IMPORTING THE SUPERIOR AMERICAN:

"The refugees helped stem the decline," Ms. Callahan said. "They have a great work ethic and are willing to take jobs that native folks don't want." The refugee center helps cushion the landing: It spends about $1,100-- federal and state money--on each refugee. Newcomers are given a furnished apartment, with the basics to get started.

Every refugee initially accesses public assistance--but is supposed to take the first viable job offered. "Refugees don't come here to be on public assistance," Ms. Callahan said. "That's not the dream."

Many currently work as dishwashers, groundskeepers, janitors, cooks, housekeepers, and card dealers at Turning Stone Resort Casino in Verona, New York. Others are employed at Chobani, the yogurt factory in New Berlin, owned by Hamdi Ulukaya, a Turkish immigrant. Chobani estimates that approximately 30 percent of its manufacturing workforce in New Berlin are immigrants or refugees.

The Bosnians have been the most successful group.

Many arrived with educations and building skills. "All of us had everything," said Sefik Badnjevic, 62, a retired machinist, referring to the many middle-class lives uprooted by war. "We try to find here what we lost in Bosnia."

Mr. Badnjevic was offended when his new neighbors asked questions like: "Did you have stores in your country? Did you have a TV?"

He would show them a video of his home, which he shot before the war: "This is my apartment! This is my car!" he said.

The Bosnians quickly adapted, often working two jobs to get ahead. Then in the late 1990s, there was a stunning confluence of events: The fires, which had been raging for decades, abated. The city tore down almost 200 vacant structures; the National Guard helped clear away the debris.

And the Bosnians bought hundreds of run-down houses in East Utica. The stage was set for what amounted to a massive rebuilding project: Bosnian families--sometimes three generations--did the work themselves. They tore out and rebuilt kitchens; they put in extra bedrooms. They fixed up garages, built decks, and planted gardens.

Many chose two-family homes, living in one as they rebuilt the other.

They often rented the second to parents or siblings.

Every Saturday, for seven years, Mr. Zogby gave a ride home to a Bosnian woman who worked for his family as a housekeeper; in Bosnia, she had been a police officer. One Saturday, she told him she had moved, and directed him to her new home.

"It was only a few blocks from where I had grown up," Mr. Zogby said. It had been a photo studio, in a two-family house that had declined.

He pulled up to her new residence: She, her husband, and two tall sons had transformed it into a one-family home with white pillars.

"Outside was a massive American flag," he recalled. "I knew what she was saying: 'I turned this into my palace.' "

The Bosnians have now been in the city for two generations. They are doctors, nurses, physical therapists, contractors, police officers, firefighters, restaurateurs, bar owners, and restaurant managers. They work in Utica's banks and at City Hall.

Many have stayed in their renovated homes--rather than move to New Hartford, an affluent suburb--even as new, struggling refugees have settled in their neighborhoods.

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