This essay explores the story of Nancy Clem, an outwardly respectable Indianapolis confidence woman and alleged murderess, in the context of changing constructions of class, gender, and criminality. It examines various ways in which lawyers, newspaper reporters, and ordinary citizens struggled to understand a woman who did not fit preexisting conceptions of gender and crime. A series of high-profile cases involving bourgeois criminals and (more than likely) Clem's own social aspirations allowed cultural commentators to portray her as a “genteel murderess.” Upon her release from prison after an abortive fifth trial, Clem could not sustain her newly acquired social identity, in part because her erstwhile refinement was a journalistic creation and in part because the changing nature of class, gender, and space in Gilded Age Indianapolis provided her with fewer opportunities for self-fashioning. Clem's social odyssey from half-literate “Butternut” to genteel murderess to uncultured “capitalist” reflects slippery, yet significant, transitions between social fluidity and relative rigidity, antebellum respectability and Gilded Age gentility.

The period after 1870 through the middle of the 1920s, the Gilded Age and Progressive Era, coincided with the mass migration of Jews to the United States. Nearly three million Jews, primarily from eastern Europe, overwhelmed the numerically small Jewish community already resident in America. Of the Jews who left Europe in those years, approximately 85 percent opted for the United States, a society that took some of its basic characteristics from the particular developments of this transitional historical period. This essay focuses on five aspects of Gilded Age and Progressive Era America and their impact on the Jews. These features of American society both stimulated the mass migration and made possible a relatively harmonious, although complicated, integration. Those forces included the broader contours of immigration, the nation's obsession with race, its vast industrial and economic expansion, its valorization of religion, and its two-party system in which neither the Democrats or the Republicans had any stake in demonizing the growing number of Jewish voters.

Roughly 2,000 American fugitives fled to Canada in the 1880s—mostly clerks, cashiers, and bank tellers charged with embezzlement. This article argues that these “boodlers,” as they were popularly called, were symptomatic of a late-nineteenth-century crisis of mobility. Embezzlement was a function of new kinds of mobility: migration to cities, the rise of an upwardly mobile middle class, the fungibility of greenbacks, and the growth of international transportation networks. The boodlers were some of the earliest white-collar criminals. By focusing on their unexplored story, this article contributes to the growing literature that presents the clerk as an important figure in nineteenth-century labor history. Still, the boodlers also had a more unexpected impact on the evolution of the United States' international borders, both in the popular imagination and in actual surveillance and law enforcement techniques. Through the figure of the boodler, this article examines the links between the growth of capitalism and the development of the United States–Canada border in the late nineteenth century.

The first of the nineteenth-century books about Washington, D.C., that I read at the start of my dissertation research, John Forney's Anecdotes of Public Men (1873), included this description of one of the capital's residents:

Tarpon fishing offers the opportunity to pursue a narrative of environmental and sport history that focuses on the mutuality between ecology and development. Angling for tarpon illustrates the capacity of an offshore, sporting species to alter the landscape and growth of an entire region. Tarpon fishing reshaped the southwest coast of Florida. In the Charlotte Harbor region, the confluence of human and nonhuman species catalyzed a sporting enterprise that grew dramatically in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Fishing for tarpon in the Gulf of Mexico was almost exclusively a sporting pursuit, because the unpalatable tarpon had little commercial value. The convergence of the sporting and environmental histories of southwest Florida, the demographics of fishermen and fish, and the development of sporting industries regionally and nationally all provide evidence of the close ecological mutuality that defined tarpon angling during its peak years. On account of features of the fish's annual and life cycle, the region, and the sport, this fishing seemed not to overtax populations of the fish themselves.

What, one might ask, is The Diary of a Public Man, and why should subscribers to The Journal of the Gilded Age and the Progressive Era want to know about it? The diary purportedly dates from the tension-filled weeks preceding the outbreak of the Civil War, but it was first published in a popular magazine in 1879. Its appearance then suggested that somebody thought it would attract an audience of Gilded Age readers, which indeed happened. Their curiosity was intensified because the diary's publisher concealed the identity of its author. We now know why the alleged diarist had to be cloaked in anonymity—the supposed prewar diary actually was written shortly before its publication, long into the postwar era. Most outrageously, the diarist proves to have been an imaginary construct—not a real person.

This article examines the rise and fall of the Recamier Manufacturing Company, a cosmetics and patent medicine firm established in New York City by Harriet Hubbard Ayer in 1886. Ayer invested in an extensive advertising campaign where she fashioned herself as a tragic figure forced into the business world. When faced with challenges to her “person and property,” she relied on a network of business and professional allies to protect her interests. An examination of Ayer's business career reveals how consumers responded to an emerging cultural attitude that experts of all types should play a role in the development of beautiful faces and strong bodies. The narrative of her life reveals, among other things, the pervasiveness of the idea of a woman's respectability during the Gilded Age.

