Dec. 22, 2025: LEXINGTON, Neb. (AP) — On a frigid day after Mass at St. Ann’s Catholic Church in rural Nebraska, worshippers shuffled into the basement and sat on folding chairs, their faces barely masking the fear gripping their town. A pall hung over the room just as it hung over the holiday s eason in Lexington, Nebraska. “Suddenly they tell us that there’s no more work. Your world closes in on you,” said Alejandra Gutierrez. She and the others work at Tyson Foods’ beef plant and are among the 3,200 people who will lose their jobs when Lexington’s biggest employer closes the plant next month after more than two decades of operation. Hundreds of families may be forced to pack up and leave the town of 11,000, heading east to Omaha or Iowa, or south to the meatpacking towns of Kansas or beyond, causing spinoff layoffs in Lexington’s restaurants, barbershops, grocers, convenience stores and taco trucks. “Losing 3,000 jobs in a city of 10,000 to 12,000 people is as big a closing event as we’ve seen virtually for decades,” said Michael Hicks, director of the Center for Business and Economic Research at Indiana’s Ball State University. It will be “close to the poster child for hard times.” All told, the job losses are expected to reach 7,000, largely in Lexington and the surrounding counties, according to estimates from University of Nebraska, Lincoln, shared with The Associated Press. Tyson employees alone will lose an estimated $241 million in pay and benefits annually. Tyson says it’s closing the plant to “right-size” its beef business after a historically low cattle herd in the U.S. and the company’s expected loss of $600 million on beef production next fiscal year. The plant’s closure threatens to unravel a Great Plains town where the American Dream was still attainable, where immigrants who didn’t speak English and never graduated high school bought homes, raised children in a safe community and sent them to college. Now, those symbols of economic progress — mortgages and car payments, property taxes and tuition costs — are bills that thousands of Tyson workers won’t have an income to pay. At St. Ann’s church, Gutierrez sat between her daughters and recalled being told of the plant closure just before Thanksgiving while she visited a college campus with her high school senior, Kimberly. “At that moment, my daughter said she no longer wanted to study,” Gutierrez said. “Because where would we get the money to pay for college?” A tear slipped down Kimberly’s cheek as she looked at her mother and then down at her hands. ‘Tyson was our motherland’ If you threw a dart at a map of the United States, Lexington — called “Lex” by locals — would be just about bullseye. It’s easy to miss driving down Interstate 80, half hidden by barren hackberry trees, corn fields and pastures of Black Angus cattle, but a driver can spy the plant’s hulking industrial buildings pumping steam. The plant opened in 1990 and was bought by Tyson 11 years later, attracting thousands of workers and nearly doubling the town’s population within a decade. Many came from Los Angeles, then stricken by recession, including Lizeth Yanes, who initially hated what she called “a little ghost town.” But soon Lexington flourished, with suburbs sprouting among bur oak and American elm trees. The downtown, a strip of cobblestone streets and brick buildings, has a Somali grocer that abuts a Hispanic bakery; locals attend over a dozen churches and several city recreation centers. To this day, the plant creates the town’s rhythm as workers roll on and off the daily A, B and C shifts and fill restaurants, school pickup lines and the one-screen movie theater showing “Polar Express.” “It took a long time for me to actually enjoy this little place,” said Yanes. “Now that I enjoy it, now I have to leave.” The atmosphere inside the Tyson plant, where workers process as many as 5,000 head of cattle a day, laboring on slaughter floors, cleaning crews or trimming cuts of meat, feels “like a funeral,” she said. “Tyson was our motherland,” said plant worker Arab Adan. The Kenyan immigrant sat in his car with his two energetic sons, who asked him a question he has no answer to: “Which state are we gonna go, daddy?” The only thing Adan is set on is that his kids finish the school year in Lexington, where school officials say nearly half of students have a parent working for Tyson. The school district, where at least 20 languages and dialects are spoken, has higher high school graduation and college attendance rates than the state and national average, and one of Nebraska’s biggest marching bands. Residents are proud of the diversity and the tightknit community, where young people return to raise families. During Mass at St. Ann’s, parishioners gave the cash in their pockets to a fund for families in financial need, despite knowing they’ll be out of work next month. Afterward, Francisco Antonio ran through his future employment options with a sad smile. After the plant closes on Jan. 20, the 52-year-old father of four said he’ll stay a few months