Dan Haugen
WCFCourier.com
18. Nowember 2005OTTERVILLE, Iowa --- Amish buggies ring the gravel driveway in front of Tex Pentecost's barn.
"You'd think they was having church here," Pentecost quips, describing a scene that routinely plays out on his property.
Teenagers climb from the carriages, sometimes two dozen or more, and slip into the building through a spring-shut door.
It used to be a pigsty, literally. Today it's just a tad disheveled, an unsanctioned clubhouse where younger members of the Amish community enjoy contraband items like radios and television.
"There's hardly any boys that haven't spent some time over there," says John Hershberger, 63, an Amish man.
Hershberger's four sons visited before they married.
"Nobody approves of the barn," he adds. "Every kid that's over there is disobeying his parents' wishes."
Hershberger hasn't spoken to Pentecost about the barn, but other Amish parents and elders have. Pentecost says some from the religious order labeled him as "a disciple of the devil" for allowing Amish youth to congregate on his property.
Pentecost, though, insists, they should have a place to hang out.
"They're just like any other kids," he says.
On this day, the barn is cold and deserted as Pentecost, a retired John Deere worker and former mayor of Independence, walks through the space.
Amish children are taught to shun modern conveniences and technology. But the room's contents suggest those who gather here have interests and hobbies not unlike teenagers from the "English" world.
A line of tattered garage-sale couches face a big screen TV that's attached to a VCR and DVD player. A row of ratty recliners and other mismatched chairs sit on a riser constructed behind the couches.
Video tapes and DVDs sit in messy piles around the room, and hundreds of cases line shelves built into one wall. Many of the titles would be at home in a college dorm: "Animal House," "American Pie," "Baywatch," "Wayne's World."
The image of a scantily clad model smiles on a giant cardboard beer ad for Old Milwaukee hangs on one wall. Cigarette butts litter the chilly concrete floor. A microwave popcorn bag rattles, and a mouse darts out from the kernels to safety under the furniture. Tails of cell phone chargers dangle from electrical outlets.
Heaps of wires and stereo equipment are arranged past the theater arrangement. Pentecost says the Amish youth build custom speakers to fit in the back of buggies. They hoist 24-volt car batteries into the rides to power the stereos. The scattered CDs in the area include Will Smith, Willie Nelson and a mix of hits from the 80s.
There's no sign of drug or alcohol use. Pentecost forbids drinking on his property, something Hershberger says elders in the Amish community appreciate. Still, they don't condone the clubhouse.
"Just because it's legal, just because most people have it, does not make it right in the eyes of God," Hershberger says.
About 15 years ago, Pentecost hired a few Amish teenagers to help move hay for his longhorn cattle. When it came time to drive the young workers home, Pentecost found them watching an old TV in the barn, which was used for storage.
The Amish youth came back, word spread and soon the barn was a regular hangout.
Pentecost said Amish elders have approached him about shutting down the clubhouse. He refuses and maintains the barn is a positive environment.
"It's just a place for the kids to enjoy a little bit of growing up," Pentecost says. "They behave themselves. I don't have any reason to kick 'em out of here."
Hershberger says most of the teenagers leave on their own after coming to the barn for a couple of years.
"Some people put us on a pedestal, and that's not right," Hershberger says. "I guess ever since time, teenagers have had a sense of being rebellious.
"Our teenagers are teenagers, just like anybody else's."
