On a whitewashed church pew in Johnson City, I sat alone as James Eaton stood over me delivering a sermon. It was a Monday, and this was Eaton’s office. One of the inventors of payday lending—the business of making small, short-term loans from retail locations at steep rates—Eaton operates out of a converted service station, with a tarp sign in red and white: here’s where it all started. east tennes see’s first, oldest & finest. He had suggested we conduct our interview in his reception area, on the pew he brought up years ago from his wife’s childhood church in Alabama. I balanced my coffee cup perilously on the green-felt pew pad as I listened to him enumerate his own good works—his donations to a Bible college, his support for a rural congregation of evangelical Harley-Davidson enthusiasts. Eaton’s homily was heartfelt, if meandering and peppered with such biblical malapropisms as Jesus having “healed those leopards.” As he preached, customers kept trudging in past us to the counter, where they wrote postdated bad checks and walked away with twenties at several hundred percent interest, all transacted above a vast American flag dangling from the countertop...
Usury country: Welcome to the birthplace of payday lending—By Daniel Brook (Harper's Magazine)
Usury country: Welcome to the birthplace of payday lending—By Daniel Brook (Harper's Magazine)
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