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The ‘Svorking poor”: Single mothers and the1 9 state, 1 1 -1 9 5 0
Rowe, Joyce Louise, Ph D. The Ohio State University, 1993
UMI 300 N. Zeeb Rd. Ann Aii»r, MI 48106
THE "WORKING POOR":
SINGLE MOTHERS AND THE STATE, 1911-1950
DISSERTATION
Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for
the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate
School of the Ohio State University
3y
Joyce Louise Rowe, B.A., M.A.
The Ohio State University
1993
Dissertation Committee: Approved by
Dr. Leila Rupp
Dr. Warren Van Tine
Dr. Susan Hartmann Adviser
Department of History VITA
Joyce L. Rowe November 27, 1949 ...... B:»rn-'Portland, Maine
1974 ...... B.A., Philosophy, Syracuse University, Syracuse, New York
1981 ...... M.A., History, University of Maine, Orono, Maine
1984-1988 ...... Graduate Teaching Assistant, Ohio State University
1988-1991 ...... Visiting Assistant Professor, University of Texas, Arlington
1991-1992 ...... Temporary Assistant Professor, University of Georgia, Athens, Georgia
1992-Present ...... Temporary Assistant Professor, University of Alabama, Tuscaloosa, Alabama
FIELDS OF STUDY
Major Field: History Women's History, American and European Adviser: Dr. Leila Rupp
History of American Social Welfare
American Labor History Adviser: Dr. Warren Van Tine
XI TABLE OF CONTENTS
VITA ...... ii
LIST OF TABLES ...... v
CHAPTER PAGE
I. INTRODUCTION ...... 1
A. Contemporary Welfare Reform: The Precarious Position of Welfare Mothers in the Modern Welfare State ...... 1 B. Conceptual Framework: Women's Culture and Consciousness v. Feminist Political Approach and Theories of Social Control...... lb C. The Family and Work Ethics: "Woman's Place" in America's Evolving Relief System, Colonial Times to the Late 19th Century...... 39
11. MOTHERS' PENSIONS: INEXPENSIVE WORK-RELIEF PROGRAMS ...... 71
A. The Context of the Pensions Movement: The Progressive Approach to Society ...... 77 B. The Limited Role of Family Preservation and Work Concerns in the Pension Movement ....84 C. The Mothers' Pension Program v. State Foster Care Systems: A "Cheap" Substitute? ...... 95 D. The Interests of the State: Children at Home with "Good" Mothers ...... 114
111. RELUCTANT DOMESTICS, ENTITLED MOTHERS ...... 129
A. Single Mothers: Reluctant Domestics ...... 134 B. Pensioned Mothers and the Irregular Labor Market ...... 148 C. Women's Consciousness: The "Right" to Aid?.. 159 D. Women's Consciousness: The "Fitness" Factor..173 E. Who Decides "Employability?" Shifts in the Work-Welfare Policy for Welfare Mothers, 1933-1935 ...... 187
111 CHAPTER PAGE
IV. GRANTS OR JOBS? SINGLE MOTHERS AND THE WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION ...... 210
A. Women on the WPA: Who were they? ...... 214 B. Unlikely Workers: Barriers to Jobs for Single Mothers ...... 220 C. The ADC "Option" and WPA Opportunities .... 2^0 D. Breaking Through the Barriers: The Art of Getting Jobs in Minneapolis: Case Studies, 1935-1940 ...... 252
V. FOSTER CARE AND SINGLE MOTHERS: THE MINNESOTA CASE ...... 292
A. National Transitions in Foster Care Methods: From Institutions to Free Homes and Boarding Homes ...... 299 B. The Minnesota Foster Care System: The Limitations of a "Model" Program ...... 308 C. Growth in Minnesota's Boarding Home System: A Qualified Gain ...... 324
VI. SEPARATING MOTHERS AND CHILDREN: COERCION, RESISTANCE, COOPERATION ...... 345
A. The Minneapolis Children's Protective Society: The Functions of Minneapolis's Major Child Placement Agency ...... 351 B. The "Home Situations" of Single Mothers of Children in the National Foster Care Caseload, 1933 ...... 3G2 C. Behind the Raw Statistics: Why Children Were Away From Homes and Mothers ...... 371 D. The Politics of Boarding Home Financing .... 411 E. Pre-empting Women's Decisions: The Role of Social Agencies in Separating Single Mothers From Their Children ...... 423
VII. CONCLUSION: TOWARDS WORKFARE ...... 436
A. The WPA: The Closing Years and Single Mothers' Reluctance to Return to the Private Sector ..438 B. Towards Workfare: ADC and Work during the 1940s and 1950s ...... 445
BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 462
iv LIST OF TABLES
TABLE PAGE
1. Children in foster care, 1923, by type of care... 322
2. Children in foster care, 1930, 31 states ...... 325 and B.C.
3. Children in foster care, 1930, Minnesota ...... 325
4. Children placed by different agencies and institutions, Minnesota, 1930 ...... 328
5. Children in foster care, 1933, United States and Minnesota ...... 333
6. Children in foster care, 1930 and 1933, United States and Minnesota ...... 333
7. Support for foster care from public funds, 1933, United States- and Minnesota ...... 336
8. Minnesota foster home care, 1933 ...... 352
9. Percentage distribution of children in foster care with mothers living and no fathers in the home, by whereabouts of mothers and fathers, 1933, United States ...... 365
10. Children in foster care with mothers living and no fathers in the home, by whereabouts of mothers and fathers, 1933, United States ...... 367
11. Foster care children of single mothers by whereabouts of mothers, 1933, United States .... 369
12. Foster care children of single mothers by whereabouts of mothers: Children's Protective Society case sample and 1933 Census, United States ...... 372 13. Percentage distribution of legitimate and illegitimate children in foster care according to whereabouts of mothers, 1)33, United States...433
14. Percent distribution of legitimate and illegitimate children, by type of foster care, December 1)33, United States ...... 425
VI CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION
A. Contemporary Welfare Reform: The Precarious Position of Welfare Mothers in the Modern Welfare State
In January of 1991, Governor Pete Wilson of California toured an infant-care hospital ward and later answered some questions from reporters concerning his plan to reduce welfare payments. Responding to queries regarding the potential impact of these cuts on mothers receiving
Aid to Families With Dependent Children, Governor Wilson explained that he was "convinced they'll be able to pay the rent. They will have less for a six-pack of beer. I don't begrudge them the six-pack of beer, but it is not an urgent necessity." Advocacy groups for the poor pledged to fight an energetic battle against the new plan of the governor, whose remarks "displayed ignorance about, and insensitivity to, the plight of the poor."^
Governor Wilson's comments reveal both a perspective that is shared by many and the tenacity of old myths about the poor. Centuries ago, an English poor law official probably would have made a similar comment in reference to young, able-bodied males. In today's world, politicians
1 and administrators are just as likely to target these
kinds of accusations at the single mothers who head the
great majority of AFDC families. Inherent in such remarks
are the beliefs that single mothers waste the money
granted to them by the state, that they are responsible
for their own poverty, and that they are less moral than
the rest of the population. At the same time, however,
these women are held to a higher standard of morality, barred from indulging in "vices" that the wealthier can afford, while in a consumer society their activities are confined to the consumption only of "urgent necessities."
The efforts in California to reduce the cost of welfare have been mirrored throughout the United States at both the state and national level for over two decades.
Aid to Families With Dependent Children was established in
1935, along with old age insurance, aid to the blind, and unemployment insurance, as part of the Social Security
Act. The national program, then called Aid to Dependent
Children (ADC), was built on earlier, smaller state plans called the Mothers' Pensions. The ADC program had a short life as a program designed to enable mothers to stay home; at the state level by the 1950s, and at the national level by the 1960s, administrators increasingly introduced reforms designed to reduce costs by steering welfare mothers into the labor force. The Work Incentive Program (WIN) of 1967 enabled AFDC mothers in all states to work without seeing their welfare checks diminish dollar-for-dollar as their earnings increased. By the
1980s, however, conservative reformers began to develop
"workfare" plans which eventually did away with most earnings exemptions and aimed to force mothers to "work off" their welfare payments. With the passage of the
Family Security Act of 1988, Democratic and Republican
Congressional Representatives colluded to produce a law, the purpose of which was clearly to eliminate the option of any single mother using AFDC payments to remain home and care for her children. Thus the thrust of welfare reform in recent years has been to reduce benefits and compel work, even among women who obviously lack the skills and assets to compete effectively in the labor market.
There are many reasons for the accelerating tendencies on the part of lawmakers to demand self-reliance from welfare mothers. The original cause for alarm was the growing realization that ADC— a program which New Deal legislators thought would "wither away" as widows were covered under expanding social insurance programs— was increasing in size and extending to demographic groups which had been marginal in the original state plans. In
1940, there were 1 million ADC recipients, and the number increased steadily each decade, reaching 3 million by
1960. During the 1960s. however, rapid growth brought the
total to 10 million by 1971 and 11 million four years
later. Increases during the early 1980s notwithstanding,
the number of recipients stabilized at roughly 11 million
during the late 1970s and mid-1980s. During these time
periods, the types of families dominating the rolls also
changed. In 1931, 82% of the women receiving mothers'
pensions were widows; by 1950, the father was dead in only
18% of AFDC families, and as the decades passed, widows
became a minor portion of the AFDC caseload. In 1940, AFDC
families in which the father was alive but "absent"
accounted for 30% of the families, and by 1960, this
figure had doubled. In 1977, 80% of all AFDC families were
headed by divorced, separated, deserted, or unwed mothers.
This latter category was particularly troublesome to
policymakers. In 1937, only 3.5% of ADC children had
unmarried mothers. By 1961, the mothers were unmarried in over a fifth of all AFDC families, and by the early 1970s,
their percentage was almost one-third. Further rapid
increases in out-of-wedlock births, coupled with the growing tendency for women to keep their children, brought
the percentage of AFDC families in which the mothers had not married the father to 53% by 1986.^ The increase in costs and the growth of what many
perceived as "problem families" on the rolls led to
government efforts to trim the size of the programs. The
increasing labor force participation of both married and
single mothers not currently on welfare has convinced
policy makers that there is no reason why AFDC mothers
should not also work, and statistics which include
employment histories of welfare mothers have also
encouraged lawmakers to believe that they can and should
work full-time, ALL the time. The most recent legislation,
the Family Security Act of 1988, aims to push mothers to
rely completely, after a short period of assistance
through government subsidized child and medical care, on
the substandard wages that their earning power can produce.
Ironically enough, the attack on the welfare state has intensified during the same period when researchers began
to describe the phenomenon known as the "feminization of poverty." This concept refers not only to the increasing occurrence of poverty among women (especially those with children), but also to the growth of poverty among female-headed families at the same time that male-headed families escaped it. By the official poverty counts, 22% of the population was poor in 1960, but the affluence of the 1960s reduced the proportion to 12% by 1969. Most of the benefiting families, however, were those headed by white men. During the 1970s, the number of families headed by women doubled and comprised 15% of all families by the
1980s. The next major rise is the official poverty count occurred from 1979 to 1983, during which time period the percentage of Americans who were poor increased from 11.7% to 15.2%. By 1984, the figure had dropped to 14.4%, but three-fourths of the families which had improved their lot were headed by white males. Whereas 35% of all female-headed families were poor, the same was true of only 7% of two-parent families. It was clear by the 1980s that women and children constituted the fastest growing group among the poor; they were five times as likely to be poor than were two-parent families, and while representing
16% of American families, they constituted 48% of all poor families in 1984.^
The reasons for the high proportion of female-headed families among the poor are too well-known and obvious to require extended comment here. One, of course, is simply the growth in the number of such families, a demographic change which has its roots in changing social mores, the reluctance to live in extended families, and rising divorce rates, often a product of women's greater expectations in marriage. The enduring cultural assumption that women will take virtually all the responsibility for child care has continued to interfere with women's ability
to escape the low-paying half of the dual labor market.
