The Intersection of Childhood and Children's Literature in Highlights

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Highlights in History: The Intersection of Childhood and Children’s Literature in

Highlights for Children Magazine.

Dissertation

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of Philosophy

in the Graduate School of The Ohio State University

Susan M. Strayer

Graduate Program in Education, Teaching and Learning

The Ohio State University

2018

Dissertation Committee

Michelle Ann Abate, Advisor

Mollie V. Blackburn

Caroline Clark

Deidra Herring

Copyrighted by

Susan M. Strayer

2018

Abstract

This dissertation is a study of how American sociocultural ideas of childhood overlap with changes in the publication of children’s literature, as seen through the

Highlights for Children magazine, first published in 1946. The first chapter is a genealogy of the magazine founders, their work promoting Americanism and literacy in the early 20th century, and their creation of the publication. Chapter two explores the moral development goals of the magazine, the emphasis on turning children into good citizens, and the juxtaposition of adult-created content within child-centered spaces.

Chapter three is a review of the relevant scholarship of childhood studies. Chapter four is an analysis of the changing landscape of children’s literature, as seen through Highlights for Children when placed in its historical and social context. Chapter five features three critical snapshots of additional research on Highlights. Overall the dissertation examines historical contexts of American childhood inside and outside of the magazine, and how that has influenced the production of children’s literature during 20th century American history.

For Mom, with love and gratitude

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Acknowledgments

This project has been brought to you today by the letter H and the number 1946.

And also by a whole host of people who have helped and supported me through the years of Ph.D. coursework and writing. These few words do not seem like enough to thank you for everything you have done for me, but hopefully being immortalized in the dissertation archive will provide some small penance for your long-suffering assistance.

To my advisor and friend, Michelle Abate, I feel so privileged to have known you since I was an undergraduate student. It was you who first introduced me to the notion of children’s literature as a field of study and who first prompted my questions about the nature of childhood and the history of literature for children. Your example inspires me every day to pursue more writing, to present more conference papers, and to reach out to newcomers in our field and try to emulate your mentorship and guidance to them and give them the same warm welcome that I felt in our class together at Hollins. Thank you also for your sense of humor and playfulness; even more than teaching me to be a scholar, you have taught me how to have fun while doing the hard work of a professor and researcher.

To my committee members. Mollie Blackburn, who stepped in when I most needed another helping hand for my defense. Your support and critical expertise have been invaluable to me. To Caroline Clark, who joined my committee near the end of my

iv journey, but came with enthusiasm and willingness to help. Finally to Deidra Herring, without you there would be no dissertation. Thank you for pursuing the research on

Highlights so that I could stumble into the library archives as a wide-eyed wanderer alongside you. Working with you made the potentially dull research vibrant and alive again, as Garry and Caroline Myers would have wanted it to be.

To my friends and family. Mom, Maggie, Abby, and Robin, who listened to me complain and stress about finishing. To Lynne, who graciously read chapter drafts as I struggled to get past a writing block. To Christine, Mary Catherine, and Sarah, who always had my back when I needed to talk to someone who understood the struggles I was experiencing. To Anna and Samantha, my trusty cohort who never had a single doubt about my ability to finish this crazy project.

For my grandfather, Joseph R. Strayer, whose influence on me has been profound though we never met. Without you I would never have developed such an interest in the past.

For my brother, John, who told me that I was wiser than he for pursuing this degree and who supported me even through his cancer diagnosis and passing. This is for you.

And finally for my mother, Glenda. Your pursuit of our family genealogy during my entire lifetime must have rubbed off on me somehow. Thank you for your assistance with navigating census and death records, locating graves, and tracing the pieces of lives through the detritus of human history. I’m proud to be able to use these skills in my own scholarship as I continue to research the history of seemingly ordinary people.

Vita

2008 B.A. in English with a Concentration in Creative Writing, Hollins

University, Roanoke, Virginia

2012 M.F.A. in Children’s Literature, Hollins University, Roanoke, Virginia

2018 M.A. in Education, The Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio

2013-2017 Graduate Teaching Associate, Department of Teaching and Learning, The

Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio

Publications

Strayer, Susan M. Review of Mixed Magic: Global-local Dialogues in Fairy Tales for

Young Readers, by Anna Katrina Gutierrez. Marvels & Tales, 33:1, 2019.

---. “'The Cards, the Cards, the Cards Will Tell': The Power of Tarot Archetypes in

Disney's The Princess and the Frog.” Children’s Literature, vol. 46, 2018.

---. Review of Fantasy and the Real World: The Power of Story, by Caroline Webb.

Children's Literature Association Quarterly, 40:2, Summer 2015.

Fields of Study

Major Field: Education, Teaching and Learning

Table of Contents

Abstract ...... ii Acknowledgments...... iv Vita ...... vi List of Tables ...... viii Chapter 1: Children’s Literature, Childhood Studies, and Highlights ...... 1 Defining Children’s Literature ...... 3 The Changing Idea of Childhood ...... 11 Childhood Literature and New Historicism ...... 20 Chapter 2—Highlights: A History ...... 27 The Beginnings of “Fun with a Purpose” ...... 28 The Founding of Highlights for Children ...... 43 The Future of Highlights for Children Magazine ...... 51 Chapter 3: Highlights’ Guiding Philosophy ...... 60 “Let’s Talk Things Over” and Ethnocentric Philosophy ...... 61 “Before We Forgot to Remember:” Sammy Spivens’ Weedy Garden ...... 68 “I Don’t Agree With You:” Letters to the Editor ...... 75 Chapter 4: Highlights as Childhood Literature ...... 84 Innocence and Wonder, 1946-1960 ...... 87 Child Agency, 1961-1975 ...... 97 Diversity and Multiculturalism, 1976-1990 ...... 107 Chapter 5: Critical Snapshots in Highlights for Children ...... 114 Mid-Century Modern: Army Alpha and Beta Tests, Highlights for Children, and the Rise of Standardized Testing ...... 115 The Race for the Moon: Space Race Childhood in Highlights for Children Magazine ...... 120 Hidden Mickeys: The Disney Generation, Childhood, and Children’s Literature in the Highlights for Children Magazine ...... 127 Conclusion: The Future of Childhood Literature...... 137 Works Cited ...... 140

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List of Tables

Table 1. Norms by Grades………………………………………………………………35

Table 2. Norms by Chronological Age…………………………………………………..36

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Chapter 1: Children’s Literature, Childhood Studies, and Highlights

The critical perspectives on childhood and children’s literature that apply to

Highlights are diverse. However, a separation between the two fields occurs because scholars of childhood rarely discuss children’s literature and scholars of children’s texts commonly discuss childhood as a means of placing the child reader into the same realm as the literature intended for them. Jacqueline Rose’s influential text, The Case of Peter

Pan, or The Impossibility of Children’s Fiction (1984) claims that books for young readers do more to satisfy the needs of adults than children. As Perry Nodelman points out in The Hidden Adult (2008), a text that is directly responding to Rose’s views, all of our understanding of the genre of children’s literature depends on adults: “Children’s literature is written by adults and…is what it is because of how it addresses its audience, because of what adults believe children are—adult constructions of childhood” (151). As a result, definitions of literature for children have more to do with constructing young people as adults wish, hope, and want them to be, rather than focusing on the reading habits of this age group. Children’s literature scholars have been writing about childhood for quite some time, but they have yet to fully confront the relationship between the two concepts. There is a paradox that makes it impossible for anyone to define children’s literature without including some discussion of childhood. However, childhood scholars 1 as a group have not really approached their field of study from the perspective of the texts written for children. Instead, the discipline has focused their analysis on more tangible objects of childhood, such as toys, games, or clothing, or on written accounts of family life.

Scholars of childhood tend to echo Steven Mintz’s concept of “Childhood and adolescence as biological phases of human development [that] have always existed. But the ways in which childhood and adolescence are conceptualized and experienced are social and cultural constructions that have changed dramatically over time” (4). The defining factors of childhood are “shaped by class—as well as by ethnicity, gender, geography, religion, and historical era. We may think of childhood as a biological phenomenon, but it is better understood as a life stage whose contours are shaped by a particular time and place” (Mintz 2). This definition of childhood is context-based, meaning that it depends on the particular social constructions during a specific time period. Such an interpretation accounts for the dramatic changes in our perception of particular children over time, from the pre-Enlightenment notion that children are born into original sin and must be forcibly made into God-fearing adults, to the polar opposite idea that children and childhood are the embodiment of innocence, which more closely matches modern views. As a term with long history, discussions of childhood are impossible without bringing our own perspective as modern adults into the equation. Our understanding of childhood in the past is clouded by our understanding of childhood in the present, and thus shapes our understandings in the future. This paradox is part of what makes defining children’s literature in terms of childhood so difficult; there is a dual

2 context both in the conception of childhood and in the literature itself, and both are affected by our own ideas of what childhood and children’s literature really mean.

In this chapter, I will offer definitions of childhood and children’s literature based on a review of critical resources in both fields. In the last section I will explain how these definitions will be used to analyze Highlights in the following chapters. By laying out this information here, I can show how childhood studies and children’s literature overlap within critical discussions before moving on to the same analysis within Highlights and popular works of children’s literature during the mid- to late-twentieth century.

Defining Children’s Literature

The body of works that the modern publishing industry describes as being “for children” is vast and distinct in both content and in form. It ranges in length and in difficulty as well as recommended age range: a board book with only about ten pages, consisting of more pictures than words, is children’s literature, and so is a 200-page novel that has no pictures at all. And what publishers consider part of this genre is not necessarily the same as what scholars would include, much less what children themselves would choose to read. How, then, can a definition be formed to encompass this diversity? There is even more trouble creating a working definition when I take into account the ephemeral nature of Highlights as a printed magazine. Magazines have a connotation of transience—as objects that were never meant to withstand the test of time or remain in the annals of children’s literature scholarship as classics. Often, texts such as magazines are relegated to the obscure category of “print culture,” where they are

3 subsequently forgotten by children’s literature scholars, who have done little work in this area. Anne Lundin and Wayne A. Wiegand’s edited volume of essays, Defining Print

Culture for Youth: The Cultural Work of Children’s Literature, is one of the only works to explore the area of print culture, utilizing an interdisciplinary approach to combine literacy studies, reader-response theory, ethnographies of reading, and the social history of books (xvii). It is this approach that I will use in my analysis of Highlights in this dissertation. Print culture embodies all printed texts, focusing on the effects of those texts on human society communicating through the written word. Through this definition, I believe that magazines like Highlights count as children’s literature because of their printed nature. In addition, the choice of the founders to refer to the issues as

“books” implies a more permanent usage, as does their desire for children to refer back to the books for schoolwork, and the removal of activities that might have required the marking of the book.

Two simplistic definitions made popular by older critics like Sheila Egoff are that children’s literature is any literature that children are willing and able to read, or that children’s literature is any literature that is intended for children. The first implies that adult-oriented and inappropriate texts become children’s literature if a child reads them.

The second definition excludes some of the classic texts for children or young adults— books that were initially published for adults and have been adopted into children’s and adolescent literature over time, such as The Catcher in the Rye. Even with these simple definitions, the immediate rebuttal is in regards to whether the material children are reading is too adult for them. Rose uses Peter Pan as an example of how we as adults are

4 mediating children through the fiction we provide to them. In her introduction, she states,

Children’s fiction is impossible, not in the sense that it cannot be written,

but in that it hangs on an impossibility, one which it rarely ventures to

speak. This is the impossible relation between adult and

child…Children’s fiction sets up a world in which the adult comes first

and the child comes after, but where neither of them enter the space in

between. (1-2)

The world of children’s fiction is created by adults for child readers, yet both the children within the books themselves as well as the children authors imagine reading the books are not and cannot be real. Neither the adult author nor the child reader can bridge the illusionary divide on which children’s fiction rests—childhood. Peter Pan is Rose’s example of how the innocence of the text is representative of the innocence adults try to impart into children’s literature. Adults, through literature, are imprinting a distinct ideology onto the children they communicate with. The impossibility of children’s fiction stems from our desire to mediate childhood through imaginary worlds. Like Peter

Pan, we want to maintain children’s innocence by mediating the materials our children consume on a daily basis. Children’s literature is our vehicle for molding children into being the people we want them to be.

Rose discusses the story style of Peter Pan as one that “undermines the certainty which should properly distinguish the narrating adult from the child” (68). The narrator of the story begins as an adult with a clearly adult perspective on children, and then

5 within the course of a few sentences becomes a narrator on the same level as the child

Wendy in the story. The distinction between the adult recounting the story and the child within (and perhaps without) the story is lost. Nodelman furthers this idea of the child as a construction, saying of Rose’s theory that, “children’s literature criticism becomes valuable exactly at the point at which the constructedness of the child readers implied by children’s literature becomes a focus of attention” (161). The moment scholars begin to question whether the real reader and the imaginary one created by the author are different, they start to critique the definition of children’s literature. Both Rose and

Nodelman are pointing to the idea that children’s literature criticism is centered around this idea of the child reader, but our understanding of children is based on our own adult perceptions of childhood and the kind of people we hope children will be. Stating that children’s literature is read by children or intended for them attempts to equate the real child with the imaginary one and demands that some other criteria be used to define children’s literature.

Nodelman discusses the genre of children’s literature in terms of audience: the

“texts identified as ‘children’s literature’ [are] included in this category by virtue of what the category implies, not so much about the text itself as about its intended audience”

(The Hidden Adult 3; see also The Pleasures of Children’s Literature ch 2). He notes that it’s too simplistic to say that a book is children’s literature simply because it is read by children. Instead, he accepts “the pragmatic definition that children’s literature is the literature published as such” because such an approach forces any analysis to take into account the adults behind the texts in question (The Hidden Adult 146). Adults, after all,

6 are responsible for writing the majority of children’s literature available, as well as publishing it, and in turn buying it on behalf of children.

The same issue arises when scholars attempt to describe young adult literature.

Because it is characterized, not by the literature itself, but by the group that reads it, a definition must overcome both the question of what it means to be a child or a young adult as well as the question of what the literature for each group has that is different from books for adults. When you ask scholars “to explain precisely what this thing called young adult literature is, [it’s about as] easy as nailing Jell-O to a wall” because these terms, YA literature and children’s literature, are “inherently slippery and amorphous”

(Cart 3). Alleen Pace Nilsen and Kenneth L. Donelson define young adult literature as

“anything that readers between the approximate ages of twelve and eighteen choose to read either for leisure reading or to fill school assignments” in their textbook Literature for Today’s Young Adults (3). While they refer to this as a “fairly standard” definition, they do admit that their definition of what makes someone a young adult differs from many other sources. “The Educational Resources Information Clearinghouse

(ERIC)…defines young adults as those between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two, whereas the National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP)…refers to ‘young adults, ages 21 through 25’” (3). Scholars in children’s and YA literature can’t agree on an age range to define those works that fit into each category, much less what defining characteristics every children’s book possesses. The only thread that seems to tie together all of the available definitions is a focus on the audience of the texts and returning to the idea of books read by children and books written for them.

Seth Lerer, in Children’s Literature: A Reader’s History From Aesop to Harry

Potter (2008), uses both of these simple definitions, distinguishing “between claims that children’s literature consists of books written for children and that it consists of those read, regardless of original authorial intention, by children” (2, emphasis original). In his

Introduction to Children’s Literature, Peter Hunt also opts first for these definitions,

“Children’s literature seems at first sight to be a simple idea: books written for children, books read by children” (4) but later determines that children’s literature preserves “the innocence of childhood—or, at least, the adult concept of innocence” (16). Even textbooks for students of children’s literature focus on audience, appropriateness, and innocence: “The only limitations, then, that seem binding on literature for children are those that appropriately reflect the emotions and experiences of children today.

Children’s books are books that have the child’s eye at the center” (Kiefer and Tyson 4).

Through all of these definitions, the scholars in question first establish that children’s literature is defined initially by the intended audience—children—and secondarily by qualities the texts themselves possess—appropriate content, innocence of childhood, and a central focus on the interests of children. While all of these are useful methods of defining children’s literature, they are also inherently lacking in cohesion. As quoted in the introduction, children are “adult constructions of childhood” (Nodelman 151), so several of the points typically used to define literature for children have more to do with the interests of adults in protecting children than with the actual reading habits of children. Children have an interest in knowing about the world around them, in learning who and what they are, and what their place in it will be as they grow up. Restricting

8 access to knowledge because of concerns about “appropriateness” is problematic because adults have no way of knowing what a child will find scandalous or scary until those sentiments are expressed to them by the child. Instead of risking a negative response, we remove anything that might even potentially be harmful to children, often taking away quality, educational, and necessary information in our quest for childhood innocence.

While it seems obvious to assume that children are innocent and require innocent literature, circumstances being what they are, some children do not have the good fortune of a healthy childhood environment and may view such literature as condescension, or be restricted from accessing literature that could be of real comfort or help in dealing with their situation. This problem is some of what the Highlights editors ran into when children continually requested certain kinds of stories and content, only to be denied for their own protection, which I will discuss more in Chapter 3.

Jerry Griswold’s book, Feeling Like a Kid: Childhood and Children’s Literature

(2006), addresses some of this issue by exploring five areas that he feels are integral to both children’s literature and childhood: Snugness, scariness, smallness, lightness, and aliveness. Griswold touts that in their reading and in their day-to-day lives, children need to feel safe and secure, but enjoy stories that are scary, pay great attention to the details of the smallest creatures, feel buoyed by books with fantastic elements, and imagine stories for their toys and other inanimate objects. Without some combination of these five traits, a book is not appealing to a child reader and therefore is unsuccessful as children’s literature. Where Griswold differs from other children’s literature scholars is by assigning his characteristics to both works written for young readers as well as to the

9 concept of childhood. The focus of all of these definitions on adult perceptions of children means that scholars of children’s literature are coming much closer to the land of childhood studies, though their focus up to now seems to be on using the lens of childhood to define the child reader. Children’s literature scholars have been writing, on a surface level, about childhood for quite some time, but have yet to fully confront how intertwined the two concepts are.

As Marah Gubar states in her essay “On Not Defining Children’s Literature:”

The fact that something is difficult to define—even ‘impossible to define

exactly’—does not mean that it does not exist or cannot be talked about.

In such cases, we simply have to accept that the concept under

consideration is complex and capacious; it may also be unstable (its

meaning shifts over time and across different cultures) and fuzzy at the

edges (its boundaries are not fixed and exact). Childhood is one such

concept; children’s literature is another. (212)

Both of these ideas are difficult to grasp with a single, concrete definition, yet it seems impossible for anyone to define children’s literature without including some discussion of childhood. This overlap gives credence to my own definition of children’s literature, which depends on this connection between these two nebulous concepts, so I will wait until after the next section to share it. For now, I most agree with Gubar when she argues that we should stop trying to define children’s literature “because insisting that children’s literature is a genre characterized by recurrent traits is damaging to the field, obscuring rather than advancing our knowledge of this richly heterogeneous group of texts” (210).

Understanding the conversations around definition is important for recognizing that there is a liminal space at the center of them, and by allowing that ambiguity to remain new connections and bridges to other disciplines can be formed.

The Changing Idea of Childhood

Chapter 3 will outline the various methods employed by the Highlights founders to convey their philosophy to children. In many ways this philosophy is a perspective on childhood as they saw it, and the construction of that outlook was and is influenced by prevailing social attitudes about children and their growth. In this section, I seek to address the main points of a variety of childhood scholars whose perspective falls both within and without the primarily white, middle-class readership of the magazine. Doing so will allow me to problematize the Highlights ideology as well as place the publication’s version of childhood into a historical context for further analysis in Chapter

4. I will focus on texts that explore theories of childhood primarily within the United

States during the time of the founders through to the end of the 20th century.

To contextualize where many of our perspectives of childhood originated, I feel it is necessary to briefly discuss how children were viewed during the 17th and 18th centuries. The rise of the Enlightenment provided greater access to education and resulted in new ideas of how to raise children. There were three prevailing attitudes in regards to the nature of a newborn child:

The child could be portrayed as innately evil and corrupt, the Augustinian

position, derived from a theological base, where the outstanding natural 11

trait identified with childhood is “vanity” or egocentricity. Alternatively,

one could show the child as being innately good, as in the writings of

Thomas Traherne and later those of Rousseau, with its characteristic trait

purity. Finally, one could interpret the child as a blank, the position of the

“educationalists,” who saw extreme malleability as the prime

characteristic of childhood. (Ezell 140)

These three differing views still coexist in many ways today. There are religions that still believe in original sin, and the idea of children as innocent little angels has been perpetuated through modern artwork such as the cherubic creations of Anne Geddes or in advertisements for a slew of products. The modern education system is set up to allow for the prolonged learning of children, and is pushing for earlier and earlier mastery of many concepts. What this shows is not that childhood has remained the same, but that attitudes about children and their growth have shifted in less obvious ways as part of social policies, concerns, and ways of living. More and more, modern societies are concerned with determining what is appropriate for children, but usually base those decisions on adult notions of how children should grow up.

Changing viewpoints of appropriateness point to childhood as a powerful cultural influence. Robin Bernstein's book, Racial Innocence: Performing American Childhood from Slavery to Civil Rights (2011), seeks to answer the question of how the idea of childhood itself has become so powerful:

Why is abstracted childhood so flexible that it can simultaneously bolster

arguments for and against interracial marriage? How did childhood

acquire so much affective weight that the exhortation to "protect the

children" seems to add persuasive power to almost any argument? How

did the idea of "childhood innocence" become a crucial but naturalized

element of contests over race and rights? (2)

We still use the excuse of “protecting children” in arguments today, whether we're talking about protecting children from the supposed sin of gay marriage and LGBTQ people, or attempting to ban a certain book from our local library because it has inappropriate content, or establishing ratings and censoring material to protect children.

While it’s hard to say that every one of these things is completely unnecessary, it’s still clear that protecting the innocence of some specific groups of children is one of our top priorities as a society. Highlights takes a cautious approach, having only recently published its first image of a same-sex couple in the February 2017 issue in response to

LGBT parents who felt the representation was lacking. Editor Christine French-Cully spoke about the controversy, saying, “We did expect and received a backlash when we committed to becoming more fully reflective to all the different kinds of families out there. We expect this will make some people unhappy. Our focus remains on creating the best possible content for children” (Moyer 2017). Highlights has published diverse stories from the beginning, and printed an article about the Civil Rights Act of 1964 in the December 1964 issue as well as including numerous articles about famous black athletes, musicians, and scientists in the late 1950s and early 60s. The Myerses seem to have paid special attention to representations of indigenous and Black Americans, with less material published about Latinx, Hispanic, or Asian Americans—though a great deal

13 of articles were printed about those countries and cultures. When it comes to cultures outside of white or African American society, Highlights takes an etic point of view, with all stories taking the perspective of an outsider looking in. Considering they were born only two decades after the end of the Civil War and lived the majority of their lives during segregation, their willingness to give representation to Black Americans is surprising.

Attitudes about children during the years surrounding the Civil War are complicated by race: “By the mid-nineteenth century, sentimental culture had woven childhood and innocence together wholly. Childhood was then understood not as innocent but as innocence itself; not as a symbol of innocence but as its embodiment”

(Bernstein 4). However, this was specifically white innocence and white childhood. This association of white children with purity and cleanliness has influenced American society to this day. It inherently establishes white as good and Black/brown/other as bad.

