SANTA MONICA MOUNTAINS--I was given an address to enumerate high up in the hills above Malibu. Using Google Maps, I could see that it was about 45 minutes from my house so I wanted to make sure I knew what to expect. The Census office didn’t give us any additional help other than a tightly-controlled cell phone, so we relied on independent research (Google Maps, County assessor parcel maps, social media, etc) to obtain information on non-standard properties (i.e. not suburban homes).
This one was no exception. On the tiniest of mountain roads, I pulled off in the dirt. NO TRESPASSING signs were everywhere, but as we were told from Census leadership, we were allowed to go around gates, jump fences and otherwise disregard signs about private property as we were on official business. As I walked up the winding dirt driveway (road), I tripped a motion sensor which triggered an alarm. I kept going. Digital cameras were hidden inside the trees and more signs indicating it was private property. I kept going.
At the top I saw a black Mercedes Benz SUV and heard music. There were random shopping bags laying around indicating someone just arrived. I didn’t see an actual housing dwelling, so I continued to slowly move around to understand just where I was. Then to my right a man in his mid-60s with unkempt hair and sweat pants moved quickly toward me yelling and brandishing what appeared to be a dinner knife.
“CAN’T YOU READ THE SIGNS, THIS IS PRIVATE PROPERTY!!” he yelled.
“I understand sir, I’m here with the Census…”
“It says Private Property, you can’t be here!”
I spent another minute indicating that as a member of the Census I was allowed to be on private property while on official business. He kept yelling until I yelled,
“ALL I NEED TO KNOW IS HOW MANY PEOPLE LIVE HERE AND I’LL LEAVE.”
That made him take a pause.
“No one lives here. There’s no home here. This is my property where I come to on the weekends. I’ve been working on this place for the last 30 years”.
I said, “Ok, great. That’s all I needed. Then there’s nothing else for me here.”
He put his knife down by his side and then said, “Well you’re here, let me show you around.’’
Curiosity got the best of me, so he showed me his man-cave that he’s been working on since the 1980s. It has a picnic table in a part of an actual rock cave with some crafting stuff in there and an old radio which he keeps on 24/7 to keep “damn teenagers” away. There was a bit of an old west facade along another area of rocks.
He kept his knife in his hand the entire time, and, after the 10-minute tour, I made an excuse to leave.
--SoCal Anonymous
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