Racial and ethnic discrimination takes its toll on black
and Hispanic single mothers, who are approximately twice
as likely to be poor as are white single mothers.*
While the poverty statistics refer to all single mothers, it is important to note that mothers receiving
AFDC did not escape the poverty line. Cash welfare benefits are deliberately kept well below that line. Yet even contemporary liberals who favor the endurance of the welfare state have implied that women who receive the entire package of AFDC checks, public housing, food stamps, and medical care fare much better than do many
two-parent families that do not qualify for AFDC. This claim, which may be valid in regard to a minority of AFDC families, is part of a broader argument which posits a dichotomy between the "welfare poor" and the "working poor." Whereas the former are those who rely on public assistance for the bulk of their sustenance, the latter refer generally to those who are poor despite their full-time engagement in the labor market.^
In a more specific manifestation, the "working poor" refers to two-parent families that remain poor despite the full-time work of at least one parent. The term is sometimes used to distinguish this type of family from those that have been subsumed under the feminization of
poverty analysis. Scholars who focus on the working poor
argue that the central and most definitive poverty
phenomenon of the last two decades is not its
feminization, but the inability of full-time workers in certain sectors of the economy to earn decent incomes. The key force generating the existence of the working poor is the nature of labor markets in advanced technological capitalism. Unlike conservative economists who argue that steady economic growth will gradually dissolve the
"marginal" problem of poverty, analysts such as David
Gordon and Barry Bluestone argue that the type of growth fostered by traditional policies ensures the endurance of low wages for too many people. The problem is not just
"dual labor markets," in which white men enter by one door and women and minorities by another, but the much more complex structure which Bluestone has called the
"tripartite economy." In this three-part structure, only those who work at the "core," in the highly capitalized, unionized firms that provide "good jobs" at decent wages, are assured security against poverty. The large numbers of people who work in the jobs of the peripheral economy, many of which appear to be respectable, white collar occupations in small retail, service, or clerical firms, are likely to receive wages near or below the poverty line. Those who cannot compete in either of these join the
irregular economy, which is generally the odd-job world of
the ghetto or something very close to it. Barred from the
periphery and core by a variety of discriminatory factors
and other disadvantages, these workers sometimes earn
more in jobs invisible to the 1RS than they would in the
regular sectors, yet they are still poor.^
From this point of view, the central economic problem
of the late 20th century is the failure of advanced
capitalism to create enough "good jobs." Too many people
are left at the periphery or in the irregular economy, and
studies have shown that advances in education and skill do
not necessarily ensure anyone's chances of breaking
through to the core. The problem lies less in the worker's
supply of abilities than in the demands of peripheral
industries for workers at low wages. While not denying
that certain groups of women count among those most
vulnerable to poverty, some working poor theorists have
implied that placing too much emphasis on female-headed
families may obscure these larger forces at work in
sustaining the low wages that create poverty.^
Although analysts who focus on the working poor
emphasize different aspects of the problem than do those who claim that women command center stage, the two views are not incompatible. The problem lies in pitting a 10
"working poor" against a "welfare poor." Despite countless studies which have repeatedly shown that welfare mothers worked before, after, and during their relatively brief stints with AFDC, most people continue to envision them as a group removed from the labor force. Misleading national
AFDC studies of the 1960s and 1970s, which show only small proportions of working AFDC mothers, support this misconception. Inappropriate comparisons with middle-class mothers and "working mothers" whose children are older than those of the average AFDC mother also exaggerate the gap between the labor force participation of welfare mothers and other women. The argument that welfare mothers should work because large numbers of single mothers work full-time and do not receive welfare ignores the fact that many of these non-AFDC mothers probably did receive support in the past or will in the future. More importantly, welfare mothers share many of the employment problems encountered by the working poor when they face the tripartite economy. While it cannot be denied that many welfare mothers bring little "human capital" to the employment office, advances in education, skill, and training opportunities have done little to help them enter jobs that lift them from poverty and enable them to support their children. 11
One of the purposes of the chapters to follow is to
show that the dichotomy between the "working poor" and the
"welfare poor" is, from both a contemporary and historical
perspective, a false one. These groups are not mutually
exclusive and even when conceived separately, they both
point to the irony that in an affluent society, certain
people remain poor. One factor in this dilemma is that
these groups seem to be almost hopelessly barred from
gaining access to either the core or to sustaining jobs
within the periphery. The feminization of poverty analysis
is needed because women and children are the fastest
growing group among the poor and because mothers encounter
special problems, particularly that of child care, that
are not equally shared by two-parent households and poor
men. But the analysis of their problems points to several
of the dilemmas encountered by low-paid workers in
contemporary society.
Many contemporary analysts who have paid attention to
employment studies of welfare mothers over the last few
decades would concede to this view. A stronger criticism
of the feminism of poverty focus is the argument that what we are seeing today is actually a manifestation of the
"minoritization" of poverty. From this view, the shape of recent poverty is primarily a problem of race rather than gender. That non-whites are overrepresented among the poor 12
in general and among poor women in particular cannot be denied. In the mid-1980s, approximately 34% of the black and 29% of the Hispanic populations in the U.S. were poor, as compared to 12% of the white population. Whereas 27% of white female-headed families had incomes below the poverty line, over half of both their black and Hispanic counterparts were poor. Since black and Hispanic mothers make up almost half of the women in the U.S. who head their own households, almost 60% of all AFDC families in
1984 were non-white. While roughly a third of white single mothers received AFDC payments in 1984, 57% of all
Hispanic single mothers and 55% of all black single mothers were on welfare. Thus the black and Hispanic populations in a nation which is 80% white are obviously more likely to be poor and to require welfare than is the g white population.
These statistics provide strong grounds on which to argue that racial issues may provide the basic key to understanding the endurance of poverty in the land of plenty. There is little doubt but that whites, including white women, stand a better average chance of escaping poverty than do non-whites. This does not, however, mean that race alone accounts for the obvious feminization of poverty. In the mid-1980s, when only 7% of two-parent families were poor, 27% of white female headed families 13
had incomes below the poverty line. Whereas the situation of black and Hispanic single mothers is deplorable, the prospects for white single mothers are also unpromising.
Poverty today is a manifestation of both the feminization and the minoritization of poverty, and to define it as a strictly minority problem is to underestimate the serious disadvantages and discriminations faced by all women who aim to support their children alone.
That it is a women's problem as well as a minority problem is confirmed by history. Women of all races, especially those alone with children, always made up disproportionate numbers of the poor. If it is more apparent today, it is largely because the percentage of single mothers has grown. In earlier periods, black women suffered the most because they were not welcomed by the private and public welfare offices which often rendered aid to some white women. Among white women, relief offices also made distinctions; those who most conformed to dominant ideologies regarding "women's place" were more likely to receive assistance than were those who had left their husbands or given birth out of wedlock. Yet it is important to note thatin all cases, the concerns of welfare officials with costs always pre-empted any concerns with women's special problems and with the disadvantages women always experienced in available labor 14
markets. As section C of this chapter will show, welfare
officials at nearly every stage of American history
compelled low-wage labor from all groups of women for the
sake of economy. The exceptions were those periods of
national emergencies, usually depressions, when the labor
force participation of large groups of women was less desirable. Therefore the current attempt to reduce and eventually eliminate welfare by compelling work, although more blatant and determined than those efforts of the past, is consistent with past policy regarding work and welfare for single mothers. In short, most poor single mothers have always been treated, and have likewise behaved, as part of the "working poor."
One major purpose of this dissertation is, therefore, to show that single mothers as a group have almost always been compelled to work. It may be objected that this is not an original proposition, as "everyone knows that welfare mothers work." Yet one of the central tenets of recent welfare reform is the belief that welfare mothers should "start working" because non-welfare mothers were increasing their labor force participation. The insinuation is that single mothers on welfare have been able to exercise the freedom to stay home, a choice that is increasingly less available to other women. The thrust of most past and present policies, however, has actually 15
been quite the opposite: policymakers have never made it
possible for welfare mothers tomake the choice that was
hailed when selected by middle and upper class married women: to remain home and be full-time mothers. In
chapters 2 and 3, the mothers' pensions movement, a
program for "elite" worthy widows, is used as the vehicle
for the argument that government policies have generally aimed to place single mothers on welfare in low wage
labor markets. If governments did not show favor to this group of white, "morally-upright" widows, then they were unlikely to grant any group of mothers the right to remain home and care for their children.
One theme of this dissertation thus deals with the work-oriented thrust of several welfare policies affecting single mothers and the prevalence of work among these women. Although the time period which receives the most attention is 1911 through 1940, the latter part of this introduction summarizes the welfare policies of earlier periods in order to reveal the consistency of the work emphasis in welfare programs. Before turning to that topic, however, it is necessary to present a framework for the present study and a brief discussion of the types of sources to be used. Historians have written little about single mothers. The approach and sources which would best enable one to write a portion of their history are 16
therefore neither apparent nor suggested by prior works
and require some experimentation.
B. Conceptual Framework; Women's Culture and Consciousness v. Feminist Political Approach and Theories of Social Control
During the 1960s, single mothers joined forces with
sympathetic liberals and formed the National Welfare
Rights Organization (NWRO). The political battles waged by
NWRO were to a considerable extent responsible for the
increase in the size and scope of AFDC benefits during
that era. NWRO drew considerable attention to the plight
of single mothers, and the subsequent attack on the
welfare state and the "discovery" of the feminization of
poverty during the 1970s and 80s generated further
research concerning this particular group of women.^
Very little, however, is known about single mothers
from a historical perspective. Some works in women's
history have discussed the disadvantaged position of
female-headed families in the past, but most works contain only general summaries of their historical situations. A few recent works represent departures from this trend. In a study of single mothers in Boston, Linda Gordon analyzes the conceptual definitions of single motherhood and child 17
neglect. Beverly Stadum's work on women involved with
Minneapolis welfare agencies explores, among other topics,
the survival strategies of single mothers as part of her
larger study.
Both of these works were based on case records of
social agencies. Together with interviews and letters,
case records, which are the basis of the present study,
provide an abundance of sources with which to begin
constructing a history of single mothers in the 20th
century. The challenge is to find the best approach by
which to say something meaningful about this large yet
distinct group of women. The emerging studies about
welfare mothers of the 1920s, 30s, and 40s, will certainly
not read like the literature of the contemporary welfare
rights movement, in which politicized welfare mothers were
united in a common cause. An exploration of political,
collective activity does not provide a very useful
framework for the study of earlier periods. Prior to the
1960s, welfare mothers did not compose a cohesive group
self-conscious of shared interests; much like the domestic
servants that they often were, these women lived and worked in relative isolation from one another. In an age before public housing, they resided in poor scattered
lodgings and lacked even the "advantage" of the geographical and sociological unity of the ghetto. 18
Although there were some notable exceptions to this
general condition, single mothers for the most part lacked
group consciousness. The feminist movement of the early
decades, divided and confused by the issues of protective
legislation, had not developed a particularly astute
analysis of the situation of welfare mothers and could not
provide a focus for their grievances.
An alternative approach might be to explore the
earlier decades for evidence of the seeds of later
political activism and feminist and class consciousness
among welfare mothers. A possible framework would then be
the well-known "women's culture" approach to women's
history, which has been used by some scholars as a means
of discerning the growth of group consciousness among
women, and by others simply as a tool by which to learn
more about the lives of women whose stories were not
recorded in the annals of politics or reform movements.