Bernstein spends a great deal of time examining how childhood has influenced some of the most important events in American history: “…childhood figured pivotally in a set of large-scale U.S. racial projects: slavery and abolition, post-Emancipation enfranchisement and disenfranchisement of African Americans, and, by the turn of the twentieth century, antiblack violence, New Negro racial uplift, and the early civil rights movement” (3-4). The image of a white child with an African American adult could transfer the innocence of childhood to the adult, yet the innocence could politically be applied to both abolitionist and “happy slave” narratives, depending on how the image was viewed. “Nineteenth-century childhood’s ability to assert a state of holy

14 obliviousness while retaining and recapitulating cultural memory was uniquely useful to the construction and maintenance of whiteness” (7). This ability of childhood is still used today in various marketing strategies, both for children’s products and not. Recognizing that the childhood being discussed here and in relation to Highlights is primarily a white, middle-class, and privileged position is important.

Perry Nodelman has pointed out that “We may claim to study childhood in order to benefit children, but we actually do it so that we will know how to deal with children…we write books for children to provide them with values and images of themselves we approve of or feel comfortable with” (Orientalism 30, emphasis original).

In studying childhood, we are creating the concept of childhood in order to better control and raise children. Psychologists such as G. Stanley Hall and Sigmund Freud created groundbreaking work at the turn of the 20th century that established white, middle-class adolescence “as a separate and particularly fragile stage of physical, emotional, moral, and intellectual development that could be successfully navigated only through the intervention of virtuous adults” (Austin and Willard 3, emphasis added). While I would classify childhood and adolescence as two overlapping periods of human development, both represent adult perspectives of when and how children should be introduced to or allowed to engage with certain concepts. Both are terms used to police children into socially acceptable norms of behavior. In particular, Hall's contribution to the field of childhood studies is far-reaching, but his views may also have contributed to the modern state of ambivalence toward children:

Developmental psychology, as explained by Hall…drove a wedge

between parents and children. The fundamental implication of Hall’s

view was that children were basically different from adults, not mere

miniatures; they saw the world in odd and sometimes startlingly different

terms, and they had remarkably different perceptions of God. (Browning

and Miller-McLemore 33)

Hall’s views are a precursor of modern understanding of children not as one amorphous, generalized group, but as individuals that have different needs and requirements for guidance from their parents. There was a “focus on the child as so radically different that he or she stands in an oblique relation to human society, not entirely part of it, nor yet incorporated into history” (Warner 47). However, like many scholars of the early decades of the 20th century in the United States, Hall focused on white, middle-class, presumably heterosexual male children and was very concerned about making boys into men. “By encouraging educators to recognize the 'savagery' in young boys, Hall believed he could find a way to allow boys to develop into adult men with the virility to withstand the effeminizing tendencies of advanced civilization” (Bederman 79). Concerns over the needs of boys versus girls would continue not just in childhood studies, but in children's literature circles as well. While Highlights strove not to gender too many of their stories or activities, maintaining a balance of items that could be enjoyed by both sexes, the divide in the entertainment and publishing industries has created a developmentally harmful separation between what is appropriate for girls versus boys, with no room for gender fluidity or expression.

The differing lives of white, middle-class, socially adherent boys and girls translated quite easily into the concept of the innocent child as compared to the sinful child. As Hall touted, boys have in them a savage, wild instinct which has been largely ignored in regards to girls (though Michelle Ann Abate has done some excellent work on

Tomboys), and girls were typically seen as more delicate and more suited to remaining indoors to take care of the home. This attitude forms the basis for a prevailing image of

1950s post-World War II era United States as one of men returning to work, displacing women back to the home and kitchen. One ad from Hardee’s fast food chain showed a father and child playing outside of a kitchen window while the mother leans over the sink from inside to watch, with a caption that reads:

Women don't leave the Kitchen! We all know a woman’s place is in the

home, cooking a man a delicious meal. But if you are still enjoying the

bachelor’s life and don’t have a little miss waiting on you, then come

down to Hardee’s for something sloppy and hastily prepared.

Images such as these convey not only that the only worth of women was to serve a man, but that children were not expected to participate in this gender divide, since the child outside with the husband is a little girl and not a little boy. However, as Joanne

Meyerowitz seeks to show in her edited collection of essays, Not June Cleaver: Women and Gender in Postwar American, 1945-1960 (1994), “in the years following Word War

II, many women were not white, middle-class, married, and suburban; and many white, middle-class, married, suburban women were neither wholly domestic nor quiescent…a revisionist approach…reminds us that during this era, most American women lived, in

17 one way or more, outside the boundaries of the middle-class suburban home” (2). Yet

American nostalgia for the 1950's continues, with most people thinking of this time period as the peak of ideal family life and family happiness. Stephanie Coontz's book,

The Way We Never Were: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap (1992), focuses on this phenomenon as well as addressing the lives of women and girls a little more closely than most scholars tend to. Coontz’s main argument for the book is that Americans are torn between wanting to return to “traditional” family values, and a need to break away from those same values and embrace the changes inherent to modern families: “…thus we have one set of bestsellers urging us to reaffirm traditional family values in an era of

‘family collapse’ and another promising to set us free from traditional family traps if we can only turn off ‘old tapes’ and break out of old ruts” (1). There is a paradox inherent to our wistfulness for 1950s families that Coontz hopes will be resolved by the creation of social reconnection outside of family circles. Our nostalgia for nuclear families with doting, friendly parents is reminiscent of modern households that try so hard to protect children from the horrors of life that they become spoiled and incapable of coping on their own. There is a temptation to equate Garry and Caroline Myers with this kind of home, since the love and care they took with the creation of Highlights elicits the same feeling of nostalgia. In reality, it was their own children who were the ones starting families in the 1950s, and the Myerses’ gentle guidance of the magazine readers is more properly a product of the turn of the century.

As Julia L. Mickenberg says in her book, Learning from the Left: Children's

Literature, the Cold War, and Radical Politics in the United States (2006), children’s

18 literature and childhood have evolved together as complimentary forces: “…it took time to transform children’s literature from a genre overdominated by sweetness and light, by didactic lessons, and by moral precepts to a genre that actually spoke to the experiences of childhood in all their diversity, presuming a child reader who would eventually—if not right away—be capable of making the world anew” (Mickenberg 19). Early children’s literature reflected the views of childhood as a time when children were inherently innocent and precious. Over time we have come to understand children and childhood as more complex and diverse, and children’s literature has grown with that understanding into something that better reflects the real child for whom the books are written. In

“preferring certain authors and works, while ignoring many others, the young confirm that there are a chosen few who can speak to them where they are. Simply said, the great writers for children know—and their stories speak of and reveal—what it feels like to be a kid” (Griswold 4). The way that children responded to Highlights proves that the publication was one of these rare windows into the world of the child. Childhood is an essential component of children's literature, and every instance of understanding we have about childhood contributes to the literature being produced.

From all of this background, I seek to establish a definition of children’s literature and childhood that embraces both fields of study. Children’s literature is the reflection of childhood. By looking critically at a given work of children’s literature, it is possible to see the ideals of childhood held by a certain time period. Other than an intention by adults that a text be “for” children, there are no limiting characteristics on this type of literature. What children choose to read is what they choose to read, and I’ll leave it to

19 other scholars to argue whether a book becomes children’s literature simply because a large number of children read it. I see children’s literature as a body of texts inherently involved in the production of some form of childhood. The intent behind such a vision might be didactic, or reflective, or to entertain; it could even be written with the author having no conscious notion that they are promoting a certain type of childhood. In the case of Highlights, the literature being produced in each issue was created as a clear guide of what the founders wanted children to become. The consistency of this message establishes the publication as a whole as a work of children’s literature, and each issue is a serial installment of the founders’ mission. With the focus now on childhood rather than intangible children, I will refer to this type of literature as childhood literature to differentiate my definition from that of other scholars. In limiting my definition of childhood literature, I am focusing my critical lens on the intersection between children’s literature and childhood to elicit additional insights about this type of literature as well as about theories of childhood. In the next section, I will establish how this definition along with the use of New Historicist theory will be utilized in chapter four to examine

Highlights and several foundational works of childhood literature.

Childhood Literature and New Historicism

As a reflection of childhood, children’s literature of a particular time and place echoes the values of the time period in which it was produced. Highlights magazine is no exception to this phenomenon. However, by focusing on only one children’s magazine, a number of limitations are created in my research. Garry and Caroline Myers intended 20

Highlights to be the most expensive magazine on the market when they first started publishing it. While this motive might have been reflective of their need to produce enough capital to continue publication, it also immediately restricted the type of readers who had access to the magazine; with the first year of printing in 1946, just after the end of WWII, it’s plausible that only middle and upper class households would be able to afford the subscription. Blue-collar households, lower-class families, and minority families would have been fewer in number on the sales list. As Hintz and Tribunella point out in the introduction to, Reading Children’s Literature: A Critical Introduction:

…at any given moment multiple and even contradictory ideas about

children and childhood coexist…age intersects with other key dimensions

of social experience, such as sex/gender, class, race, nation, region,

religion, and ethnicity, so that the lives of children often vary widely even

at the same historical moment. (14)

While the readers of Highlights might not reflect the wide variety of childhood experiences over time, the content of the magazine was intended to provide understanding about as many different types of children as possible. This publication contained a proliferation of multicultural stories about children and other cultures, representing minority characters as equal to or even better than white characters even during time periods when it was considered taboo. It was also remarkably consistent in what was published, and the philosophy behind the content, for its entire publication history. In analyzing this one particular context across a span of time, I aim to show what

21 new literary, cultural, historical, and aesthetic insights become apparent in childhood literature.

However, in order to artificially expand the audience of the magazine, and its particular context of childhood, I will bring in popular works of childhood literature from key time periods to provide a point of comparison for the content found in Highlights.

Many of these are modern classics, while others were popular even from their original publication date. I will explore the critical reception of each book as well as the childhood it constructs, and then compare it to the content of Highlights from the same time period. Noting how both have changed over time will reinforce my findings about the interconnectedness of childhood and children’s literature, and the benefit of exploring them in tandem. To facilitate this analysis, I will be utilizing the principles of New

Historicist theory alongside the scholarship of the authors discussed previously in this chapter.

There are three compelling reasons for my project to use a New Historicist approach. The primary focus of New Historicism is to isolate the relationship between literature and history and between power and privilege; it sees “…the literary work in the foreground and the history in the background, with the task of the critic being to connect the two” (Rivkin and Ryan 505). This connection is made possible because “New

Historians…see the historical as textual” with the effect of creating a new relationship

“…between the historical and the literary text. Since both are representations…neither one is closer to the ‘truth’ of history” (Rivkin and Ryan 506). New Historicism presupposes that there is no one true account of history. Instead, all historical accounts

22 are subject to the opinions and beliefs of the person or people recording the events. Even modern video recordings or news programs cannot be seen as “true” accounts because they are created with particular social, cultural, and political purposes in mind, and present only one viewpoint on a given topic. “Historians may believe they’re being objective, but their own views of what is right and wrong, what is civilized and uncivilized, what is important and unimportant, and the like, will strongly influence the ways in which they interpret events” (Tyson 283). Due to the inability of New

Historicism to verify a single truth about past events or accounts of what happened, the primary sources used to determine an accurate explanation of a particular time period become textual and therefore open to the same interpretive tools as literature. This is the basis for combining my analysis of Highlights with not only the childhood scholars discussed in section two, but also popular works of childhood literature from the same time period.

A second focus of New Historicism is “…on issues of power” (Rivkin and Ryan

506). Who has power, who does not, how is power regulated, created, or controlled through the literature or the historical records in question? One major way that New

Historicism attempts to answer questions of this nature is through an analysis “of discourses both within and through various texts” (Rivkin and Ryan 506). As Lois Tyson defines it, “A discourse is a social language created by particular cultural conditions at a particular time and place, and it expresses a particular way of understanding human experience…the word discourse draws attention to the role of language as the vehicle of ideology” (285; emphasis original). The discourse of Highlights for Children is of

23 particular importance to the dissertation, because it pinpoints the power relationships of children and adults in regards to the magazine’s use and content. In addition,

“Understanding ‘history’ as discursively produced allows one to consider the source of a given discourse, its genealogy…and along with its source the perspective it might serve”

(Rivkin and Ryan 507). By viewing the magazine through both its historical discourse as well as the discourse of the readers as published by Highlights, an analysis of the power held by children versus adults in the magazine’s construction is seen. This investigation will allow me to provide an interpretation of how childhood and children’s literature have woven together over the course of several decades between the covers of this magazine.

The additional discourses of the scholars I am pulling in—particularly those of Coontz,

Meyerowitz, and Bernstein, who focus on under-represented aspects of childhood, womanhood, and race—will enable me to focus on who lacks power in Highlights.

A New Historicist theoretical lens is integral to the dissertation because it helps to avoid some of the generalizations that might be made with a strictly historical analysis.

Many adults have a tendency to assume that childhood has improved in the present from how it was in the past, as well as a tendency to romanticize childhood or certain time periods when “life was good”. Our nostalgia for “simpler” or “happier” times clouds our understanding of the time period in question. The lens of New Historicism discourages the critic from trying to understand a historical event, object, or person in isolation from the web of discourses in which it was represented because we can’t understand it in isolation from the meanings it carried at that time. The more we isolate it, the more we will tend to view it through the meanings of our own time and place and, perhaps, our

24 own desire to believe that the human race is improving with the passage of time (Tyson

286). By avoiding the disconnection of children’s literature from childhood (and vice versa), the interpretation of these two areas of study as interwoven concepts becomes easier to see. Although my focus on Highlights for Children is in itself an isolated example of the interaction between children’s literature and childhood, my analysis of the magazine using a New Historicist approach better enables me to paint a picture of the point of collection under examination.

The final advantage of employing the New Historical lens in this dissertation is in an attempt “…to promote the development of and gain attention for the histories of marginalized peoples” (Tyson 288). In the case of my project, the underrepresented group is children. Through analysis of the discourses and power dynamics of the two groups involved in the magazine’s construction—adults and children—I will give voice to the real children behind our understanding of childhood. By recognizing how children interact with and utilize the magazine, as well as their requests for how they would like the publication to be structured, and how the adults creating the publication respond to such requests in featured letters from readers, the dissertation will reconnect the history of childhood with the children the concept purports to represent. Through utilizing a

New Historicist approach, I am able to reconnect the magazine with the socio-cultural time period in which it was created. Special focus is paid to the era in which the magazine was founded, the 1940’s, but additional research will be done on the magazine in subsequent decades and in connection to well-known historical facts. These include such things as American wars like World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War,

25 major social movements such as Civil Rights and conservationism, and substantial scientific breakthroughs such as the polio vaccine and the Space Race. The New

Historicist enables the asking of questions such as “‘How has the event been interpreted?’ and ‘What do the interpretations tell us about the interpreters?’” (Tyson 282). By observing these developments in Chapters 4 and 5, I will address the main dissertation goal of how childhood and children’s literature have transformed in tandem over a period of several decades.

Chapter 2—Highlights: A History

Every time I start discussion of Highlights for Children Magazine with another person, the immediate response is one of fond remembrance: “Oh, Highlights! I remember getting those as a kid!” or “I used to read them in the doctor’s office.” This nostalgia for the publication is a reflection of “the trust and affection with which generations of Americans regard the Highlights brand” (Greider 24). The magazine is well known and widely read and has enjoyed an uninterrupted publishing history from

1946 to the present. The philosophy of the founders in helping children become “happy, useful citizens” (Myers 2) has also remained consistent. These points, combined with the emphasis on child-based feedback and published materials from children, make

Highlights an exceptional snapshot of the American childhood experience. As adults, we reminisce about our own childhoods even as we seek to make growing up a safer and more pleasant experience for the current generation of children. We also romanticize various periods in history, especially the 1950s, as the “good old days” when life was allegedly simpler, families allegedly closer, and children allegedly better behaved. Nostalgia complicates our definitions of childhood, making it difficult to see anything other than our own social, cultural, and political biases at the heart of the question: What is childhood?

In this chapter, I look at the lives and work of the Highlights founders before, during, and after their creation of the magazine. Doing so will offer a thorough history of

Highlights for Children, and also provide a firm grounding not only in what Highlights’ mission was and is, but the historical, social, pedagogical, and psychological influences the founders faced when creating a brand new serial publication for children.

The Beginnings of “Fun with a Purpose”

In June of 1946, twenty thousand copies of the very first Highlights for Children issue rolled off the presses and were delivered to the homes of children all around the

United States. The founders, Garry Cleveland Myers and Caroline Clark Myers, had garnered subscribers through direct door-to-door sales with the help of a national distributor. For the Myerses, it was the culmination of a lifelong dream to connect with children directly in a wholesome, educational, and fun manner. Indeed, the creation of

Highlights only came about because the Myerses’ previous position with another periodical called Children’s Activities was terminated unexpectedly in March of 1946. In an editorial in the first issue, Garry Myers shared their goals with the readers:

This book coming to you month after month will help you to be a happy,

useful citizen now and a happy, useful citizen as long as you may live.

Some parts of this book will make you smile and laugh and feel good as

you see or read them. You will have a lot of fun with this book, and it will

be useful fun. Many things are in it for you to talk about, think about, and

remember. (June 1946)

This passage immediately brings into question what, exactly, they mean by happy useful citizens. To whom are they speaking? What kind of readers are they hoping to address?

What do they imagine readers will go on to do? The white, middle-class, urban status of the readership during this time period points toward a desire to promote and continue the ideals of that demographic for the supposed betterment of the United States. The

Myerses were assuredly not addressing African Americans, who still lived in segregation, or to Asian Americans, who had only been released from internment camps three months before, or even to Hispanic/Latinx Americans, who would not win any kind of educational equality until the settling of the Mendez vs. Westminster case in 1947. The story of how Garry and Caroline Myers developed their educational philosophy and created the Highlights brand starts many years before the founding of the publication. Their educational backgrounds and history with other children’s magazines lent them a unique perspective when it came to creating their own material for children. Highlights was a labor of love, “tied around their heartstrings” (Greider 96), and remains a project of importance for generations of the Myers family and their friends.

Born at the turn of the century, and having grown up during and participated in the First World War, the Myerses are a product of the rapidly shifting ideologies, technologies, and social structures of early 20th century America. This background is directly represented in Highlights, which served as an ideal platform through which to promote the philosophy they developed from living through so many important moments in American history and the educational paths that they pursued. In many ways, understanding how historical events influenced Garry and Caroline’s lives is a reflection

29 of how the magazine they created might have influenced the lives of millions of children worldwide. As Anne Lundin discusses in her introduction to Defining Print Culture for

Youth: The Cultural Work of Children's Literature, the evolution of print culture has never been a simple up and up progression of good to better to best. Rather:

The problematic hermeneutics of both “childhood” and “literature”

complicated its trajectory in the cultural history of post-1870s

America. Rather than a teleological trail of “better and brighter”, the

condition of children and the condition of their literature are contingent on

the ways the culture wishes to see itself, its political choices amid

competing ideologies, the relations between children and adults, and

hegemonic power structures” (Lundin xvii).

Social constructions of childhood do not necessarily improve from generation to generation, though we like to believe that they do. As a result, print culture reflects whatever is going on in our society in a given time period, and Highlights is no exception. The content of the magazine reflects not only ideas of childhood in a given time period but also the views of childhood held by the founders from their experiences growing up at the end of the 19th century. For this reason, it is important to investigate the lives of the founders and what experiences they brought with them as they created

Highlights.

Both Garry and Caroline grew up in small farming communities in

Pennsylvania. Garry Cleveland Myers was born on July 15, 1884 in Sylvan,

Pennsylvania, near the Maryland border and just west of Pennsylvania Dutch

30 country. His father, John A. Myers (b. 1846) was a farmer who had also been born and raised in Sylvan while his mother, Sarah (b. 1853), kept house. Garry was the ninth out of ten children, though only eight lived to adulthood. He attended Ursinus College from

1906 to 1909, managing to graduate a year early with a degree in English and History. In his college yearbook bio, Garry is touted as a young man “given over to the Goddess of

Learning” who had “set quite a pace in scholarship and if his marks are high enough he will be valedictorian of the class” (RUBY 1909). The yearbook biography goes on to say of Garry that “his forte is to get next to all the new girls who come to town, but they soon get next to him.” Accordingly, it was during his attendance at Ursinus that Garry met

Caroline Elizabeth Clark, who would become his wife in 1912. He also served as a member of the Ursinus Academy faculty, listed as a “single teacher” there on the 1910

U.S. census, and was a “leading figure in the religious life of the college” (RUBY

1909). Garry would go on to attend graduate school at the University of Pennsylvania from 1909 to 1910, working toward a degree in Psychology and American History. He finished earning his Ph.D. in Psychology from Columbia University in 1913, with a dissertation titled “A Study in Incidental Memory.”

Caroline Elizabeth Clark was born in the small community of Boyds Mills,

Pennsylvania on July 14, 1887. Her father, Charles Edgar Clark (b. 1855) ran the local general store as well as the post office, while her mother, Elizabeth Dann Boyd Clark (b.

1862) worked as a milliner. Caroline, who went by Carrie for much of her life, was the oldest of six children, though her two youngest sisters did not live past their first year.

She studied at Bloomsburg State College, where she graduated in 1905, and continued

31 her education at Ursinus College starting in 1907. While at Ursinus, she was a member of the Historical Political Group and studied Latin and German as well as being enrolled in the School of Music. Though she was slated to graduate in 1912, no record exists that she earned her degree. Instead, she married Garry Myers on June 26, 1912 and attended

Juniata College from 1912-1913 where Garry was teaching Psychology and Social

Science. Many years later, due in part to her parent education efforts with Garry, the

Rockefeller Foundation offered Caroline funding in 1929 “to further her studies in preschool education at Detroit’s Merrill Palmer School and New York City’s Teachers

College at Columbia University, a center of education reform” (Greider 6).

The pair served as educators of both children and parents, eventually touring the country as well-known child psychologists. This extensive education on both their parts allowed Garry and Caroline to form a partnership and collaboration with one another that resulted in thousands of publications, including Highlights. One of their first endeavors together was serving in the military during World War I. According to the story in the company’s employee handbook, Garry and Caroline devoted their time to educating illiterate soldiers, with Garry serving as “head of the Recruit Educational Center at Camp

Upton on Long Island, New York” and Caroline acting as the first woman to serve in the

U.S. Army as a teacher (Greider 5). However, the story is a bit more complicated than this. As the United States entered World War I, the head of the American Psychological

Association (APA), Robert M. Yerkes, expressed a desire for American psychologists to aid in the war efforts “toward the increased efficiency of our Army and Navy” (Yerkes

7). Under his guidance, the Committee on the Psychological Examination of Recruits

32 was created, and two different intelligence tests were developed that could be administered to new recruits by trained psychologists. “By the end of the war, more than

100 psychologists had been commissioned in the Sanitary Corps of the U.S. Army

Medical Department; along with approximately 275 enlisted men, they were given special training in the newly established School of Military Psychology” (McGuire

127). One of these men was Garry Cleveland Myers, enlisted as a First Lieutenant in

March 1918 and later made captain in November 1918. He served as an assistant examiner at the naval training base in Brooklyn, New York (Yerkes 37). During this time period, the “working definition of illiteracy was ‘someone who could not read a newspaper or write a letter home’” (McGuire 126), so when Caroline joined Garry at the training camp along with their children, they worked together to help soldiers gain the skills to write to their families.