In 1877, a Congregational pastor started a modest effort to send New York City tenement children on two-week summer vacations in country homes. The pastor's Fresh Air Fund grew, in the following decades, into a hugely popular program and a celebrated cause. The charity thrived in part because its simple project adapted well to several different reform environments. The fund made a place for itself in the evangelical child-saving efforts of the Gilded Age, the civic-minded reforms of the Progressive Era, and the more individualistic pursuits of the 1920s. In each era, fund leaders cast country vacations as simple means to address middle-class New Yorkers' fears about their changing city, from the influx of immigrants to the spread of disease to rising class tensions.

Tracking the Fresh Air Fund over fifty years reveals the sea changes in child-welfare work between 1877 and 1927, but it also calls attention to continuities often overlooked in the history of child welfare. Throughout the Gilded Age and Progressive Era, the fund tapped supporters' constant and deep-seated beliefs in children's potential, the restorative power of the outdoors, and a child's right to play.

The 1919 Chicago race riot sparked a contentious debate among African Americans over the future of antiracist politics. Previous scholars have argued that the actions of “New Negroes” who took up arms in the riot represent a rejection of the politics of respectability dominant among black elites in the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century. This article argues that African American actions in the riot are more complex than previously understood. African Americans participated in the riot in a myriad of ways, and events were fluid and unpredictable. Violent acts spanned a continuum from spontaneous responses to more organized interventions. Moreover, African Americans not only committed aggressive violence, but also fought among themselves about the boundaries of legitimate violence. Based on their divergent interpretations of the events of the riot, black leaders found ample support for different and even contradictory political programs. Black radicals argued that armed defense exposed the irrelevance of established black leaders. Chicago's black elite, however, used riot narratives to create a new vision of respectable politics, in which the willingness to use force both defined and demonstrated manhood and equal citizenship.

During the late nineteenth century, contests over prohibition gripped hundreds of American towns and cities, nowhere with greater consequences than in the post-Reconstruction South. This article examines those effects in Greenville, South Carolina, a small marketing and manufacturing center in the white-majority upcountry. During the 1880s, prohibition split white Democrats who had “redeemed” Greenville's town government just a few years before and led to a surge in voter registration and participation among African Americans. The liquor question's repercussions for politics in the Gilded Age South have been largely neglected, both by social historians of prohibition and by political historians, who have failed to see it as one of the issues that roiled the region's politics between Reconstruction and the Populist rebellion. This article also emphasizes the overlooked importance of municipal elections and governance—even in so small a place as Greenville—as an arena for African Americans’ political activity. Greenville's black voters used their influence during the 1880s to achieve modest but tangible gains in education and municipal services and to erect at least a partial bulwark against the tide of white supremacy. These developments were part of a region-wide revival in African Americans’ municipal power, which Southern Democrats were careful to target in their disfranchising campaigns as the century drew to close.

At the turn of the last century, circus elephants who had, in fits of distemper, killed circus trainers, workers, or spectators were regularly put to death. That alone is not extraordinary. What is fascinating is that the killings of these animals were not infrequently staged as public executions, with the elephant playing the role of the menacing criminal facing his just rewards before a crowd of eager witnesses. News accounts in turn reported these events as they would criminal executions, framing them as stories of murder, remorse, and retribution. This article treats these remarkable events as complex rituals through which larger tensions and conflicts surrounding crime and punishment in this period became manifest. These executions, performed as extensions of the modern circus, were commercial spectacles in and of the industrial age. Still, like circuses, they were also events full of ambivalence about this new age, as they acted out popular controversies over the nature of criminality, the meaning of justice, and the role of vengeance in modern life.

In the early twentieth century, amid heightening industrial tensions, many large corporations introduced welfare work to co-opt their employees' loyalties and pacify public anger. Many of the techniques and ideas of what became known as “welfare capitalism” were adapted from charity aid and settlement work. Over time, however, labor relations moved from being identified as a social reform issue—bound up with other issues on which the new profession of social work concentrated—to a business management prerogative. This article argues that professionalization played a significant role in these developments. Philanthropic reformers initially claimed welfare work as part of their professional agenda. However, in the second decade of the century, the social work profession began to narrow its field of operations. As social work's ambivalent claims on the factory and shop floor atrophied, business schools were introducing elements of industrial social work into their new management curriculums. The burgeoning field of professional labor management incorporated welfare work as one of its essential tools.