The examination of women's culture emerged in the 1970s as
a corrective to the former virtually exclusive political
emphasis on women's position as victims of sexist society.
This "oppression model" had by that time generated a host
of studies whose focus was the ways in which women
struggled against male domination. Among the limitations of this obviously necessary approach was the tendency
to explore women's lives largely in relation to those 19
societal agents and institutions which restricted women's
freedom. The political approach failed to consider the
possibility that women had carved out their own culture,
one meaning of which is a creative, semi-autonomous
"women's sphere" apart from the images and ideas held by
the dominant culture. Achievements that were neither political nor "exceptional" received little attention within this framework.
Just as slaves had created a semi-autonomous slave culture through which they resisted the dehumanization of slavery even as they lived within its confines, so did
19th century women create "female worlds." Women's culture as it has pertained to that era refers to the "broad-
based commonality of values, institutions, relationships, and methods of communication, focused on domesticity and morality." Women's historians have argued about the relationship between women's culture and feminism; some emphasize that early feminists rejected women's culture, while others suggest that women's culture, although consistent with dominant ideology, helped generate feminist consciousness by making women aware of themselves as a group. Although commonly referring to 19th century developments, the meaning of women's culture may be expanded to designate more generally "women's sphere" of any period, as that sphere is created, understood, and 20
experienced by women themselves apart from the images cast
by the dominant definers of culture. This approach has
illuminated our knowledge of women's past by viewing
female worlds from the inside as "lived experience.
While obviously a needed corrective and one which
provides a more comprehensive view of women's experience,
the women's culture approach has been subject to
significant criticisms. The earliest and best known
studies, for example, tended to focus upon and, to some
extent, universalize the experience of white, middle-class
women. Some practitioners of this approach were accused
of romanticizing women's past in isolation of the
socio-economic factors that shaped women's culture and may
have even necessitated its creation. That 19th century
women wrote letters to and formed relationships with one
another is interesting, but this by itself fails to
address the fact that pivotal groups of feminists
consciously rejected the world these women had made.
Without an explicit analysis of the relationship between
women's culture and the feminist movement, explorations of
female worlds deteriorate into descriptive exercises which
laud women's creativity without providing a clue concerning the vehicles of change. To fail to relate women's sphere to the dominant forces of the larger culture is to validate outside forces which have set the 21
perimeters of the female world and to imply that women's
culture is an insular arena of partial freedom, a "safe
place."
If the women's culture approach may be used as an
analytic tool in a study of single mothers, it must be applied to a particular version of the above debate. In
the field of social welfare history, the parallel to the opposition between the feminist political and women's culture approaches takes a form which historians are only beginning to explore. The counterpart to the oppression model is the social control theme, which has been a part of many disciplines but received its most powerful expression and stimulated the most debate among social welfare historians. The social control theme comes in several versions, at times referring merely to the process of socialization as performed by the schools, churches, social agencies, and other institutions which serve the state by assuming formerly parental roles. Many liberals and conservatives who do not adhere to social control views would consider this type to be benevolent.
In more extreme and specific renditions, scholars have applied the term "social control" to those activities of dominant groups which manipulate welfare programs and the labor market to ensure the availability of a cheap, docile working class. From this perspective, social caseworkers 22
are the agents (albeit possibly unwitting agents) of
capitalism rather than altruistic do-gooders concerned
with their clients' well-being. The social control thesis,
especially after it was expressed in the more extreme form
by Frances Fox Piven and Richard Cloward in the early
1970s, created a stir in social welfare history because
virtually all historians in the field had been
progressives. Scholars in the dominant progressive
tradition had built their work on the assumptions that
19th and 20th century social welfare was primarily
humanitarian in motive, ameliorative in its achievement,
and productive of improvements in the human condition as
knowledge of socio-economic problems and their solutions accumulated. The social control thesis denied all these claims.
Although based on sympathy for welfare clients and imbued with a theory of political change designed to liberate them, the social control tradition did not explore the lives of clients any more than did the mainstream Progressive tradition. Clients entered the tracts on social control only after they were organized in a political protest movement. Scholars in both traditions concerned themselves with leaders, politicians, programs, institutions, agencies, and policies, the one to praise, the other to condemn. Clients were merely the reflection 23
of either their "providers" or their "oppressors." This focus continued to dominate social welfare literature even throughout the 1970s and early 1980s when scholars in other historical fields increasingly adopted the topics and methods of social history. The reasons for this are not difficult to discern. A labor historian could conceive of the empowerment of a day laborer in working-class culture, or that of an immigrant in kinship systems. Most historians of social welfare, however, found it inconceivable that those at the bottom of the barrel, often without home, job, or family, were anything but victims. Regardless of whether they were victims of
"forces" or of "class rulers," clients received little examination in their own right. The welfare poor, those with whom the educated were least likely to identify, 13 remained the furthest reach of social history.
It is for these reasons that the parallel in social welfare history to the women's culture theme is less apparent (and less developed) than is the counterpart to the oppression theme. The discernment of women's culture requires the perspective and tools of social history, and social welfare historians have only in very recent years begun to employ these. It appears that responses to the social control rather than to the humanitarian approach have begun to inspire some younger scholars to shift 24
attention towards the lives of the poor. Whereas
progressives had challenged the social control thesis on
theoretical grounds and by testing its application, a few
others have begun to ask if welfare clients really WERE
controlled and other related questions concerning the
actual lives of the poor. In a 1986 article supportive of
this new trend, Clarke Chambers suggested that social
welfare historians broaden the context of the history of
the welfare poor by using the methods and perspectives of
historians of the family, immigrants, and labor.
Criticizing past approaches which typically proceeded from
"the point at which the state or agencies of the private
sector began to exert their powers," Chambers argued that
a rich and needed history could emerge from analysis of
the many tools used by the poor to survive— kinship
systems, formal and informal networks of support, mutual
assistance among kin and kith, and family cooperative
strategies among the poor. With the use of such sources as case records of welfare agencies, this type of exploration might help to discover a "welfare culture," in the same way that labor historians have discerned working-class culture.
Would these categories provide a basis for learning more about single mothers in an application of the women's culture concept? While without question promising to 25
expand our knowledge of poor women, the nature of these
particular topics and approaches could generate some of
the same problems germane to the women's culture approach.
For example, appreciation for the resilience of the poor
in coping with limited resources through mutual aid should
not obscure analysis of the socio-economic system that has
forced them to open their empty pockets to one another. A
focus on kinship support and other types of mutual aid
overlooks the fact that the only reason we know so much
about these networks is because caseworkers making relief
decisions made sure that THEY knew about them. The first
course of action upon receiving a new client was to
canvass the family terrain for every available source of
funds, which usually meant visits to relatives aimed to
squeeze blood from a stone. In many cases, reliance on kin
was forced in such a manner. More importantly, the use of
the extended "family" most commonly entailed soliciting or
compelling the services of female relatives— aunts,
grandmothers, older sisters--whose new responsibilities
expanded their traditional role as primary caretakers
after their own children were fully grown. From these
various perspectives, one could view kinship networks and mutual aid arrangements— integral components of the welfare culture that one will find when using these lines of inquiry— as equally important instruments of social 26
control.
Historical discussions of the "inventiveness" and
"strategic resourcefulness" of the destitute, whether as
individuals, families, or in kinship systems, are always
complimentary; yet to applaud this behavior is to suggest
that the opposite tactic— seeking the help of public or
private agencies— was not so good. The very choice of
research topics is imbued with value judgments and assumptions about what is commendable; laudatory reviews of self-reliance clearly assume that this should have been
the goal despite a socio-economic system which made such a goal unachievable.
The development of the "family cooperation" theme as a means of exploring the lives of poor mothers suffers some of these same limitations. Scholars such as Renate
Bridenthal, Ellen Ross, Rayna Rapp, and Lois Helmbold have analyzed the problems inherent in the focus on cooperation which has characterized much of family history. Often written in economic language that by its very nature conveys neutrality, some family historians analyze the family as a machine-like abstraction in which rational decisions about who works, when, and where ensure the survival of both the group and individual. Such an approach, while assuming a harmony of interests among family members, overlooks power differentials, conflicts. 27
and the likely use of coercion as a means to implement
"rational decisions." A good example is the older
daughter who would like to leave her family but cannot
because they need her wages, she cannot earn enough on her
own, and the welfare department will not assist her unemployed father because of the money that she is capable of earning. The power differential pertains not only to
the women and her father, but also to the welfare department's power to seal this "decision." Just as is the case with utilization of extended kin, these "cooperative" strategies designed to maximize the resources of the immediate family benefit local taxpayers and are in fact a part of the mechanism of the social control exercised by relief agencies. Functional approaches to the family thus obscure the family's relationship to the economic and political system.
An approach which focuses upon the survival tactics of the poor without reference to the agents and mechanisms of social control tends to romanticize, in the fashion of a cultural approach, the lives of people always on the verge of needing relief. Such an approach clearly does discern a "welfare culture," but one that was a defense against an economy that failed many people. Through kinship networks and family cooperation strategies, this welfare culture sustained and enlarged the role of women 28
as primary, sacrifical caretakers for all categories of
dependents. As such, it was oppressive to women and
hardly a vehicle for their future liberation.
For these reasons, these particular topics, although
unquestionably valuable in studies of the lives of the
poor, will not provide the central framework for the
present study. There are other important reasons why many
of these approaches are less useful here. The single
mothers whose stories provide the basis of this work
rarely benefited by the help of kin or immediate family,
and to posit these categories as primary ones suggests an
availability of support that they in fact did not have.
For single mothers, "family cooperation strategies" often meant plans of caseworkers to coerce their return either
to abusive husbands simply because these men were willing
to support them, or to fathers who had deserted the women's families earlier in life, or to parents with whom
they had impossible relationships. Family cooperation could entail mothers' being forced to send their children
to ex-husbands who had lost custody and never paid a dime of child support but were better-able to provide for the children. Although such incidences as these do receive attention in the following chapters, they serve as indications of conflicts in these women's lives rather
than as the substance of culture. 29
It may appear, then, that the women's culture concept
is not a viable one on which to base a study of single mothers. If family and kinship systems were not central to
their experience, and if they did not communicate with other single mothers or form a political group, then the cultural approach (which usually assumes group connections) may seem irrelevant. Women's culture in its broadest meaning refers to consciousness; culture generally pertains to group creativity rather than individual thought and action. The most salient feature of the lives of the women in this study was, however, their isolation.
Individual thought, response, and decision-making is, however, the basis of future collective action. Although they seldom knew one another, these women faced common experiences and responded to their situations in similar, if unshared, ways. Women who resist their oppression as individuals will surely provide a formidable collective force should the right political circumstances facilitate their unification, as happened in the 1930s. The appropriate question to ask regarding single mothers of earlier periods is not, then, "what group mechanisms did they use in order to survive?" but rather, how did they respond to the oppressive forces which surrounded them? In rejecting the formerly exclusive emphasis on social 30
control, one has options other than to study family and
kin networks which existed before and after the state or private agency intervened. An alternative approach is to explore the ways in which individual women actually reacted to the forces and agents of social control. How did they deal with their caseworkers? Did they permit social agencies to control the economic and personal or moral areas of their lives? How did they feel about the mothers' pensions and other forms of aid upon which they had little choice but to rely? Why did some of them place their children in foster care, and did they support them in these homes and later seek their return? Did they make any use of the few political organizations available to help them during earlier periods of history? What was the nature of their involvement in the labor force? Did they perceive themselves as employables, or did they believe that single motherhood should exempt them from this task?
These and other questions regarding consciousness provide the basis for analysis in this work. What is discerned here may not be "women's culture" in the sense in which that concept is generally used; it is admittedly a variation on the concept, but one that is needed if we are to learn anything meaningful about welfare mothers.