This work, along with their involvement in the Army tests, would become important for the Myerses once the war ended. The development of the Army Alpha and

Beta Tests have been seen “as one of psychology’s most influential contributions to

American society, and the testing movement that [they] helped to spawn dominated psychology and education in the United States for decades” (McGuire 125). The Alpha

Army Test was a written examination with oral instructions given by an examiner. It consisted of 8 subsections that varied from word problems and logic questions to analogies, antonyms, and word scrambles. Men who were “illiterate and/or foreign born and had little skill with the English language…or if he could not comprehend the directions for the Alpha or failed it” were given the Beta Army Test instead (McGuire

126). The Beta Test “consisted primarily of symbols and pictures instead of prose and numbers” for its seven subtests (McGuire 127). Beta testers were given oral instructions, including examples on a blackboard, and asked to complete tasks such as mazes and counting three-dimensional objects, as well as recognizing patterns and similarities between items or filling in missing pieces in drawings. As the Myerses note in their book, Measuring Minds,

Out of the Army testing have grown a number of group intelligence tests

adapted to school children. Most have been an imitation of Alpha with

emphasis on language exercises, applying, consequently, only to the upper

grades and high schools. A few authors, imitating Beta, have developed

tests for the first few grades only. (7-8)

Seeing a lack of tests that could be administered to people of any age, from the youngest children to university students, Garry and Caroline developed the Myers Mental Measure,

“an intelligence test based entirely on pictures” (Greider 5). It was closest in similarity to the Army Beta Test, but also incorporated elements of the Alpha test and the old standard of the Stanford-Binet test.1 The Myers Mental Measure required testers to identify the odd item in a group, identify something wrong with a picture, as well as to fill in the missing portion of a picture.

In the instruction manual that accompanies the Myers Mental Measure, they provide statistics for how the test performed across a wide range of ages and grade

1 This is a test that assesses cognitive ability in five areas: Fluid Reasoning, Knowledge, Quantitative Reasoning, Visual-Spatial Processing, and Working Memory.

34 levels. On the figure sheet are two charts (See Tables 1 and 2), recreated from the manual, that indicate the “Norms” in scoring for children at the end of the school year, based on the Myers Mental Measure, which has 139 points possible. To determine the intelligence ratio, the student’s raw score is divided by chronological age in months. The

Myerses add that the “Intelligence ratio does not mean much above the high school and perhaps is not worth computing above the eighth grade” (55). As can be seen by these charts, the number of cases tested varied widely by both grade level and chronological age. The median score for each group also seems rather low for a test that has 139 points possible (and it’s unfortunate that the average was not provided as well), especially for the older age/grade levels. Tests such as the Myers Mental Measure as well as the Army

Alpha and Beta Tests, the Stanford-Binet, and others from the same time period were generally “found to be statistically reliable in a test-retest situation” (McGuire 128). In other words, a given set of results could be reproduced consistently with subsequent pools of test takers.

Table 1, Norms by Grade

No. 45 1410 1447 1721 1630 1922 1495 1610 1550 311 249 160 810 493 cases Grades K I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII College Median 6 13 19 27 34 39 44 48 52 56 59 62 63 69 raw score Median . .15 .20 .24 .28 .29 .30 .30 .31 Intelli- gence ratio

Table 2, Norms by Chronological Age

No. cases 516 1191 1237 1440 1304 1318 1169 1204 928 445 88 Chronological age 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 Median raw score 10 16 23 29 35 39 44 48 50 49 50 Median Intelligence .12 .18 .24 .26 .28 .28 .30 .30 .29 .28 .26 ratio

Yerkes, in his book, Psychological Examining in the United States Army, asserts

that the Army tests

give a reliable index of a man’s ability to learn, to think quickly and

accurately, to analyse [sic] situations, to maintain a state of mental

alertness, and to comprehend instructions. They do not measure loyalty,

bravery, dependability, or the emotional traits that make a man “carry

on.” A man’s value to the service is measured by his intelligence, plus

other necessary qualifications. (462 emphasis original)

The problem, of course, is that intelligence is a rather abstract thing to measure, and

results from such tests do not necessarily correlate with a person’s ability to learn, think,

and understand a given instruction or situation. Tests such as these are also hugely biased

in terms of race, class, gender, and other identifying information, generally skewing the

results in favor of the predominantly white, educated masses that take them. This

reinforces stereotypes that non-white, lower-class, and female populations are less

intelligent since access to educational resources is not taken into account. In Measuring

Minds, the Myerses warn against seeing “intelligence tests as a kind of panacea for all ills, as an infallible measure. There is a tendency to interpret a score by any child as a perfect measure of that child’s intelligence” but in reality the scores from these tests are simply a raw number that requires additional extrapolation to create any meaning in terms of intelligence (32). The Myerses go on to say that the intelligence ratio can be used to sort children of a certain grade level into classes that would be separated in terms of difficulty. “After a few weeks those children advancing in their school work more slowly or more rapidly than their section would warrant” should be moved up or down based either on the school counselor or the teacher’s judgment (33). Given the “IQ binge” and obsession with intelligence tests that the United States underwent during the period between the two world wars, it is unsurprising that the Myerses failed to anticipate how such a separation of children based on supposed intelligence could make life miserable for both the brightest and the lowest-scoring students (McGuire 129).

Discussions of the popularity of eugenics in this era as well as issues of race and immigration are also absent from the Myerses analysis of the data. They picked the

Cleveland school district specifically because it had a lower population of foreign or

English-language-learning students, giving them a more “accurate” measure of intelligence: “The reason for plotting the graphs from the East Cleveland groups only is because that city, practically without a foreign population, represents the most homogeneous large group of any of the groups studied” (27). They go on to say that,

since the skewness in the first grades and ages increased with the number

of foreign children in the several cities studied it is highly probable that

this skewness for the first grades and ages of the combined groups is due

to the presence there of the relatively large number of children who did

not understand English… (28)

This points to an understanding that non-English speaking students score lower, but there is no indication that the Myerses knew why or wanted to work to correct the parameters that resulted in lower scores. Instead, they only desired to develop a test that could be given to any person of any age or background, and accurately measure their intelligence, something which they never achieved. The Myerses were a part of the eugenics movement, prioritizing white American values without attempting to understand or correct the lack of resources inherent in being a person of color or an immigrant in the

United States.

More and more in recent years, there has been pushback about the efficacy of standardized tests. Just as the intelligence tests of the 1910s and 20s did not necessarily correlate with actual ability,

…high-stakes testing does not necessarily reflect an accurate assessment

of a student’s abilities. One reason for this is that standardized tests tend

to measure a student’s access to resources than skill in a particular

area. Thus, students who live in wealthier districts tend to perform better

on standardized tests because they have better resourced schools, more

access to private tutoring, access to specialized test-prep agencies, greater

access to books at home, and greater access to both high-quality healthcare

and healthy food. (Spann 6)

This problem was as apparent in 1918 as it is now. With the Army Alpha and Beta Tests, subjects were regularly divided into groups such as “White Adults” and “Negro Army recruits”, and the results separated based on national origin and skin color (McGuire

128). Such separations are a clear measure of resources rather than of ability, and allow for the test makers to easily claim that White people are superior to Black people.

Perhaps stemming from their work with illiterate soldiers during the war, the

Myerses established “prolific careers and were well known across the country as experts in child psychology, education, and parenting” (Greider 1). In addition to publishing the results of their research using the Myers Mental Measure in 1920, Caroline and Garry in particular became quite prolific in their writings about education and psychology. They moved from New York to Cleveland Heights, Ohio, where Garry took up a position as head of “the Psychology Department at Cleveland College of Education at Western

Reserve University (later Case Western Reserve)” (Greider 5-6). In 1921, they coauthored a series of books on teaching English literacy, which they titled The

Language of America. The introduction to the first volume cites the poor results of the

Army Alpha and Beta testing, stating that

The American’s traditional pride in his public school system suffered a

dramatically rude shock when it became known through army tests that

one-fourth of all American young men were unfit for regular service in the

forces selected to fight in the great World War—because they could not

read and write the language of their comrades. (The Language of America

xi, emphasis original)

American pedagogy up to that point had neglected the education of adults, and especially of adults who were non-native English speakers (The Language of America xi). The bulk of the books are lesson plans for teaching non-native speakers basic sentences that get more complex as the lessons go on. The sentences are also clearly intended to indoctrinate the pupil into the American way of life, with examples such as: “A good

American can speak good English, read good English, and write good English. I want to be a good American” and “You can learn to read and write. Then you can get a good job and learn to be a good American” (The Language of America xxiii). The examples in the book simultaneously teach immigrants to accept a biased view of what it means to be

American, while also shaming any individuals who are already American adults, but are lacking in literacy skills that allow them to effectively read and write in their own native language. Many psychologists during this time period were using anthropometry, or physical measurements of the human body, to attempt to establish the superiority of the white race and people of European origin. The Myerses clearly bought into the

Americanism of the eugenics trend prior to World War II, encouraging immigrants to learn to read and write English as though knowledge of the language were the only requirement for succeeding in the United States.

Although much of their earliest work was spent in the education of illiterate adults, the Myerses had a strong interest in the education of young children, especially, and were fascinated by the goings on of their own children. Their oldest son, John Edgar

Myers (Jack, b. 1913 in PA), became so accustomed to them keeping notes on his behavior “that he would look up from an activity and prompt his parents, ‘Take a

40 record’” (Greider 5). They tracked the progress of their other two children, Elizabeth

Caroline Myers (Betty, b. 1915 in NY) and Garry Cleveland Myers, Jr. (b. 1922 in OH), in their notes as well. The Highlights for Children archive housed in Thompson Library at The Ohio State University contains dozens of notebooks of these jotted down observations, and many of the notes prompted the continued work of the Myers family as they sought to educate other parents on the best processes for child rearing. In 1926,

Garry published The Learner and His Attitude, a book designed to help educators maintain order in their classroom through a basic understanding of psychology. That same year, he and Caroline published a co-authored book titled Homes Build Persons, which clearly stated their beliefs in the foreword that “no techniques of home and school guidance can be wholly successful except in an atmosphere of affection, understanding, and companionship…self-control, respect for the rights of others, and regard for constituted authority lie at the roots of good character and citizenship” (iii). These tenets would later go on to represent their philosophy in the Highlights for Children magazine.

In addition to a few additional books published during this time, in 1929, Garry

“began a six-day-a-week syndicated newspaper column, ‘The Parent Problem,’ which he would continue until his death in 1971, writing more than twelve thousand columns”

(Greider 6). In these articles, he would write 600-700 words around a certain topic of concern to parents, such as “Your Child Who Easily Gives Up” or “When Fast-Growing

Girls Slump and Have Round Shoulders”. At the end of each article, he would answer relevant questions from parents who had written in to the newspaper. Some examples:

Q. Can a child develop a good life who does only what he wishes to do?

A. Of course not. (30 December 1964)

Q. Is the mere teaching of the facts adequate in sex education?

A. No; these facts must be learned in good relationship with parents along

with deep regard for the preciousness of every other person, especially of

the opposite sex. (31 December 1964)

Q. Does spanking have “limited approval” by any child-rearing experts

now?

A. Yes; says Dr. Benjamin Spock who for many years persuaded millions

of young parents against spanking – according to a recent article of his in

Redbook, but only when “applied by sensible, levelheaded, loving mothers

and fathers.” (29 December 1966)

These examples show Garry Myers’ distinct point of view on parenting, though the examples are from late in his life. His perspective of treating children with respect and understanding, while also providing parental guidance, remained true throughout his career. Through his prolific writing for the newspaper, Garry and Caroline shortly began doing work with various children’s periodicals, such as Child’s Play, Babyhood, Junior

Home, and Children’s Activities.

In approximately 19352, Garry was hired on as Editor-in-chief of a new publication called Children’s Activities, where Caroline also became an editor. Their

2 In a letter dated March 19, 1946, Garry writes to John Gee, who he wanted to hire as the new art director of Highlights, and says “For over eleven years I have been Editor-in-chief of ‘Children’s Activities,’ indeed from its beginning.” Knowing that at this point he had been newly terminated from this position with Children’s Activities, I estimate that the magazine and Garry’s involvement with it began around 1935.

42 experiences with this magazine would directly correlate with the future format, content, and mission of Highlights magazine. After about five years of work at Children’s

Activities, Garry and Caroline took on a new role touring the country and hosting talks about parenting. The titles of some of these were “Helping Our Children Succeed at

School,” “When Are We Mature Emotionally?” and “How We Parents Annoy Our

Children.” Their ideas about the bourgeoning field of child psychology “were part of a zeitgeist that sought to overturn a tradition of rigid discipline and rote learning” (Greider

7). By this point in their career, all three of the Myers children were grown and starting families of their own. Despite being sixty-one and fourty-eight, respectively, the

Myerses began to dream of starting their own children’s magazine that would follow and promote the ideals they had spent a lifetime forming. This dream would reach fulfillment in June 1946.

The Founding of Highlights for Children

Garry and Caroline Myers continued giving talks on behalf of Children’s

Activities from 1941 through 1946, and all that time on the road left them a great deal of time to talk. The Myerses were dissatisfied with Children’s Activities, with Garry professing in a business letter after they left the publication that he had not “been able to do nearly all I wished to do with this magazine” (Myers March 19, 1946). Caroline would tell stories about this time period to the family, talking about the plans she and

Garry had for the magazine they would create “’if we really could have our way’”

(Greider 2). Their frustration with Children’s Activities led them to start making

43 inquiries from business associates and friends about creating their own periodical for children. The publisher, D. C. Kreidler, became aware that the Myerses might soon become competitors, and sent them a telegram dated March 25 (See Figure #3):

INFORMATION OF YOUR PROPOSED PUBLISHING VENTURE

HAS REACHED ME IF TRUE YOUR RESIGNATION EFFECTIVE

MARCH THIRTY-FIRST AFTER COMPLETING YOUR PRESENT

ITINERARY IS DEMANDED IF NOT TRUE PRESENT PROOF AT

ONCE. (The Story of Highlights: Fun With a Purpose 2012; all caps in

original)

By the time the telegram was received, the Myerses were already deep into the process of establishing their own magazine. Kreidler clearly felt this was a breach of their contract as editors for Children’s Activities and he wasted no time in demanding their resignation, with less than a week’s notice. While it is unclear from documents how Kreidler learned of the new publishing venture, it is interesting that the Myerses were able to keep it a secret for what must have been several months.

While their contract would end on March 31st of that year, they were in talks as early as March 4th with the Assistant Director of The Cleveland School of Art, Otto Ege, about finding artists to produce illustrations for an as-yet-unnamed children’s publication. In his letter dated March 11, 1946 (dictated March 4, 1946), Otto has clearly even discussed the title of the magazine with Garry and Caroline:

I am still not satisfied with the title. Of the names that popped up from the

subconscious “The Happy Child’s Magazine” has a certain weakness, but

it does bring the child into the picture…Another name was “Good Fun

Magazine”. With the title “Fun With A Purpose” I still get the reaction

that it is a parent guidebook and not a magazine.

Interestingly, “Fun With A Purpose” would go on to become the motto of the magazine, printed on every issue since the first in June 1946. A number of additional names were thrown out as possibilities, including “My Do Book” or “Playbook for Kids.”

By March 19, 1946, the official name of the magazine had been decided and

Garry was in deep negotiation with John Gee, a Florida-based artist who would soon become the magazine’s art director. Some of the Myers’ desire for a different children’s magazine is made clear in Garry’s last letter to John Gee, asking him to come to the new editorial headquarters in Honesdale, Pennsylvania:

[“Highlights for Children”] will be the highest priced magazine, $4.00 a

year, $8.50 for three years. It will carry no advertisement but will have 48

pages of pure editorial content. It will not be sold on the newstand [sic]

but will be distributed by direct sales in the home (as “Children’s

Activities” has been)…Mrs. Myers and I have some very definite ideas

and principles we mean to develop. (Myers March 19, 1946)

The lack of advertising is an important and intriguing point of interest. By the mid-1930s in the United States, editors of children’s magazines had begun to capitalize on their readers as a potential source of advertising revenue, and most if not all of the publications available included printed ads directed toward children and their parents. By not including ads, increasing the price of the magazine above that of their competitors, and

45 relying on direct sales, the Myers were taking a real gamble on the publication. Their only real advantage was the weight their own names could give Highlights as respected educators of parents and children. Nevertheless, in less than three months since their termination, the Myerses were able to produce, print, gain subscribers, and distribute a full 48-page magazine for June 1946.

Yet Highlights was not an immediate success. While 20,000 copies of the first issue were published, by the end of 1949, the magazine was failing and the money had run out. “The printer refused to print the next issue unless they were paid” (The Story of

Highlights: Fun With a Purpose 2012) and the Myers’ youngest son, Garry Jr., arrived in

Columbus to help his parents face the reality of the magazine closing its doors. Garry Jr. was 28 years old at the time, and an aeronautical engineer. Upon encountering his parents’ dream up close, rather then helping them settle their affairs, he instead went out to the banks in town and attempted to get a loan to help the failing business get its legs back. His appeals to the banks failed, and in the end he and various other family members all took out small private loans to keep the business afloat. They managed to hold on until 1956, when Dick Bell was hired as the sales leader. Bell entered the business with innovative ideas for getting the magazine into the hands of children, and one of his most successful programs was selling subscriptions to doctor’s and dentist’s offices as well as to schools. The Myers’ oldest son, Jack, joined the Highlights team in the late 1950’s as the Science Editor, and a new page was added that published just letters asking questions about science. The Myers’ daughter, Betty, also began working for the magazine as an editor during this time period. Although the expanded Highlights family

46 lost many of its key leaders in the winter of 1960, when two planes collided over New

York, taking the lives of Garry Jr., his wife, and vice president Cy Ewart, nothing again threatened the ability of the magazine to keep its doors open.

Perhaps one of the most extraordinary things about Highlights is that subsequent generations have done their best to maintain the vision of the founders and carry it on long past their deaths. Garry served as editor in chief and passed at his desk in 1971 while Caroline continued as managing editor until 1977 (she was ninety years old) before passing in 1980. Later editors strove to maintain the same philosophy of the founders, working to extend it throughout their growing product line as well as keep it consistent in the original magazine. Christine French Cully, the current editor in chief, said in an interview:

The amazing thing about Highlights is the continuity of philosophy. We

still believe the things that [the founders] believed, and we still try to show

that in everything we do. Not just the magazines, but also the books, the

digital products, the board games. All the kinds of things that we’re

creating these days, they all are Fun with a Purpose. And every time we

begin a new project, we stop and ask ourselves: does this really help kids

become caring, curious, creative, confident? Will this product really help

kids become their best selves? (The Story of Highlights: Fun With a

Purpose 2012)

The four C’s of “caring, curious, creative, and confident” were not coined by the founders, but were an addition made to the philosophy in more recent years. In many

47 ways, these key words are an extension of Garry and Caroline Myers desire for children to become “happy, useful citizens” who respect themselves and others, but still know how to have fun. It also continues to raise the question of exactly which children the magazine intends the four C’s to influence into becoming good citizens—and what kind of citizens the current editors are hoping to promote. In addition to maintaining this philosophy, Highlights also strives to adapt and change to suit the current generation of readers. This variation is something that was as true in 1946 as it is in 2016. While maintaining a core idea of how children should be treated and educated, the magazine has also grown in new directions over its seventy-year history.

While maintaining the philosophy of the founders, Highlights has also consistently avoided running advertisements in the magazine as well as maintaining the

“voice” with which Garry and Caroline addressed children from the very first issue. After the turn of the century when advertising for children was gaining momentum, publishers and editors would often employ a new method of addressing children that created a personal connection; the magazine issues in many ways became like family friends. As Catherine Van Horn reveals in her chapter “Turning Child

Readers into Consumers: Children’s Magazines and Advertising, 1900-1920,” it took quite a bit of work for companies to believe in children as a legitimate consumer base, and

central to their efforts…was the personal relationship that publishers and

editors of children’s magazines fostered with their young readers, and with

the children’s parents by proxy…The new wave of editors who began

marketing their more commercial magazines to the masses in the late

nineteenth century rejected aloofness in favor of personification and a

more intimate relationship with their audiences, carried on through such

devices as signed editorials, advice columns, and letters pages. (122-23).

Intentionally or not, the Myerses also employed these tactics to gain the loyalty of their readers. Every issue of Highlights begins with a one-page note from the editor in chief. During Garry Myers’ era, these were called “A Friendly Talk”, and the title was changed to “Let’s Talk it Over” in January 1956. In today’s issues it’s called “Dear

Readers.” In the earliest issues, the topics of these talks emphasized the importance of acting grown up or wanting to grow up fast, taking care of yourself, and being responsible for yourself—in other words, encouraging children to be self- sufficient. Garry’s first talk in June 1946, which I shared a portion of at the beginning of this chapter, not only encouraged children to be good citizens, and to have good, useful fun with the book, but also said that:

Boys and girls who read HIGHLIGHTS FOR CHILDREN will learn and

feel that it is a manly or womanly thing to help your mothers, to be

mannerly, to be kind to animals and younger children, to be respectful to

older persons, to be thoughtful, to read the Bible, to pray and go to Sunday

school and church. (All caps original)

He went on to ask children to tell their friends about the magazine, even if they might live far away. These efforts were in the same vein as other publishers with printed advertisements, pleading with children in their editorials to peruse the ads and consider

49 buying the products listed there (Van Horn 121). Highlights also included a page for art, jokes, and small stories from children, which later came to be called “Our Own Page(s)”, as well as publishing letters from children in a “Letters to the Editor” section. Every single letter received from a child received a response, though most of them were not published in the magazine.

For the Myerses, losing their jobs with Children’s Activities resulted in the fulfillment of a lifelong dream of communicating directly with children on their own terms. The philosophy they developed for Highlights was drawn from their many years as educators of both parents and children, and informed by their backgrounds in psychology. They wanted Highlights readers to do more than just read the magazine:

…they would interact with it, imagine and invent at its suggestion, aspire

to the ideals it put before them. They would play games, tell jokes, dance,

build, ponder open-ended questions, and puzzle out the words of simple

illustrated stories. Children would spend many happy hours with the

magazine, then keep and cherish it as a ‘book of treasures.’ (Greider 2-3;

emphasis original)

The treatment of each Highlights issue as a book, as literary, was very important to the

Myerses. This idea that children would keep the issues and refer back to them either for additional enjoyment or for school projects came up again and again over the years in their “Letters to the Editor” sections. Children would write in, asking why there weren’t any crosswords or word finding puzzles in Highlights, and the editors would respond that they didn’t want to publish activities that required the marking of the book, so that fun

50 could be found in each issue over and over again (November 1966, 33). Consistently, the

Myerses upheld their periodical as one with literary value and merit for child readers— issues were meant to be kept, re-read, and passed down to the next generation as beloved friends. Given the post-war mood of economic stability and the subsequent Baby Boom, children’s literature grew exponentially during this time period. From the fantasy works of British authors such as J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis, adventure stories, and the

American fantasy series of L. Frank Baum’s Oz, to the advent of the young adult literature genre and the movement toward realistic fiction in the 1960s, children’s literature was big business. By setting up their publication as a distinctly literary one, the

Myerses establish Highlights for Children as a representative example of literature for children from 1946 to the present.

