A grand man-on-horseback statue of Theodore Roosevelt stands guard at the American Museum of Natural History in New York. Its heroic magnitude should remind historians that cinematic stories about masterful men possessing larger-than-life powers compete quite well in the marketplace of ideas with interpretations that show “great” men as vulnerable and fallible. How could historians ever expect to win popular audiences from the latest opiate of the reading people, books about the dash and drama of great men? Men who dare to perform bold deeds appeal to much larger audiences than most other topics historians consider historically significant. Celebrationist history wins applause; long footnotes do not. In public squares across the globe, the man-on-horseback type evokes nationalism inspired by battles won. People in other countries also lie to themselves about their pasts. Why should it be different here?

In what sense are we living in a “New Gilded Age”? Facile analogies between the late nineteenth century and our own era have proliferated in recent years. Pundits such as Paul Krugman inserted this analogy into the public conversation in the early 2000s, drawing on empirical work by economists Thomas Piketty and Emmanuel Saez. In underscoring a parallel between the two “gilded” eras, these commentators sketched out two periods marked by economic inequality, with several “anomalous” decades of relative equality in the middle of the twentieth century. This basic U-shaped narrative template has inspired commentators in numerous venues, from The Nation to The Economist, to imagine the shifts of recent decades simply as “a return” to an earlier age. Evoking social, political, and cultural resemblances, these accounts have stressed the resurgence of unfettered markets, economic volatility, government inaction, and the plutocratic reign of money.

Though John Dewey had considered education and democracy separately in his early career, he came to understand them as essentially linked concepts during his nearly ten-year collaboration with Ella Flagg Young at the University of Chicago. This intellectually gifted women, who eventually became superintendent of Chicago’s schools, connected education and democracy as well as theory and practice, essentially showing Dewey how democratic schools might work. This article briefly traces Dewey’s developing ideas of education and democracy in the context of his relationship with Young.

The initiative and referendum are commonly characterized as quintessentially Populist or Progressive reforms, but transatlantic socialism deserves pride of place in the intellectual history of direct legislation in the United States. A decade and a half before the People’s Party famously commended the idea of direct legislation at its 1892 nominating convention in Omaha, Nebraska, the Socialist Labor Party (SLP) made the demand for direct legislation a plank in its first party platform. That demand was shaped by the 1875 Gotha Program formulated by the Socialist Workers Party of Germany and informed by socialist debates during the First International and the pioneering work of Moritz Rittinghausen. The diffusion of these ideas among Gilded Age labor radicals is a crucial and underappreciated part of the story of the origins of the initiative and referendum in the United States. That socialists’ pioneering role in the origins of the initiative and referendum in the United States has largely been slighted is particularly ironic since the individual arguably most responsible for securing the direct legislation resolution at Omaha was among the nation’s most successful radical labor organizers and a committed socialist, Joseph R. Buchanan.

The study of the mass circulation “popular magazine” during the Gilded Age and Progressive Era was revived during the 1990s as part of the emerging fields of gender studies, consumer studies, and the study of the new middle class. Richard Ohmann's seminal work viewed these magazines through the lens of the political economy and class relations of an emerging corporate capitalist society and explored the relationship between mass culture and the political economy of capitalism. This paper reexamines the connection between a national mass culture, the new middle class, and an emerging corporate capitalist society through the lens of post-structuralist discourse theory. Corporate capitalism is conceptualized as in part a discourse, the new liberalism, which incorporated or rearticulated populist and socialist discourses and in doing so temporarily won the consent of the capitalist class, middle classes, and segments of the working class. Through the pages of popular magazines readers were offered pieces of a new discourse that embraced corporations rather than the “free market,” women's entry into public life, and new constructions of the self. During the muckraking era, elements of socialism and populism were integrated into mainstream American culture. Overall, the essay argues that a discourse perspective on popular magazines can open up new perspectives on corporate capitalism and the new liberalism. While corporate capitalism marked the decline of the producer–republican tradition, it also marked the emergence of an American social democratic tradition, a mixture of capitalist and socialist social formations.