One purpose of the women's culture focus has been to discover arenas or forms of resistance to oppression other 31
than overt political activism; it is in this sense that
women's culture has referred both to group activity and
consciousness. It is this larger meaning of culture which
is the focus here— ideas, creative responses, individual
mechanisms of survival. If the women's culture concept is
generally used to refer to contact between women, that
only points to one of the problems inherent in that
concept: it is the white middle-class woman who has had
the most immediate access to her peers. That poor women did not know one another was part of their dilemma.
Women's culture has referred to. and made much of, the consciousness of the highly articulate; this study will aim to reveal some aspects of the consciousness of the
less articulate while discerning key features of their experience.
The following chapters will use a wide variety of sources. The main documents for women's perspectives will be letters and case records of social agencies. Whereas letters are an obvious source for consciousness, some scholars question the use of case records for any purpose, least of all consciousness. Case records are held suspect because they were composed by middle-class social workers, practitioners of social control who, as agents of the state and dominant groups, did not see the world through their clients' eyes and may have been biased against them. 32
Their version of their clients' experience and behavior
may therefore be distorted, if not false. Even if the
caseworkers attempted to be objective and fair, it can be
argued that their log-entries cannot be used as evidence
of what the women were actually thinking or feeling.
Although these criticisms are valid ones, they can be
answered. In defending the use of case records, Clarke
Chambers has argued that "all historians have braced
themselves to recognize bias in all records and to reach
through layers of subjective description to the objective
conditions beyond."^* Historians routinely use sources
which give second-hand accounts--newspapers, old reports,
biographies. The middle-class bias in the records of
social agencies is in fact quite apparent and it is easy
to see when a judgment concerning a client said more about
the agent than it did about the client. Much of the bias
in these caseworkers' records was expressed as opinion
with which a contemporary reader is not compelled to
agree. There is no reason to believe that the agents
fabricated the actual chain of events in their long, detailed reports. The organizations for whom they worked developed mechanisms designed to forestall any temptations of this nature; workers were rotated on the same cases so
that anyone who dealt with clients in unethical ways might be discovered by later agents. The caseworkers were 33
in fact self-critical at times, admitting that their earlier perceptions of their clients had been modified in the course of the cases. Thus while researchers must examine these records with care, the methods employed to assess the information contained within them resemble the critical and analytical skills which must be used with all sources.
A stronger objection is that case records, although when wisely interpreted provide important information, may not be used to tap women's consciousness. Caseworkers could not read the minds of their clients, especially those women who may have felt it prudent to hide both facts and attitudes. Unlike letters and interviews, agents' records do not provide direct quotes registering women's statements, but rather the caseworkers' memories and interpretations of the day's visits to clients' homes.
Although these observations clearly indicate that case records, as sources of consciousness, must be read with caution, they do not invalidate such use. The behavior and responses of women in regard to such issues as working, child care, the right to assistance, dealings with ex-husbands and boyfriends and other matters, provide clues to consciousness. When a caseworker repeatedly followed her visits with summaries describing a woman's refusal to work, or her insistence upon working, or her 34
determination to keep her children out of foster homes, it
is apparent that these summaries have left us with
indications as to what that woman thought and felt about
some of the central dilemmas in her life. And, as is the case with all sources, some records will reveal more than do others. Single mothers displayed varying degrees of
trust; whereas a few women, eager to confide in someone, told their agents a great deal, others appear almost ghostlike in the records, protecting themselves in silence. Yet even this refusal to talk tells us something about consciousness. It is true that we cannot learn from agency records everything that we would like to know regarding the women's perceptions of their world. The important point is that we have no significant history of single mothers, and case records are one of the few sources from which we may begin to form an impression of their lives.
The records which will be used in this study derive exclusively from social agencies in Minneapolis,
Minnesota. The Social Welfare History Archives at the
University of Minnesota holds large collections of the records of the Minneapolis Family Welfare Association
(FWA) and the Minneapolis Children's Protective Society
(CPS). As the titles of these organizations suggest, the one organization was child-centered, whereas the other 35
dealt more broadly with general family problems. Both,
however, provide a substantial number of single-mother
cases through which topics central to their lives may be
explored. Although both the FWA and CPS were private agencies, their functions brought them into cooperative contacts with public organizations that controlled the mothers' pensions, work-relief programs, and public foster care systems— three subjects which provide the core of this study. Indeed, the activities of public and private organizations were so intertwined that any attempt to approach them as separate topics promotes the false (yet widely-held) belief that the private sphere has historically operated freely of state influence. As clients of private as well as of public agencies, single mothers confronted agents of the state and therefore those who, consciously or unconsciously, promoted dominant ideology. Thus the "state," as used in this work, refers not only to government, but also to that broader constellation of human agents and mechanisms through which the powerful aimed to force the powerless to adhere to the belief systems of those who ruled.
The case records of these Minneapolis agencies, then, provide excellent vehicles through which to explore the responses of single mothers to key agents of social control. The data base consists of roughly 250 cases (125 36
from each agency). Because the nature of this study required that cases involve a specific type of family, it was not possible to employ a random sampling procedure as a basis of selection. Most of the case records on file at the Social Welfare History Archives concern two-parent families, and the only way to locate single-mother situations was to read cases until the family composition became clear. Since the cases generally ranged in length from 40 to 250 pages, (with several reaching nearly 300 pages) this was a very time-consuming process. Therefore I used every single-mother case that I found and stopped at roughly 250 cases, as the patterns that had emerged were repeating themselves.
Most cases derive from the time period between the late 1920s and early 1940s. Due to restrictions on the use of these records, cases which began after 1940 could not be used atthe time this research was conducted. The time-frame selected, however, represents an important period in the evolution of the programs explored. By 1930, the mothers' pensions constituted a seasoned program that was about to undergo a major transformation in 1935. The
Depression saw the first major government work program, the federal Work Projects Administration, which employed significant numbers of single mothers. Foster care had evolved in ways that had diminished the institutional 37
emphasis while promoting paid, temporary boarding care which, as will be shown, was a mixed blessing for single mothers.
The history of social welfare has demonstrated that certain features and trends characterized the development of welfare throughout the United States as a whole.
Equally important to this development, however, were long-standing traditions of local control and sharp regional variations in regard to relief matters. These factors, in addition to significant differences in the treatment proffered by welfare agencies to white and non-white women, make it clear that one state, and a single city, can represent neither all geographical divisions nor all mothers. Minneapolis typifies a large northern urban center which had relatively well-developed social programs by the 1920s and 1930s. Considered by most social welfare leaders to be an advanced, progressive area, Minneapolis (and Minnesota itself) provides an excellent vehicle by which to explore the meaning and value of purportedly "progressive systems" for single mothers. The population of Minneapolis in the 1930s was almost completely white, and with only a very few exceptions, the case records examined in this study had as their subjects white women. It must be remembered, however, that most women who received the mothers' 38
pensions before the 1950s, as well as most children who
entered foster care, were white. The sections of this
study which emphasize the Minnesota experience therefore
contribute to our knowledge primarily of the experiences
of white, single mothers in an area which spokespersons
for social welfare and state interests perceived to count
among the best that the country had to offer.
This dissertation is not, however, entirely a case
study of women in Minnesota. Although the Minneapolis
experience does provide the core, information from other
large cities, letters from women living in the South, and
national statistics have been used both to broaden the
scope of analysis and to place the Minnesota experience in
a larger comparative perspective. And although the study concerns primarily white women, black women who tried to acquire pensions and who worked on the Work Projects
Administration will receive attention.
Beginning with the Mothers' Pension movement of the early 20th century, the following chapters will explore several central features of the "welfare state" and women's experiences with and responses to these programs.
Before discussing the pensions, however, it is necessary to summarize the history of relief for women prior to the pensions, both to elucidate the background and to 39
introduce the historical themes and subjects upon which
the later chapters will elaborate.
C. The Family and Work Ethics; "Woman's Place" in America's Evolving Relief System, Colonial Times to the Late 19th Century
Before discussing the specialized 20th-century
programs for single mothers, it is necessary to explore
the background of the mothers' pensions and the
work-related aspects of all relief programs during
previous eras. The relief available to help poor women
care for their children had a long history by the time the
states began to enact mothers' pension laws in 1911. The
nature of this assistance varied as the approach of both
the state and private agencies to relief in general changed. By the late 18th century, the American relief
system bore the imprint of the Puritan modification of the old English Poor Law. The earlier European tradition had been designed less to provide sustenance than to force people to work for others, a transition in the nature of work that many were resisting. The demand for a work force had also, however, led to a "categorization" of the poor which acknowledged that while some people ware able-bodied, others counted among the blameless, unemployable poor— the old, the sick, and some mothers of 40
young children. The latter group might receive aid rather
than a work assignment or punishment.
The Puritans brought this tradition to America and
modified it according to Puritan ideology regarding work,
family, and natural hierarchies. As in Europe, the
colonial attitude was at once harsh and compassionate,
based on the demand for work and the understanding that
some could not successfully perform it. Puritan ideas regarding natural hierarchies among people contained the seeds of a belief in the inevitability of poverty.
Although some people would always be at the bottom of society, those at the top would help the "deserving," and through this assistance the higher and lower would be held together in a web of mutual need and duty. Since all
Puritans lived and worked in families, the methods of assistance most commonly used involved creating arrangements through which the indigent would live and work in the homes of others who were slightly better off.
In these settings, the poor would receive care while serving an economic purpose.
Before the days of institution-building, "outdoor relief," or cash and in-kind assistance allotted by town officials to private families, was the basic type of aid.
The most widely used method was the auction system, which was in effect an early form of public boarding. Towns 41
placed needy individuals or families in the homes of
people who would take them in at the lowest cost to the
public purse. The host family ensured itself at least a
minimal financial return by integrating the boarders into
the family's economic routines. A more coercive form of
colonial public aid in a family setting was the method of
forced indenture of children. Colonial laws authorized public officials to apprentice the children of relief clients to other families if their own parents were not
teaching them a useful trade. The rationale was that it was a waste of public money to place relief in the home of a family which could not teach the children to become an economic asset to society.
The Puritans made distinctions among people as they distributed help. Since most women did not work outside the home, colonial poor officials could not easily accuse them of shirking the work-ethic. Town officials, however, assessed a woman's entitlement not by the work ethic alone, but by additional criteria which one recent analyst 18 has termed the "family ethic." The latter refers to the moral imperative that women keep society stable by conforming to traditional wife and mother roles.
Differential treatment according to marital status and the family ethic was most evident in the case of widows and unwed mothers. Records of colonial towns suggest that 42
widows with children were sometimes among those who
received aid in their own homes. While the laws that
authorized towns to indenture children fell on all the
poor, it is apparent that unwed mothers were under special
pressures since some town laws compelled church officials
to bind out illegitimate children. A few colonial towns
had developed poorhouses or workhouses, undesirable forms
of "indoor relief." There is evidence that unwed mothers
were among the most common residents in these early
institutions. For example, of 236 women who stayed at a
Boston workhouse between 1754 and 1769, approximately 65 were pregnant women or mothers with children, and only 5 19 of the latter were widows.
Thus some evidence does suggest a punitive approach to
the unwed mother and a more generous approach to the
"deserving" olameless widow. It is less clear how mothers of other statuses— the divorced, separated, deserted, or deserting wives and mothers— fared in this relief system.
