Church, family guide voters in Ohio’s farming belt

COLUMBUS GROVE - Cross-tipped steeples atop the Roman Catholic churches soaring above Ohio's farmbelt say a lot about the people living here.

And they say a lot about what matters for many when they pick their politicians.

"People are faithful to the church," said Blanche Giesige, taking a break from picking sticks out of the flower beds in front of St. Anthony of Padua Catholic Church.

"We have a lot of morals in these counties," she added. "When this country gets its morals straight, the country is going to go straight."

Ohio's farmbelt stretches up and down the western part of the state - one of the distinct regions in the key presidential swing state.

There are the big cities that deliver for Democrats and the suburbs and rural places that are reliably Republican. And there are all the places in between, such as Appalachia, swing areas within this swing state.

Presidential contenders must appeal to a varied collection of voters or risk losing a state that is crucial in determining who occupies the White House.

In farm country, the pull of family and values guided by the teachings of churches make it fertile ground for Republicans. But it's not a place to be written off by Democrats.

Four years ago, conservatives in rural Ohio turned out in huge numbers to help re-elect President Bush because they felt he shared their values on issues such as abortion, gay marriage and gun owner rights.

His opponent, John Kerry, all but ignored rural Ohio. Fellow Democrat Ted Strickland didn't make that mistake when he ran for governor in 2006.

Strickland often told stories about living in a chicken coop after his family's house caught fire on their small farm in southeast Ohio, and he ended up winning by a wide margin because he connected with rural voters and churchgoers. Rural conservatives also didn't turn out like they did for Bush, and many switched sides to protest scandals within the GOP-controlled state offices.

But unlike the most recent presidential election, gasoline prices are what everyone is talking about now, not moral values. And economic concerns could override social issues come November.

Solidly Catholic

It's almost impossible to miss the influence churches hold over Putnam County, a bastion of conservative values.

Every other house seemingly has a statue of the Virgin Mary tucked among the bushes. A faded message painted on the metal roof of a barn asks: "Where You Going? Without Jesus."

Two out three people in the county are Catholic, and it defines who they are.

County GOP Chairman Lyle McKanna said a lot of folks who thought of themselves as Democrats decades ago switched parties when the church's opposition to abortion became a political issue.

"There was some hard feelings," he said. "They can't buy into abortion. They absolutely will not do that."

About 34,000 people live in the county; nearly all are white, and most trace their roots to German immigrants.

Gerry Knueven, who was born and raised in the county, said he was taught to value life and save what he earned. Both ideas influence how he votes.

"That's the way I was brought up," said Knueven, 40. "People's heritage and upbringing is important."

Democrat Barack Obama's support of abortion and gay rights leaves him at odds with a lot of rural voters.

And while Republican John McCain is against abortion rights, his backing of embryonic stem cell research and opposition to a federal amendment prohibiting gay marriage upset many conservatives.

Conservative, wary

Agriculture and manufacturing are the biggest industries in Putnam County. Farmers grow more tomatoes than anywhere else in the state and rank high in hogs and soybeans.

Factories account for about one in every four jobs, making auto parts, plastic bottles and farm equipment.

McKanna, the county's Republican chairman, grows corn and soybeans on his farm. He said farmers by nature are conservative.

"They never make enough money to throw money around," McKanna said. "Even the Democrats in our county are conservative."

Jim Hovest falls into that category. He's a Democrat, though he quickly adds: "I vote for the best guy. I don't care who you are."

Honesty and character are just as important as other issues for him. He's not sold on Democrat Barack Obama yet. "His background isn't real clear," Hovest said. "That's what bothers me about him."

Hovest, whose family raises hogs and grows corn, soybeans and wheat, said energy costs will matter most in this election.

He's paying more this year for diesel fuel, fertilizer and seed. Even the price of his haircut went up by a buck to $11.

Ben Freeze, who runs a lawn mower repair shop in a garage behind his house outside Ottawa, said his gas bill doubled last month to $500. But he can't cut down on driving because he's often picking up broken mowers or delivering the ones he fixed.

A staunch Republican, he doesn't like Obama because of his past ties with the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, who caused a firestorm with sermons that criticized the government and accused it of conspiring against blacks.

Obama's campaign took the unusual step of launching a Web site www.fightthesmears.com to fight rumors about him.

Still, some in rural Ohio simply aren't comfortable with him.

Some are wary of Obama because he's relatively unknown and has less experience compared with McCain.

Some have heard the false rumors that he is a Muslim, even though he often speaks about his longtime devotion to Christianity.

And some won't vote for him because he is black.

Francis Martin, a retired factory worker, said Obama's skin color doesn't make a difference to him.

But he thinks it will to others. Friends have told him they won't vote for a black man. "I can't see a lot of white people voting for Obama," he said.