in Lexington and look for work, though “now there’s no future.” He took off his glasses, paused, apologized and tried to explain his emotions. “It’s home mostly, not the job,” he said, replacing his glasses with an embarrassed smile. “We need another opportunity, job, here in Lex,” he said. “Otherwise Lex is gonna disappear.” ‘Tyson owes this community’ The domino effect could go something like this: If 1,000 families skip town, said economist Hicks — who wouldn’t be surprised if it were double that — seats would be left empty in schools, leading to teacher layoffs; there would be far fewer customers in restaurants, shops and other businesses. Most of the customers at Los Jalapenos, a Mexican restaurant down the street from the plant, are Tyson workers. They fill booths after work and are greeted by owner Armando Martinez’s mustachioed grin and bellow of “Hola, amigo!” Martinez’s grandson once told his grandfather that when he grows up he wants to work at Tyson. The child’s fifth-grade sister recently gathered with classmates to talk about the changes happening with their parents. Some were headed to California, others to Kansas. All were in tears. If he can’t keep up with bills, the restaurant will close, but “there’s just nowhere we can go,” said Martinez, who undergoes dialysis for diabetes, has an amputated foot and prays for a miracle: that Tyson will change its mind. He knows it’s unlikely. Asked by The Associated Press for comment about plans for the site, Tyson said in a statement that it “is currently assessing how we can repurpose the facility within our own production network.” It did not provide details, or say whether it plans to offer support to the community through the plant closure. Many, including City Manager Joe Pepplitsch, are hoping Tyson puts the plant up for sale and a new company comes in bringing jobs. That isn’t a quick fix, requiring time, negotiations, renovations and no guarantee of comparable jobs. “Tyson owes this community a debt. I think they have a responsibility here to help ease some of the impact,” he said, noting Tyson doesn’t pay city taxes due to a deal negotiated decades ago. ‘It’s not easy, at our age, to go back and start over’ Near the plant, at the Dawson County Fairgrounds, Tyson workers recently filled a long hall as state agencies — responding with the urgency of a natural disaster — offered information on retraining, writing a resume, filing for unemployment and avoiding scammers when selling homes. Attendees’ faces were subdued, like listening to a doctor’s prognosis. “Your financial health is going to change,” they were told. “Don’t ignore the bank, they will not go away.” Many of the older workers don’t speak English, haven’t graduated high school and aren’t computer savvy. The last application some filled out was decades ago. “We know only working in meat for Tyson, we don’t have any other experience,” said Adan, the Kenyan immigrant. Back at St. Ann’s, workers echoed that concern. “They only want young people now,” said Juventino Castro, who’s worked at Tyson for a quarter-century. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in the time I have left.” Lupe Ceja said she’s saved a little money, but it won’t last long. Luz Alvidrez has a cleaning gig that will sustain her for awhile. Others might return to Mexico for a time. Nobody has a clear plan. “It won’t be easy,” said Fernando Sanchez, a Tyson worker for 35 years who sat with his wife. “We started here from scratch and it’s time to start from scratch again.” Tears rolled down his wife’s cheeks and he squeezed her hand.   Dec. 2. 2025: Tyson Foods recently announced the shutdown of its beef processing plant in Lexington, Nebraska. The news followed months of losses in its beef division, driven largely by the smallest U.S. cattle herd in decades. Dr. Derrell Peel, a livestock market economist with Oklahoma State University, told the Radio Oklahoma Network that the move wasn’t entirely unexpected. With an additional slowdown at Tyson’s plant in Amarillo, Texas, Peel said the combination represents a seven to eight thousand head per day loss of packing capacity, which is about 7.5 to nine percent of total U.S. packing capacity. The southern plains region is also especially tight due to drought-related issues and the impact of the New World Screwworm, which has restricted the flow of Mexican feeder cattle into the U.S. Peel did say that Tyson heavily invested in updating the Amarillo facility, which means the company likely won’t abandon the beef plant long-term.   