Until the 1920s, the number of children who received public outdoor relief in their own homes was unknown, although this form of aid was probably the major way in which most poor children— including those of single mothers— received public support. Therefore it is difficult to reach any conclusions regarding the types of women who received such aid. Nineteenth and twentieth 43
century commentators routinely referred to the "prior claim of the widow on relief," and as late as the 1930s, a government report stated that "the poor law office has always had ample authority for giving sufficient aid to widows" and deserted mothers. Yet it is in fact not possible to know how often widows or any other group of mothers received sufficient aid at home in early American history. The claim that widows commonly received aid at 20 home is largely based on impressionistic information.
It is clear, however, that in work-oriented colonial society, before schools and compulsory education laws had developed, and when children were perceived as little workers, such aid lasted no longer than it had to. A worthy widow or other "worthy" type of single mother might enlist the sympathy of poor relief officials in very small towns, but this was mitigated by the fact that she could become expensive. Outdoor relief throughout its history has been in-kind, small and sporadic rather than sustaining. There was in fact little, if any, concept of paying a woman specifically to take care of her children, who were expected to work from an early age and pay their own way as soon as possible. By the late pre-industrial period, towns sometimes placed widows and children in service and encouraged, if not forced, them to work inmanufactories or take yarn home to spin. 44
Protagonists of American manufacturing increasingly
applied the accusing term "idle" to any unemployed women
who could contribute their skills to the emerging economy,
and widows were not exempt from this expectation. The fact
that any widows at all showed up in the workhouses with
their children also indicates that they were not a class 21 immune to such treatment.
Major changes in the structure of public relief during
the 19th century affected women in a variety of ways. With
the advance of industrial capitalism reformers concluded
that to retain outdoor relief as the primary form of
public assistance would be to invite interference with the
labor market and the "natural" operation of the economy.
As the costs of public relief rose in the early 19th
century, public and private critics believed that this was
a result of indiscriminate public giving and the desire of
the poor to avoid the type of work required by the growing
industrial order. The authors of several major reports
successfully promoted a shift to "indoor relief" as the
dominant form of public assistance. Their hope was that
institutions— the poorhouse and workhouse— would shelter
only those truly unable to support themselves or reform
the able-bodied who were brazen enough to request relief.
The building of these institutions in nearly every county of the U.S. would, supposedly, make people think twice 45
before seeking public help. With only the most desperate requesting aid, the deterrent effects of this system would greatly reduce costs and force the able-bodied to enter the work force at any wage. Although the reformers made no attempt to eliminate outdoor relief completely, the auction system declined, and public authorities encouraged people to seek aid in the growing sector of private charity.
The key change in this sytem was that technically no able-bodied person, regardless of the condition of the economy or wage levels, would receive aid outside of institutions. The entire 19th century saw a growth of the belief that poverty was primarily moral and personal rather than economic in nature. Unlike the Puritans, 19th century reformers did not believe that anyone had a
"right" to aid, and those who could not take care of themselves should, they thought, go to institutions or place themselves at the altruistic mercy of voluntaristic organizations.
These changes affected women differently than men.
Whereas in the case of men, the primary purpose was to make relief less attractive than a job, reformers intended that public aid for women should be less desirable than traditional family life. The available evidence indicates that unwed mothers, already a part of the clientele of the 46
few institutions of the colonial era, comprised
significant portions of the poorhouse populations during
the 19th century. Women giving birth outside of
traditional family structures would henceforth find little help outside the poorhouse. On the other hand, there is evidence that widows continued to receive preferential treatment from both the public and private sector. Most early 19th century towns and cities had some version of a
"society for the relief of widows." These and similar private associations focused on the problems of widows and children and some would deal only with "legitimate" children. Statistics from various cities also suggest that even after institutional aid became the central form of public assistance, widows continued to receive public outdoor relief and could care for their children at home.
In Philadelphia and New Bedford, Massachusetts, from approximately 30% to 50% of the people receiving outdoor aid appear to have been widows with children at various points during the century. Thus it is apparent that mothers received types of aid commensurate with what public officials saw as their compliance with traditional family roles.
As was true of the colonial era, the situation of divorced, separated, and deserted women was less clear.
Some of them actually received treatment similar to the 47
clearly blameless widows and appeared in the statistics of
outdoor relief along with the latter. Divorce and
desertion rates were rising in the early 19th century,
however, and clearly policymakers designed relief methods
to curb this trend. Women who left their husbands knew
that the alternative might be institutionalization for the
children or work in the low wage labor market to support
them. While the proponents of the domestic ideology
frowned upon working women, the emerging industrial
society could use their labor. Women's "failure" to adhere
to that ideology by remaining in a marriage gave
manufacturers a rationale to seek their employment without
violating contemporary theories regarding the home. Even
poor married women could be expected to enter the labor
force on the grounds that their husbands had violated the
family ethic by failing to discharge their breadwinner
roles properly; until these men reformed, their unfortunate wives must work.^^
Whether women who violated family norms entered the poorhouse, workhouse, or labor force, the interests of the
industrial order were served. Public and private officials used the criteria of both the work ethic and the family ethic when they made decisions in response to mothers' requests for relief. While the evidence does suggest that widows fared better than other women in these bargains, it 48
is important to note that even they were never guaranteed exclusion from the poorhouse, and agents did not consider that the work ethic was irrelevant to their cases. While perhaps a minority in the institutions, reports from areas such as New York indicate that widows and children did make up significant proportions of poorhouse populations in the 1870s. And even though widows often did receive public outdoor relief, such assistance was often only a supplement to their earnings. Even the private charities which catered to widows were in many cases only granting them advice and a job in the agency's workroom, or taking the children under the agency's wing to free the mother 25 for employment.
If widows and other "deserving" mothers did have somewhat of an edge over those who violated family norms, it is clear that they lost a good part of this advantage by the late 19th century. After the Civil War, reformers once again campaigned successfully for another major transition in the methods of both public and private relief. By the time of the war it had long been apparent that institutions neither rehabilitated the working class nor cut relief costs. Outdoor relief had continued to grow despite the highly expensive poorhouses. The Depressions of the 1870s, combined with the arrival of millions of immigrants, generated a radical growth in the outlays of 49
both public and private agencies. As in the earlier part of the century, reformers assumed that the increasing demands for relief were a result of the easy availability of assistance rather than a genuine need for it. According to this view, the indiscriminate granting of aid had led the poor to think of relief as their "right." The consequence was a breakdown in relations between the classes that led to labor strikes, the growth of socialist 26 parties, and self-inflicted pauperism.
These ideas were not new. Early 19th century critics had likewise believed in "willful" dependency and were concerned that the working class seemed to be showing less and less deference to their "betters." What was new in the post-civil War era was the fact that the latter movement was led by businesslike, scientific reformers from the private sector who went to extremes to streamline all relief. These private reformers, founders and agents of the well-known Charity Organization Societies, conducted their battle on two fronts to make as little aid as possible available outside of institutions (which were themselves being restructured). First, they ran an energetic and ultimately successful campaign to convince city governments to eliminate their outdoor aid completely. The COS leaders believed that,were aid given outside of institutions, it should be granted only by 50
private sources to which the poor would feel gratitude,
the cement of strong class relations. The condition of
private organizations, however, had become part of the problem by the 1870s, and these organizations thus became
the second reform front. Proliferating at a rapid rate since the 1820s, these agencies had developed independently of one another and made no effort to coordinate their activities within the same cities.
Critics believed that this inefficient, unbusinesslike approach had led to profiteering among the poor, who were supposedly prone toward feeding on one private resource after another. With no central umbrella organization, investigative methods had become very sloppy and a great deal of duplication of relief had occurred. Without granting aid, the COS's would serve as the central coordinating agency, drawing up registers of clients, implementing rigid investigative procedures, and referring those deemed worthy of private aid to the appropriate organization. The hope was, however, that little such aid would be necessary, as the COS provided friendly advice designed to make the poor see the error of their ways and 27 begin to rebuild their lives on a sound economic basis.
With the purported scientific basis of their movement and emphasis on efficiency, classification, and businesslike methods, the COS leaders were in keeping with 51
the spirit of the times. Rehashing old ideas in a more rigid, systematic form, they developed a scheme by which they thought they could force most of the poor, especially immigrants, to cooperate as a steady, reliable labor force. Ultimately the COS failed, yet the reforms developed under their banner took a great toll on the poor during the last decades of the 19th century, when those who ruled over public and private welfare sectors accepted
COS methods and philosophy. Public outdoor relief, held in low repute since the opening of the century, reached its nadir in these years. Many major population centers, including Philadelphia, New York, B.C., Brooklyn, and St.
Louis, eliminated the practice completely, and many others reduced the amounts available. In these places people had no choice but to rely upon the good graces of voluntaristic organizations, go to the poorhouse, or 28 attempt to survive on substandard wages.
In this atmosphere, all single mothers encountered difficulty acquiring assistance of any type. Some of the leaders of the COS admitted that they did not believe that even single motherhood was a legitimate reason for exemption from work or for any special treatment from relief agencies. This applied to widows as well as to any other mothers, even if long hours of work meant that the children might have to live elsewhere. Superintendents of 52
the poor testified to the anguish of widows who had no
choice but to allow these officials to send their children 29 to institutions.
The institutions to which these children would go,
however, were no longer the poorhouses. By the time
scientific charity and the campaign against outdoor relief
were in full swing, the poorhouse had clearly failed to
achieve the intentions of its founders. Yet this did not
bring about a decline in the role of institutions. In
keeping with the scientific, businesslike tendency of the
era, most reformers assumed that the poorhouses had failed because administrators had not classified inmates
according to their maladies or abilities. Thus the late
19th century saw a new wave of institution building for specific groups— the deaf, mute, blind, mentally ill, and especially children.
Poorhouses, to which children had often gone with their mothers, were bad places for children. The filth, licentiousness, and other dangers to which they were exposed were good enough reasons to remove them. The alternative chosen was not, however, to return children with living parents to their homes, but rather to create special children's institutions. The strictures against outdoor relief were too strong to suggest pouring aid into the child's own home. More importantly, the main reason 53
for the acceleration in building of orphanages was the
opinion of dominant reformers that these children and
society as a whole would be better off if they were
separated from their "pauper" parents. Given the high
visibility of class conflict in this period, reformers
perceived institutions as a method by which to separate
children from working class parents and break the chain of 31 "hereditary pauperism."
Much of the late 19th century faith in institutions
stemmed from new ideas about childhood as a special stage of development formative for later adult behavior. No
longer in need of children's immediate economic contributions, the educated classes were free to think about how best to socialize future workers. The theoretical contributions of Darwin, Rousseau, Froebel, and later Freud collectively gave substance to the belief that children, if placed in the right environments, could be socialized to become individuals who would contribute to rather than disrupt society. The poorhouse had failed with children because its structure did not respond to children's special needs. Caretakers in the orphanage, on the other hand, could isolate and discipline children while instilling in them a sense of morality, order, regularity, and industry— the personality characteristics that were essential to the industrial order. In the 54
violent, conflict-ridden years of the late 19th century,
with millions of seemingly unassimilable immigrants
arriving, these purported salutary features of
institutional living took on special meaning. Childhood was not only a unique period of life in need of special
care and protection, but was also the key to social control. The "child savers" who devised institutions and other means of protecting children were also trying to save society by molding future citizens and industrious workers. If parents could not or would not socialize their children to be fit citizens, then the state would take over
Thus the growing practice of child removal to institutions was not simply a rational revision of the poorhouse version of institutionalization. It was a policy designed by conservative reformers deliberately to weaken the power of working class parents over their children.