The Future of Highlights for Children Magazine

While the publication has changed a great deal over time, both to adapt to new technology as well as to the demands of modern readers, many of the features that were published in the first issue remain the same in every issue today. Highlights has always striven to incorporate a variety of materials, with a focus on multicultural stories—with an etic focus on other cultures from an outsider perspective—and activities that appeal to a wide age range. One difference between the issues published in 1946 and the issues published today is that the age range has been adjusted. While the Highlights website states that the magazine was “Aimed at ages 6 to 12,” many children wrote in complaining about the activities “for babies,” for which they felt they were too old 51

(March 1970, 33). It’s probably a better estimate to say that the original magazine was appropriate for children as young as three. One of the biggest developments in recent years for Highlights has been the production of two additional magazines: Highlights

High Five, for toddlers ages 2-6, was added in 2007, and Highlights Hello, for babies 0-2 years old, was added in 2013. The company today has dozens of various products and holdings under its belt, all dedicated to the education of children.

In the first June 1946 issue, a number of Highlights’ staple features were published:

A Hidden Pictures puzzle, matching and counting games, poems, finely

illustrated stories reflecting the diversity of the human family (one focused

on Native American children, another featured a Dutch boy, and another

included a Mexican child), history articles and an excerpt from the

Declaration of Independence, riddles, craft projects (flower arrangements,

folded paper animals, clothespin dolls, and a tiny log cabin), a song, a

finger play, a science piece on “baby insects,” children’s drawings of

animals they had invented, letters describing their dreams—and more.

(Greider 3)

Often, when I remind someone of Highlights, the first things they remember are the

Hidden Pictures puzzles. These images are complex drawings, usually black and white, with a variety of objects drawn into them and a word list at the bottom. The goal is to find all the objects on the list within the picture. Writing or drawing on the picture is unnecessary, and undesirable as it prevents you from completing the activity again. This

52 can be frustrating for those of us who found Highlights in the doctor’s office and the puzzles were already done for us by some unknown child. This puzzle was unique to

Highlights, which is part of what makes it so memorable. When Hello was created for children 0-2 years old, Highlights also created a simpler Hidden Picture feature called

“Find It” to help prepare very young children with the skills needed for the more complicated version in the magazine for older kids.

One of the most unique features of Highlights as a serial publication, as opposed to the plethora of allegorical literature published during this era, was the inclusion of

Bible stories and verses. In comparison to other children’s magazines published during the same month and year, Highlights was the only one to incorporate these items. Both

Garry and Caroline came from Christian, Pennsylvanian farming families. Garry even included a desire for children to study the Bible and attend church in his letter to readers in the inaugural issue. On the table of contents page, a small illustration of the Bible, wrapped in chain, is included in a collage of pictures featuring many of the things present in the issue, a reference to the article “The World’s Best Seller” by Greta Largo

Potter. Her article takes up two and a half pages, with a promise to be continued in the next issue. In it, she discusses the history of how the Bible became accessible to anyone who wanted to read it. Also in the first issue is a full page dedicated to Isaiah 2:4, “And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more” (June 1946). The illustrations on this page feature soldier’s helmets, machine guns, tanks, bullets, gas

53 masks, missiles, and grenades on one side of the page being smelted down in a great furnace, becoming wheel barrows, rakes, shovels, and plows on the other side of the page. Given that World War II had ended a year before, an image such as this one had huge political charge, especially for young child readers.

The magazine has always published an abundance of stories or nonfiction pieces featuring multicultural characters or people. These generally were in every issue, and often more than one such piece would be included. In June 1946, there were stories about the Dutch, Mexicans, and Native Americans. The story “The Leak in the Dyke” by

Alice Schowalter, tells the story of a boy in Holland, named Peter. It describes the land as one that sits below sea level, with a wall of dykes around the border holding the ocean back from flooding the whole country. Peter is walking home when he notices a small leak in the dyke. He plugs the hole, calling for help, eventually using his whole arm to stop the water until his family arrives. It ends by saying, “In the early morning, the townspeople quietly knelt and gave thanks for one so brave. God had saved Peter’s life.

Peter had saved his country” (6). “Over the Cliff” by Jennie Foster Richey is the story of a Mexican boy named Pedro escorting his friends, Tom and his sister Anne, on a hike through Sabino Canyon in Tuscon, Arizona. Aside from being described as Mexican,

Pedro speaks like a native-born English speaker and is treated as an equal or even a better by the two (presumably) white children. When a sudden flood of rainwater from high in the mountains comes rushing down the canyon where the three are wading, Pedro reacts quickly to get the other children to safety. Anne says, “’We are lucky that you are with us, Pedro. We would not have known what that roaring meant’” (8). At the end of the

54 story, Pedro falls over the cliff edge when the wet earth under his feet gives way. The story was to be continued in the next issue, and presumably Anne and Tom would have a chance to return the favor of saving their friend. The final story about Native Americans, titled “Plant Trappers” and written by W. E. Boothe, is about a father, Chief Eagle

Feather, educating his two young sons, Bunny and Star Eyes, about trapping. Their father shows them two plants that naturally capture their prey, the pitcher plant, and the bladderwort. The focus of the story is clearly on educating children about these unique plants and the science of how they capture their prey. It is clearly written by someone who knows nothing about Native Americans and is borrowing from stereotypes to provide a story about interesting plants. The story begins, “Bunny and Star Eyes were

Indian children. They had never seen a book, but they had had to learn many lessons”

(9), immediately placing emphasis on the savage, uneducated nature of Native American children.

Stories about a boy named Sammy Spivens were included in the magazine for a great number of years. Sammy is very reflective of thoughts about child psychology from this time period; he is depicted as a troublesome child who has a lot of bad habits, or weeds, that must be pulled out if he is ever to “grow up to be a fine American man”

(29). Sammy is also interesting because his column in Highlights would receive letters from children addressed directly to him, offering advice or asking how to pull out a weed of their own. Sammy also promised that when he receives a letter, “I’ll send you my picture autographed. If you will please tell me how you are pulling out your bad habits,

I’ll try to be like you. I do want to have you for my friends” (Phillips 29, June 1946).

This kind of “character creation” was a common thing in children’s magazines at the turn of the century. Publishers and editors would often create these personas, either in columns like Sammy Spivens or in letters at the front of each issue. One magazine had a letter from the “office goldfish” at the end. The purpose of creating these characters was to build a stronger personal rapport and bring in more advertising revenue by appealing to children directly. While Highlights never directly adopted the advertisement portion of this equation, they developed a series of features, including Sammy Spivens, that appealed to child readers and caused them to engage more directly with the magazine.

The publication includes a number of comics, many of which have been recurring items since the first issue. Garry Myers himself created a comic called “The Bear

Family” (illustrated by Z. Virginia Filmore). This comic features a family of bears doing everyday activities, often around a theme, with simple sentences describing the action. In the first issue, the topic of the comic was “Afternoon Quiet Period,” and the illustrations show the bears doing various quiet time activities. “Poozy reads to Piddy” (48) shows the papa bear reading to the baby boy bear, and numerous other interactions for the family follow. Another comic, which was not featured in the first issue, was The

Timbertoes by John Gee, the art director. The Timbertoes is still published in Highlights today. This comic started in 1951, and featured a small family made of wood. While

Gee didn’t start producing this comic from the beginning, some of his artwork in the first issue closely resembles The Timbertoes, such as his short story “Farmer Whittle’s Cow” and accompanying illustrations: “Farmer Whittle made a cow out of wood; he painted it white, with spots of red here and there…Then Farmer Whittle led Moo into the grassy

56 pasture. He left her there to eat” (40). From early on, Gee was experimenting with stories about wooden characters who come to life.

One comic was “Goofus and Gallant”, about two brothers who are opposite in temperament, and how they react to certain situations. This feature started in 1948, and teaches children lessons in behavior, with Goofus providing an over the top, bad example, and Gallant providing a glowing, perfect, good example. When the Myerses were still working for Children’s Activities, there was a feature comic called “The Doings of Daffy and Dandy” by Josephine Van Dolzen Pease, and illustrated by Peggy Palmer

Burrows. Daffy and Dandy are essentially the same characters as Goofus and Gallant.

Highlights did eventually go on to purchase Children’s Activities, adding the subtitle

“Now incorporating Children’s Activities” to the cover art in March 1961.

A feature of particular note in the early days of Highlights was an educational guide for parents and teachers, which was added in October 1953 (See Figure #4). This chart showed which stories, games, or activities fit into a range of areas that would

“guide parents and teachers in selecting features from this issue which will be most helpful to each particular child” (October 1953). The areas included in the first version of this chart were of four types. First were the items that fostered reading growth and development:

 Preparation for Reading, such as the Timbertoes comic

 Easy Reading, which included Goofus and Gallant and the Bear Family

 More Advanced Reading, such as the editorial or Sammy Spivens pieces

Then were items that encouraged children to behave themselves and become upstanding

American citizens:

 Manners, Conduct, Living With Others, which highlighted the various

pieces that taught children these values, often the editorial as well as all

the recurring comics

 Health and Safety, articles for which were not included in the October

1953 issue

 Moral or Spiritual Values, including the Bible stories that were still

prevalent in the publication

 Encouragement of Group Participation, such as suggested activities like

parties or group craft projects

Third, the chart included various educational features designed to help children become well-rounded students of a variety of fields:

 Appreciation of Music and Other Arts, noting pieces describing the work

of various composers as well as the pieces of sheet music Highlights

printed

 Nature and Science, for the numerous scientific articles they printed for

children

 Our Country, Other Peoples, Other Lands, for both multicultural stories as

well as stories about significant persons in American history

 Stimulation to Think and Reason, such as the Hidden Pictures or other

brain games

 Stimulation to Create, for the various craft projects printed

And finally, a section on Smiles and Laughter, which included riddles and funny stories as well as various other short features.

Though this chart evolved over the years, it has remained a part of Highlights and the mission of the editors to promote various forms of education for their readers. An emphasis is placed on helping children to become better readers, with the three different levels of reading ability marked on the chart. Most of the other concerns delineated here by the editors require children to have strong reading skills, or encourage them to develop those skills in other ways, such as brain games or creative projects. This emphasis on reading literacy is a culmination of the Myers’ lifetime of work in educating the illiterate and researching as well as expanding on pedagogical forms of teaching reading and writing. Within Highlights, they have created a space where children can safely practice literacy skills, with “good, wholesome, educational” content. They also went on to add spaces for children to share their own stories, pictures, and jokes, putting children in conversation with each other through the pages of the magazine as well as through online content in the modern era. In the next chapter, I will explore the child-centered spaces of the magazine and the ways in which the Myerses and other subsequent editors have responded to, revised, and controlled what readers can see, say, and do in the magazine.

Chapter 3: Highlights’ Guiding Philosophy

As a magazine designed specifically with children in mind, discussions of

Highlights must take into consideration the feelings and thoughts of the children who receive it. Highlights is intended for young people from ages 6 to 12, meaning that readers are either beginners or already somewhat proficient in reading when they view the issues. Due to the age of the intended audience, the content also aims to expand and improve literacy skills. The magazine has a particular quality of guiding philosophy that is a reflection of adult thoughts of what is appropriate in 20th century children’s literature. In the last chapter, I introduced several of the recurring features of the publication as well as the role of the founders in literacy education for adults. This chapter will examine the spaces in the book that promote this philosophy most prominently: “Let’s Talk Things Over,” the “Letters to the Editor”, “Our Own Pages,” and the “Sammy Spivens” column. By looking at these items, I will examine the juxtaposition between the adult-created child-friendly space of the magazine and the wishes and needs of the actual child readers in order to showcase the friction

“appropriateness” creates in children’s literature. Doing so will allow me to position the content of the magazine alongside its guiding philosophy to elicit the historical and sociocultural connections inherent to this research project.

“Let’s Talk Things Over” and Ethnocentric Philosophy

Garry and Caroline Myers spent their lives promoting literacy education for both adults and children. From their involvement in the Army Alpha and Beta testing to their creation of Highlights, the founders were at the forefront of the literacy movement during the first half of the 20th century. The extensive college education of both Garry and

Caroline was rare for the turn of the century. According to the National Center for

Educational Statistics:

In 1940, more than half of the U.S. population had completed no more

than an eighth grade education. Only 6 percent of males and 4 percent of

females had completed 4 years of college. The median years of school

attained by the adult population, 25 years old and over, had registered only

a scant rise from 8.1 to 8.6 years over a 30-year period from 1910 to 1940.

(NCES)

As I discussed in Chapter 2, Garry and Caroline Myers were both college attendees during the opening decades of the 20th century, with Garry completing a doctorate and

Caroline awarded funding to pursue higher education in the late 1920s. The considerable education of the Myerses made them figures of authority—knowledgeable and capable leaders in the world of children’s education. This placed them in a unique position of influencing the direction of literacy instruction in the United States. In her book

Producing Good Citizens: Literacy Training in Anxious Times, Amy J. Wan discusses the time period in which the founders were doing their work as literacy educators:

The early decades of the twentieth century were marked by changes in

immigration law, labor unrest, and the rise of a mass manufacturing

economy, a world war, an international Communist threat, and U.S.

imperialism, all of which created anxieties about citizenship and a desire

for a sturdy sense of what it meant to be an American citizen in order to

contrast against those who were not. In this period of contested

citizenship, [literacy educators] attempted to define and construct their

students as the “right” kind of citizen with the “right” kind of literacy.

(Wan 3)

One example of this kind of literacy campaign was the work done by the Myerses on the

Army Alpha and Beta tests, and especially in The Language of America, which they published in 1921. But the idea of American-centrism and the importance of the “right” kind of national literacy also carried over into their work with Highlights.

The initial item that a child will find when opening an issue of Highlights is the letter from the editor, called “Let’s Talk Things Over” in Garry’s day. In his June 1946 address to the readers, Garry imagined a future where children would be all grown up and take the places of adults: “We believe you will be happy persons then, glad you are living in the United States of America, and proud of being useful citizens for your country. The way to be happy, useful citizens then is to be happy, useful citizens now—happy and useful at home, at school, or at any place where you may be” (2). He goes on to tell readers that the book will make them “try harder to do right, even when you are tempted to do wrong” and help them make friends, encourage those friends to also do the right

62 thing, and to make adults “speak well of” them (2). The founders set up Highlights to act as a guide for children, and the goal of that guidance was to make them good people. But the magazine editors and content creators, not children, are the ones who interpret the definition of what it means to be “good people.” As Stuart Marriott attests in his article,

Culture, Identity, and Children’s Literature, “It has often been asserted that the interaction between children and stories has powerful implications for personal and social development” (Marriott 9). Perhaps it seems obvious that children learn how to relate to the world around them through stories they read as much as any other vehicle for information, but assessing the extent to which this happens is a more difficult matter. Within the pages of Highlights, the philosophy of the founders acts as an easy to follow road map of what adults considered appropriate in particular contexts and times. The letters from children indicate those areas where the magazine content and the world views of readers failed to remain in line.

On the cover of every issue of Highlights is the motto “Fun With a

Purpose.” This statement implies the philosophy of the magazine before you’ve even opened the book: the content is going to be entertaining, but there is also an intended objective behind it that has been designed by the creators. But what is the purpose

Highlights intends from this motto? According to their employee handbook, “The company never codified [their] philosophy in a set of rules. The ideas have been handed down by a more informal but no less serious process—in discussions and debates in editorial meetings, via editors’ newsletters to salespeople and parents, and especially through the magazine’s regular features and traditions, its editorial ‘fingerprint’” (Greider

15). In many ways, the “purpose” behind all the fun is the education, learning, and growth of the child readers. This publication embodies the notion of literacy education as a means of producing good citizens. Yet as Wan points out, “Values that we impress upon our students when we make calls for citizenship are not neutral, and this should be acknowledged and carefully considered” (147). The values of citizenship proposed by

Garry and Caroline are not neutral, and understanding who is being excluded or marginalized by Highlights is integral to the contextualization and analysis of the magazine as a publication for children.

Over the years between 1946 and the 70th anniversary issue in June 2016, the content of “Let’s Talk Things Over” changed drastically. Christine French-Cully, the current editor of Highlights, drafts her letters to the readers by sharing an anecdote related to the season or the topics in that month’s issue, and suggests that readers will enjoy a particular feature that was published that month. In contrast, Garry Myers’ letters generally discussed a particular moral lesson with an imaginary story about how some children he knew handled a similar situation. For instance, in the August-September

1978 issue, the founder talks about having a younger sibling who is good at using their imagination in play. He subtly tells the reader that it wouldn’t be nice to make fun of their sibling for using their imagination in this way, comparing it to activities an older child might partake in: “At school you may take part in a play and act as if what you are pretending is really happening…Because you are so much older and know so much more than your younger [sibling] you can turn more easily, when you like, to things that are real” (5). According to the Highlights website, the Myerses’ philosophy in the magazine

64 is that “children become their ‘best selves’ by using their creativity and imagination; developing their reading, thinking, and reasoning skills; and learning to treat others with respect, kindness, and sensitivity” (About Us). In the words of the founders themselves, in an audio recording that survived the intervening years:

Caroline: In HIGHLIGHTS3, we’re trying to shape attitudes of children.

Garry: Shape the general way they feel toward other persons and groups of

persons.

C: We would like to develop in children a wholesome attitude toward

others and the family. We worked in the field of family life for twenty

years. Don’t you have a feeling, Garry, that with the material in

HIGHLIGHTS we are being more effective in helping family life than

when we were meeting groups of parents?

G: Yes, Caroline. I think we’re doing more to promote good family life

through HIGHLIGHTS, and without labeling it as such.

C: We’re giving suggestions in this book, which we hope will influence

the feeling of the child toward what the family means. (Interview 0:00-

0:36)

As family educators prior to creating their own magazine, this focus on family is an important part of the Myerses philosophy. Addressing the concerns of children about family and their place within that dynamic was one of the primary goals of the content

3 When Highlights refers to themselves, they always write the word in all caps with no other formatting. To differentiate between when Highlights is discussing themselves and when I am discussing them, I will format their references using this style, and mine in italics.

65 being printed. This ideology is also embodied in what the Myerses viewed as good citizenship. Later in the interview they state that,

C: Next to good attitudes toward the family, we hope that we can build

good attitudes toward the country in which we live.

G: Right attitude towards one’s country is precious. So is tolerance for

religion and the way other people think and live. We hope that readers of

HIGHLIGHTS gain a great appreciation for the ways of other people. We

want children to appreciate our own country and have pride in our

democracy. (2:51-3:16)

The philosophy of Highlights and of the Myerses toward the growth and development of children is very similar to the model of the ideal nuclear family that developed during the

1950s. Garry and Caroline Myers themselves cultivated a public image as ideal parents: partners and equals who gently guide children and allow them to grow by making mistakes.

The family-owned and operated nature of the magazine has done much to perpetuate the Highlights philosophy from 1946 into the present. Because the publication has been maintained by the Myerses for all of these years, they are tied to the underlying ideology of the founders, and are bound out of loyalty, or may even be contractually bound, to preserve the product Garry and Caroline first created. The editors must constantly strike a balance between adhering to the founders’ methods and updating the magazine’s content for new generations. In the Highlights documentary 44 Pages, the new Art Director, Patrick Greenish said that when he started with the magazine, he had a

66 strong desire to update the graphical layout to reflect the modern direction of the magazine, and the new changes came about in the June 2016 issue for the 70th anniversary. The “Let’s Talk Things Over” letter from the editor, now called “Dear

Readers,” is only one tool that the editors use to perpetuate the Highlights philosophy. In addition to branding the magazine as being “Fun With a Purpose,” the modern issues and website aim to help children become “Curious, Creative, Caring, and Confident” individuals. This perspective is a direct reflection of Garry and Caroline’s desires for children to become responsible members of a family unit, as well as good American citizens: Curious about the world around them and how it works, being Creative by producing original drawings, poems, stories, and jokes, Caring for their parents and friends by being responsible and kind, and being Confident enough to do the right thing even when doing wrong would be easier or avoid confrontation. One way that Highlights has always managed this influence on children is through interaction in letters and columns that directly address the child on their own level. One of these was a regular column called “Sammy Spivens,” published from June 1946 to August-September 1978, while another was in the published “Letters to the Editor” section that appeared on the

“Our Own Pages” feature, where children’s artwork, stories, and poetry often appears alongside letters from readers and replies from the editors. In the next two sections, I will discuss these features and the ways that they promote the Highlights philosophy.

“Before We Forgot to Remember:” Sammy Spivens’ Weedy Garden

Working alongside Garry and Caroline from the beginning was another educator,

Mrs. Dorothy Waldo Phillips, or “Aunt Dorothy,” as children knew her. Dorothy produced a regular column about a fictional boy named Sammy Spivens—actually a hand puppet that she took with her to schools around the country to talk to children. Sammy was a key feature of Highlights from the June 1946 issue up until Dorothy’s death in

1978. Dorothy herself is a figure of interest in much the same way as Garry and

Caroline. Her maiden name was Dorothy Lucie Phillips and although she was born in

Wales on June 30, 1895, she lived most of her life in the United States. Her husband,

Waldo Llewellyn Phillips, was born in Philadelphia on August 8, 1890 to Welsh parents.

While in London on business for his family’s steel firm, F. R. Phillips and Sons, Waldo visited family in Wales and presumably met and wooed Dorothy then.4 The pair married in Dorothy’s hometown at some point in 1919—Dorothy applied for an emergency passport on November 11, 1919, and lists Waldo as her husband, but other records indicate they were wed in December. They sailed to New York in 1920 and set up house, with Waldo eventually becoming too ill to continue working. On the 1930 census,

Dorothy is listed as head of household, employed as a “lecturer,” and Waldo listed as disabled5. Dorothy’s work as a lecturer entailed taking her puppets and traveling to schools to deliver talks about morals and growing up. These puppets would eventually be translated into the character of the “Sammy Spivens” column for Highlights.

4 Dorothy lived in Newport, Monmouthshire, Wales. Waldo’s family were from Machen, Monmouthshire, Wales, a short hop across the parish of Bassaleg, and less than ten miles apart. 5 While it would be nice to know more about Waldo’s condition, there is no additional information available besides this census record. 68

When the draft for World War II came in 1942, Waldo’s address was listed as

“patient in Consumptive House.” He would pass away from pulmonary tuberculosis just four years later, on March 24, 1946. In a curious twist of fate, this was the day before the

Myerses would receive the fateful telegram from Children’s Activities, notifying them that they were being terminated. It is clear from letters exchanged between Dorothy and the Myerses that they were in talks about including “Sammy Spivens” in Highlights prior to Waldo’s death. Dorothy sent them an updated copy of her column for the June 1946 magazine with a letter dated April 30, 1946 and speaks in her correspondence about remembering her “happy time with you both…and the fun of meeting the new baby…”

(Phillips 30 April 1946).6 Prior to writing for Highlights, Dorothy traveled around to schools with her puppets and received many letters from children. Because of this, many letters were available to be published alongside the first “Sammy Spivens” column. Children would often admonish Sammy for one of his many faults, and then share their own difficulty and how they were trying to overcome it. As one child wrote,

“I am ten years old. I have a terrible habit of eating too fast. Can you give me some advice on overcoming such a habit?” (June 1946, 29).

