valley. to Clinton a month later with a few Amish women, seeking “their consent of making the move,” as Gideon Miller recounted it.5 Though a novelty then, the Amish would soon become a familiar sight throughout the Kickapoo Valley. No one in the area would ever again mistake them for traveling performers. Clinton’s settlement by the Amish leads off the second in this series of reflections on property. This chapter will explore what happened when an entire community of outsiders acquired a great deal of land in a short time. What were the reactions of the people who already lived there? How did they relate to this new community? Today, Amish farmers in Clinton are undeniably local residents and they are undeniably in place for the long haul. This fact alone sets Clinton apart from Liberty, whose history became dominated by absentee land ownership. Clinton, however, offers more than a local counterpoint to that trend. An altogether different story of property unfolds in the history of this township. The Amish illuminate what is not obvious on a plat map, that control of land involves deep cultural conflict and accommodation. It transcends individual owners who imagine themselves separated by property lines. Thus the Amish compel us to move our scale of analysis from individual parcels to ethnic or cultural territories. In scaling up, the Amish also allow us to reconsider how community prerogatives and environmental stewardship can fit in a system of private property. In their separateness, the Amish shine a light on non-Amish culture and cultural landscapes. At a time when we are struggling none too successfully over how to achieve sustainable agricultural communities, the Amish raise fascinating—and uncomfortable— questions. Starting with the first farm in January of 1966, the Cashton settlement— as the Amish still call it, after the nearby village of Cashton—expanded rapidly in the township of Clinton. Today the Amish own more than half the land in Clinton. Amish land ownership meant a lot of things for the township. Far more land stayed in local hands than was the case for its neighbor, Liberty. More land also stayed in agriculture. As a measure of the continuity, think about the basic Valley landscape mosaic of fields, forests, and pasture. From 1939 to 1995 forest cover increased considerably in Liberty, whereas forests expanded very little in Clinton over the same period, from 31 percent to 39 percent of...

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