During the early 19th century, children and their mothers had often gone to the poorhouse together, and at least some select mothers received the aid that allowed them to remain at home. The policy implemented by COS and others by the end of the 19th century was harsh, deliberate, punitive, and unselective. Increasingly COS leaders generated the belief that to be a poor parent was to be a 33 bad parent, as most poverty was inexcusable. 55
After the Civil War, state after state passed laws
that outlawed the placement of children in poorhouses and
led to this new wave of institution-building. Whereas
the institutions were the dominant means of family
break-up and substitute socialization, an important foster
home movement developed alongside the orphanages and
oftentimes in opposition to them. As reformers weighed the
merits of each type of foster care, the children's
institutions came under increasing criticism for turning
children into unimaginative dolts, clones of one another, all equally lacking in basic skills essential to the
smooth functioning of industrial society. The authoritarian nature of institutions, rote learning, and
the rigid, mechanical nature of daily life had had effects opposite of those intended. Children might obey, but they lacked initiative, an internalized sense of discipline, and the ability to act without promptings from others.
Institutional living made adjustment to family life difficult, as institutionalized children had never known such a life. In short, the institutions had backfired.
They did not socialize a well-functioning working class.
The debate concerning the preferred type of foster care focused primarily on the negative features of institutions, and for that reason alone foster homes became the favored method, although not the most common 56
one, by the early 1900s. The foster home, of course, served the same purpose— to break up families— as did institutions. As new agencies and institutions developed this plethora of methods for "improving" the socialization of poor children, none of the techniques included sending funds into the children's original homes. With outdoor aid less available, poorhouses closed to family groups, private aid difficult to procure, and institutions and foster homes proliferating, single mothers of every status were increasingly likely to bs separated from their children. Placing them in institutions or foster homes, these women frequently worked and paid part of their children's support from a distance. Whatever advantages certain mothers may have known earlier was largely lost in these conditions. Although it is true that mothers sometimes requested these forms of assistance, they generally had little choice. Public and private agencies would not give them adequate aid and routinely "advised" them to relinquish their children to welfare authorities.
The fact that the new institutions were respectable compared to the poorhouses meant that even sympathetic officials had less qualms about turning children over to them than they would have had under the older system.
Statistics indicate that the number of children of widows 35 in institutions was greater after the 1880s than before. 57
It is against this background that the development of
the mothers' pensions movement and the evolving foster
care methods may best be understood. Throughout history,
it is clear that certain women had a better chance of receiving public support for their children at home, but no women were ever immune from the harsher forms of aid.
4t the same time, work encouragement or requirements accompanied all types of public and private assistance regardless of compliance with the family ethic. In the late 19th century, when reformers were determined to streamline all types of aid, the mothers' adherence to middle-class norms and morality played a lesser role in determining the form of aid than it had in earlier periods. This transition was, however, consistent with earlier approaches and represented merely their logical development.
The mothers' pension programs appear at first sight to draw strongly upon the tradition of preferential treatment for the "worthy widow." Although this may be true, the next two chapters will argue that the equally important tradition demanding self-reliance through work in 58
uncompetitive labor markets militated against any rewards
gleaned from compliance with the family ethic. Chapter 2
raises questions concerning the generally-accepted idea
that the mothers' pensions were designed by lawmakers and supported by the public because they would make work unnecessary. The demand for economy, the need for a cheap substitute for foster care, and the lackadaisical ways in which lawmakers approached issues concerning women and children appear to have been more significant in the process that created the pensions. The half-conscious belief— held by politicians, administrators, and perhaps much of the public— that mothers would find some way to get by with very little money, was rooted in unanalyzed assumptions concerning women's "unique" nurturing skills.
These notions played a role in generating the belief that child-caring can and should be inexpensive, in need of no substantial government funds. They were also responsible for retaining mothers in the low-wage labor market, in poor jobs which lawmakers, administrators, and much of the public perceived, then and now, as suitable and convenient for these women as well as for society.
The focus of chapter 3 is the actual experience of women receiving (or attempting to acquire) mothers' pensions. The chapter deals in particular with mothers' perceptions of the nature of the pensions and their 59
reactions to the fact that the grants did not always obviate the necessity of taking jobs. I argue that, while accepting that they often had to work, these women endeavored to arrange the most rational combination of work and welfare and often rejected the type of work that administrators saw as "most suitable for society." Rather, mothers aimed tô secure jobs that were convenient and rewarding for themselves. Despite their willingness to work to supplement insufficient grants, these women also believed that they had a right, as mothers, to special forms of government assistance.
Chapter 3 closes with an important section which raises a theme central to this study— the "expediency" of the officially-defined status of welfare mothers as
"employables" or "unemployables." As these pages have shown, policymakers throughout most of history viewed single mothers as "employables." In times of severe unemployment, however, these women became not only dispensable as workers, but also a nuisance to public administrators seeking solutions to economic depressions.
During the 1930s, the government for the first time designated single mothers--who themselves publicly claimed otherwise— as "unemployables." Thus the right of poor mothers to work was questioned. This new attitude, together with the 1935 revamping of the states' mothers' 60
pension laws under the federal Aid to Dependent Children
program, interfered with the freedom of mothers to secure
jobs on the federal Work Projects Administration. Chapter
4 examines the experience of single mothers on the WPA, an
agency created at a time when public officials did not
want single mothers looking to the government for jobs.
Whereas chapter 3 focuses upon the belief of mothers in
their right to assistance, chapter 4 emphasizes their
belief in their right to work and their rejection of the
government's expedient, official reassignment of single mothers to the realm of the "unemployable." Using
Minneapolis case records and letters from many areas, especially the South, chapter 4 explores the official obstacles inhibiting the employment of single mothers on
the projects, and the ways in which they overcame them.
The study of single mothers on the Work Projects
Administration also provides a medium through which to examine the government's differential treatment of mothers according to their race and compliance with the domestic ideology, or "family ethic." Large numbers of single mothers worked on the WPA, often because they insisted, but also because the Aid to Dependent Children program initially maintained the pension policy of catering to
"worthy" white widows. As chapter 4 will show, however, many women who chose to work on WPA used the government's 61
moralistic policy to their own purposes.
Work in low-wage labor markets, grant programs, and work-relief are the best-known methods by which single mothers supported their families. Yet there was another means of support for their children which has, considering its obvious centrality and importance for many women, received little historical attention. Throughout American history and wellinto the 20th century, single mothers accounted for significant proportions of those living parents who had little choice but to place their children in some form of foster care. The early mothers' pensions programs were originally conceived in relation to the problems of widows and their institutionalized children.
Although the pensions and the later ADC program reduced the need for such care, the compulsory and voluntary use of foster homes remained a primary means of support among single mothers until AFDC benefits and laws became more liberal in the 1960s. In some situations, women "chose" this form of care as the only practical means of supporting their children. More often, however, agencies pressured mothers to place their children out while also forcing the mothers to pay for at least part of their children's care from a distance. Foster home care was thus in many instances a means of enabling mothers to work instead of relying totally on welfare. 62
Therefore, foster care should be viewed as part of the welfare state. Along with mothers' pensions and the Work
Projects Administration, foster care provides a third topic through which the themes central to this study may be explored. All three topics deal with mechanisms by means of which single mothers put together some package of support. All three reveal single mothers in either problematic or cooperative connections with social workers, as well as in their relationship to the state. In chapter 5, I examine one particular state foster care system, that of Minnesota, and explain how it might have affected single mothers who either needed or were forced to use foster homes. Although Minnesota's foster care arrangements were in some ways typical of those used throughout the United States, I have chosen Minnesota not because its system was typical, but rather because it was influential. Widely admired by progressive social work leaders for its organizational and economical achievements, the Minnesota foster care system was the model which leaders of other states hoped to emulate.
Thus an examination of this system should reveal the limits of the foster care help likely to be proffered to women everywhere.
From this "case study" of the Minnesota system emerge two major themes. The first states that what private and 63
public welfare leaders perceived as "progressive advances"
in foster care systems were not necessarily gains for
single mothers. The second re-emphasizes a point made in earlier chapters regarding the belief, manifested in both private and public sectors, that child-caring can and should be inexpensive. The history of foster care profoundly illustrates the strength of this particular example of wishful thinking; people do not like to spend money taking care of "other people's children," especially when the parents appear to have been relieved of the responsibility. This belief, and the accompanying refusal to provide public funds for foster care, threatened many women with the permanent loss of their children.
Whereas chapter 5 explains the structure of
Minnesota's foster care system, chapter 6 explores case records to show how single mothers fared within that system. Chapter 6 is a case study of single mothers in
Minneapolis who were clients of the Children's Protective
Society. Using a representative sample of mothers who had to place their children in foster homes, I argue that behind the raw statistics of state and national foster care caseloads were living, working women who were aiming to remake homes with their children. Particular attention is given to unwed mothers, as they received treatment commensurate with the dominant view of mothers who had 64
betrayed the "family ethic." Although I do not accept the
value judgments connoted by these terms, I will use the
terms "illegitimate" and "legitimate" to describe the children's status in these cases. Substitute phrases such as "children of never-married mothers" or "children born out-of-wedlock" are too cumbersome to be used repeatedly in the text and entered in statistical tables. More importantly, all terms and phrases which indicate the absence of marriage prior to a child's birth imply deviation from the norm; there really are no satisfactory terms for children born outside of "traditional" unions, although every child is truly legitimate.
Chapters 2 through 6, which form the core of this study, deal primarily with the period from 1911 to 1940, and in particular with the 1930s. The analysis presented in these chapters centers around case records, and since post-World War II records were not available for study, the analysis could not be continued into the recent decades. In chapter 7, however, I have summarized the post-1940 developments which led to the present efforts of the government to steer welfare mothers into the work force. Although chapter 7 will argue that the gap between the labor force participation of welfare mothers and
"other mothers" is exaggerated, the major contribution of this study pertains to earlier time periods. The current 65
attempt to "make welfare mothers work" must be placed in
its proper historical perspective: in the past, single mothers who were clients of welfare agencies worked to
support their children in three situations which have not been acknowledged. They worked while receiving grants that were supposed to enable them to stay home; on government projects whose administrators discriminated against their employment, and in low-wage jobs while their children were in foster homes, supposedly being supported by other caretakers.
In this study, I have explored, from the perspective of the women's own experience, certain components of the welfare state. In these various sectors, agents of the
"state"— whether as representatives of local, state, or national government, or as caseworkers in the private sector— set the perimeters which limited women's ability to care for their children. Insofar as it is possible, I have aimed to show how women responded to these limits.
The thread that ties the different sectors together is the centrality of women's work as the means of supporting their children. One central purpose of this dissertation is thus to show the work-oriented thrust of welfare policies and the prevalence of work among single mothers in three basic mediums— grant programs, work-relief organizations, and foster care. 66
The purpose is not, however, to argue that single
mothers should work. On the contrary, the belief
undergirding this thesis is that until governments
acknowledge that child-caring is an expensive, full-time
job, and until society and the economy are restructured in
such a way that it is possible for women to receive decent wages and provide for children's needs at the same
time, then mothers must have the option to receive adequate grants and remain at home. The sharp inequities
in income and opportunity generated by discrimination and
the structure of modern technological capitalism require
that general tax funds be used to force those who have
fared best to support "other people's children." NOTES
" Dallas Morning News, January 13, 1991, Sec. A, p. 5, col. 2. 2 Mildred Rein, Work or Welfare? Factors in the Choice for AFDC Mothers (New York: Praeger, 197A), pp. 8, 11, 16, 20-il; Sar Â1 Levitan, Programs in Aid of the Poor, 5th ed. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins, 1^05), p. 3l; Committee on Economic Security, Social Security in America, Pt. 3 (Washington, B.C.: GPO, 19371, p. 234; Mildred Rein, Dilemmas of Welfare Policy: Why Work Strategies Haven't Worked (New Ÿork- Praeger, , ppT viii-ix., 3-5, 57 l6; Andrew Hacker, "Getting Rough on the Poor," New York Review of Books, October 13, 1988, p. 13. 3 Levitan, Programs in Aid of the Poor, pp. 3, 5-7, 14; Ruth Sidel, Women and Children Last; The Plight of Poor Women in Affluent America (New York; Viking, 1986), pp. xvi, T, 10-11, 1 5 ; Winifred Bell, Contemporary Social Welfare (New York: MacMillan Publishing Co., I’l83), p. Il3.