The basic structure of each article tells a story of the boy getting into some kind of mischief, and then working at and overcoming a bad habit as a result. In the very first column, Sammy’s mother explains the notion of weeds to her son. She asks him to pull up a small weed in her garden, and he notices that it’s quite easy:

6 The baby was most likely Garry Cleveland Myers III, born April 23 1945 to Garry Jr. and his wife Mary.

“That’s because it is a little weed,” said his mother. Sammy’s mother was

a good explainer. “Sometimes weeds grow up in children,” she said. “But

we don’t call them weeds, we call them bad habits. If we pull them out

when they are little, we make room for good habits to grow…While we

are growing up, bad habits can grow so strong and deep that it is very hard

to pull them out when we are older.” (June 1946, 28)

Through stories like this one, Phillips made the act of identifying and overcoming bad habits or bad manners into a game for children to play, and gave them a role model in

Sammy who was much worse at behaving than most of them. The last “Sammy Spivens” column was published in August-September 1978, and while it doesn’t say it is the last, it has the feel of a farewell letter to all the readers, with Aunt Dorothy recounting all the ways in which Sammy has changed:

My young friend, Sammy, is full of the magic of appreciation. He has

become a true blessing to his parents. His teachers think he is tops…I

know that my beloved HIGHLIGHTS friends will appreciate what kind of

a citizen Sammy will make—and you and I know that he will help make

America beautiful. (18)

Sammy has become more mature and made the adults in his life proud, as well as proved himself a good friend and comrade. He is now a role model for children as a boy who overcame his bad habits and became a good citizen as a result. “Sammy Spivens” is an embodiment of the kind of trajectory that the Myerses desired for their readers. Dorothy

70 died on August 18, 1978 as her last column was being published by Highlights, leaving a morally strong young boy as her legacy.

During her summers prior to working for Highlights, Dorothy had the interesting job of Summer Entertainment Director for Skytop Lodge in the Poconos. While there, she elicited the help of the children under her care to write a book all about life at the resort, which they dictated to her and she wrote down. This text was published in 1937 under the title of Dear Mrs. Bender. Much like the material written about Sammy

Spivens, the accounts of the children are quirky and candid, making them believably child-authored. In the first chapter, they describe what it’s like to live at Skytop and talk about their parents: “Most of us live in the cottages and our parents dress up too much, and they have to go out every single night almost…Daddies are always fussing about dress ties on dance nights. They can never get them right” (Phillips 4-5). The passage portrays a truly childlike perspective on parents who leave for parties every night. Later in the book, the passages become more didactic and sound less like they came from the children: “Every Sunday morning, we gather in the court to have Sunday School…We give courtesy reports, and Aunt Dorothy tells us a story. It is generally about being good and about making people smile. You can collect smiles by doing nice things for mothers and fathers and people” (Phillips 49). The last sentence in particular strongly resembles the Highlights narrative style. Dear Mrs. Bender emphasizes the importance of helping your elders in order to make them happy and thereby become happy yourself. This is very similar to the notion of what it takes to become a good citizen according to the

“Let’s Talk Things Over” section of the magazine.

The children who participated in the creation of Dear Mrs. Bender ranged widely in age range, with the oldest being in their teen years and the youngest barely at walking age. Dorothy says in her letter at the front of the book that around twenty-five children contributed to the writing, and that she presented them with the fictional character of Mrs.

Bender as a penpal. Dorothy proclaims:

I feel that these little chronicles are not only far more accurate than any

adult writings could ever be, but that they allow us to step back once more

over that magic borderline, and they give us a peep into that fascinating

world of childhood where once we all lived—“When,” says Sir James

Barrie, “we all knew so much more than we do now—before we forgot to

remember.” (Phillips x-xi).

Dorothy Waldo Phillips, unlike Garry and Caroline Myers, communicated with children through the literature they read more than through psychology or family dynamics. She never had any children of her own, but she worked closely with a wide range of them from all different ages and backgrounds. The perspective that she was able to bring to

Highlights was one that reflects the way many writers see children’s literature: each story is an attempt to recreate that nostalgic feeling of what childhood was for them, in a way that inspires the imagination of the people who might read it. Dorothy’s “Sammy

Spivens” column balances the Highlights philosophy with the need of a storyteller to tell a good story. In so doing, she enables readers to connect with a character who is struggling with many of the same things as them, and provides an outlet for them to express their struggles by writing letters to Sammy.

In the January 1955 issue of Highlights, various characters surrounding Sammy

Spivens are discussing what kind of resolutions to make for the New Year. Each decides to focus on something that will make them a better person. Sammy’s dog, Butterscotch, will try not to pester for food at the table. The mouse that lives in the house, Columbus, will stop nibbling holes in floorboards. Sammy himself thinks about it and realizes,

“’Guess I get most of my scoldings for not obeying…So for my special promise I think

I’ll pull out my disobedience weed’” (11). His resolve is immediately tested when he goes sledding with his friend, who thinks the hill they’re on is too tame and tries to taunt

Sammy into sledding on a dangerous hill that crosses a road. Sammy resists, and later he sees his friend being escorted home in a police car: “Out of the back window looked a pale, frightened face. It was the face of One Who Disobeyed. In the center of the face was a bloody nose and on the forehead there was an egg-sized bump. Guess who? And the sled? Oh, that was a pile of shivery splinters. George had tried to avoid a car and had crashed into a big tree” (11). Resisting the taunting of other children is a common theme in Sammy’s column. In the August-September 1956 issue, Sammy spends the summer with his Uncle Bill and Aunt Nora in Colorado. The couple has adopted an Indian boy who is Sammy’s age, and he makes quick friends. But when Brave Heart doesn’t want to join him in exploring places that have been made forbidden by his adoptive parents,

Sammy tries to tease him into breaking the rules. Brave Heart gives him a stern talking to: “’Every time you want me to break a promise or to disobey or to grow a weed, you yell chicken. I tell you something, it is those who cannot keep a promise and who disobey who are these chickens you cry out about. It is YOU who are a chicken. It is

YOU who does not have the bravery to do the right thing’” (15). Dorothy’s stories also advocate for tolerance of others; when Sammy’s camp director meets Brave Heart he asks the boy to tell the rest of the group about his childhood, “’Sometimes we do not try to understand and to admire people of other races and religions. When we do, we find that they can teach us many things’” (15). Considering these stories were published during the early 1950s when the available children’s literature was about predominantly white characters—Little Golden Books and the Ramona series, among others—this was extraordinarily progressive in terms of diversity and tolerance.

Both of these examples illustrate the ways in which “Sammy Spivens” promotes the Highlights philosophy. While in many ways there are good and funny stories involved as Sammy tries to pull out weeds and grow flowers in himself, there are also always morals and lessons to be had that children consistently identified with and wrote letters to Sammy about. As one reader wrote in the August-September 1956 issue, “I read your stories in every book and I think they are just grand. My bad weed is not minding my parents every time” (15). Many children genuinely did enjoy Dorothy’s stories about Sammy, but there were also a lot of letters from children who may have been writing in just to get a copy of Sammy’s picture along with his autograph: “I enjoy reading the letters children write you. I bite my fingernails. Please send me a picture of you and your autograph” (Aug-Sept 1956 15). Yet even if their end goal was to acquire

Sammy’s picture, that still indicates an investment in the narrative being portrayed to them. Because Sammy was a child figure who was not perfect, who was in fact more flawed than most children were themselves, children were able to project their own

74 feelings of inadequacy and the little stresses of their lives onto him to get help in resolving their troubles. By publishing the letters, Highlights also helped children see that it wasn’t just fictional characters who were having these problems, but also other children from all around the world. The community of letters published within Sammy

Spivens’ column was small, but the larger interaction built into the “Letters to the Editor” section expanded this community into one that went far beyond just bad habits.

“I Don’t Agree With You:” Letters to the Editor

One section of the magazine where the interaction between the publishers and the readers is most evident is within the “Letters to the Editor.” Similar to Louise

Rosenblatt’s transactional theory of how authors and readers relate to and through a text

(1994), the “Letters to the Editor” give voice to children’s responses to particular portions of the magazine as well as to the editors and to each other. This area of the magazine appeared in most issues of Highlights, though it grew more frequent in the 1950s and

60s. It was generally printed alongside the pictures and bits of writing sent in by children on “Our Own Pages.” While the magazine does answer every letter received from each child, very few are published. Often the letters that get published answer a question that many children seem to be asking, such as Janis Wolf who asked in May 1964 for

Highlights to “have a contest for the best joke, picture, “Our Own” story, or poem by the children who subscribe.” The Editors responded: “We have not done so on purpose. We have felt that, while contests are interesting, they tend to turn the child’s attention from things that matter most to just winning. We might be wrong, Janis, but that is what we

75 believe” (33). This question was frequently asked every few months or years in the published pages. The answer given by the editors is also a common theme for requests from children for certain things to be included in the magazine. While sometimes the editors would answer that there simply wasn’t enough room to include everything asked for, more often there was a moral or educational reason for avoiding certain content. For instance, in November 1966, Donald E. Webb requested that they “please put the crosswords back in” (33). He received this response: “We have discontinued the crossword puzzles because it requires that the child write in the book. We are different from other children’s magazines in that we don’t want children to make any marks in the book, but to keep it nice and neat so it can be used over and over again by different persons for years and years.” This decision points not only to the literary value Garry and Caroline placed on Highlights, but the educational value they felt the content would have for children. There was an expectation that readers would need and want to refer back to their copies far into the future, to the point that for a while Highlights published

Resource Issues that contained an index of all the content for the previous year.

In other letters, children would respond to particular pieces included in the magazine, or respond to letters sent in by other children. In August-September 1962,

Lynne Humphries responded to a story about a recurring character named Judy who had an encounter with Indians, saying that, “There is no true American” (27). One year later, in August-September 1963, they printed a response from Carol Albritton, complaining that the editors hadn’t published a response to Lynne’s letter: “I would think that with all the nice stories you write about our country, you would have had an explanation about

76 what the story about Judy meant. I have no grudge against Indians; they’re really nice people. But they are primitive, unimproved people.” The editor replied: “I have read your letter carefully and I am impressed with the vigorous way you express your beliefs.

You write very well indeed, but, Carol, I don’t agree with you” (41). Like everything else about their philosophy of children’s education, the “Letters to the Editor” section reflects a desire to maintain a certain level of appropriateness for all readers, and to encourage a certain type of citizenship. The editors maintain this in a few particular ways. When children submit their own story, picture, poem, or joke to be published, they are required to have a statement from their parent or teacher saying that the material is their own work. One child in April 1978 commented on this: “I was reading

HIGHLIGHTS and came across a statement that says each contribution must have a note from a parent that says it is the child’s very own. I must say I am very insulted by this because what you are saying is that children are downright dishonest. I feel that a lot of people, including myself, could feel very hurt about things like this” (Stephen Shattah

36). The Myerses also will not publish stories that feature violence or crime. Their responses to letters requesting these kinds of stories show the ways in which this choice maintains their philosophy:

HIGHLIGHTS is different from most other publications. It carries no

scary stories of violence—slugging, shooting, stabbing. We do carry

some mystery stories, but they avoid violence. Scary stories and stories of

violence might not harm you, but they often do harm younger

children. We think most children already are exposed to excessive

violence and fear appearing on television. (August-September 1970, 33)

The magazine attempts to create a higher moral and educational standard by not publishing material they feel is inappropriate. However, in addition to the readers requesting stories with violence, many children responded to this standard more directly.

Some of those who wrote in supported the decision of the editors to eschew violence, such as Nancy Maier, who said, “I think you should put a little bit in each issue about what’s happening in the world, not containing violence, because the HIGHLIGHTS readers who find the paper too hard to read can read the easier words in

HIGHLIGHTS. And then when an older person talks about what’s happening in the world, they can talk and discuss their feelings about it, too” (October 1970,

33). However, other children were as insulted by the insinuation that they couldn’t handle violent stories as they were by the requirement to include a letter from their parent proving they didn’t plagiarize. In November 1968, reader Cindi Sluva started a conversation to which several other readers responded: “I did like your HIGHLIGHTS very much. However, when you said not to send in stories of violence, I objected. But if you say so, you can let those little babies keep their silly little magazine.” The editors wrote back: “Thank you for your letter. For over twenty-two years during which we have printed HIGHLIGHTS, we have not printed anything suggesting violence. We believe that the pictures and stories with violence that children see on television and elsewhere have contributed to riots and disorder—even assassinations” (33). Two children responded, one positively and one negatively. Beth Fogerty wrote in, “I read in your

78 magazine a letter from a girl who objected when you said not to send in stories of violence. She also called your magazine silly. Well, it’s not! It is very educational! As for stories of violence, well, when children read them or watch them, they can get kooky ideas. Stories of violence can lead to serious trouble later in a child’s life” (March 1969,

29). Beth’s perspective reflects some of our modern ideas about what violent content can do to young children, especially in role-playing games where you play the character committing acts of violence. Through these letters it becomes apparent that this is a debate that has been prevalent in the United States for several decades. On the other side of the issue was a letter from another child that stated:

After reading Cindi Sluva’s letter in the November, 1968 issue of

HIGHLIGHTS, I also began to share this reader’s sentiments. Sooner or

later, a child must leave his fantasy-world and grow up. I believe that

early training is essential. Besides, who says that using violence can’t be

educational? You probably won’t have guts enough to print this, but I

don’t care. Just so you read it. (April 1969, 33)

The editors’ response to this letter is not a direct response to the complaint, but acknowledges the child’s opinion as a valid one: “It is fine to have readers of

HIGHLIGHTS who have their own ideas about things. I am grateful to you for writing the letter in which you agreed with the girl who disagreed with our policy of no violence in HIGHLIGHTS.” This method was a common tactic taken when the editors published responses to letters such as these. While they could have simply ignored and not printed these letters, they chose to include all of the voices surrounding a particular problem and

79 encouraged children to share their thoughts, even when they didn’t agree with those of the editors.

Not all of the choices made by the founders were in regards to moral issues such as sharing violent stories with children. Children would write in about a number of things they were dissatisfied with, as well as things they loved about

Highlights. Jonathan Witaskin wanted to know why they didn’t include rock-and-roll songs in the sheet music selections printed each month. The editors responded, “We don’t put rock-and-roll in HIGHLIGHTS because we think there are many other good things that are better” (June-July 1967, 35). Georgetta Reuther wrote in May 1964,

“HIGHLIGHTS helped me to get interested in reading more books. I just love

HIGHLIGHTS! I read once in HIGHLIGHTS that someone criticized an error. You do your best. You can’t help making some mistakes” (33). Some children were particularly harsh, such as Denise Angner:

I think HIGHLIGHTS is one of the worst magazines ever made. You

always put the good letters in. Why don’t you have a part in your

magazine where people can tell you what they really think of this

magazine? Maybe some people would have enough guts to tell you what

they thought. They write goody-goody letters to get their name in the

magazine. The only part I like is the riddles and jokes. Some features are

all right, but some are ridiculous. (May 1971, 35)

The reply from the editors was as mild mannered as one would expect given the

Highlights philosophy: “It was kind of you to write to us. I don’t remember ever

80 receiving another letter like it. You seem to think that we pick out only good things that children say about HIGHLIGHTS to print. We want our readers to feel they can say anything they please. If it is decent at all, it could be printed.” Other letters were from children wishing for more Highlights fun outside of the pages of the magazine, such as

Nicholas Di Giovanni, who in December 1978 wanted a TV show called “Highlights” that had the same things as the book. The response from the editors was interesting: “We are glad that you like HIGHLIGHTS enough to wish that you could see it on television.

We once thought about producing a program and even made a half-hour pilot show, but for a number of reasons we decided not to go any further. It takes a great deal of our energy just to put out our monthly book” (33). Had this program come to fruition, it would have pre-dated The Reading Rainbow (1983) and done many of the same things as that show. This potential adaptation is also interesting because although the modern magazine editors have expanded the magazine into an online format, app, and website, they have not pursued the television market.

One choice that is important to note about the “Letters to the Editor” section of

Highlights is that the letters from children were not necessarily published as they were written. The publication has never printed a picture of a letter in the way they print pictures from children. Instead, each letter is transcribed for printing, meaning that any spelling or grammar errors are corrected before anything goes to press. While this decision makes logical sense, since the magazine is promoting education and sharing letters with misspelled words or poor grammar might give children the wrong idea about language as they are still learning to read, it also negates the power of the children who

81 wrote the letters in the first place. The unique ways that children find of communicating through the written word are fascinating. They are also, I would argue, educational for other children who are learning to read and write. The “Letters to the Editor” section is a community of children who all share a passion for Highlights in one way or another. As shown through the above examples, children read this area of the magazine and respond to it and to each other in additional letters. It’s a powerful move to write in saying that the magazine is the worst one in existence. For the editors to condense and correct that letter and respond with a mild appreciation for the dissenting opinion illustrates an inherent weakness in being “only” a child. This process is a continuation of the

Highlights philosophy and the desires of Garry and Caroline Myers for children to grow into certain kinds of citizens.

Examination of these three areas of the magazine—“Let’s Talk Things Over,”

“Sammy Spivens,” and “Letters to the Editor”—enables me to build a more complete picture of what Highlights is and what it hopes to accomplish. The philosophy is more than just a modus operandi for the magazine content, but is an expectation for how the child readers should behave even when they are not actively reading the pages of the publication. Transmission of this expectation translates into every area of a child’s life, from home and school to their community and their country. The Highlights philosophy attempts to actively shape identity and produce good citizens who will continue to pass on an ideology of good-doing, kindness, and respect for yourself, your friends, and your neighbors while also attempting to undermine established parameters of worthiness by focusing on progressive stories about people of color. While there are problematic

82 implications for this kind of educational framework within a children’s magazine,

Highlights remains one of the most adaptive publications when it comes to promoting diversity and equality to each successive generation of readers.

In the next chapter, I will explore the critical works of both childhood and children’s literature scholars and how their theories can be used to further my analysis of

Highlights. Establishing this critical framework will lead into an in-depth study of the magazine from the founding through the early 1980s, presented alongside examples from children’s literature that were published during the same time period.

Chapter 4: Highlights as Childhood Literature

In this chapter I will explore how changing social understandings of childhood have shaped the literature being produced for young readers across the years of the mid-

20th century. One example of this phenomenon are books that were written in one time period and revised for a later one. Unfortunately, such circumstances are rare and usually offer only a small piece of the larger puzzle. For example, the first Nancy Drew book,

The Secret of the Old Clock, was published in 1930 and then revised in 1959 to reflect the new ideals surrounding feminine behavior. In the frontispiece drawing of the original,

Nancy is shown wearing typical flapper style clothing, hat, and is described as wearing her hair in a bob (2). Nancy is described as “the type of girl who is capable of accomplishing a great many things in a comparatively short length of time. She enjoyed sports of all kinds and she found time for clubs and parties” (12). Nancy is popular with her peers, but not the kind of girl who appears full of herself. In conversation with her father and others, Nancy is assertive and bold as she seeks to unravel the mystery, and cleverly turns her phrasing when dealing with people she must be polite to even if she doesn’t particularly like them. Nancy drives a roadster in the book and “frequent mention is made of her exceptional driving skills. When running an errand for her father, for instance, Nancy selects ‘the shortest route to her destination’ and ‘deftly’ shifts gears,

84 even along muddy roads” (Abate 167). Nancy does all of the work for solving the case by herself, relying on her lawyer father only as a voice of advice.

By contrast, the Nancy Drew of the 1959 re-release of The Secret of the Old Clock is a considerably different person. When the books were re-released—supposedly to reduce their length and remove racial slurs—Nancy had been changed into a much less assertive and much more stereotypically feminine character. The first page of the story begins, “Nancy Drew, an attractive girl of eighteen, was driving home along a country road in her new, dark-blue convertible” bought for her on her birthday by her father (1).

In the original version, Nancy is only sixteen, and as Michelle Ann Abate mentions in her book, Tomboys: A Literary and Cultural History, “no mention is made of Nancy’s interest in athletics. In addition, while out running the errand for her father, the young woman foregoes the more direct but treacherous backroads and instead selects the safer

‘recently constructed highway’” (Abate 168). She often defers to adults and especially men during conversation, submitting to their authority instead of being the bold girl of the 1930s version. Nancy’s father assists with the case by interviewing certain contacts he has that are connected to the mystery.

One of the compelling reasons for the changes between the two Nancy Drew characters is the time period in which they were written. Nancy in the 1930s is modeled after the quintessential flapper; a girl of freedom and power who is more than capable of getting herself out of trouble and taking charge of the case. By contrast, 1950s Nancy belongs to a world in which girls are expected to remain in the kitchen and concern themselves only with cooking, cleaning, and raising children. Since the story depends

85 upon Nancy’s interest in and knack for mysteries, the changes in her character to make her more acceptable for a 1950s audience meant more subtle changes had to be made, such as a lack of interest in sports, or deferment to adults and men. What seems clear about the difference in the two books is that ideas about childhood and especially about young girls had changed drastically from 1930 to 1959.

Changes in the cultural understanding of childhood such as those seen in Nancy

Drew are best analyzed through the literature produced for children during a given time period. Although Highlights has never been revised and reissued, its content, format, and structure had to be constantly updated to reflect publishing trends and the needs of readers. Utilizing the critical theory explored in chapter three, this chapter will examine the timeline of Highlights for Children Magazine from 1946 through 1990. Alongside the magazine as a primary source, I have selected nine critically acclaimed works of children’s literature to add historical and textual nuance to my analysis. Discussing this periodical publication as well as both novels and picture books for children, I will show how trends in content for young readers have changed over time and in all areas of print culture, and also how Highlights both conformed to mainstream literary and cultural trends at some points and broke away from them in others. The chapter is divided into three sections that reflect prevalent themes of childhood within Highlights as well as in children’s literature during this period: Innocence and Wonder, 1946-1960; Child

Agency, 1961-1975; and Diversity and Multiculturalism, 1976-1990.

Innocence and Wonder, 1946-1960

Emerging out of the post-Enlightenment idea of children as innocent beings who must be protected, the literature selected for this section represents a time period of peace and quiet growth. I have chosen Goodnight Moon (1947) by Margaret Wise Brown for its contradictory use of bright colors and sleepy repetition, Charlotte’s Web (1952) by E.

B. White because of the themes of loneliness and friendship, and The Cat in the Hat

(1957) by Dr. Seuss due to the transitory nature of the storyline from the age of innocence and wonder to one of child agency. I have restricted this section to the magazine founding through the end of the 1950s to separate the Eisenhower administration with that of John F. Kennedy, elected in 1960. I also believe that as the

50s drew to a close, a noticeable shift was occurring in children’s literature, which I will talk about more with The Cat in the Hat.