This essay focuses on the conception of social justice devised by A. Philip Randolph, noted socialist, co-founder of The Messenger, and organizer of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, and Frank R. Crosswaith, a general organizer for the International Ladies Garment Workers Union and one-time Messenger correspondent, in the aftermath of World War I. Weaving together a socialist critique of modern industrial society with a powerful vision of human freedom and equality, Randolph and Crosswaith articulated a distinctly egalitarian conception of social justice that asserted the equal right of all to benefit from society's advances. Arguing that genuine social justice was predicated on the open participation of all, they fashioned a program of reform that drew on black racial identity to frame their vision of class consciousness and, in so doing, planted the roots of an independent strain of black radicalism that was not intellectually beholden to whites. Although historical writing on the New Negro recognizes the importance of Randolph and to a lesser degree Crosswaith, this writing overlooks their innovative thought and its philosophical and political basis.

Racial mapping during the Progressive Era played into the political narratives of eugenic intervention and immigration restriction. This article argues that the racial cartographic work of the Yale geographer and prolific eugenicist Ellsworth Huntington was both developed within and contributed to this racist milieu. Huntington’s middle-class and educated upbringing, his familial history, and his expertise as a well-travelled geographer all conspired to shape his views on eugenics, race, and immigration. By applying the critical cartographic theories of John Brian Harley, Denis Wood, Heather Winlow, and others, I show that Huntington’s racial maps were a product of his cultural and political environment. The success of a map’s impact was often due to maps being seen as objective depictions of spatial variation. Indeed, for Huntington they performed an essential role in communicating and portraying racial information. But, as I argue, they were susceptible to bias, misunderstanding, and intentional manipulation. I show that Huntington’s maps are not accurate snapshots of reality, but rather cultural texts or rhetorical images intended to create a narrative and convince the reader of a particular subjective point of view.

When a recruiter for the Ku Klux Klan first arrived in Butte, Montana, in the summer of 1921, he placed an ad in the Butte Miner depicting a white-robed man astride a bucking horse. Borrowed from the publicity materials for D W. Griffith's groundbreaking film, The Birth of a Nation (1915), this image of a uniformed figure was a fixture of Klan propaganda. The advertisement faced two directions: it connected the newly formed Klan with its Reconstruction Era predecessor, while also demonstrating that the Klan imagined itself through the revisionist lens of Griffith's film and its textual inspiration, Thomas Dixon Jr.'s play and novel The Clansman (1905). The image of a white-robed Klansmen in the Butte Miner was thus a symbol of what Klan leaders and the popular media alike called the Klan's “revival,” the process through which the historical organization was brought to life in a new form.

In September 1893, Catholic laypeople, clergy, and prelates met at the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago as the Columbian Catholic Congress to discuss their church's history and chart its course into the future. The leadership of Catholic laywomen in shaping the course of the Congress has been virtually absent in scholarship, much as it was hidden from contemporaries in the past. The act of a Catholic woman speaking among both men and women in a public space was significant, as it demonstrated an increasing assertiveness on the part of Catholic women, including those holding to a conception of gendered, separate spheres, that women had key roles to play in shaping public Catholicity and Catholics’ ideas about their own community of faith. A core group of Catholic women played a hitherto underappreciated part in bringing the Congress to life. This study therefore centers women in the history of, more narrowly, Catholicism's place at the World's Columbian Exposition and, more broadly, the Catholic public of the early Progressive Era, and demonstrates the often-invisible labor in which women engaged to develop their church's intellectual life in the early Progressive Era.

This article considers how American food manufacturers used advertising and outreach to sway public opinion in the immediate years after the 1906 passage of the Pure Food and Drug Act. Although this federal legislation has long been heralded as a landmark victory for consumer protection, the new law was not a watershed moment for progressivism. Food production and consumption in the United States remained deeply fraught. In the absence of a clearly defined apparatus to enforce the new law and much contestation among policy-makers, business interests, and reformers, the food industry's co-option of reform ideals and rhetoric exemplifies the increasing power of big business over both public policy and mainstream cultural discourse in the United States during the early twentieth century and beyond. While scholars have often framed the push to introduce federal food policy as a fairly linear institutional or political narrative, a cultural historical approach gives new insight into how unresolved questions about purity in food production and consumption have vexed Americans and stymied business interests and policy-makers in ways that have continued to reverberate into the present day.