^ Sidel, Women and Children Last, p. 3.
^ Sidel, Women and Children Last, pp. 3-9, 25; Levitan, Programs in Aid of the P o ^ , pp. 3-4; Bell, Contemporary Social Wellarel ppl 96-104; Barry Bluestone, william M. Murphy, and Mary Stevenson, Low Wages and the Working Poor» Policy Papers in Human Resources 21 (Ann Arbor, Michigan: The Institute of Labor and Industrial Relations, University of Michigan and Waynes State University, July 1973;, p. 2.
^ Bluestone, Low Wages and the Working Poor, pp. 1-3, 28-31; Levitan, Programs in Aid of the Poo^ pp. 11-12; Sidel, Women and Chi^ren Last, pT 2Tj David M. Gordon, The 'Working Poor': Towards a State Agenda (Washington, D.C. : Council oT State Planning Agencies, 1979), pp. 2-3, 7. 7 Gordon, The 'Working Poor', pp. 5-55; Bluestone, Low Wages and the Working Poor, pp. 2-3, 10, 12-13, 20; Sidel, Women and Children Last, p. 25.
67 68
® Sidel, Women and Children Last, pp. 3, 12, 22-24; Levitan, Programs in Aid of the Poor, p. 38; Hacker, "Getting Rougn on the l?oor," p. 12. Q For the history of the 1960s welfare rights movement, see Guida West, The National Welfare Rights Movement: The Social Protest oi Poor Women ((New York: Praeger, 1981). iO Linda Gordon, "Single Mothers and Child Neglect, 1880-1920." American Quarterly. 37 (Summer 1985), 173-192; Beverly Stadum, '"Maybe They Will Appreciate What I Done and Struggled': Poor Women and Their Families— Charity Cases in Minneapolis, 1900-1930," Diss. University of Minnesota 1987; Beverly Stadum, "Family Casework with the Minneapolis Poor, 1900-1930," Minnesota History. 51 (Summer 1988), 43-54.
Ellen Dubois et.al., "Politics and Culture in Women's History: A Symposium." Feminist Studies. 6 (Spring 1980), 29. 12 For explanations of the social control theme and the various ways it has been used, see William A. Muraskin, "The Social Control Theory in American History: A Critique," Journal of Social History. 9 (June 1976;, 559-569; Walter I. Trattner. ed.. Social Welfare or Social Control (Knoxville: University of tennessee Press, 19831 ; David A. Rochefort, "Progressive and Social Control Perspectives on Social Welfare," Social Service Review. 55 (December 1981), 568-592; Frances Fox Piven and Richard Cloward, Regulating the Poor: The Functions of Public Welfare (New York: Vintage Books, 1971). 1 1 Clarke Chambers, "Toward a Redefinition of Welfare History." The Journal of Social History. 73 (September 1986), ^ 0 7 ~ T J T .
Chambers, "Toward a Redefinition of Welfare History," 422-427. In this article. Professor Chambers discusses some work of students at the University of Minnesota and published works in other fields which suggest ways to enrich our understanding of welfare history. The term "welfare culture" is my own. 15 Lois Helmbold, "Beyond the Family Economy: Black and White Working-Class Women During the Great Depression," Feminist Studies. 13 (Fall 1987), 629-655; Rayna Rapp, Ellen Ross, Renate Bridenthal, "Examining Family History." Feminist Studies. 5 (Spring 1979). 174-199. 69
Chambers, "Toward a Redefinition of Welfare History," p. 423. 1 7 Walter I. Trattner, From Poor Law to Welfare State; A History of Social Welfare in America, 3rd. ëdl (New York: The Free Press, 1984J, pp. 1-47; Alice Kessler-Harris, Out to Work: A History of Wage-Earning Women in the United States (New York: Oxford University Press, 1^82), p. 6. 18 Mimi Abramovitz, Regulating the Lives of Women: Social Welfare Policy FroF Colonial Times to the Present (Boston: South End Press, l^ÔÔ), pp. 2-9, passim. 19 Abramovitz, Regulating the Lives of Women, Dbo tt, ■]pp. 84-93; Grace Abbott,Dbott, ■]pp. The Child and the State, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1938), TT^ 31 90 Abbott, The Child and the State, II, 3-4; Michael B. Katz,"in the Shadow of the Poorhouse: A Social History of Welfare in America (New York: Basic Books, 1986), pT 3T; Frank Bruno, Trends in Social Work, 1874-1956: A History Based on"the Proceedings of the National Conference of Social Work (New York: Columbia University Press, l95?), p. 177; WhTte House Conference on Child Health and Protection (Washington, DlC.: GPO, l933), p. 9. 21 Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, pp. 37, 47-48; Bruno^ trends In Social Work, p. 177; Kessler-Harris, Out to Work, pp. 4-6, 16-17, 23-24. 22 Trattner, From Poor Law to Welfare State, pp. 47-73; Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, pp. 14-25; Abramovitz, Regulating tEi Lives oT Women, pp. 137-150. 23 Trattner, From Poor Law to Welfare State, pp. 70-71. 56; Abramovitz, Regulating the Lives of Women, pp. 147-157; Henry Thurston, The Dependent Child (New"York: Arno Press, 1974), p. 44"| Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, pp. 41, 64-65.
Abramowitz, Regulating the Lives of Women, 25 Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, p. 89. pc Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, pp. 25-26, 32-33, •46-47, 66-67; Trattner, From Poor Law to Welfare State, pp. 89-91. 70
27 Trattner, From Poor Law to Welfare State, pp. 89-94, 96; Katz, In the Shadow ot the Poorhouse, pp. 40. 66-77. 28 Trattner, From Poor Law to Welfare State, pp. 90, 94; Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, pp. 50-32, 80-81. 29 Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, po. 54-55, 77.
Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, pp. 85-109; Tiffin, In WEose Best Interest; Child Welfare Reform: Child Welfare Reform in the Progressive Era (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1982), p. 66. 31 Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, pp.103-109; Abramowitz, Regulating the Lives of Women, pp. 165-168.
Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, pp. 7, 14-33, 64-65, 68; Trattner, From Poor Law to Welfare State, pp. 108-111; Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, pp. 116-117; Abramowitz, Regulating the Lives of Women, pp. 166-168. 33 Abramowitz, Regulating the Lives of Women, pp. 166-167.
Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, pp. 62, 67-69, 71, 73-74; Trattner, From Poor Law to Welfare State, pp. 113-114; Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, p. 118.
^^Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, pp. 62, 92-95; Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse. p. CHAPTER II
MOTHERS' PENSIONS: INEXPENSIVE WORK-RELIEF PROGRAMS
In 1911, the Illinois state legislature enacted the
first mothers' pension law. The mothers' pensions were
monthly grants to mothers, generally widows, who without
such assistance would have to work and invariably neglect
their children or send them to institutions. A wide
variety of Progressive reformers supported the movement
for these new programs, and by the early 1920s, 49 states
had passed mothers' pension laws. Together with the
workmen's compensation laws, the mothers' pensions
constituted the first social insurance measures adopted in
the United States.*
Until the Aid to Dependent Children program of 1935
strengthened the pensions with federal funds, the only
source of the grants in most states was local taxes. As a
rule the pensions were inadequate, neither providing
enough money nor reaching most of the women who needed
them. With limited funds to distribute, administrators of
the programs were very selective of their clients, choosing those women whose lives had not violated dominant
71 72
ideologies regarding women's place, or the "family ethic."
Thus widows, who by definition were in no way responsible for their "incomplete" families, comprised 82% of 2 recipients in 1931.
These and other limitations notwithstanding, the mothers' pensions constituted important programs. They may not have solved the problems of poverty even for those women who received them, but by 1929, the grants constituted the largest form of all aid, public or private. Studies of urban areas comprising 66% of the population in that year revealed that the pensions accounted for 40% of all aid and over half of that spent on public relief alone. Not only were they significant in terms of their size in the total relief picture, but the program also represented to some degree a change in philosophy. Following a century of attacks on public aid to people outside of institutions, the creation of the pensions signaled the dawning of the new idea that certain categories of people were appropriate recipients of aid within their own homes.^
The new laws brought single mothers into a more sharply defined relationship with the state than they had known in the past. The state had before this time intruded into the lives of poor mothers, but once these women were in receipt of regular funds from taxpayers, they found 73
themselves subject to rules, regulations, and supervision
that had been limited and vague under the earlier forms of
relief. The pensions also made clear the membership of
single mothers in the class of the working poor, since
this "elite" group worked in large numbers despite the
stated purpose of the laws. Women continued to work under
the pensions, the new element being that their work lives
as well as their personal lives were monitored, by courts
and public agencies, to an extent unknown in the past.
Most studies of the mothers' pensions have routinely
assumed that one of the primary purposes of the pensions
was to make work unnecessary for certain mothers and allow A them to remain home with their children. Although all
commentators know that women did work in considerable
proportions while on the programs, they commonly interpret
this as the inevitable result of poorly-funded local
programs rather than as the intention of program
administrators and state lawmakers. From this view, the
successor to the pensions, the Aid to Dependent Children
Program of 1935, signaled the success of reformers in
prodding the federal government to build up the state
programs so that they might fulfill their original
promise. It was only by the 1960s, when the size of the
ADC rolls had grown beyond expectations, that Congress, welfare reformers and a good part of the non-welfare 74
tax-paying public began to demand that ADC programs draw upon the untapped "employability" of all recipients or make them employable through various work and training programs. Included among the reasons for this shift are not only the growth in rolls, but also the increase in the labor force participation of all women and in particular of mothers who were not on welfare, and the shift in demographic composition of welfare mothers from "worthy" white widows to divorced, separated, and never-married women, many of whom were non-white. Thus increasing costs, racism and the family ethic led to major changes, the emphasis of which was to force as many ADC mothers as possible to earn a good part if not all of their family's keep.
While there is considerable truth to some aspects of this interpretation, it exaggerates the degree to which the earlier pension system ever aimed to remove women from the labor force. It also conceals the fact that throughout most of American history, welfare mothers worked in greater proportions than did other women. As more and more women and mothers entered the labor force after the Second
World War, the authors of government reports noted time and again the growing gap between the official labor force participation rates of ADC mothers and women as a whole.
The pressure to make ADC mothers work implied that 75
welfare mothers as a group now had to "catzh up" with other women in general. A more appropriate focus would have generated research questions that asked why women as a whole had been able to "catch up with" and surpass the labor force participation rates of poor women.^
This chapter will focus upon the mothers' pension movement, with particular attention to the reasons for its support among both Progressive reformers and much of the general public. It will seek to explain the extent to which concern with obviating the need for mothers' work was an element in the success of the campaign. Although a great deal has been written about the mothers' pensions, few scholars have isolated the topic for detailed treatment. The following analysis therefore draws upon the existing literature and other published sources while offering an original interpretation. Section A briefly describes the movement for the pensions and some of the broad reasons for reformers' interest in this type of program. In the second section I argue, largely from a common sense perspective, that social concerns regarding the impending breakdown of the family and the increase in the work of women, although major issues in the early
1900s, could not have provided the real impetus behind a movement for pensions for widows. Widows were simply not the "women workers" who were causing concern, and their 76
families were not the type that offended and threatened
traditionalists. The rhetoric of the movement and
arguments of public welfare officials (especially those aiming to raise their own status) have led others to exaggerate the public concern with widows' work.
