The Gilded Age and Progressive Era witnessed the largest influx of American architecture students to the Paris Ecole des Beaux-Arts. The U.S. contingent—120 students admitted in the 1890s, 154 in the 1900s—accounted for 10 to nearly 20 percent of incoming students each year. This illustrated essay uses projects prepared by these students to introduce the major features and principles of the Ecole's architecture curriculum, in particular the physical and instructional framework of the atelier and the medium of the concours. The essay presents a step-by-step selection of projects by American students admitted between 1890 and 1909. These range from a twelve-hour sketch problem required for the admission competition to a diplôme (masters' thesis). Beyond introducing the Beaux-Arts method of instruction, these prints provide insight into the subsequent American career of their authors and thus of American architecture and urban design overall, given the enormous influence exerted by the Ecole des Beaux Arts and its anciens élèves. Drawings requested from Ecole students were not just artfully composed and brilliantly rendered pictures. They were problem-solving endeavors. Former students preserved them not only as study models, but also as status symbols, even trophies.

In 1886, the Pennsylvania Supreme Court struck down a law that prohibited employers from paying wages in company store scrip and mandated monthly wage payments. The court held that the legislature could not prescribe mandatory wage contracts for legally competent workingmen. The decision quashed over two decades of efforts to end the “truck system.” Although legislators had agreed that wage payments redeemable only in company store goods appeared antithetical to the free labor wage system, two obstacles complicated legislative action. Any law meant to enhance laborers' rights could neither favor one class over another nor infringe any workingman's ability to make voluntary contracts. These distinctions, however, were not as rigid and laissez faire-oriented as depicted by conventional history. Labor reformers argued that principles of equity must supplement these categories of class legislation and contract freedom. This essay explores how legal doctrine helped both sides of the anti-truck debate articulate the contested meanings of liberty. Ultimately, the Godcharles ruling enshrined the specialness of workingmen's labor contracts and rejected the use of equity principles to justify contract regulations, but the controversy also informed future labor strategies, especially the turn to state police powers as the rubric under which workers' safety, morals, and health could be protected.

In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, in the context of the development of U.S. power in the Pacific, some American Protestants began to articulate a new approach to Catholicism and American national identity. In Southern California, Anglo-American boosters began to celebrate the region's history of Spanish Franciscan missions, preserving and restoring existing mission buildings while selling a romantic mission story to tourists and settlers. In the Philippines, U.S. imperial officials, journalists, and popular writers tempered widespread critiques of contemporary Spanish friars, celebrating the friars' early missionary precursors as civilizing heroes and arguing that Filipino Catholic faith and clerical authority could aid in the maintenance of imperial order. Against persistent currents of anti-Catholicism and in distinct and locally contingent ways, American Protestants joined Catholics in arguing that the United States needed to evolve beyond parochial religious bigotries. In both places, in popular events and nationally circulating publications, the celebration of particular constructions of Catholic histories and authority figures served to reinforce U.S. continental expansion and transoceanic empire.

This essay, an expanded version of the presidential address presented to SHGAPE in April 2012, poses the essential question of whether the City can ever be a true site of democracy if women do not possess free, equal, and safe access to a city's public spaces. The essay compares the writings, proposals, and actions of men and women in the Anglo-Atlantic world early in the twentieth century to reveal the distinct gendered ideas behind various reform movements directed at improving the urban built environment. It uses theoretical frameworks provided by feminist historians and social scientists to demonstrate that from the Progressive Era to events of the contemporary Arab Spring, the city has not been a place of democratic equality for women. Fear of women's public presence, of the disorder of women, has motivated men to construct cities to reinforce their desires to embound women in the private domestic space and to punish women for transgressing the boundary between the public and the private.

In 1902, Clemencia López journeyed to the United States to work for the liberation of her imprisoned brothers and for Filipino independence. She granted interviews, circulated her photograph, and spoke in public under the sponsorship of American anti-imperialists and suffragists. López argued that Filipinos like herself were already a civilized people and thus did not need Americans' “benevolent assimilation.” Her gender and her elite family background helped her make this case. Instead of presenting her as racially inferior, published accounts expressed appreciation of her feminine refinement and perceptions of her beauty as exotic. Americans simultaneously perceived her as apolitical because of her sex. López was thus able to take advantage of American gender politics to discuss the “delicate subject” of autonomy for the Philippines in ways that anti-imperialist Filipino men could not.

Between the Civil War and World War I, the midwestern farm played an important role in the care of dependent children. Instead of paying families to take in children, welfare workers relied on farmers to take children in for free. However, the situation for dependent children and farmers changed during the Progressive Era. Movements to improve farming methods and standards of living in the hopes of keeping rural people on the land highlighted the difficulties of farm life. For the children placed in free homes with farmers, reformers sought to improve record keeping and supervision. Such reforms had unforeseen consequences. The bureaucracy needed to supervise children placed on farms increased costs, while farmers resented the intrusion. Children who labored for free on farms no longer learned skills useful in the modern, industrializing nation. As more systematic supervision became standard across the Midwest, farm placement lost its appeal. By examining the motivations for better supervision of placed-out children and how those plans became policy, this article reveals complexities, underestimated by previous scholars, in the commonly told story of the transition of child-welfare practices from an emphasis on free farm placement to paid foster care in suburban and urban settings.

