The decades surrounding the opening of the twentieth century saw one of the most significant shifts in the character of American public life. A political order dominated by decentralized parties and a limited state gave way to one defined by interest group activism, weaker parties, and more vigorous government. Scholars argue over the degree and extent of these changes, but few quarrel with the claim that public life looked substantially different by the end of the Progressive Era. Americans accepted interest group pluralism in principle and in practice by the 1920s, and the ideal of a politics devoted to an undifferentiated common good lost much of its persuasive power.

Armed with volumes of Greek and Latin classics, James Loeb waged a gentleman's war. He took aim at what the modern world prized and with the ammunition of antiquity he sought to defeat it. Specifically, in 1912, he inaugurated the publication of his eponymous classical library of ancient texts and facing-page English translations. The Loeb Classical Library, numbering in the hundreds of volumes, collected into one series all the important works and many obscure texts from antiquity. With the same popularizing instinct that guided other purveyors of middlebrow culture, Loeb aimed to connect a general audience with its classical heritage. With his set of compact green and red volumes whose publication he funded, Loeb saw himself as a warrior in the centuries-long battle between the ancients and the moderns.

Many fans and scholars of newspaper comics have observed that an excellent way to chart a social history of American culture in the twentieth century is to look at the mainstream comic strip page. This may be especially true of the first half of the twentieth century when comic strips were avidly followed by readers from almost all age, class, and ethnic demographics. Because of this breadth of popularity, the comics page was a fairly accurate reflector (and occasionally, shaper) of fashions, fads, humor, politics, and racial prejudices. Early cartoonists' ability to place their fingers on the American pulse can largely be attributed to the industry's eagerness to please readers: as a lowbrow entertainment that targeted broad audiences through street corner sales, and later, national syndication, it tried to anticipate the characters, comedy, and ideological content that would attract and retain devoted readers. A few iconoclastic cartoonists such as Al Capp (Li'l Abner) and George Herriman (Krazy Kat) challenged readers with topical satire or appealed to niche audiences with quirky humor and aesthetics; but even the most innovative work in the medium relied on a sort of call and response between core readers, syndicates, editors, and artists—a back and forth that insured that the cartoonist's work resonated with, or spoke for, its fans.