What follows is a written reproduction of a forum held at the annual meeting of the Organization of American Historians in San Francisco in April 2013. The forum commemorated the twenty-fifth anniversary of the publication of Eric Foner's Reconstruction: America's Unfinished Revolution, 1863–1877. Kate Masur (Northwestern University) organized and introduced the discussion, and the commentators in order of speaking were the following:

• • Heather Andrea Williams, The University of Pennsylvania

• • Gregory P. Downs, City College of New York and the Graduate Center of the City University of New York

• • Thavolia Glymph, Duke University

• • Steven Hahn, The University of Pennsylvania

• • Eric Foner, Columbia University

This article argues that important antecedents of post-New Deal American liberalism emerged in response to the First Red Scare. As war hysteria gave way to patent antiradicalism, the pervasiveness of peacetime state-sponsored repression undermined progressive confidence in administrative governance and generated support for so-called personal rights. At the same time, the suppression of meaningful labor activity during the early 1920s buttressed conservative confidence in the judiciary and emboldened lawyers and business advocates to oppose state policing of putatively private beliefs. The result was increasing convergence around a new liberalism, defined against “intolerance,” which laid the groundwork for judicial enforcement of free speech and minority rights.

As 2016 is the centennial of Dewey's most famous work, Democracy and Education (1916), it is imperative to consider Dewey's role as a public intellectual. In reflection of how he framed his most famous work—as an instrument for helping people think about democratic reform—the authors examined John Dewey's beliefs about the importance of peace as applied to the American view. This essay journals Dewey as an important contributor to the American peace movement in terms of both thought and activity, especially in the post-World War I period. Dewey argued that the responsibility of schools in a democratic society is to teach cooperation and understanding and not simply rely on notions of patriotism and allegiance as often presented in schools. His World War I experience alerted him to the need for transforming schools as seminaries of patriotism into instruments for global understanding. The authors also offered specific examples as to how his instrumentalist philosophy, including his involvement in the Outlawry of War campaign in the 1920s, has been a cornerstone of peace education efforts in the United States over the past one hundred years and what has been their effectiveness.

The extent and intensity of electoral and voter fraud that took place during the U.S. Gilded Age is properly infamous. This paper explores a form of voter intimidation that has garnered comparatively little scholarly attention: economic coercion. Absent secrecy at the polls and security at work, bosses forced workingmen to choose between their job or their vote. Economic voter intimidation provoked both a real and rhetorical crisis in the 1870s and 1880s. In real terms, it disrupted hundreds of elections and damaged thousands of workers’ livelihoods. It became a nationwide crisis after 1873, however, because for the first time, employers were coercing white workingmen on a widespread basis. Reports of employers coercing their employees at the polls throughout the nation confirmed the worst fears of many labor leaders and politicians: white wage-workers were insecure possessors of the franchise whose precariousness might threaten democracy itself. Mining previously overlooked accounts of economic voter intimidation in contested congressional election case records, congressional investigations, corporate records, and newspapers, this article argues that employers’ politicized layoff threats and observation of workers at the polls undermined the political equality of even those men whose whiteness had seemingly secured their privilege.

During the American woman suffrage movement, opponents described suffragists as abnormal, unsexed, non-mothers who desired to leave the home and family en masse, levying “war against the very foundation of society.” This charge ultimately compelled suffragists around the nation to respond by embracing expediency arguments, insisting the women's votes would bring morality, cleanliness, and order to the public sphere. This article charts how suffragists capitalized on movements for home economics, municipal housekeeping, and pure food to argue for the compatibility of politics and womanhood. In particular, this article examines suffrage cookbooks, recipes, and bazaars as key campaign tactics. More than a colorful historiographical side note, this cookery rhetoric was a purposeful political tactic meant to combat perennial images of suffragists as “unwomanly women.” And suffragists ultimately employed the practice and language of cookery to build a feminine persona that softened the image of their political participation and made women's suffrage more palatable to politicians, male voters, potential activists, and the general public.

