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32-question census forms made public for first time; Did your family own a radio?

Sunday, June 23, 2002

By Mackenzie Carpenter, Post-Gazette Staff Writer

In 1930, there was no radio in the Pupa family's East Liberty home, according to census data, even though its patriarch, James Pupa, was a music teacher and two of his six children were in the business: Edward, 25, was a "theater musician" and Victor, 23, was a "hotel musician."

	Searching the census Here are some tips on searching the 1930 census, courtesy of the National Archives and Records Administration: Make a list of all the people you want to look for in the 1930 census. Think broadly -- ancestors, their siblings, cousins, etc. -- anyone to whom you are related. Collect addresses for these people from city directories if they lived in a city. Many libraries, including the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh, have city directories for local cities, or check with the National Archives. Identify the enumeration district (ED) in which each address was located, either by using the 1930 census microfilm locator, available at libraries, or check with the National Archives, which has microfilm containing text descriptions of each enumeration district. American Indian ancestors also can be found in microfilm by contacting the Archives. The 1930 census data can be viewed at the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh, at the National Archives in Washington, D.C., and at 13 other sites. For a fee, it can be viewed online at ancestry.com. To contact the National Archives, go to its Web site at 1930census.archives .gov/beginSearch.asp, or e-mail inquiries to 2000USA@-census.govs. You also may call the Census Bureau's population department at (301) 457-2422.

There was a radio, however, in the Morewood Heights manse of Howard Heinz, who is listed in the 1930 census as the president of a "food manufacturing company" and whose household contained more maids (nine) than children (two).

The radio question, designed to get a handle on how many families had embraced "new home appliance technology," was one of 32 on a form given on April 1, 1930, to census enumerators who fanned out across the country in what would be the last door-to-door handwritten survey of every household in America.

Seventy-two years to the day later, the National Archives officially released the results of that April day's snapshot of American life, and this week, the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh will make microfilm copies of the survey available to the public, for free. Those willing to pay a fee can also obtain the information online.

"Historians are awaiting this with great excitement," said Nicholas Ciotola, who tracks immigration patterns and is curator of the Italian-American collection at the Senator John Heinz Pittsburgh Regional History Center.

Why the long wait? Under federal law, personal census data can't be released until 72 years after its collection. Lawmakers believed this would protect most peoples' privacy, although that might be wishful thinking today: Census Bureau officials note that 20 million people listed in the 1930 census are still alive and life expectancy has increased from 60 years in 1930 to 77 now.

Some basic numbers about the 1930 census have been around for a while. After each census, composite data, such as population counts, is released. Historians have long known, for example, that in 1930, Pittsburgh's population had increased from 588,343 in 1920 to 669,817, due to the continued industrialization of the region.

The data also showed that some changes were afoot. During that time, the overall foreign-born population in the city had decreased from 120,792, or 20.5 percent of the population in 1920, to 109,685, or 16.4 percent.

"You can see that by this time, Pittsburgh's position as a city of immigrants was starting to fade," said Ciotola. In 1920, he said, it ranked 10th nationally in the numbers of immigrants; by 1930, it had dropped to 12th.

Beyond the numbers, this new personal census data will be a treasure trove for historians and genealogists looking for intimate details about the region's residents.

A random, and occasionally dizzying, look through rolls and rolls of microfilm at the Carnegie's Pennsylvania Room several weeks ago revealed some interesting tidbits about Pittsburghers then:

The 1910 census, for example, listed pianists, fruit dealers and saddlers under "occupation." In 1930, saddlers had all but disappeared, to be replaced with jobs such as "saleslady" and "clerk" along with the all-purpose "laborer" -- and, in the case of Benjamin Thaw, 71, of Morewood Place, "capitalist."

Changes in the world map since that time are apparent, too: Thomas J. Boyle, who lived on Perrysville Road in Ross, listed his parents as coming from the "Irish Free State," and his native tongue as "Irish."

Two of Pittsburgh's soon-to-be famous residents also were listed: Eugene C. Kelly, 17, (the dancer) was a student living at his family's home at 7514 Kensington St. in East Liberty; William Strayhorn, 14, (the jazzman) was listed as living in his family's home at 7212 Tioga St. "rear" in Homewood.

Five months after Wall Street's stock market crash, there was no real sign of the looming Depression. Under the section labeled, "Whether actually at work yesterday (or last regular working day)," a cursory look reveals as many answered "yes" as they did "no." And the rich certainly hadn't laid off their servants yet: Besides Heinz's nine maids, Chester Kaufmann, a lawyer and a cousin of merchant Edgar Kauffman living at 5119 Penton Road, Morewood Heights, listed four maids, a cook, a governess, a waitress and a butler.

The Kaufmann household had a radio, too, along with 12 million other Americans, although Marilyn Holt, who heads the Pennsylvania Department at the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh, said many families found the question intrusive. "They were worried that if they answered yes, there'd be a tax on radios," she said.

It's not as though James Pupa couldn't afford one of the newfangled gadgets. He owned his house -- worth $19,000, a solid sum at that time -- at 6551 Deary St.

The East Liberty of Pupa's era was heavily populated by Italians, making it a good place for a music lover to settle. "There is a history of Italian immigrants being musicians," Ciotola said. "Italian musical bands were very popular during this period. We have photos [at the History Center] of them in Aliquippa, Glassport, Ambridge and New Castle, which was a very important Italian community."

Today, though, the Pupas of the 1930 census -- James; his wife, Susie; and their children, Edward, Victor, Emma, Elvira, Henry and James Jr. -- seem to have vanished. Perhaps it's understandable: the youngest, James Jr., would be 84 today.

But where did they go? Did they move outside the city or did they leave the area altogether? Not a single Pupa is listed in the Pittsburgh phone directory, and an Internet search shows the nearest Pupas living in Pittston, on the other side of the state.

That's what interests Ciotola -- how the city and region's "ethnic enclaves" began to change during this period, and that's why he's looking forward to getting his hands on this new data.

Just as the 1910 and 1920 censuses revealed the makeup of different neighborhoods, "What we will probably start to see in 1930 is evidence of those immigrants becoming successful, moving up the economic ladder and moving out of those communities," he said.