Skip to main content
You are the owner of this article.
You have permission to edit this article.
Second resident of Nebraska’s one-person town just a figment of Census Bureau’s imagination
editor's pick topical alert top story

Second resident of Nebraska’s one-person town just a figment of Census Bureau’s imagination

  • Updated
  • 0

Elsie Eiler has been the mayor and only resident of Monowi since her husband, Rudy, died in 2004. She has run the Monowi Tavern for 50 years.

Gross, Nebraska is a small town. That's actually over-selling it. In fact, only two people live there. Mike and Mary Finnegan are the sole residents, and run a bar in the incorporated town. But Gross is a metropolis compared to nearby Monowi, where Elsie Eiler is the only resident. Eiler, the town’s mayor, also runs a tavern. Small towns, big stories.


Follow us behind the scenes on Instagram:

Make our acquaintance on Facebook:

Give us a shout on Twitter:

Visit our world directly:

Great Big Story is a video network dedicated to the untold, overlooked & flat-out amazing. Humans are capable of incredible things & we're here to tell their stories. When a rocket lands in your backyard, you get in.

The only resident of Nebraska’s only one-person town was surprised when she heard the news.

The U.S. Census Bureau was reporting Monowi’s population had exploded by 100% and was now home to two people, according to 2020 results it recently released.

“Well, then someone’s been hiding from me, and there’s nowhere to live but my house,” Elise Eiler said Wednesday. “But if you find out who he is, let me know?”

His name is Noise, and he was created by an algorithm to try to protect Eiler’s personal information. Monowi didn’t add another resident to its population, but the Census Bureau did.

In a Nebraska town of one, it's not hard to keep distance

“What you’re seeing there is the noise we add to the data so you can’t figure out who is living there,” a Census spokeswoman said. “It protects the privacy of the respondent and the confidentiality of the data they provide.”

The bureau doesn’t invent respondents, the spokeswoman said. But it does shift them from one census block or tract to another. And while the discrepancies might be apparent and confusing at that micro level — like when a town’s only resident is shocked to hear she has a neighbor — the numbers are still accurate when zoomed farther out, like at the congressional district level.

“We take the same number of people, but we move them around,” the Census spokeswoman said. “When you look at it all the way out, it’s correct.”

They call it disclosure avoidance, and the bureau has used it in the past. But for the 2020 count — because of increases in computer processing power and publicly available information — it reinforced its efforts and gave it a new name, differential privacy.

“The bottom line is, the census is putting additional protocols so these people can’t be identified,” said David Drozd, research coordinator for the Center for Public Affairs Research at the University of Nebraska at Omaha. “And what’s reported in the count isn’t necessarily the true count they found.”

The reason is honorable: To protect people’s privacy, and prevent others from learning how someone responded to the Census questions — such as age, gender, race, household relationships and homeownership.

But the results are still debatable, Drozd said.

“They’re trying to make a balance between data access and the confidentiality of the respondents. It’s a fine line to walk. But there’s going to be places that don’t match reality.”

Differential privacy is not just a problem for individual census blocks and the smallest towns, he said. It can skew the reported populations of larger communities and entire counties.

Larger areas will likely show smaller-than-actual populations, while small towns will look like they’ve grown more than they have.

In Butler County, the center of everybody near the middle of nowhere

Which is why Gross, about 20 miles northwest of Monowi, didn’t grow by 50% — or one new person — in the last decade, as reported by the census.

Mary Finnegan is certain she and her husband, Mike, are its only residents. There used to be more. They had children, and they had relatives living with them, and a bachelor in town.

But the bachelor moved after his house burned, and the relatives bought an acreage.

“And one-by-one, my kids graduated, and the population dwindled down to two.”

Reach the writer at 402-473-7254 or

On Twitter @LJSPeterSalter


Be the first to know

* I understand and agree that registration on or use of this site constitutes agreement to its user agreement and privacy policy.

Related to this story

Get up-to-the-minute news sent straight to your device.


News Alerts

Breaking News

Husker News