Within the pages of Highlights, the theme of innocence and wonder during this time period is reflected primarily in the philosophy of the founders, as was discussed extensively in Chapter Two. The stories published in the magazine focused predominantly on white children unless it was a story specifically about another culture or historical figure. Most of the nonfiction being printed was multicultural in nature, ranging from etic stories about the toys of other countries, such as one about the Korean teeter-totter, known as a jump board (January 1948), to a multitude of traditional tales like a Chinese folktale (April 1952) or an African legend (November 1952). Since I am discussing only fiction in terms of the books I have chosen to work with alongside

Highlights, I will be focusing on the fictional stories in the magazine rather than the 87 nonfiction. The discourse of Jerry Griswold’s five themes of childhood—Snugness,

Scariness, Smallness, Lightness, and Aliveness, which I discussed in the last chapter— are especially useful for this section because they all apply in some way either to the books I have chosen or to the stories being produced in the magazine.

Margaret Wise Brown’s picture book, Goodnight Moon, illustrated by Clement

Hurd, is a classic bedtime story about a bunny child saying goodnight to all of the objects in their room and beyond. Children’s literature scholar Leonard S. Marcus wrote a critical retrospective for the 50th anniversary edition of the book and began by saying,

“Children, like writers, need rooms of their own, places—whether real or imaginary—of peace and well-being and unconditional love, places where a secure sense of self can begin to grow” (35). The innocence and wonder of the book is a product not just of the quiet rhythms of Brown’s poem, but also of the prevalent attitude toward children in the late-40s. A prolific writer, the book was one of three picture books Brown published in

1947, and it sold more than 6,000 copies in its first run. “Not everyone liked the book.

The New York Public Library’s Anne Carroll Moore…pointedly declined to place

Goodnight Moon on the library’s prestigious annual list of recommended titles” (Marcus

57-58). As a modern reader of the book, I find the juxtaposition of the bright colors to the quiet story jarring, even while I am aware that the colors are a result of the only available color printing methods of the time. The snugness of Goodnight Moon is a large part of its charm, something that is also reflected, and perhaps even capitalized on, in many stories in Highlights during this time. In the February 1956 issue, for instance, there is a story about Abraham Lincoln’s teacher, William, and how he first happened to

88 visit the Lincoln family on the night of a big rainstorm. William, a child at the time, pulled out a book and quietly read it to the children of the family: “[He] read about foxes and turtles and rabbits. I think the children must have felt cozy and safe, while the storm roared in the high trees outside, and pelted the window with rain” (Duncan 16). The entire story is full of snugness, not just because of the children reading during a storm, but because of the satisfactory circular plot where Abraham Lincoln comes to visit

William at the end. The prevalence of stories like these during the early 1950s implies that many authors were taking advantage of a popular publishing trend.

Griswold’s second trait of childhood literature, scariness, is something that I did not expect to find in Highlights due to the beliefs of the founders about spooky and violent stories. However, I found that there were occasionally some scary stories printed, but always with an ending that diffused the tension and fear of the rest of the narrative.

In the January 1955 issue, L. H. Phinney published a story titled “Masked Boy” that included an illustration of a boy with a black paper bag over his head, with cutouts for his eyes, nose, and lips. The story is about an unnamed narrator who runs into “Blackie,” the masked boy, when the lights in his house go out unexpectedly. The name for this character and the use of a black paper bag (which seems dubious as a commonly found object for this period) carries obvious racial implications even without being combined with the story of a home invasion and potential kidnapping that follows. Blackie drags the boy on a frightful trip out of the house, around the neighborhood, crawling through ditches, and running through the woods. They sneak into another house, where Blackie forces the narrator to clean up, change clothes, blindfolds him, and then takes him into

89 the dining room of the house. Here, the narrator discovers that this was just a lengthy ruse on the part of his own family to surprise him on his birthday, and it turns out that

Blackie is actually his cousin Ben (18-19). Throughout the story, Blackie hands several notes to the narrator that are clearly written in his mother’s handwriting. The narrator claims while being blindfolded that, “I’d have run for it right then and there if I hadn’t kept remembering Mother’s notes” (19). Having been exposed to far too many murder mystery dramas and television crime-scene shows, the narrator’s willingness to go along with all of this felt unbelievably dangerous and I felt a real thrill of fear as I read. The ending successfully and immediately left me with a sense of relief, but also of disbelief—

I had to go back and re-read the first few paragraphs of the story, which described the boy’s sadness at his family forgetting about his birthday. Those details don’t immediately feel important, so I dismissed them on my first reading of the story. The identification of Cousin Ben as Blackie perpetuates racist stereotypes about the types of people who commit home invasion crimes and it is disappointing that this connotation was not noticed by the editors and removed from the story. Unfortunately, this was published prior to Highlights commonly printing letters from children, so if readers wrote in about the story there is no record of them.

Griswold points out that adults “don’t like to have pointed out to them that childhood is a very scary time and the world of Children’s Literature a very scary place.

Forgetting their own childhoods, many grown-ups prefer a sentimental notion of childhood, where happy youngsters inhabit a trouble-free country and the sun is always shining” (31). Because my perspective is influenced by stories of children being

90 kidnapped or tricked into following a stranger because of empty promises, I read this story with growing horror. I could not believe that the letters from the mother were real and not coerced or forged in some way. I wanted children’s literature to be a safe and happy place within this story. This particular story was published in 1955 while the letters Highlights published about not printing violent or scary stories appeared mostly in the late 60s and early 70s. But I question whether other factors from this time period affected the decision to publish this story as is. The Brown v. Board of Education case was settled the year before, allowing for integrated schooling. This is still prior to the

Civil Rights Act being passed, so there is a great deal of rising racial tension combined with post-war paranoia and fear of infiltration by outsiders such as communists. As privileged, white Americans, I suspect that the Myerses overlooked the racial implications of naming this character Blackie. It seems clear that their concerns about these kinds of narratives grew over time and changed as perceptions of childhood changed. We are growing more sentimental about the nature of childhood as we more forward in time.

One of E. B. White’s most beloved stories, Charlotte’s Web, was published in

1952 to stellar reviews. In The New York Times, Eudora Welty wrote, “What the book is about is friendship on earth, affection and protection, adventure and miracle, life and death, trust and treachery, pleasure and pain, and the passing of time. As a piece of work it is just about perfect, and just about magical in the way it is done” (BR49). This review sums up the main themes of the book and the ways in which it matches Griswold’s notions of smallness and aliveness. The book focuses on the small lives of barnyard

91 creatures and brings them to live by giving them the ability to speak and for the main character, Fern, to hear them. The book won a Newbery Honor medal for 1953 and

White went on to earn the Laura Ingalls Wilder Medal in 1970 for his contributions to children’s literature. Charlotte’s words to Wilbur near the end of the book are a striking representation of how adults can talk about death with children:

You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my

webs for you because I liked you. After all, what's a life, anyway? We're

born, we live a little while, we die. A spider's life can't help being

something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping

you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's

life can stand a little of that. (158)

White is telling readers to measure life by what we are able to do for others, and to appreciate what they do for us, no matter how small an act of kindness their actions might seem. This message matches up with the Highlights philosophy of encouraging children to do right by others in order to grow up into good citizens.

Charlotte’s Web, like both of the other books discussed in this section, also deals mostly with animal characters. Many picture books today still utilize animals instead of human characters, but it is usually for aesthetic reasons or to avoid concerns over being politically correct about using a variety of skin tones to represent racial diversity. While animal fantasies are not uncommon, those that feature human characters are somewhat unusual. Fern’s presence in the story, and her clearly white appearance in the cover illustration, brings into question whether the animal characters can be seen as

92 representations of diverse peoples. As a teacher wrote in their letter to the New York

Times, “White’s farm characters transcend ethnic, racial and socioeconomic barriers…Were they people, White’s characters could be found anywhere: Wilbur, the meek and helpless one; Charlotte, the strong, brave one; and Templeton the Rat, the self- serving one who learns to be a team player” (Waldinger 2002). The ability of the characters to move past racial boundaries and work together to help Wilbur suggests a philosophy for racial tolerance that is progressive for the time the book was published. In addition, Wilbur’s simple and understandable desire to just be allowed to live has powerful connotations that echo today’s Black Lives Matter movement. The seemingly innocuous character of a pig is capable of transforming into any oppressed or ostracized group of people that have also usually been assigned stereotypical traits such as greed or filth. By setting the story on a farm, White ties his narrative geographically to farming communities across the United States and culturally to migrant workers of Mexican heritage. The efforts of Charlotte to save Wilbur are reflective of “women in Mexican

American communities in the Southwest” during this time period who “joined organizations to protect themselves against deportation; through voter registration and education drives, they became active in campaigns to secure political rights taken for granted by others; and they engaged in efforts to correct substandard living and health conditions in their neighborhoods” (Rose 194). Charlotte’s Web becomes a window into the lives of the persecuted and defenseless.

In Highlights as well, there are numerous features that are exclusively about animal characters. Garry Myers wrote “The Bear Family” for many years, which features

93 a mother and father, a boy and girl who are older, and a younger boy who is probably around five. Each episode of the comic involves the bears discussing some activity or problem, such as the children wrapping holiday gifts for their parents, or the oldest child forgetting to go to the library for a book report until the night before. Because the family members are bears, any child reading can project themselves onto the characters. This also means that children of any racial background can recognize their family in the stories, but it does exclude children who might have only one parent, same-sex parents, or who live in a situation with divorced parents or one parent who is absent in the military or some other job. In addition, children without siblings might feel left out that they don’t have an older brother or sister to ask for help, or a younger sibling to play with and guide. Features like “The Bear Family” are nice for portraying family life to a variety of children, and it is fortunate that the rest of the magazine attempts to make up for some of the limitations of stories like these.

Griswold’s last factor for childhood literature is lightness, and it can easily be seen in my last example of The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss. The eponymous Cat hardly seems to obey the laws of gravity with his hijinks and “fun that is funny” (7). Moreover,

Seuss’s Cat moves so quickly from topic to topic that if one is reading quite quickly, it is difficult to keep up with him. I imagine this reaction is how poor Sally and the boy felt to have this mysterious Cat invade their home on a rainy afternoon. A New York Times review for 1957 situates the Cat against other, similar books from the same time period:

“Beginning readers and parents who have been helping them through the dreary activities of Dick and Jane and other primer characters are due for a happy surprise. Dr.

Seuss…has turned his special talents to an easy-reading book. It’s fine, furious slapstick, told in rolling rhythms and lots of conversation” (Buell BR21). Random House touted the book as having 223 words that were all two syllables or less, making the book an entertaining and fun read for the targeted audience of first and second graders. The lightness of both the Cat and the quick-paced and enjoyable text created an instant classic. In contrast, Highlights’ reading options for young children during this time period were as dry as Dick and Jane: “No brother was with Jerry. No sister was with

Jerry. He was all by himself. He was going to the store for Mother” (Vestal 21). Almost every available easy reading page featured moral lessons as well as the reading practice.

One regular feature that is still present in the magazine today is “Goofus and Gallant.”

These pages featured sentence pairs accompanied by pictures in which Goofus would be doing something forgetful or irresponsible, while his brother Gallant would be exhibiting the proper behavior. In the August-September 1956 issue, “Goofus wastes the toothpaste. Gallant squeezes out just what he needs. Goofus leaves the cake of soap in the bowl of water. Gallant drains the bowl of water and takes out the cake of soap.

Goofus never washes the bathtub after bathing. Gallant always cleans the bathtub neatly after bathing” (27). When compared to Dr. Seuss’ work, even the lightest of Highlights’ features seems serious and moralistic in tone.

These works of childhood literature as well as the stories produced in Highlights between 1946 and 1960 represent a time period that presents children as innocent and demands that their literature be equally virtuous. The Cat in the Hat, as the latest example from this portion of the timeline, falls close enough to the line for literature to

95 begin showcasing the coming focus on child agency. Like many stories for children, the parental figure is absent from the narrative, but their presence in this book still creeps in through the voice of the fish. The young children are expected to be able to care for themselves without an adult present, and when the madcap Cat appears, they act more adult than he or the Things. If the fish were not present within the story, the children might be tempted into the Cat’s fun play only to eventually realize that creating the mess is not really that fun when you know you’ll get in trouble for it later. A modern version would ask of the children to truly become the voice of the adult, rather than just “not knowing what to do.” Childhood and its literature during this era are preoccupied with the same values Jeri Griswold identifies as essential for children’s literature, while also adding a key educational or moral component to most stories. Highlights published fiction that maintained this trajectory, keeping the magazine as a safe space of innocence and wonder. They pushed back against mainstream literary representations only by incorporating diverse and multicultural materials. However, as my readings of these books and the pieces in Highlights show, there are issues of race, class, gender, socioeconomic status, and geography that affect the ability of children to be innocent and experience wonder. The price of the magazine alone severely limits the readership, so it becomes a question of whom, exactly, these diverse stories were for and what the

Myerses hoped to accomplish by including them. The presumed readership of Highlights seems to be those privileged enough to not need anything more than fun and educational content to enjoy an innocent childhood.

Child Agency, 1961-1975

The period from 1961-1975 in the United States was characterized by a great deal of social unrest and change. The thriving post-war economy allowed the large Baby

Boomer generation to focus on concerns outside of working to provide the necessities for family life. Americans entered this time period with optimism, believing in the words of

John F. Kennedy at his inauguration that, “We will support any friend, oppose any foe, make any sacrifice, suffer any hardship for the protection and preservation of liberty.”

After JFK’s assassination on November 22, 1963, a growing counterculture movement took center stage and pushed for reform in racial, sexual, and gender equality as well as promoting an anti-war philosophy as the United States entered the Vietnam War. All of this change meant that the perceptions of childhood shifted from innocence and wonder toward childhood agency. With parents who were often both working, and single-parent households on the rise, children needed to be capable of getting home from school alone and taking care of themselves until their parents returned from work. Children were given a higher level of autonomy and power to grow individually without the immediate and constant input of parents who previously might have stayed at home. With this background in mind, I have selected three representative classics of childhood literature:

Where the Wild Things Are (1963) by Maurice Sendak, for its imaginative resolution of an angry child’s tantrum; Harriet the Spy (1964) by Louise Fitzhugh, due to the agentic nature of the main character; and The Slave Dancer (1973) by Paula Fox, because it is historical fiction that acts as a bridge between the period of child agency and that of multiculturalism. 97

During this time period, the growth of child agency in Highlights appeared in interesting ways. From around 1964 to about 1970, the magazine switched from publishing nonfiction that was primarily about other countries and cultures to printing stories about science, predominantly on the Space Race. Once the United States had successfully landed on the moon in 1969, another shift in nonfiction took place that relegated science articles to an occasional spot and put biographies in their place. Most of these biographies were about people of color, such as the black poet Countee Cullen

(August-September 1971) or Mahatma Gandhi (November 1971). These biographies continued into the early 80s and maintained a focus on multicultural figures of great renown. During the 70s other items began to creep in such as yearly donation drives for

UNICEF in October, letters from children concerned about conservation, and other mentions in letters about the Peace Corps. Because so many nonfiction and science articles were being published, there were fewer fiction stories printed in each issue. This transition shows that the tide of public opinion about U.S. education had turned to the negative after the Soviets launched Sputnik in 1957, with critics arguing “that Americans had slipped drastically behind the Russians in scientific and technical fields because

American schoolchildren were not getting a firm grounding in the disciplines, particularly in math and science” (Mickenberg 178). Highlights responded to social concerns by publishing more and more science articles during this time period.

When Where the Wild Things Are was published in 1963, it was not an immediate success. Maurice Sendak was already a household name by this point, and while many people liked his composite illustrations of the wild things, others couldn’t get past the

98 misbehaving Max. In an interview shortly before his death, Sendak stated, “I refuse to lie to children. I refuse to cater to the bullshit of innocence” (Brockes 2011). Max’s adventure in the book is a mysterious and magical account of how a child copes with anger, as he leaves for the land of the wild things and becomes, in many ways, their mother. In the beginning of the book, Max is enjoying a fantastic rumpus in the real world, until his mother makes him stop and sends him to bed without his supper. Upon arriving in the land of the wild things, Max declares the start of a new rumpus until finally yelling, “’Now stop!’” and sends “the wild things off to bed without their supper”

(Sendak 30). The circuitous nature of the story reveals the need Max had for his mother’s disapproval and punishment, since he felt it fitting to punish the wild things for a party he himself started. By allowing Max to have an adventure and exploration of himself without a parental figure involved, Sendak establishes Where the Wild Things

Are as an agentic childhood story. While the book may have been unpopular at first with parents, librarians were quick to pick up on it, awarding it the Caldecott Medal for 1964.

While much of the criticism of Wild Things focuses on the psychological reading of Max’s tantrum, a recent article by Michelle Ann Abate and Sarah Bradford Fletcher,

“’Staring into All Their Yellow Eyes’: Where the Wild Things Are, the 1960s, and the

Vietnam War,” draws connections between the book and the era in which it was written.

After all, they note, “Max travels a great distance over the ocean to a jungle-like place where he encounters a wholly unfamiliar people and culture. When the inhabitants greet his arrival with hostility, the young boy’s response references the longstanding racist shorthand for Asian peoples based on their alleged skin tone: he subdues them by ‘staring

99 into all their yellow eyes’” (60). These allusions to the Vietnam War add nuance to the influence of historical time period on children’s literature and therefore on childhood.

Even if the influence of the war on Sendak was only subconscious, it speaks to the powerful force that our history has on us. Children who grew up reading Where the Wild

Things Are experienced the Vietnam War in a way that no generation had before: by watching it unfold on television. As Abate and Fletcher note, the book was oddly popular with college-aged adults who “may have been attracted to Where the Wild Things

Are for the way that it evoked rather than evaded the era’s turbulent socio-political events” (70). It is entirely possible that the book appealed to young children for the same reason.

Fictional stories in Highlights that allowed children to act out their own choices were few even during this time period. When they are present, the child in question is usually more responsible—embodying the upstanding young citizen of the Highlights philosophy—than agentic. In the March 1964 issue, for instance, a story by Evelyn

Mayerson titled “Everglades Boy” tells the story of Matt, who lives in a camp in the

Everglades of Florida, and helps his parents to explore and hunt the twisting waterways.

At the very beginning, Matt is shown as responsible as he stuffs “live bait into little white boxes…there were plenty of chores for him to do in the camp” (6). Matt’s father comes back with a panther cub, which he entrusts to his son for feeding and safekeeping. The boy quickly bonds with the cub and is playing with it when its mother appears out of the

Everglades. He has time to warn his father, who fetches his rifle, and then must remain motionless as the mother panther approaches and investigates the cub, eventually leading

100 it away with her. Because Matt’s character is responsible and wise about the dangerous area he lives in, he manages to avoid being attacked by the panther. Just as with Wild

Things, the jungle-like atmosphere of “Everglades Boy” and the predator-prey encounter

Matt has with the panther evoke aspects of the Vietnam War. Moreover, the story is quite similar in plot structure to Sendak’s classic, aside from the main character’s behavior toward parents and the environment. Believing he has tamed the cub, Matt is not expecting to have to face down its mother. Though she leads her cub back to the

Everglades, the encounter is more of a stalemate, and leaves the reader feeling as though things are not quite safe, despite Matt’s belief that he will (peacefully) run into the cub again someday, reflecting the dubious nature of the war in Vietnam.

Louise Fitzhugh’s Harriet the Spy had similar problems to Where the Wild Things

Are when it was published in 1964. The book is about Harriet, who enjoys following a spy route after school every day where she watches the goings-on of her friends and neighbors without their knowledge. She writes down everything in her notebook, which is eventually found by her friends and results in a lot of backstabbing and nastiness between friends and enemies. One reviewer wrote in Horn Book Magazine that, “The arrival of Harriet the Spy with fanfare and announcements of approval of its ‘realism’ makes me wonder again why that word is invariably applied to stories about disagreeable people and situations” (Viguers qtd. in Helson 22). As someone who found all of the characters deplorable and irredeemable upon completion of my reading, I can certainly understand the perspective of this reviewer. However, Harriet was also an important and underrepresented type of character for this time period—she was fully rounded, her

101 observations made all of the other characters believable, and the fact that she had to address her own social problems and find a solution to the situation was refreshing and welcome in a world of children’s literature where often the parents provide the solution— instead, Harriet’s parents were largely absent as well as clueless. Indeed, Harriet possesses the agency not only to solve her problem, but to plot revenge on her peers as well. In many ways, the book truly is as realistic as it gets in its description of all the petty things children do to one another. My dislike of the novel ends up being more about personal experience with being teased and bullied as a child than about the story itself.

While Harriet the Spy could easily be seen as another war narrative—spying on her friends, getting caught, attacking each other, and then withdrawing from the combat and attempting to make peace—the plot seems more reflective of the uncertainty of

American life during this time period. As Mickenberg notes,

much of the anxiety, fear, and panic that characterized the discourses of

the Cold War and McCarthyism—which were a constant undercurrent in

American life from the late 1940s into the early 1960s—centered around

children. In a time of rapid social and technological change, atomic

insecurity, and great uncertainty about the future, the child became a focal

point for national anxiety: anxiety about violence, social control, changing

sexual norms, and “alien”—both extranational and extraterrestrial—

influences. (132)

Harriet’s spying is a habit she has constructed to give her life order. It is a coping

102 mechanism that helps her dispel the stress of her parents being absent from the home as well as diffusing the effect of her school enemies’ attacks. Her life is full of anxiety over things she can do very little about, and uncertainty about her place among her friend group and in her family. When her nanny, Ole Golly, announces that she will be leaving,

Harriet’s feelings of helplessness spike and result in the plot of the book. Harriet’s loss and uncertainty reflect the status of the United States immediately after Kennedy’s assassination: having just lost a figure of hope and guidance, society lost trust in the government just as Harriet lost trust in her school and began to act out.

In the May 1964 issue of Highlights, a story by Ruth Evangeline MacGregor has a character with true agentic ability. Dave and his younger sister Patty are camping with their parents in the California desert when they hear a dog barking nonstop from somewhere on the ridge. Growing worried, Dave goes back to camp to get their parents but finds them gone. “Outside, Dave could see the shadows creeping across the desert floor. For a moment he was undecided. Then he stooped down, reached into his father’s pants pocket, and took out the keys” (20). Knowing that if someone is in trouble on the ridge, it will be impossible to find them in the dark, Dave takes the bold move of borrowing the family jeep and driving to a sheriff’s station they passed on the way in, even though he is only fourteen and knows only the theory of how to drive. In the end, he succeeds in reaching the sheriff and rides along in the helicopter to find and rescue the boy who is trapped on a ledge of the ridge with his dog. The act of participating in a search and rescue mission has obvious military undertones, and it is telling that Dave is a teenager rather than a young child. This story potentially serves the purpose of showing

103 young men nearing the age of majority that those in the service can accomplish great good. Dave’s act of heroism is notably self-guided and clearly based on his status as a trusted and responsible individual who can look after his younger sister in a wilderness setting. By publishing this story, the editors of Highlights are suggesting that the U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War is at the very least unavoidable, and at worst something they agreed with. Given Garry Myers’ service in WWI, it isn’t hard to imagine that the anti-war and draft-dodging young men of this era may have caused him personal consternation.

