This essay, based on the 2025 SHGAPE Presidential Address, considers the late nineteenth-century phenomenon of “baby murderers.” It examines the dilemmas that newspaper reporters, local authorities, medical experts, and ordinary citizens confronted as they wrestled with the problem of young children who killed. How could one distinguish an accident from an intentional act? At what ages did children understand the consequences of their actions? When were they old enough to grasp the finality of death? Could murderous tendencies be nipped in the bud? Were homicidal impulses inherited, the result of deficient parenting, or the fault of a corrupt environment? Were baby murderers mentally ill, morally deficient, or just plain evil? Did the law sufficiently deter perpetrators and protect potential victims? These questions acquired special resonance in the late nineteenth century, a time that preceded the establishment of separate juvenile justice systems but one in which the right to a protected childhood had gained increasing (but by no means universal) acceptance. The Gilded Age, then, offers a particularly rich vantage point from which to view how various popular definitions of childhood intersected and clashed with medical understandings and legal procedures.

This article examines the unexpected defeat of the Child Labor Amendment (CLA) by focusing on gender’s central role in the arguments of both its proponents and opponents. In foregrounding the plight of teenage girls toiling in factories, those supporting the CLA capitalized on widespread concerns with protecting future mothers. Meanwhile, opponents focused on the allegedly disempowered teenage boy, who would supposedly lose his right to work and become a “self-made man.” Arguments about gender regularly intersected with those around childhood, age, and race. This article augments the existing literature on the CLA’s downfall, which largely points to the post-World War I Red Scare as a primary culprit. By analyzing the rhetoric of both sides through the lens of gender, it becomes evident that even arguments about governmental overreach were often framed through gendered images, myths, and stories. Moreover, by analyzing state-level child labor laws rather than focusing only on the more prominent federal ones, we gain additional insight into how labor regulations in this era aimed to delineate distinct roles for boys and girls in the workplace—and outside of it.

This article examines the career of activist Frances Kellor (1873–1952), as an important figure among a small group of female pioneers who, prior to 1920, chose to forgo the segregated women’s political cultures of settlement houses, reform organizations, and the suffrage movement, to compete head-on with men in government and party politics. It describes the mixed success of Kellor’s early career efforts to acquire political power, then examines in detail her most visible institutional appointment as Chief of the Progressive Service, in Theodore Roosevelt’s breakaway Progressive Party (1913–1914). The article argues that earlier accounts of the Service have depicted Kellor as an unempathetic taskmaster and negative force, ignoring some primary source evidence that she operated in the face of a hostile campaign by male subordinates to unseat her. It suggests there are grounds to reappraise her performance in this groundbreaking role. It discusses Kellor’s own, later reflections on the masculine realm of public affairs, and how early pioneers in the long, slow process to integrate men and women in political and government institutions were (inevitably) unable to replicate the legislative successes of Progressive Era female pressure group politics.

This article examines Civil War commemoration in St. Louis, Missouri, to demonstrate not only that Memorial Day celebrations followed an atypical path in this border-state city, but that shifts in how Memorial Day was celebrated strongly affected which groups were able to participate. Public Civil War commemoration in St. Louis became increasingly reconciliationist in the early 1870s as the public rejected continued Reconstruction, with the result that Memorial Day became a joint Union and Confederate commemoration. Women and Black men were increasingly excluded, leaving white men, both native-born and German American, to control the narrative of the day. In the 1880s, the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR), gained enough power in the city to seize control of Memorial Day and change it into a commemoration that honored the Union cause only. This shift also created space for Black veterans and women of both races to participate through their membership in the GAR and its auxiliary, the Woman’s Relief Corps.