On Monday morning, Earl Ross, the owner of Ross’ Eatery & Pub, a social hub in Lordstown, was in a tree stand poised to hunt deer when he received a text message about the news. “My reaction was a sick stomach,” Mr. Ross said, “and for the whole rest of the day, I just sat in the rain and thought about the future.”

There is also the likely effect on the housing market, as workers try to offload mortgages amid the prospect of unemployment.

Jason Sickler, who has worked at the plant since 2000, said he would prepare his house for a possible sale as he contemplated whether to request a transfer to a General Motors operation in another city.

“I was literally nauseous yesterday when I walked out of there,” said Mr. Sickler, who enjoys his job in the trim department and is loath to relocate with a son still in high school. “Today I’m trying to get a better game plan, accept it a little more.”

In some ways the story of Lordstown in recent decades sounds a lot like the story of industrial America writ large. The number of workers at the G.M. plant peaked around 13,000 in the mid-1980s, according to the union there. It had dropped below 5,000 by this decade, as foreign competition and automation took their toll.

But in other respects G.M.’s presence allowed the village of about 3,200 to defy the economic realities bearing down on the region.

Factory workers have helped generate millions of dollars in village income-tax revenue over the years to pay for infrastructure and other expenses. “We’ve been blessed with the ability to have money to do that,” said Arno Hill, who has served as mayor in two stints totaling nearly 20 years since the early 1990s.