Nov. 25, 2025: OMAHA, Neb. (AP) — Tyson Foods’ decision to close a beef plant that employs nearly one third of residents of Lexington, Nebraska, could devastate the small city and undermine the profits of ranchers nationwide. Closing a single slaughterhouse might not seem significant, but the Lexington plant employs roughly 3,200 people in the city of 11,000 and has the capacity to slaughter some 5,000 head of cattle a day. Tyson also plans to cut one of the two shifts at a plant in Amarillo, Texas, and eliminate 1,700 jobs there. Together those two moves will reduce beef processing capacity nationwide by 7-9%. Consumers may not see prices change much at the grocery store over the next six months because all the cattle that are now being prepared for slaughter will still be processed, potentially just at a different plant. But in the long run, beef prices may continue to climb even higher than the current record highs — caused by a variety of factors from drought to tariffs — unless American ranchers decide to raise more cattle, which they have little incentive to do. An increase in beef imports from Brazil, like President Donald Trump encouraged last week by slashing tariffs on the South American country, may help insulate consumers while ranchers and feedlots struggle with high costs and falling prices. Here’s what we know about the impact of the plant closure and the changing tariffs: A ‘gut punch’ to the community Clay Patton, vice president of the Lexington-area Chamber of Commerce said Monday that Tyson’s announcement Friday felt like a “gut punch” to the community in the Platte River Valley that serves as a key link in the agricultural production chain. When it opened in 1990, the Lexington plant that Tyson later acquired revitalized and remade the formerly dwindling town by attracting thousands of immigrants to work there and nearly doubling the population. When the plant closes in January, the ripple effects will be felt throughout the community, undermining many first-generation business owners and the investment in new housing, Patton said. Tyson said it will offer Lexington workers the chance to move to take open jobs at one of its other plants if they are willing to uproot their families for jobs hundreds of miles away. “I’m hopeful that we can come through this and we’ll actually become better on the other side of it,” Patton said. Elmer Armijo was struck by how established the community was when he moved to Lexington last summer to lead First United Methodist Church. He described solid job security, good schools and health care systems and urban development — all in doubt now. “People are completely worried,” Armijo said. “The economy in Lexington is based in Tyson.” Many local churches, Armijo’s included, are already offering counseling, food pantries and gas vouchers for community members. Cattle prices falling in response The prospect of losing a major buyer for cattle and increasing imports from Brazil, which already accounted for 24% of the beef brought into the country this year, only adds to doubts about how profitable the U.S. cattle business might be over the next several years, making it less likely that American ranchers will commit to raising more animals. “There’s a just a lack of confidence in the industry right now. And producers are unwilling to make the investment to rebuild,” said Bill Bullard, president of Ranchers-Cattlemen Action Legal Fund United Stockgrowers of America. Boosting imports from Brazil has the potential to affect the market — much more than Trump’s suggestion to increase imports from Argentina — since the country sends more beef to America than any other. But for steak lovers, the sky-high price of the cut isn’t likely to be affected regardless, as most imports are lean trimmings that get mixed into ground beef. Kansas State University agricultural economist Glynn Tonsor said it’s hard to predict whether imports will continue to account for roughly 20% of the U.S. beef supply next year. He pointed out that Trump’s tariffs have changed several times since they were announced in the spring and could quickly change again. The only constant in the equation has been that consumers have continued to buy beef even as prices soar. Tonsor said on average Americans will consume 59 pounds (27 kilograms) of beef per person this year. Tyson faces continued losses in the beef business There has long been excess capacity in the meat business nationwide, meaning the nation’s slaughterhouses could handle many more cattle than they are processing. That has only been made worse in recent years as the government has encouraged more smaller companies to open slaughterhouses to compete with Tyson and the other giants that dominate the beef business. Tyson expects to lose more than $600 million on beef production this year after already reporting $720 million of red ink in beef over the past two years. Tonsor said it was inevitable that at least one beef plant would close. Afterward, Tyson’s remaining plants will be able to operate more efficiently at closer to full capacity. Ernie Goss, an economist at Creighton University in Omaha, said the Lexington plant likely wasn’t measuring up in the industry increasingly reliant on technological advancements that enhance productivity. “It’s very difficult to renovate or make the old plant fit the new world,” said Goss, who completed an impact study for a new Sustainable Beef plant. The Lexington facility “just wasn’t competitive right now in today’s environment in terms of output per worker.” ...read more read less