The final childhood literature example for this section is The Slave Dancer by

Paula Fox. As a recent article in the Paris Review describes it, “The Slave Dancer is brutal and brilliant and hard to read—banned by some schools because it has scenes of abject sadism, of man’s inhumanity to man, all for the sake of business and trade—but the darkness makes the moments of humanity, empathy, and sympathy stand out. Worst of all is that this book is a piece of historical fiction, rooted in truth” (Donnelly 2013).

This story is about a boy named Jessie who is kidnapped by slavers and made to play his fife for the other slaves, who are forced to dance in order to maintain their physical strength aboard the ship. Jessie is made to witness the cruelties of slavery when the crew tosses sick slaves overboard while they still live. Later the ship captain tries to avoid getting caught for running slaves and throws all of the captives overboard and flees.

Jessie manages to save one young slave boy and they hide in the hold until things quiet down. They emerge to find the ship sinking and the crew dead or missing. After swimming to shore, they meet a runaway slave who helps the boy escape north and Jessie

104 returns home to his family in New Orleans. Surprisingly little information is available about the critical reception of this book, considering it won the Newbery Medal in 1974.

Its status as a banned and challenged book suggests that it has had a troubled journey.

The brutal honesty of the novel’s portrayal of slavery and the Middle Passage marks it as a book with distinction that has unfortunately been misunderstood. The novel presents some understandably problematic hurdles since it is told from the point of view of a white character experiencing the horrors of the slave trade from an outsider perspective.

Despite this, The Slave Dancer is an important link between stories of child agency and the beginnings of a boom in multicultural fiction for young readers in the late 70s and early 80s.

As a work of historical fiction, The Slave Dancer has quite a different relation to the historical time period that it was published than do Wild Things or Harriet the Spy.

Julia L. Mickenberg notes that,

The amateur historian writing historical juveniles was not only “freer,” but

also far more willing to embrace a utopian view of the past and, by

extension, the future. Thus, a significant number of authors exploring

history through children’s literature attempted, on the one hand, to reframe

hegemonic “master narratives” of the past (or to invest them with new

meanings) and, on the other hand, to recover forgotten stories, particularly

those of African Americans, the working class, and women of all races.

(232-233)

Often this type of fiction involves a softening of historical events to make them more

105 suitable for children, but in Fox’s case the narrative was kept as close to true as possible for a retrospective novel. The only aspect that serves to ease the harshness of this story for readers is the choice to write the book from the perspective of the white Jessie rather than the black boy he rescues at the end. Had their perspectives been switched, I feel it would have put the reader too much in the shoes of the abused and made the story traumatizing rather than informative. It also would have resulted in the black character being saved at the end by the white boy and white man, a problematic finale to the story.

This novel achieves in “recovering the forgotten story” of African slaves who suffered terrible conditions and inhumane acts during the Middle Passage of the slave trading route. The fact that the book was published in 1973, when the end of the Vietnam War was fast approaching, points to an intention on Fox’s part that we not forget our own history lest we inflict a similarly barbaric fate on the countries we are ostensibly helping through warfare and conflict.

Through viewing these books together with Highlights, I am able to connect multiple forms of childhood literature to the context in which they were written. Novels and picture books for children are only published if they meet the standards and goals of the publishers who print them. The same is true of Highlights, where submitted stories must meet the needs of the magazine before making their way into individual issues. The difference is that the Myerses had complete autonomy over these choices, but they are individuals whose life stories, influences, and educational backgrounds can be deeply analyzed and used to understand why certain pieces might appear in the pages of this publication. I believe that the insights gained into the nature of childhood and children’s

106 literature through this type of dual analysis help to explain how these two fields are separate but simultaneously indistinct from one another.

Diversity and Multiculturalism, 1976-1990

American history from 1976 towards the present has changed drastically. Not only did the post-war period after Vietnam leave us with lasting changes to government policy and a fear of becoming involved in foreign conflicts unless absolutely necessary, but the rise of computer technology has forever changed the experiences of Americans in an extremely short amount of time. Both the first home computers as well as the Atari game system were released for sale in 1977. Cold War tensions with the Soviet Union would continue until the tearing down of the Berlin Wall in 1989, and the World Wide

Web was created the same year. Children today are now so much a part of this technological landscape that the prevalent concern about childhood is that they don’t have one. Parents make efforts to get children to put aside devices and play outside, while others are beginning to equate the tantrums over phones and tablets being confiscated as symptoms of withdrawal from an addiction (Homayoun 2018). In this last section, I focus on stories of diversity and multiculturalism. Picking up in 1976, I look at books as well as issues of Highlights up to about 1990. Anything past this date begins to seem less like history and more like the present, and it is unclear what sort of publishing trend might come to be associated with the millennium. My three examples of childhood literature from this time period are: Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry (1976) by Mildred D.

Taylor, chosen for its depiction of sharecropper life from the perspective of a Black 107 family; Bridge to Terabithia (1977) by Katherine Paterson, for showcasing magical realism and the death of a childhood friend; and finally Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters

(1987) by John Steptoe, which offers a stunning take on an African version of the

Cinderella tale type. All of these books feature children dealing with bad family or social situations and overcoming them in some way.

Although Highlights has included stories about other cultures since its inception, the magazine also shifts what it publishes to reflect current trends. Into the early 80s, a great deal of biographies about diverse figures in history were being published. These were slowly replaced by more and more articles on animal nonfiction starting in 1984, and eventually Earth science pieces in the late 80s and early 90s. This transition coincided with growing concerns about conservation and the need to protect the earth and all the creatures that live on it. In June-July 1976, there was an article on the “Ozone

Umbrella,” and another in November 1976 titled “Where Will We Put the Heat?” about power plants. Between June-July 1983, when the animal nonfiction first started appearing, and 1990, no fewer than fifty-six articles on different animals were published.

During this time period, the magazine finally began to publish a few science fiction and fantasy stories, though they were few and far between. The first of these was “Doorway into Space” by Isaac Asimov, printed in January 1982. More sci-fi as well as fantasy followed with “The Wizard’s Sneeze” in March 1986, and “Crossing the Frontier” in

January 1987. While these genres became much more popular after the growth of computers and the internet, it is also worth noting that Garry Myers passed away in 1977, and Caroline Myers passed in 1980. These explicitly fantastic stories were not printed in

108 the magazine prior to their deaths. A new cover design also followed, showing illustrations of human characters for the first time starting in January 1981. All subscribers now had the opportunity to see themselves on the cover of the magazine, since the printed images contained children of color from the very beginning.

In Mildred D. Taylor’s Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry, 9-year-old Cassie Logan relates the story of her family’s life on a piece of land that her grandfather bought from a white sharecropper in 1887. The importance of this piece of land is prevalent throughout the book as Cassie and her family deal with the racism of their white neighbors, and the attempts of Harlan Granger to recover the land through nefarious schemes. A review in the New York Times noted that, “The Logans are particularly vulnerable, for they go against the grain of society by owning land. Their pride is bound up in that land, and they can hang on to it only if all goes well…They do what they have to do—indirectly, if possible. Of course, this may not always be possible, but if anyone can overcome, the reader knows it will be the Logans” (Fritz 262). The indomitable spirit of Cassie’s family makes the darker themes of this book more tolerable and puts the reader firmly on the side of the Logans. As another work of historical fiction, this narrative is situated both within the time period when it took place—the Great Depression—and in the time when it was written—the post Vietnam era. Like many of the books discussed in the second section, Roll of Thunder reflects the social perception of the war as problematic and costly for the United States, and ends on an ambiguous note about how all of the heartache and racial tensions between the Logans and their white neighbors might turn out.

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Similarly, Katherine Paterson’s 1977 novel, Bridge to Terabithia, has been the subject of much censorship due to the death of one of the main characters near the middle of the book. The story is about Jess, who befriends a girl named Leslie after she moves to the house just down the road from him. They both create an escape from their home lives by crossing a creek and creating an imaginary land called Terabithia, where they reign as monarchs. While he is away one day, Leslie crosses the creek during a rainstorm and the rope they have been using to swing across breaks. She falls into the swollen creek and drowns. Jess struggles to deal with her death, even going so far as to ignore her existence for a time. Eventually he makes amends by building a bridge to Terabithia and sharing the secret with his little sister. Despite the censorship of the book and the

Newbery Medal it won in 1978, there is little information available about the critical reception of the book. The narrative of the loss of a loved one and learning to cope with that tragedy is strongly reflective both of the high death toll that the Vietnam War resulted in, and the post-traumatic stress disorder that many returning soldiers suffered from. Jess’s inability to acknowledge Leslie’s death mirrors the effects of PTSD on discharged men.

In the January 1978 issue of Highlights, a story was published about two children from a Navajo reservation who are herding sheep. Very few contextual clues are offered to tell the reader that the children are Native American other than the main character,

Suli, referring to their “hogan” and the sentence, “Someday when eleven-year-old Joe went far away from the reservation to attend school, she would be left to care for the flocks alone” (Juline 6). Suli and her brother Joe work together to herd the sheep to the

110 water hole, and then must rescue a lamb who falls over a cliff and lands on a narrow ledge. Joe lowers Suli using some rope and the help of his horse, and then pulls her back up when she has the lamb in her arms. The general theme of the story is one of having courage in the face of seemingly impossible obstacles. While the subtlety of the children’s Navajo ancestry is something to appreciate compared to a stereotypical accounting of Native American life, there are a few moments in the story that still feel as though a non-Native person is making up details about Navajo peoples. Suli refers to herself as “starting her sixth spring” instead of saying her age in years (6). Much of the language has the feel of a writer imitating how a non-native English speaker might sound, such as when Suli, “who had always stayed close to the hogan, looked about at the vastness of space. ‘The world is so big,’ she sighed, ‘and I am so small’” (6). The author, Ruth Bishop Juline, was the author of several stories for children that were about

Native Americans, published in the 50s and 60s. While her ancestry is unknown, the nature of Suli’s story reflects a growing voice among the Native American populations during this time period. Just a month after this story was published in Highlights, the

American Indian Movement (AIM) would begin The Longest Walk, a journey across the

United States from California to D.C. to protest anti-Native legislation.

My final example is Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters, by John Steptoe. This story is about two sisters—the bad-tempered Manyara and the kind Nyasha. The book is based on an African folktale that falls into the traditional tale of the Cinderella tale type. The king sends a decree that he would like to marry, and invites “the most worthy and beautiful daughters in the land” to come to the city to meet him (Buck 2014). Manyara

111 sneaks out the night before the family is set to make the trip, and proves herself to be unkind and ill-tempered along the way. Nyasha treats everyone she meets along the way with kindness and generosity. When they arrive in the city, Manyara is running away because the king has presented himself to her as a five-headed serpent that claims to know all her faults. Nyasha bravely enters the throne room and finds the garden snake she befriended, who transforms into the king. They marry and live happily ever after. In an interview about his book, John Steptoe says, “Being a child of the fifties, I was told in white magazines that Africans said ‘ooga booga’; they didn’t come from a complex society. So I wanted to find out about African culture. And my research took me to southeast Africa where there was trade with China as far back as 500 B.C.” (Natov and

DeLuca 128-129). Steptoes’ determination to explore and express African culture resulted in a beautifully illustrated book that relates a lesser-known version of a familiar tale. As a picture book published in 1987, Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters is a sign of just how far American society has come since 1946. The book is about Black characters who are represented in their native Africa, in traditional clothing, and who are lovingly drawn with the highest level of realism.

In viewing multicultural and diverse texts alongside Highlights, I aim to showcase how much the magazine has grown. While the Myerses always included stories about non-white people and cultures, the closer to present day the issues are, the more pervasive and expansive that content is. Stories about diverse topics such as death and racism are not always easy to find in Highlights, so bringing in outside examples from childhood literature is important for a wide exploration of childhood and children’s literature

112 themes. In the first section, I discussed many of the racial undercurrents of texts such as

Charlotte’s Web as well as some of the stories published in the magazine during that time; comparing that analysis to the more multicultural stories of today, it is easy to see the improvements society has made toward equality in childhood literature. Characters of color are still covered up with animal bodies, but there is now more and growing space for books that feature only Black, Hispanic, Latinx, Asian, or indigenous representations.

There is more room for books about children behaving badly as well as historical fiction the pushes the boundaries of what is too graphic for readers.

Concepts of childhood have shifted from the innocence of the early 20th century, to the idea of children as responsible for some of their own upbringing and incentive to grow in certain directions, and finally to the technology-driven children of the present. In many ways, it seems as though we are too close to the age of tech to properly understand how childhood has changed in the last twenty years—or perhaps the problem is that it has changed faster than we can keep track. Looking at the literature of childhood necessitates slowing down and identifying what the texts of a certain time period might have in common. By examining the literature of a generation, I believe it is possible to understand the socio-cultural motivations behind both how they were raised, and how they raise the generation that follows. Every day I see people connecting the dystopian phenomenon in young adult literature to the social protesting of today’s teens. I have to wonder if, twenty years from now, children’s literature scholars will look back on these apocalyptic texts as a means of contextualizing this group of protestors, or if they will see some other form of literature as indicative of anti-gun activism.

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Chapter 5: Critical Snapshots in Highlights for Children

During my work with Highlights, I developed several extended analyses and tangential research projects. I present these here because they were either too much for the chapters they came from, or they did not have enough substance to justify an entire additional chapter. These critical snapshots demonstrate not only how the examination of childhood and children’s literature together create new avenues for research and study, but to showcase how the findings of this project could be used to study one particular period in time and how it affected the children who grew up then. The first snapshot extends my analysis of the Army Alpha and Beta tests from Chapter One by looking at how the data from these tests was used and the influence of the tests on the Myers Mental

Measure. The second explores the Space Race time period of American history and how it is portrayed within Highlights. I examine the various science articles published in the magazine leading up to the moon landing and contextualize that approach with the lack of

Cold War discussion. The final snapshot looks at the work of the first art director, John

Gee, on the Hidden Pictures feature and his connection to the Walt Disney Animation

Studios. Using personal letters exchanged between Gee and the founders, I trace the subtle ties between Highlights and Disney.

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Mid-Century Modern: Army Alpha and Beta Tests, Highlights for Children, and the Rise of Standardized Testing

In Chapter One, I discussed the history of Highlights founders Garry and Caroline

Myers, who spent the years of World War I in an Army camp, helping illiterate soldiers learn enough reading and writing to be able to send letters home to their families. Garry was part of a large-scale deployment of psychologists who were sent to Army camps in order to assess the intelligence levels of recruits. Robert M. Yerkes, then president of the

American Psychological Association, believed that the Army Alpha and Beta tests could accurately determine the average intelligence level in the United States. The study was in large part a continuation of the eugenics movement, striving to prove that white

Americans were superior. But since the Army tests formed the basis for the Myers

Mental Measure, it is important to understand exactly how these tests functioned and what the data was used for.

E. G. Boring, Yerkes’ assistant during the war, took from the 1.75 million test results a representative sample of one hundred and sixty thousand. “From Boring’s ocean of numbers, three ‘facts’ rose to the top and continued to influence social policy in

America long after their source in the tests had been forgotten” (Gould 196). First, the average mental age of male Americans was only 13—much lower and more concerning than the previous estimate of 16. It is especially problematic because on the scale used, mental ages 8-12 were considered a “moron”, making the United States a nation of half- morons (Gould 196-97). Second, because the test results could be sorted to pinpoint immigrants by their country of origin, Boring’s results showed that “The average man of 115 many nations is a moron. The darker peoples of southern Europe and the Slavs of eastern

Europe are less intelligent than the fair peoples of western and northern Europe” (Gould

197). Here was “scientific proof” of American superiority (despite the fact that national averages for European countries were only two points lower that the U.S. in most cases).

Third, black soldiers averaged in at a mental age of 10.41 on the tests. “Some camps tried to carry the analysis a bit further, and in obvious racist directions. At Camp Lee, blacks where divided into three groups based upon intensity of color—the lighter groups scored higher” (Gould 197). So not only were Americans “The Best”, but white supremacy had also received a solid nod of approval based on these results.

Yet the numbers produced by Boring’s study, while easy to interpret in these ways, did not actually hold any inherent meaning about the value of certain human beings over others. Yerkes’ monograph in which the results of the study were published makes almost no accommodations for the testing conditions, the bias of the test questions, or the background of the test takers themselves. As Stephen Jay Gould points out in his book,

The Mismeasure of Man (1981),

Yerkes might have argued that an average mental age of thirteen reflected

the fact that relatively few recruits had the opportunity to finish or even to

attend high school. He might have attributed the low average of some

national groups to the fact that most recruits from those countries were

recent immigrants who did not speak English and were unfamiliar with

American culture. He might have recognized the link between low Negro

scores and the history of slavery and racism. (Gould 198).

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From our modern perspective, these are obvious oversights on the part of Yerkes and

Boring. Yet for 1921 when Yerkes’ monograph was published, the results showed exactly what we wanted to see: white, American, male superiority. For while the intelligence of Army recruits was the primary focus of the study, other groups were tested as well, such as the local camp prostitutes. The results “corroborate the conclusion, attained by civilian examinations of prostitutes in various parts of the country, that from

30 to 60 percent of prostitutes are deficient and are for the most part high-grade morons”

(Gould 197). This conclusion again ignores the lack of access to education and the conditions of the testing sites.

While some sections of the Alpha and Beta Tests could have been effectual in measuring intellectual ability, at least one section in both tests contained a great deal of cultural bias. How could recent immigrants to the United States answer questions like:

Crisco is a: patent medicine, disinfectant, toothpaste, food product

The number of a Kaffir’s legs is: 2, 4, 6, 8

Christy Mathewson is famous as a: writer, artist, baseball player,

comedian (Gould 198)

These questions contain assumptions about universal knowledge as well as racial slurs that non-English speaking and non-native test takers would have great difficulty understanding. In addition to the cultural bias of the questions, the tests were very strictly timed, with oral instructions read out to a room full of test takers who may or may not all be able to hear the proctor reading things out to them. There were no regulations for the number of test takers who could be tested in a given site, and no accommodations

117 to enable any man to speak up should he be unable to hear in the back of a room. Gould goes on to describe how many test takers scored “flat zero” on many parts of the test and asks how anyone, even under good testing conditions, “would have understood enough to write anything at all in the ten seconds allotted for completing the following [command], each given but once in Alpha, Part 1?”

Attention! Look at 4. When I say “go” make a figure 1 in the space

which is in the circle but not in the triangle or square, and also make a

figure 2 in the space which is in the triangle and circle, but not in the

square. Go. (Gould 200)

These oral instructions seem designed to be intentionally confusing and difficult to complete in the time allowed, so it is questionable that a soldier’s ability to answer these problems measured anything other than a command of the English language.

While the Myers test is made up entirely of pictures, like the Army Beta Test, I believe it could have a similar problem in cultural bias. On the second section of the

Myers test, one image shows some telephone poles that are missing their wires; another shows an incandescent light bulb casting a shadow over some blocks. The third test brings back the light bulb, showing it in a row with several animal pictures as well as illustrations of various other lighting sources. The Myers test also uses in various places pictures of rifles, rapiers, cannons, soldiers, a padlock, a carriage that would be drawn by horses, a player piano, and bicycles. While not all of these images might be a problem for a single person, and certainly during this time period the majority of immigrants who might take the test would be from European countries, I wouldn’t say with any kind of

118 certainty that there is no cultural bias whatsoever in these images. As a modern observer looking at this test, it took me quite some time to recognize that one of the images is supposed to represent an old-fashioned stove complete with pipe—I would imagine that my confusion is equivalent to the confusion of an immigrant who might never have seen an incandescent light bulb. In addition to this, I wonder how effective the oral instructions would be for any test takers, much less grade schoolers. The instructions bear a striking resemblance to the confusing Alpha Test example above:

Look at the square and circle. Make a cross that shall be in the circle but

not in the square and make another cross that shall be in the circle and in

the square and make a third cross that shall not be in the circle and not be

in the square. Go! (Allow not over 10 seconds.) (Measuring Minds 49)

Not only are the instructions orally confounding, but test takers aren’t allowed to ask any questions either during or after the test, nor are they allowed to explain their answers.

The test does more to measure a child’s ability to hear and quickly memorize oral instructions than it does to measure intelligence. Like most standardized tests, this one fails to anticipate the misbalance created by access—or lack thereof—to education based on a child’s race, class, gender, or geographical region.

There is an implicit assumption in both the Army tests and in the Myers Mental

Measure that test takers who cannot read well in English will be able to comprehend and follow oral instructions more easily. If this test were administered to children today, those who scored poorly on it would most likely be tested further for evidence of a learning disorder such as ADHD since the inability to follow oral instructions could be a

119 sign of something more. Yet in 1921, there was no such thing as ADHD. Even when the first Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) was released by the

APA in 1952, it did not mention ADHD at all. The first mention of “hyperkinetic impulse disorder” did not appear in the DSM until 1968 (Lange et al). The expectation that lower scorers on the Myers Mental Measure were less intelligent was probably incorrect, but the idea that these students needed more help in their learning may have been beneficial during a time when disorders such as ADHD went undiagnosed and untreated. Tests such as these were the precursors of modern standardized testing and paved the way for advancements in psychology in the United States. Although E. G.

Boring’s “ocean of numbers” had a negative effect on certain aspects of American society due to the continuation of systemic racism, eugenics, and a false sense of

American superiority, some good also came out of the Army testing in the form of improved education and psychological innovations.

The Race for the Moon: Space Race Childhood in Highlights for Children Magazine

In January 1954, Highlights for Children updated their cover design to feature

“Snooperoo and Parakoot,” a space explorer and his pet who have adventures in short cover stories in every issue. In typical Highlights fashion, the hijinks of these two characters were combined with moral lessons that the magazine editors were hoping to impart on children. For example, in the February 1954 story, Snooperoo decides to go to

Mars to find out if the children living there have to wash their hands before dinner. He finds out that Mars children have so many sets of hands that they spend hours washing up 120 before meals and never get to do anything fun (2). The next month’s story was about children on Jupiter who told so many lies mixed with truths that even they didn’t know what they believe (March 1954, 2). Like other areas of the publication, the Snooperoo stories are set up to act as a guide for children to become good people who don’t complain about having to wash their hands, don’t lie, don’t watch too much TV (May

1954, 2), and much more.

With the United States and Soviet Union entering into the Space Race starting in

1957, the focus on space in Highlights during the same time period is a reflection of how these events affected the younger generation. The magazine began publishing articles about space, astronauts, and related science almost monthly and added a “Letters to the

Science Editor” section where the Science Editor could answer questions children had about how something works. A small note at the bottom of one of the articles read,

“With universal interest in space travel, HIGHLIGHTS keeps children abreast of developments and gives them the vocabulary of the space scientist” (May 1962, 23).

However, Highlights has always taken an apolitical stance, keeping issues of politics, war, and violence out of its pages. In itself, this stance is highly political as well as privileged, and excludes both children and adults who might read the magazine from a discussion of the progressing events. While there were a great many space articles published, very little mention was ever made of the Soviet Union’s quest to beat the

United States to the moon. The juxtaposition of the magazine’s non-violence approach to the hysteria of the Cold War adds nuance to our understanding of how children growing up during this time were influenced by the Space Race.

