Census’ School of Hard Knocks

Vern Dunron, a 67-year-old retired car salesman with a gift for gab and a lot of traveling miles to his credit, hardly even had to turn on the charm.

There were no harangues about privacy. No pointed questions about why the government needs to know this stuff. One woman simply ducked back into her house to hand off her already completed census form, Dunron said.

“Gosh, that was a piece of cake,” he said, standing by the curb of a home in the El Rio neighborhood just north of Oxnard. “I’m having a pretty good time of this.”

On the first day of a door-knocking campaign by the U.S. Census Bureau, the second wave of its national head count, Dunron and about 800 other census workers were walking neighborhoods across the county, tracking down the 71,000 households that did not return forms mailed to them.

This phase--which could last as long as eight weeks--is officially known as the “non-response follow-up.” In a block-by-block effort, census workers hired at $11.75 an hour are combing the county to count stragglers.

Dunron carries with him long forms, which ask for detailed information about a household’s income, jobs and even commuting time, and short forms, which cover the minimum of name, ethnicity and gender.

He also totes a stack of cards reminding respondents of the census’ confidentiality. The census takes that pledge seriously--on Thursday a reporter tagging along with Dunron was asked not to get any closer than the curb.

The Ventura retiree says he is confident that when it comes down to it, people want to help their communities.

“I’ve been talking to people a long time,” he said. “All my life.”

Plus, he has 24 hours of training from the Census Bureau, covering everything from when to visit to what to say. This is what he tells them: Your answers are confidential. Privacy is the most important thing. You don’t need to give me any reasons why you haven’t turned in your form yet. It doesn’t matter to me.

In many ways, Ventura County is a model census county, with one of the highest response rates of any in the state. About 75% of households have returned forms, according to the latest count, topping the state average of 68%. But with success come higher expectations and a goal of 81%.

Census veterans say door-knocking is perhaps the hardest part of the campaign and one that clearly calls for the most persistence.

“We’ll go back a second time. We’ll go back a third time,” said Vincent Galvez, the manager of the county census office. “We’ll find them the next time.”

Census workers will knock on doors in the evenings and on weekends, eventually making up to three phone calls and three visits to each residence if necessary. If that fails, they can seek out neighbors, landlords or other “proxy” sources who can help with the head count.

For the most part, census workers will have experiences like Dunron’s Thursday morning, visits with people who are cooperative, and some even expecting the knock on the door. But, workers are aware that they run some risks of dealing with the unforeseen.

At an afternoon meeting with workers covering the El Rio neighborhood, field operations supervisor Terry Zeiler reminds them of that.

“I’ve got a question for you,” he tells them, like a cheery drill sergeant, at the front of the community center’s meeting room. “How many enumerators does it take to screw in a light bulb?”

One of the 14 enumerators in the room tosses out a guess blindly: Six?

“None,” Zeiler answers, with a grin of tickled satisfaction on his face. “We don’t work after dark.”

His focus is on safety: Don’t go in the house. Take a step back from the door. But remember, your work is important even if people don’t realize it.

In 1990, El Rio was undercounted and that meant the community had a tougher time getting services it deserved, such as child-care subsidies and extra police patrols, he says.

“You’re going to get a lot of cooperation. You’re going to get some doors slammed in your face,” he tells his crew. “But, they really need your help.”