In Levi factory town in Hungary, promise of globalization fades

Little sense of alarm, however, can be detected in the shopping malls or on the fashionable boulevards of Budapest. It's as if Hungarians there, from the chic to those just getting by, are in a glittery kind of denial over the financial crisis. They spend, sip espressos and polish their cars while their left- and right-leaning politicians argue in perpetual gridlock. But travel two hours south across the plains to Kiskunhalas and there is no sense of illusion, no pretty talk of better days.

"When communism ended, Hungary developed quicker than its neighbors. Back then we had new cars and Coke in cans, which was quite a development," said Akos Spitzer, who sells washing machines and refrigerators. "But maybe we developed too fast without having the real money to pay for it. This is the bubble that's bursting."

There had long been rumors that the Levi factory might close, but a small town runs on gossip and the plant stayed open.

"Levi's sponsored games and sports. They were active in the community," Varnai said. "About 100 of their employees are two-income earners from the same families: husband-wife, mother-daughter. . . . But now Levi's is leaving and they didn't want to talk about how we could get them to stay. They're acting like they never were part of us. It's a great blow to this town."

Gavin Moore, head of production for Levi Strauss in Europe, said the global downturn had slackened sales and "it just wasn't feasible" to keep the Kiskunhalas plant running.

Not much was moving through town the other day, except hail blowing off the plains, where horses pulled plows and farmers waited for the return of the storks, which brings out the TV news crews. The woman behind the counter at a bookstore, an at-home seamstress until Chinese blouses flooded the market, didn't know how bills and mortgages would be paid with so many Levi employees laid off at once. The man punching out lottery tickets wasn't so talkative.

Between 4 p.m. and 4:01 p.m., car ignitions clicked and bicycle tires hummed as the Levi factory shift ended. Marianne Szalay, a seamstress, walked along a path to her bus. She has a university degree in cultural management and will try to find other work. She remembers when a man with a microphone stood in the factory and told the workers their fate.

A few days later it was the national Women's Day, when employers and bosses traditionally bought flowers for their female workers.

"I received flowers from Levi's for nine years. It was a little thing, only a gesture, but it meant something," said Szalay, standing to the side as other workers hurried past. "This year, after they announced they were letting us go, they didn't give us flowers."

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jeffrey.fleishman@latimes.com

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Europe or Bust

In advance of this week's summit in London of the world's leading industrialized and emerging nations, correspondents fanned out across Europe to provide four snapshots of the economic crisis on the continent. The series will continue Monday.