NATIONAL IDENTITY OR STATISTICAL ANOMALY? - JUST CALL US AMERICANS CENSUS RESPONDENTS APPEAR LESS ATTENTIVE TO ETHNIC BACKGROUNDS

Paula Schleis and Katie Byard, Beacon Journal staff writers, Computer-assisted reporting manager David Knox contributed to this report.
Akron Beacon Journal
June 18, 2002

Are we a nation of immigrants -- or a nation of mutts?

If the U.S. census is any indication, more and more of us have either lost track of where our ancestral roots lie, or don't care to acknowledge them.

In 2000, nearly 21 million U.S. residents considered their "ancestry or ethnic origin" to be American. That's a 58 percent increase from a decade earlier -- a jump made all the more significant when you consider there was hardly any change from 1980 to 1990.

Even in New York City, where one person in three was born on foreign soil, there was a nearly 200 percent increase in the number of folks who consider their heritage to be simply "American" or "United States."

As a result, recently released census figures give the statistical impression that those of German, Irish, English, French and Slovak lineage are disappearing.

Demographers and political scientists aren't sure what to make of this shift in national identity.

Is it merely a natural progression as descendants of immigrants become far removed from the motherland?

Is it a reflection of some desire to stake out an American identity amid all the chatter about the country's diversity?

Or is the census question so poorly handled that it's a worthless indicator?

GERMAN STORY

Where have all the Germans gone?

To take the census at face value is to believe more than 23,000 Germans vanished from Akron in the past decade. In Summit and Stark counties, the number of people claiming German ancestry dropped 92,000 to about 244,000 between 1990 and 2000.

As Barb Just serves up drinks for seniors attending a dance at the Loyal Oak post of the VFW in Norton, she talks about the good old days of the Akron German American Club -- a social hall that at one time had 1,200 voting members.

That was before the Grant Street institution dwindled to fewer than 150 members and closed its doors in 1997.

"It used to be people raised their kids there. They'd just fall asleep on the chairs while their parents danced," Just said. But then Mom and Dad both had to start working and there was less time to keep children exposed to their German traditions, she said.

Today, older Germans can still find a polka dance or a button box jam session almost every night of the week, but the younger generation has moved on to "do their own thing," Just said.

But one University of Cincinnati professor takes issue with census data that imply 15 million people of German origin were erased from the American tapestry in the past decade.

"Speaking for German-Americans, we're still here," said Don Heinrich Tolzmann, a professor of German-American studies. "We just didn't get counted accurately, and I think that's true for many other ethnic Americans."

Indeed, the census shows the biggest declines in the oldest immigrant stocks. There are 8 million fewer Irish. Eight million fewer English. Two million fewer French. One million fewer Slovaks.

Heinrich Tolzmann called the census data "a hoax and an insult" and believes many people didn't even fill in the question. Indeed, 9 million fewer ancestries were reported in 2000 than in 1990, while the nation's population grew by 13 percent in the same period.

Peter Skerry, a scholar with the Brookings Institution in Boston, added that the question of ancestry can be "very volatile" as current events affect how people identify themselves.

"People attach different kinds of importance to these kinds of labels in different times in history," said Skerry, author of the book Counting on the Census? Race, Group Identity, and the Evasion of Politics.

One can't help but wonder if patriotic fervor would have affected that particular question even more if the census -- conducted in April of 2000 -- had been taken after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks.

But if there is any meat to the statistics reported by the census, Skerry said it could be a backlash to diversity issues emphasized in the 1990s. He sees a growing anxiety about the "fragmenting" of American society.

"People feel like they want to grab on more tightly to being Americans because they feel like that identity is under threat," he said.

One opinion is shared by many experts: The examples provided with the census question served as a type of subliminal message that skewed the results.

"The research that has been done with that question shows that it is very sensitive to instruction," said Matthew Snipp, a demographer from Stanford University.

+ In 1980, when English was the second example provided (below Afro-American), English was the most commonly reported ancestry group.

+ In 1990, when German headed the list of examples, German was the most commonly reported.

+ In 2000, Italian topped a list of 16 examples which did not include English or German.

And guess what? At a time when the numbers of nearly every European origin were shrinking, the ranks of Italians nationwide swelled by 7 percent.

NOT EVERYONE KNOWS

Vic Donatelli, 74, won't quibble with the analysts.

But the retired Akron firefighter said there's another reason more people stood up to be counted as Italians: pride.

He jokes that he would often end his shift by telling his station mates: "There are two kinds of people in this room -- Italians, and people who wish they were Italian."

Donatelli is the treasurer and a past president of the Italian Center in Akron, where volunteers make gallons of red sauce and hundreds of meatballs each week for Thursday's dinner night.

Tommy Menza, 80, is known as "the sauce man." Wearing speckles of sauce on his face and apron, the Silver Lake resident said he wouldn't be surprised if a lot of people were unsure how to answer the census question.

"I question even my ancestry," said Menza. He said he would have written in "Italian" on the census form, but noted his mom came from Brazil and is "allegedly of Italian heritage."

But even in families with divergent roots, the Italian side is sure to dominate, said Dominic Rizzo, 75, of Franklin Township in Summit County.

He said his three daughters-in-law -- none of whom is Italian -- have adopted the traditions and even "cook as well as my wife."

Rizzo's father and mother came from Italy, but for many Americans whose ancestors immigrated in the 18th and 19th centuries, that overseas connection was severed long ago.

Few area people equal Steve Kelleher's reputation as a history lover. As president of the Barberton Historical Society, his effort to save buildings associated with town founder O.C. Barber mark him as a man who honors ties to the past.

But Kelleher, whose last name comes from an Irish ancestor, said if he had been asked the ancestry question, he would have written in "American."

"I feel I'm so filtered that I have absolutely no ties to the old sod," he said. "I don't consider myself to be Irish at all."

Stephen Petrasek, 77, of Stark County's Lexington Township, wonders if many folks just wanted to keep it simple.

"What they are doing is saying, 'Hey, I'm an American' if they are unsure about what to put down," Petrasek theorized.

But Petrasek, who's of Slovak stock, said he's sad to see more people not embrace their ethnicity. After all, "we're not all American Indians, so we came from somewhere."

Somewhere -- but where?

Not everyone knows, said Sara Caldwell, 76, of Akron. She knows she has some Irish in her, but as a fifth- or sixth-generation American, she's "lost track" of what other blood runs through her veins.

She said she doesn't even know the nationality of her maiden name, Douthett.

So when a grandson recently pointed to a photo of a pair of ancestors in 19th-century clothing and asked where they came from, Caldwell gave him the only answer she had:

"I said they're from Zelienople, Pennsylvania."