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The Snooperoo and Parakoot cover stories are an interesting choice for this time period due largely to the person who authored them. Munro Leaf is better known as the author of The Story of Ferdinand, a picture book that is generally touted as an anti-war and pacifist narrative about a bull who has no interest in bull fighting, but wants to just sit quietly under his favorite cork tree and smell the flowers. The book was first published in 1936, coinciding with the Spanish Civil War, greatly contributing to the prevalent analysis of the book as a pacifist narrative. As a recent New Yorker article notes:

Munro had finished his text long before the Spanish Civil War broke out,

and always maintained he had nothing in mind but a funny story—he had

only chosen a bull as the main character because mice and cats and

bunnies were played out, he claimed. But as [the publisher] had feared, the

juxtaposition of a brutal Spanish war and a peaceable Spanish bull seemed

more than coincidence to many observers—and fears of a coming wider

conflict no doubt fueled such readings. (Handy 15 Dec 2017)

Walt Disney Studios produced an animated short of Ferdinand in 1938, which subsequently won an Academy Award for Best Animated Short, launching Leaf into popularity. Munro Leaf wrote many other picture books, and after the Disney short began illustrating them himself with his own characteristic child-like drawings. His

1938 book, The Watchbirds, is an early cousin of the Snooperoo and Parakoot cover stories, featuring characters such as a Messy and a Won’t-Wait that demonstrate poor behaviors to child readers. Snooperoo and his trusty dog-like sidekick Parakoot travel to various interstellar locations to observe the local children and see if they do things the

122 same way children on earth do. Leaf eventually transitioned from writing Snooperoo and

Parakoot cover stories to sharing individual “Silly Spoofs from Outer Space,” which were very similar to The Watchbirds.

Aside from the cover stories by Munro Leaf, a number of other changes took place within the pages of Highlights during these years. Large numbers of science nonfiction articles began to be included, where previously most nonfiction was devoted to information about animals, holidays, and other cultures. In the January through May

1954 issues of the magazine, a series of articles titled “The Story of Space Travel” were published. These tracked the progress of human flight from hot air balloons to airplanes and rockets. Margaret Stewart Niehaus, the author of these pieces, framed the information around a group of children learning about the potential for space exploration from Uncle Hubert. In the March 1954 story, Tom asked,

“Since we are on the frontiers of space now, Uncle Hubert, how long

before we will really be traveling in space?”

“That depends upon a great many things, Tom,” replied Uncle Hubert.

“Even after the rocketship has been built that can withstand all the

conditions found in space, we must still plan for the pilot of the

rocketship. He cannot be made over like the rocketship, so earthlike

conditions must be provided for him. We must find the very best way to

travel in space—a way that will bring the pilot back safe and alive” (19).

This passage expresses the worries Americans had about space travel for the astronauts who would first journey beyond our atmosphere. It prompts the reader to ask how

123 exactly earthlike conditions can be created. In May another child asked, “’But, Uncle

Hubert, if there is no air in space like we have here on the earth, how will our spaceship pilots breathe and stay alive?” “That is a very good question, Betty, and perhaps someday soon the scientists will have an answer for it’” (9). This was just seven years before the first manned rocket would go into space, and fifteen years before the moon landing. Articles like these demonstrate the vast unknown that space still was in this time period, making important distinctions about when certain discoveries were made and what the prevalent theories were before we learned more about our world and the universe beyond.

In September of 1954, Highlights published an article about the processes used to create the Hale Telescope, located in Palomar Mountain, California. The 200 inch glass lens had quite a journey from its several month cooling period, to railroad transport, polishing and shaping that removed more than 10,000 pounds of glass, and finally being installed in the observatory. The early uses of the Hale mentioned in the article state that on Mars “they have observed green markings which might represent plant life, and a network of fine lines that might possibly be artificial waterways constructed by intelligent beings” (Sheldon 30). 1956 issues of Highlights brought a series of science articles about interesting things on earth, such as magnets, static electricity, molecules, and machines.

Then, starting in February 1958, David Dietz published a series of articles titled “A Trip to the Moon” that detailed the processes needed to send a manned mission to the moon.

The beginning of the first article starts, “The day is drawing nearer when bold explorers will make their first trip to the moon. Scientists are certain that it will happen within the

124 next 25 years. Some even think it may be done in the next 5 to 10 years. It is entirely possible, therefore, that some of the young people reading this article will journey to the moon in the years ahead” (22). The same article mentions the difficulties involved in sending a rocket to the moon large enough to carry passengers, and the preference of some scientists to first create a “space platform” 1,000 miles above the earth (23). This predicts the creation of the International Space Station 40 years before the first component was sent into orbit, and 53 years before it was completed.

In the December 1959 issue of Highlights, a small news story was published entitled “Soviet Rocket Hits Moon.” This unassuming block of text took up one third of a page, placed at the bottom as though it were just another short feature or riddle among all the other activities provided for child readers. However, its presence in the magazine was highly unusual. First, Highlights does not generally include any discussion of current events. When it does, they are published months or years after the fact when such things could be safely proscribed to history—this was done with the moon landing itself, as though the gravity of our accomplishment could not immediately be discussed in writing lest we tarnish the memories of seeing Neil Armstrong take his first steps on the moon via national television. Second, the piece was written not by a contributing author, but by the editors themselves. This launches the moment of the Soviet rocket hitting the moon into an occasion of monumental importance—so much so that even the children enjoying the magazine needed to know the facts of how the Soviets had overcome us in the race for the moon. The Space Race had ignited the imagination of the entire country, including the Highlights editors, and it was impossible not to encourage and share that

125 enthusiasm with the readers. However, while the Space Race was a constant focus on every issue, other news about the Cold War was conspicuously absent.

The lack of discussion of current events in Highlights underlines their somewhat passive role in the education and growth of children. Rather than guide children directly with hard and fast rules, the majority of the magazine content subtly encourages children to emulate the behavior of characters in the stories they are reading. This missing content creates a vacuum where children who might be concerned about topics overheard from television, at school, or from their parents have very few options to turn to for more information or reassurance. The problem is especially apparent during the time period of the Space Race when the efforts being made to explore space coincided with rising tensions with the Soviet Union and concerns over communist ideology. While I would not expect Highlights to take complete responsibility for educating children about tragic events, they take the position of a trusted friend for readers and have an obligation to address the concerns the readers express to them. Every single letter written to

Highlights is answered, but very few responses get published. Many children might write in with concern about the actions of other countries towards the United States, but since those letters are not published, there is a lack of community where readers can see that they are not the only ones to feel that way and find reassurance in the kind words of the founders.

Much like Munro Leaf’s The Story of Ferdinand, Highlights seems to take a particularly pacifist approach during a time period of unrest and insecurity for our country. Such silence on issues that can and do affect children can leave a sense of

126 betrayal. I imagine that children growing up during the Cold War felt the same helplessness towards nuclear weapons as children today do about semi-automatic weapons being brought into their schools. The fear children express to adults is all too easily dismissed as a product of juvenile hysteria and ignorance about so-called “adult matters.” Adults may want to just sit quietly under the cork tree, smelling the flowers, but children will not wait their turn to have a say in a world that affects them just as much, if not more, than the adults who have made it what it is today. We have a responsibility to give voice to the concerns of today’s children and create a childhood for them that does not leave them feeling helpless in the face of fear and ignorance.

Hidden Mickeys: The Disney Generation, Childhood, and Children’s Literature in the

Highlights for Children Magazine

During the early days of Highlights, when the publication was working on becoming a household name, the Walt Disney Company was still enjoying their success from the smash hit of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937). A tenuous connection existed between Highlights and the Disney Company. In January 1964, the magazine published a Hidden Picture puzzle of Disney’s first feature-length film. This was the first time the magazine published a Hidden Picture from a copyrighted entity such as Disney.

In February 1968, when Highlights first became able to produce full color images, they printed a double page spread titled “The Wonderful World of Walt Disney,” which detailed the early life of Walt Disney and how Mickey Mouse came to be created.

However, there is a much earlier connection to Disney concealed, appropriately enough, 127 in the Hidden Pictures feature. The first art director for the magazine, John Gee, produced many fairy-tale-related Hidden Pictures during his tenure at the publication, including one that had clear ties to the Disney Animation Studios. This intersection between Highlights and a company like Disney creates an interesting correlation between the commercialization and social construction of childhood. Further exploration of this connection is needed to understand how commodifying aspects of both childhood and children’s literature influences our understanding of these areas of study. Doing so will allow for additional insights into the understanding of childhood and children’s literature as separate but connected fields of study.

Gee, having been a freelance artist for 25 years, was thrilled with the notion of being the art director of Highlights rather than just one of a bevy of artists working on the magazine, though he remained living in Sarasota, FL with occasional trips to Honesdale,

PA rather than joining the staff there permanently. He immediately began producing art for the magazine, suggesting the “Hello” and “Goodbye” spot arts that appeared at the beginning and end of each issue. Gee produced most of these and would eventually produce a monthly comic called “The Timbertoes” as well as various other pages, poems, and stories. He had done previous artwork for other children’s magazines, mainly Child

Life, and one of his covers for that magazine was reproduced in Highlights as a Hidden

Picture. His typical artwork is in the Volland style, a la Raggedy Ann and Andy, which has tremendous racial implications. Johnny Gruelle, who created the Raggedy Ann doll and books, “consciously saturated Raggedy Ann with racial meanings, especially blackness as conjured though the white imaginary of minstrelsy…[her] white color, like

128 her name, referenced not a straightforward white raciality, but instead the complicated black-and-whiteness of the face-painted minstrel performer” (Bernstein 149). Gee’s artwork in the magazine features exclusively white characters, but given the knowledge consumers had of the racialized aspects of Raggedy Ann, it’s possible that his illustrations evoked Black minstrelsy as well. He published several children’s books in the early 30s and during his time at Highlights produced 45 different Hidden Pictures for publication, which were reprinted during the 60s and 70s when Gee retired and then eventually passed away on February 20, 1977. Gee almost exclusively did fairy tale or other literary references for all of his hidden pictures. One of these featured his version of a scene from the tale of “Cinderella,” printed in October 1954. The scene initially seems to be Gee’s interpretation of the story in his own style. But on closer examination, it clearly contains mantel portraits of Anastasia and Drizella, Cinderella’s evil stepsisters from the Disney version7. By all rights, Gee should not have been able to publish such an image because of copyright laws.

In letters exchanged earlier in Gee’s collaboration with the Myerses, it is clear that the smallest details are not overlooked when it comes to what appears in the magazine’s pages. Once, the artist sent in a drawing of some anthropomorphized animals, which the founders rejected by saying, “We have been dedicated from the beginning to doing no Ripley8 stuff. We are interested in imaginary drawings or writings by children, but we are not presenting in the magazine the sort of animals which you have

7 And also the clever silhouettes of mice in the curtain over the mantel, perhaps a reference to Gus-Gus, Jack, and the other mice in the film. 8 Referring to Robert Ripley, founder of “Ripley’s Believe It or Not!” 129 drawn” (Myers 1949). Unfortunately, no letters related to John Gee from 1953 or 1954 mention the “Cinderella” Hidden Picture, so understanding how he could get away with reproducing the Tremaine sisters in a page must be left to other sources and guesswork.

In the resume provided to Highlights, Gee lists that he “trained four months in animation and story construction” at Walt Disney Studios in California, although there are no dates provided to give a better timeline. Gee lived in various parts of California for short periods that are mentioned in earlier letters to the Highlights founders, though these usually coincided with him teaching courses in Design and Composition. This particular course in California is mentioned in a letter from Caroline Myers dated June 1, 1948.

Although many teaching appointments are listed on the resume kept on file in the

Highlights archive, there are none listed for California. This reinforces that Gee’s Disney training happened prior to becoming the magazine’s art director. However, in correspondence with the Myerses, Gee writes in a letter dated May 18, 1950 that he has

“made all arrangements to go to Pasadena, California, and have contracted for a year, and a year only. I may not like it for keeps.” With Pasadena very close to the Disney

Animation Studios in Burbank, it is possible that this contracted position was with the company where Gee once trained. Three months later, he writes again on July 11, “Call me willy-the-whisp and change my address back to Florida! Yes, I again don’t ‘see’ life in California for me” (emphasis original) and further mentions that he intends to return to his old address by August 1st. These dates fall just a few months after the release of the film Cinderella on February 15, 1950, so if Gee did return to California to do some work for Disney, it’s plausible that he was encouraged to do some penciling of stills from the

130 film as a means of becoming accustomed to the Disney style, very different from his

Volland art. This, combined with his unknown early months of training with the company9, serve as an explanation of how and why Anastasia and Drizella came to be in the “Cinderella” Hidden Picture.

In addition to this, later letters exchanged between Highlights and Walt Disney regarding their printing of the “Snow White” Hidden Picture reveal that this page was actually drawn by John Gee and his name removed to comply with Disney’s copyright rules. Caroline Myers wrote to Disney on March 3, 1958, and provided a copy of the picture in question. The company responded on March 24, 1958 listing their caveats for publication permission:

1. That the name of John Gee be omitted;

2. That the drawing and all reproductions of it bear a copyright notice

consisting of the letter “C” enclosed within a circle and followed by

3. That John Gee execute an assignment to us of all his rights in the

drawing.

Gee signed over his rights and the image was printed in January 1964. In his initial letter where he sent this picture to the editors of Highlights, Gee mentions, “I worked in the

Disney Studios when SNOW WHITE was in work, and my technique was under their influence – a good and salutary thing, don’t you think?” (18 February 1958, all caps

9 His work with Disney is also mentioned in his obituary. 131 original). While this still does not explain the printing of Anastasia and Drizella in the

“Cinderella” page, it does deepen the connection between these two companies.

The “Cinderella” and “Snow White” pages are the only obvious Disney connections in Gee’s work, but several other Highlights artists produced Hidden Pictures that resembled Disney art. Not as much information is available about the artists themselves, since they were freelance and not the art director like Gee. In the June-July

1968 issue, a Hidden Picture by Jeri Simkus was printed based on the Aesop fable of

“The Fisherman and the Little Fish.” In the picture, the fisherman is holding up the one small fish he has managed to catch. He appears somewhat old, with a chevron mustache; he wears a vest, button-down shirt, patched knee britches, high socks, and buckled shoes.

The fish in his hand has a humanoid face with big eyes. Anyone who has seen the

Disney version of Pinocchio (1940) will immediately draw a connection between the fisherman and Gepetto, and it is easy to see some of Cleo the goldfish in the small fry on display in the Hidden Picture. While considerable time had passed from the release of the movie and the printing of this page, several television productions of Pinocchio were made and aired in 1957 and in December of 1968. The Disney film itself was also reissued as recently as 1962 in the United States. It is not beyond the realm of possibility that Simkus’ “The Fisherman and the Little Fish” was inspired by Gepetto and his pet goldfish.

Another artist, Ursula Koering, created a Hidden Picture of “Davy Crockett” for the June-July 1969 issue. Davy Crockett is shown wearing the iconic coonskin cap as well as a fringed leather shirt and pants. Disney had produced a live action miniseries

132 about Davy Crockett in 1954-1955, which was edited into a movie in 1955. The miniseries was re-aired in color on television in the 1960s. Fess Parker, who played

Davy, was dressed in similar fringed leather clothing to that drawn by Koering. His coonskin cap, complete with face and tail and made from real raccoon fur, “prompted a national and international mania among boys [and]…at the height of their popularity in the 1950s, children’s coonskin caps sold at an average of 5,000 per day. By the end of the decade, their appeal waned as the television episodes ceased to be aired on a continuous basis” (Bowers 2014). The cultural popularity of the Disney miniseries can be seen as an easy influence on artists such as Koering. Crockett’s status as a hero of

American folklore is tied up in his work in politics and military engagements. He opposed the Indian Removal Act passed by President Andrew Jackson, and his frustration with this piece of legislation resulted in him leaving the United States for Texas, where he subsequently died at the Alamo. The depiction of Crockett wearing the leather clothes and the coonskin cap is also in keeping with historical observations such as that of his daughter, Matilda, writing about her father’s departure for Texas: “He was dressed in his hunting suit, wearing a coon skin cap” (Groneman 2010). However, historical portraits of the man never show the raccoon cap at all, though the fringed leather hunting suit is present. Given the popularity of the caps among children, it is unsurprising that Koering dressed her Crockett in one. The continued popularity of this historical figure, strongly influenced by the Disney film, builds on the connection between Highlights and Walt

Disney.

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In a letter to Garry and Caroline Myers, John Gee wrote “…let’s continue to build up HIGHLIGHTS into something of both lasting value and of real use in giving the children a background of good drawing toward their own future livingness” (23 Oct.

1948). Like them, he was concerned with creating a product that would outlast that of their competitors and be truly wholesome and educational for the children reading it.

Since they eschewed the printing of advertisements, the Myerses depended a great deal on producing content that was original, entertaining, and high in quality. References to popular culture items like Disney films and TV shows might have helped the magazine retain subscribers in an age when television was becoming more and more popular as well as transitioning into full color before the publication was capable of doing the same with its pages. It is also worth noting that the period in which Gee published his

“Cinderella” Hidden Picture was a very tough time for Highlights. Caroline Myers confided to Gee in a letter dated March 2, 1951:

I should like you to know that Garry and I are working without salary –

that news is for you, of course. We hope you won’t pass it on. I think it

would not seem fair if we held your checks and had our own salaries as

usual. But if our competitors knew this they would make capital of it.

They have already been saying that we cannot go on. The printer believes

that it is all going to come out and Garry Jr. has been out there with all the

figures and plans for the future.

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Highlights barely avoided having to close its doors. The arrival of Garry Jr. brought a new sense of purpose and he established new investors that helped the publication keep running through all the turmoil (Greider 9).

Whether intentionally or not, Highlights’ use of Disney products in their magazine allows them to borrow a little bit of the magic created by “the happiest place on earth.” What the publication lacked during this time period was a means of translating their dream magazine into a commodity that could be sold more effectively. The

Myerses were capable of producing the finest content available, but their choice to not print advertisements meant that all of their revenue had to come from subscriptions.

Several times in letters to John Gee, they mention that they “hope to fill the inside covers with ads which will help financially” (9 May 1951), yet such a thought never seems to have come to fruition. Only once Garry Jr. arrived to refresh the marketing side of the business did Highlights begin to recover. During this period is when the magazine began selling subscriptions to doctor and dentist offices, exposing larger numbers of children to what Highlights had to offer. Like Disney, the publication had to learn to take advantage of the commodity that is childhood in order to make a business selling children’s literature.

These three snapshots demonstrate the impact of Highlights on history as well as the influence of historical time periods on the publication. The extended analysis of the

Army testing and the Myers Mental Measure provides additional understanding of how the Myerses were involved in the advent of standardized testing, which has had lasting significance for generations of Americans that is still ongoing as our testing procedures

135 become more and more complex. My analysis of the Space Race content within the magazine adds additional nuance to my discussion of the same time period in Chapter

Four. By focusing on this investigation separately, I was able to make connections not only to childhood literature, but to technological innovations in recent history and to current turbulent events in our country. Exploring the work of Gee and other artists in

Highlights enabled me to make visual as well as textual connections between the magazine and one of the most influential children’s media companies in U.S. history.

The significance of these snapshots points to further research to be done with Highlights.

There are numerous time periods within the magazine that I have not discussed, or that I addressed in combination with adjacent decades. A reversed trajectory of analysis that starts in the present and traces various cultural, historical, and social backwards in time through the publication is another opportunity that is made possible through this research.

In the future, I hope to expand on some of these ideas in new and even more interesting directions.

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Conclusion: The Future of Childhood Literature

The intersection of childhood and children’s literature is an important and underutilized area of study. Research in this area creates an interdisciplinary bridge between the fields of English, education, and history, allowing scholars to make new connections about the nature of childhood literature. While my analysis has focused primarily on one print magazine series that covers a large period of time, additional research needs to be done across genres, authorial bodies of work, and trends in children’s literature. Many scholars now attempt to connect a singular text to the context of when and by whom it was written, but this is just the first step towards fully understanding how the whole field of children’s literature is affected by socio-cultural influences across time. By analyzing children’s literature as childhood literature, I hope to continue this work in as many avenues as possible and I hope to encourage others to do this work as well. The future of childhood literature lies in understanding our past so we can create new and even better stories for future generations.

Throughout this dissertation, I have sought to reconnect Highlights for Children

Magazine with a variety of historical contexts. Within Chapter 1 I define children’s literature and childhood, and use those definitions to form the basis for my analysis of what I call childhood literature. Researching these two fields together adds nuance and depth to concepts of both. In Chapter 2, I explored the lives of the founders, Garry and

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Caroline Myers, and analyzed how their education, work, and outlook on life influenced the creation of this publication. From their births at the turn of the 20th century, to their extensive educations, to their work with families on the psychology of raising children, the Myerses were truly pioneers in children’s education and much good has come of their work in the magazine and beyond. Chapter 3 further examined how this background contributed to the overarching philosophy of Highlights. Numerous recurring features such as “Let’s Talk Things Over,” “Sammy Spivens,” and “Letters to the Editor” contributed to the ideology of the founders and conveyed that message to the readers. I conducted a chronological analysis in Chapter 4, where the discussion of popular works of childhood literature in tandem with Highlights filled in historical and contextual gaps in both the magazine and in what is published for children over the timeline from 1946 to

1990. Finally, in Chapter 5 I pursued three smaller inquiries into the nature of childhood and how it has affected both children’s literature and the content of this publication. I extended my exploration of the Army tests conducted by the Myerses, studied how Space

Race articles contributed to a national obsession with space travel, and examined the illustrations of the magazine’s first Art Director for connections to the Walt Disney

Company.

All of this research now culminates in a desire to continue this quest into the liminal space between childhood and children’s literature and elucidate how interdisciplinary socio-historical analysis can continue to further scholarship in these two fields. Thus far, I have combined literacy studies, reader-response theory, ethnographies of reading, and the social history of books (Lundin and Wiegand xvii) to explore

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Highlights as one example of print culture. Numerous other children’s magazines exist in library archives and collections, and analysis of these ephemeral but still lingering pieces of literature could add significantly to understanding of the liminality of childhood literature. Consideration of early 19th century children’s periodicals, such as The Juvenile

Magazine or Girl’s Own Paper alongside modern equivalents such as Highlights,

Cricket, and others, could create a timeline that extends from our earliest recognition of literature for children through to the present. This, combined with analysis of novels and picture books, is necessary to build a stronger understanding of all of print culture, childhood, and children’s literature, along with all the spaces in between.

As science fiction author Robert A. Heinlein writes, “A generation which ignores history has no past—and no future” (1973). I believe that any analysis of children’s literature must look to the past in order to understand its present—or its future. Studies of childhood are inherently rooted in the time period they come from, but often do not acknowledge where we as researchers started and how our perspective influences our understanding of the past. Contextualizing one childhood text against another helps to mitigate this tendency, and has the benefit of adding to the works in question. The intersection of childhood and children’s literature is a space for bringing together seemingly disparate texts, concepts, and disciplines to formulate new theories of the role of childhood literature in promoting socio-cultural ideas. Once created, these new ideas continue adding to the conversation, maintaining the paradox of that indefinable concept we call children’s literature.

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