Many political scientists and historians attribute the candidate-centered campaign, a defining characteristic of the modern American political system, to the appearance of the direct primary during the Progressive Era. During the nineteenth century, when the major parties selected their nominees in conventions, office seekers maintained a lower profile, and partisan-minded voters were not overly influenced by the personal characteristics of the candidates. Using California as a case study, this essay traces the emergence of a new breed of aggressive office seekers at the turn of the twentieth century. It looks specifically at the canvassing activities of would-be gubernatorial nominees in the weeks leading up to the state convention. In its heyday, the convention system marginalized elective office seekers. The multilayered convention system was too decentralized and complex to be manipulated in the interests any one candidate. Candidates began to exert more influence over the nomination process in the waning years of the nominating convention. The introduction of state regulation of party functions took control of the process out of the hands of local partisan clubs and cliques. Delegates began to be selected on the basis of their affiliation with a gubernatorial candidate. Conventions lost much of their deliberative character, and voting blocs emerged tied to particular candidates through the unit rule. By the time the direct primary appeared on the scene in 1909, the aggressive office seeker was already a fixture on the political landscape. In short, scholars have exaggerated the impact of the shift from indirect to direct nominations and have overlooked the implications of the regulation of political parties when the convention system was still in place. The direct primary was part of a long tradition of reform designed to serve the interests of the parties' office-seeking or office-holding contingent at the expense of the party organization.

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.

For thirty years after Franklin Pierce's death, the ex-president's reputation remained low in the estimation of historians and the public. Most saw Pierce and his successor James Buchanan as primary culprits in the sectional discord leading to the Civil War. Between 1900 and 1915, however, Pierce's reputation improved, with the sectional healing represented by Blue-Gray reunions on former battlefields like Gettysburg and the election of only the second Democratic president since the war, Woodrow Wilson. This process of healing was particularly difficult in Pierce's home state of New Hampshire. In a classic case of contested memory, the Grand Army of the Republic repeatedly stymied Democratic attempts to raise a statue to the state's only president and criticized Pierce as a traitor and Confederate sympathizer. The Democrats, however, took over the New Hampshire governor's chair in 1913, and the legislature voted to honor Pierce with a statue. In that small early twentieth-century window, Franklin Pierce became a beneficiary of hard-earned sectional reconciliation.

Jewish women played important roles in many aspects of the birth control movement, as activists, consumers, and distributors. Yet just as the legal system was not yet sure what to make of contraception, neither was the American Jewish community. While hundreds of thousands of Jewish women clearly limited their family size, both ambivalence toward birth control and pockets of outright opposition also persisted. This essay briefly examines the developments in the birth control movement during the pivotal year of 1916 in which Jewish women played important roles. The essay then turns to analysis of two Yiddish plays on the topic written that year. Neither play has ever before been translated in full. Because the Yiddish theater was a central American Jewish cultural institution, the production of plays on the subject of birth control in 1916 dramatized the importance of the issue within the American Jewish community. Though the plays quite possibly loom larger in retrospect than they did at the time and are notable more for content than literary merit, they nonetheless provide a critical lens through which to explore the complex relationship between American Jewry and the birth control movement.

Atheists are not the first group that comes to mind when one commonly thinks of late nineteenth-century southern Appalachia. Richard Lynch Garner (1848–1920), a self-taught scientist from southwestern Virginia who moved to southern Gabon in 1892, sought to bind together conventional southern middle-class views on race and manhood with religious skepticism. Studies of unbelief in the United States have almost entirely ignored the South as well as the ways that freethinkers engaged with race, thereby leaving out men like Garner. Though Garner drew on northern and midwestern freethinkers like Robert Ingersoll for critiques of Christianity, he also saw himself as a defender of paternal southern views of race from northerners and from Christian missionaries. Still, he distanced himself from other southern agnostics, especially the race-baiting William Cowper Brann, by presenting himself as a fatherly protector of Africans and African Americans. Garner used his observations on Gabonese societies to critique colonialism and missionary work as denials of biological differences between the races. Interestingly, Garner contended that Gabonese spirituality was materialist and lacked a notion of divinity. Ultimately, Garner downplayed his freethinking and his anti-colonialism in his published work—probably to ensure his ability to continue his research in colonial Africa and perhaps to better market himself in the United States.

When studying the formation of the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) in 1914, scholars have usually focused on interest groups and electoral politics. This essay, by contrast, suggests that the reputation and network influences of an existing federal agency, the Bureau of Corporations, also shaped the creation of its successor, the FTC. Building on the concept of bureaucratic autonomy, the essay examines the structure of the bureau, its connections, and its preferences. The bureau's leaders favored a clear separation from the Department of Justice and argued for a quasi-judicial process for antitrust, which they felt would be more effective than the courts. They advocated discretion in covering small firms and mandatory annual reports, while seeking to avoid being assigned authority to clear business agreements in advance. Well before the 1914 debates, leaders at the bureau directed substantial funds toward influencing trust legislation. They contacted academics and civic leaders, tracked existing legislative proposals, and analyzed key legal terms. Internal studies examined major questions, such as how to define and regulate unfair trade practices. Bureau officials came to argue Congress could never define these in legislation. Instead a bureaucracy with appropriate authority could adapt definitions of unfair practices to changes in business. When the bureau became the nucleus of the FTC, it received much of the discretionary power it sought.