Drawing on Chicago immigrant communities’ archives, memoirs, and native-language newspapers, this article advances our understanding of Progressive Era environmental politics by delving into cross-class immigrant communities’ views on and activism concerning health. Everyday ethnic Chicagoans—medical and journalistic professionals alongside working-class immigrants—displayed a sophisticated understanding of health. Well versed in medical and scientific germ theories, they embraced a mixture of germ and environmental theories that made them, in effect, “disease ecologists,” revealing a widespread health ecology orientation not limited to the educated white professionals and reformers about whom scholarship has revealed much more. Such perspectives contribute to reinterpretations of earlier scholarly assumptions that germ theory largely displaced environmental analyses. Moreover, ethnic communities’ interpretations of health as ecological underpinned some of their political activism in pursuit of greater environmental parity. Many ethnic activists from across Chicago's class spectrum fought alongside white reformers to rectify environmental health inequities. They sometimes even initiated efforts, displaying an early version of environmental justice activism. At the same time, other cross-class ethnics at least partly blamed individual or ethnic communities’ habits and failures, mirroring to a degree the condescension visible among many Anglo reformers and professionals.

It would be tempting to see the late Alan Dawley as an intellectual product of the 1960s, a decade that has attracted considerable attention among historians and that shaped the political and intellectual preoccupations of a generation. To be sure, Dawley played a part in that era's social-protest movement that shaped his career as a scholar-activist. Katy Weschler Dawley spoke recently of a young man “with a purpose,” who “became committed to achieve goals of justice, civil-rights and antiwar movements.” These were indeed abiding commitments that would have made the separation of activism and scholarship difficult for any historian, and there is no doubt that Dawley was such a writer driven at the outset by political ideals.

During the Progressive Era, bob veal, the meat of calves slaughtered at younger than four weeks of age, was incorrectly believed to be poisonous, and its sale was prohibited in areas across the United States. Yet a thriving underground trade persisted. This article studies bob veal's prohibition in Progressive Era New York City to understand where the meat was coming from, how it reached diners' tables, and who was eating it. I argue that bob veal's consumers, many of whom were recent immigrants and the urban poor, recognized the meat was benign. In examining the prohibition's failure, this article studies the politics of regulation and policing. For the ban's advocates, the language and assumptions of the broader pure food and public health movements were simultaneously empowering and constraining, giving reformers a political language to build institutional support for the prohibition and helping journalists sell newspapers even as this language required effacing the complexity of the bob veal trade. From the perspective of bob veal's many producers, smugglers, and consumers, this article highlights how a diffuse social power—a politics on the ground—can trump formal authority.

Revisiting the origins of the Interstate Commerce Commission (ICC) created in 1887 and offering a fresh interpretation that the commission was conceived and operated as a highly court-like agency, this paper argues that its emergence triggered the judicialization of the U.S. administrative state. It has been argued that the blueprint of the ICC took after existing railroad commissions. Its proponents in Congress, however, redesigned it with judicial courts as a model after facing criticisms based on the common-law principle of the supremacy of law allowing adjudication only to judicial courts. In accordance with such an institutional scheme, both the president and judiciary promoted the commission's judicialization by appointing lawyers as its members and reviewing its decisions. By the early twentieth century, the ICC was a prototypical agency whose court-like features permeated the administrative state. This paper thus offers a corrective to the literature on the U.S. administrative state building that has come to trivialize the role of the rise of the ICC. It was, instead, a critical juncture in the emergence of the modern administrative state in which being “quasi-judicial” was the norm rather than the exception for an administrative agency.

Young women growing up in the Gilded Age and Progressive Era increasingly found their relationships subject to scrutiny as doctors, parents, teachers, and school administrators began to worry about the so-called abnormal girl. Attempts to suppress the culture of crushes and romantic friendships between young women reflected these larger cultural anxieties about their relationships. But, as notions of normative girlhood began to form, this intense scrutiny of their relationships had a significant impact on their everyday lives. The young women who were navigating this scientific and cultural shift developed a range of innovative strategies from subversively concealing their relationships to boldly pursuing their queer desires.