Mass. fears a gap in census

With immigrants wary, undercount would hurt state

After years of highly publicized immigration raids, community organizers and government officials are growing increasingly worried that many immigrants will not open their doors to census takers in 2010, a scenario that could cost Massachusetts millions in federal dollars and possibly a congressional seat.

Although the next census is still 17 months away, federal, state, and local authorities are stepping up efforts to reach immigrants and other hard-to-count groups.

In recent weeks, the Census Bureau has opened new offices in Massachusetts and is preparing a massive media blitz in multiple languages.

Officials are also planning to recruit community organizers who speak languages from Somali to Spanish and teach about the census in religious congregations and schools.

"In terms of the hyper, almost paranoid sense of people feeling vulnerable, we've never had this situation," said Joel Barrera, deputy director of the Metropolitan Area Planning Council, a government agency that has pinpointed hard-to-count neighborhoods.

"Right now we've got to start reaching the people, telling the immigrants the census is different than the other agencies."

Since the 2000 Census, immigrants have increasingly felt they were under siege, from heightened security since the Sept. 11, 2001, terror attacks to a major immigration raid last year in New Bedford. Some naturalized citizens fear government officials because of violent repression in their home countries. Illegal immigrants worry about being deported, and many have been taught by local advocates not to open their doors when officials come knocking.

A recent visit to a Chelsea neighborhood showed the fears census takers will face.

A 19-year-old baby sitter from Guatemala froze in alarm on her doorstep when a reporter asked if she would answer census takers' questions when they come to her neighborhood. She would not give her name because she is here illegally.

"No," she said flatly in Spanish, waving her hands. "With all that has happened with immigration and everything, most of the people wouldn't open their doors."

Immigrants have helped fuel what little growth Massachusetts has had in the past decade, and population figures are key to determining public and private investment, such as deploying funds to nonprofits, deciding where to build roads and schools, even where to put a Starbucks.

City and state officials say that every federal dollar is crucial as the state makes dramatic budget cuts. Boston, Chelsea, and other cities and towns have complained for years that an undercount of immigrants has deprived them of funding.

More than 900,000 immigrants live in Massachusetts, 14 percent of the population, according to 2006 estimates. About 1 in 5 immigrants is here illegally.

The goal of the US Census is to count every person living in the United States. In March 2010, it will start by sending 10-question questionnaires to every household.

If households don't return the form, census officials will dispatch teams of census takers weeks later into neighborhoods determined to get the answers they need. Typically they show up in the evenings, before 8 p.m.

Census takers don't ask if immigrants are in the United States , and they don't share information with other government agencies, said Kathleen Ludgate, regional director of the US Census Bureau.

In 2000, 69 percent of the state's residents returned the census form by mail, slightly above the national average.

But the turnout was lower in cities with a large immigrant population, such as Lawrence, Chelsea, and Boston. In pockets within those cities, the mail return rate was less than half.

One of those neighborhoods with a low return rate in the 2000 census is a triangular swath of land in Chelsea, steps from a bustling downtown filled with bakeries, banks, and a bus stop crowded with workers. Hundreds of people live in the yellow and red brick rowhouses that line the streets, inches apart. They shop at the nearby Market Basket and send their children to school.

But in the 2000 mail-in census, less than half of the mostly Spanish-speaking neighborhood returned the census form.

The 19-year-old baby sitter said that she and her family had lived in the rowhouse for eight years, and that most were born in Guatemala. She would like to study, but can't afford college tuition. But she said she would not give her personal information to a government official.

"It's because of the fear," she said.

Nearby, a 35-year-old painter named Francisco said he would answer their questions if they came to his home, though he is also here illegally, from El Salvador.

But he would like the government to know what his community needs, from English classes to the GED classes he takes at night.

The 2000 census showed that 36 percent of Chelsea residents are immigrants, many of whom are not fluent in English, and 40 percent of people age 25 and over never finished high school.

"I know what a census is," he said in Spanish, picking up his mail with hands speckled with white paint. "It's just part of the government's job."

Upstairs, his neighbor was more skeptical. The man cracked open the door enough to show his head.

"I don't think it's necessary," he said in Spanish and shut the door.

Secretary of State William F. Galvin said that informing the public about the census will be his top priority when the election is over. In 2000, because of ramped-up publicity, the state did not lose a congressional seat for the first time in 30 years.

But this census could be different. This month Boston complained that its population estimates are missing as many as 20,000 people, partly because of college students and others. Chelsea believes that as many as 15,000 people may have been left out.

"However they got here, they're here," said Galvin. "I'm here to make sure they're counted, as the federal law says they should be."

Maria Sacchetti can be reached at msacchetti@globe.com.