Another argument used by reformers to support the pensions was the claim that supporting children at home was much less expensive than sending them to institutions or foster homes. This argument without question tapped a nerve among both the general tax-paying public and lawmakers. In section C, I argue that there was little rational basis for this belief. This section describes the basic forms of public foster care systems which dominated at the time of the pension movement and reveals that in most cases, governments did not spend a great deal of money on children. And even in regard to foster care systems for which public expenses were substantial, reformers offered no economic data for their belief that mothers could support their children on any less at home.
Assumptions about public savings simply took for granted that mothers would find ways to make ends meet. In the last section, I further elaborate this theme regarding the irrationality and assumptions which underscored the movement and generated laws which, in many cases, called for mothers' employment. 77
The purpose is to show that the intention of the
state, throughout the 19th and most of the 20th century,
has varied little. The state, except during periods of
high unemployment rates (the Depression of the 1930s) has
always aimed to wrench as much work as possible out of
welfare mother. Those who control the state have always
believed that matters relating to children should be
inexpensive, and the roles and assumed skills which they
relegate to women as part of women's "special sphere" form
the basis for this belief.
A. The Context of the Pension Movement: The Progressive Approach to Improving Society
As was explained in the previous chapter, by the late
19th century all single mothers had reason to fear that
their children might be removed from their homes. Although
the Charity Organization Societies succeeded for a time in
forcing their particular philosophy and method on most social agencies, there were always groups of middle-class reformers who disapproved of the practice of removing children from the homes of poor widows. This sentiment by itself, however, was not enough to catalyze the development of a new form of specialized outdoor relief. For a variety of reasons. Progressive reformers of 78
the 1890s and early 1900s began to abandon the policy of
family break-up and favor one of family preservation as
the best means of creating good citizens and improving society. The goal remained the same as that of the 19th century reformers, but the methods changed. This new approach derived in part from the general outrage against both the defects and costliness of children's institutions, but foster homes could conceivably have been palliative enough for that problem. The Progressive emphasis on preservation of the original family stemmed from two sources: indications that the family, and therefore society, was falling apart; and, secondly, the environmental approach of the Progressives.^
That the family was disintegrating was suggested by the rising divorce and desertion rates. Nearly a million divorces occurred during the 1890s and early 1900s, and the divorce rate was rising much faster than was the population. There were no comprehensive statistics for desertion, although social agencies reported high incidences among their clients. To Progressives, the family was the foundation of the social order, and it made little sense to focus only on saving children while the larger unit of which they were a part disintegrated.
Unlike most middle and upper-class reformers of the 19th century, the Progressives tended to blame the environment 79
rather than individual failings of character for social
problems such as poverty. The focus on environmental causes led Progressives to believe in the efficacy of preventive treatment: if the environment could be altered,
the ensuing problems of neglect, delinquency, illness and other evils leading to family dissolution might be remedied. Whereas 19th century reformers removed children after the home situation had become strained or hopeless, the Progressives aimed toprevent the home from deteriorating to the point where removal was the only 7 apparent solution.
Private and public welfare workers applied the new policy of family preservation to all types of family situations in a variety of ways. Social workers trained in casework techniques began to work with families to identify the environmental causes of their problems.
Visiting agents would try to locate the key issue that was interfering with family functions: bad health, alcoholism, violence, low wages, psychological maladies. While trying to pin down the causal factors leading to poverty, child neglect, or desertion, these agents would enlist the aid of churches, schools, doctors, settlements, relatives, employers, or anyone who might be able to aid in the effort to keep the family together. In case of marital difficulties, these social workers would try to help 80
remedy the circumstances that led to divorce and
desertion. Even the Societies for the Prevention of
Cruelty to Children, the agencies best known for
engineering the removal of children from homes, began to
spend some time trying to make parents see the "error of
their ways" before procuring court orders for agency
custody. In short, all social and family agencies adopted
the preventive approach in an attempt to strengthen the
family and reduce the numbers of children placed in the Q various types of foster care.
In the case of the "worthy widow," the environmental
factor leading to child removal had simply been the woman's inability to earn enough without neglecting her
children. The preventive method appropriate to this
situation was, therefore, placing money in the home to
forestall overwork, neglect, subsequent delinquency among
the children and finally institutionalization. The catch phrase of the mothers' pension movement stated that no home should be broken up for reasons of poverty alone.
This unequivocally rejected the belief undergirding a great deal of earlier foster care arrangements— that poverty indeed was sufficient grounds for removal of children.
Given these new philosophies and the antipathy towards public funding of children in orphanages, a 81
pantheon of Progressive reformers agreed that worthy
widows were the most obvious group to support at home. The
campaign for mothers' pensions formally dates from the
1909 White House Conference on the Care of Dependent
Children, at which Theodore Roosevelt argued that children
should not be removed from their homes merely due to
poverty. By that year, however, many obvious precedents to
the mothers' pensions had appeared in a variety of experiments and programs. As early as the 1880s,
California had funded localities for the purpose of keeping children home, and advocates had pushed for similar programs in New York during the 1890s. In the early 1900s, states such as Oklahoma, New Jersey, and
Michigan had set up various methods of supporting widows and children before these states enacted an actual pension law. Private charities had likewise acknowledged that some select mothers should receive support at home; charity organization societies. Associations for the Improvement of the Condition of the Poor, and various Jewish organizations had made special allowances for single 9 mothers.
Thus the movement, under way by 1911, did not appear suddenly from nowhere. The pension campaign received widespread support in part because it fit in well with the goals of other major Progressive reforms, such as the 82
movements for social insurance and against child labor.
The supporters of the program seemed to include nearly
everyone: juvenile court judges, major newspapers,
progressive social workers, the settlements, and parts of
the labor and social insurance movements. Two other groups
of supporters stood out from the rest: first, a wide array
of women's groups, from the conservative Congress of
Mothers to moderate clubwomen and militant suffragists;
and secondly, all the various components of the newly
developing public welfare sector. The latter included
state boards of charity, city and county boards of public
welfare, the U.S. Children's Bureau, and figures who were
trying to make their way in the new public realm.
The only groups opposed to the pensions were the
leaders and proponents of the Charity Organization
Societies, which were still important in cities such as
New York, Philadelphia, and Buffalo. These leaders did not
oppose the granting of funds to widows as such. Rather,
they objected to public administration and insisted that
the responsibility for the pensions be left to private
organizations. These sole critics of the movement repeated
their 19th-century arguments against outdoor relief, into
which category they placed the so-called "pensions."
Pensions granted by public authorities would share all the worst features of the earlier doles: they would pauperize 83
the poor, invite fraud and politicking, and convince the
needy that they had a right to assistance.
To these charges, the reformers responded repeatedly
with a seemingly radical argument: the pensions were not a
new form of outdoor relief, but rather payment for
performing the societal service of raising good and
productive citizens. Many campaigners gave speeches and
wrote articles in which they argued along these lines;
phrases such as "subsidized motherhood" and "endowment for
motherhood" were bandied about in defense of the program.
Judge Ben Lindsey of the Denver Juvenile Court compared
the proposed pensions to soldiers' pensions, the latter
allotment being recognized by all as compensation for a
service to the state. Homer Folks, a major leader in the
social welfare field, at first opposed the pensions but
later conceded that in the case of widows such an 1 1 "indemnity" was appropriate.
With rhetoric such as this giving the movement its
flavor, the pensions passed state legislatures at a very rapid rate. The campaign was marked by emotionalism and sentimental propaganda about the importance of the home,
the suffering of worthy widows, and the expense and evils of institutions. In 1911, 3 states adopted the program,
17 more had enacted laws by 1913, and an additional 17 did so by the end of 1919. By 1921, 41 states had 84
authorized pensions and nearly all the remaining states
would soon follow. Thus, except for a few disgruntled
old-fashioned charity workers, the program a id the 12 philosophy behind it appeared to be widely accepted.
B. The Limited Role of Family Preservation and Work Concerns in the Pension Movement
Given the previous almost universal antipathy towards
relief to homes and the later unpopularity of public assistance of this type, why did these laws rush through
legislative halls with relative ease? There was no
tradition in America of providing direct support specifically for children apart from the family unit as a whole. The accolades which commentators have used to describe the new program suggest that they introduced a major shift in public thought and practice. The mothers' pensions represented, alternately, a "drastic departure from entrenched customs and attitudes," the "entering wedge in the transformation of charity into entitlement," or a "trailblazing assertion of governmental welfare responsibility." Others have, however, dismissed the new program, agreeing with the COS critics that the pensions were merely a new type of outdoor relief, the entire movement that supported them being informed by nothing 85
more than a slight change in ideas. Some have argued that
the movement was nothing but a crusade in "symbolic
politics" and that given the feeble results, the pension
crusade was merely one of many episodes in relief history 1 ^ "in which the reformers win and the poor lose."
While hardly a "drastic departure," either in theory
or practice, the pensions were more than a "slight change
in idea," and their rapid passage does call for some
explanation. A closer look at the actual reasons for the
success of the pension movement helps to explain the work
experiences of women who received the grants. Most
historians argue that the pension movement succeeded
because it responded to many different needs and therefore
tapped a nerve with a wide variety of interest groups. The
"converging" causal factors most often cited are the
general dissatisfaction with institutions, fears about
the disintegration of families and the consequences of
women entering the labor force, hopes of shoring up
beliefs concerning " women's place in the home," and the
generally accepted belief that the grants would save money
for taxpayers. It is difficult to pin down any clear
reason as to why state after state should suddenly and with little debate agree to pour money into homes after a century of attacks on home relief. Therefore most analysts have explained mothers' pensions as the product of a 86
constellation of converging worries, fears, theories,
anxieties, and ideas.
While all these interacting factors undoubtedly played
a role, they do not sufficiently explain why legislatures would so easily approve a new program that two decades earlier would have been so controversial. The explanatory powers of several elements included in the "converging ideas" thesis are in fact quite weak. The disaffection with institutions, for example, does not explain the support for pensions paid to a child's own home since reformers had originally shifted to the foster home as a replacement for institutional living. Acknowledging that rejection of institutions does not fully explain the pension movement, historians have argued that anxieties about impending family breakdown were the major impetus behind a campaign that favored the child's own home over a foster home. The zeal for family preservation, however, does little to explain the success of the movement, since widowed mothers and their children, the primary focus of the pension crusade, were not a source of anxieties concerning family disintegration. The "involuntary" single motherhood of widows did not challenge family norms as did, in the eyes of social workers, the behavior of wives who were responsible for filing most divorces. The gloomy testimony of social agents regarding deteriorating 87
marriages and deserting fathers provoked emotional
responses quite different than the sympathy proffered
the grieving widow. Although enabling half-orphaned
children to remain home did keep a certain type of family
intact, this practice did not ameliorate the family crisis
causing concern. By creating mothers' pensions, the
Progressives did not really tackle the family preservation 15 dilemma as they themselves defined it.
Therefore the role of family preservation strategies
as a cause of the passage of the laws has been
exaggerated. Another reason more commonly given as the
movement's goal and reason for its success was the
powerful drive to remove women from the labor force. From
this perspective, the movement gained a great deal of
support from male backlashagainst women's work and from
the majority of people who wished to shore up the belief
that "women's place is in the home." Two decades after
the passage of the first law, Grace Abbott and Frances
Perkins of the U.S. Children's Bureau expressed this belief about the purpose of the pensions. Arguing for
improvements in pensions funds, they bemoaned the failure of the program to achieve its central purpose, which they claimed had been "to maintain the family at a reasonable standard of living without the necessity of the outside employment of the mother. 88
This argument, claiming the centrality of women's work as a major factor behind the success of the campaign, is questionable if one examines the concerns of the pantheon of interest groups which campaigned for the pensions. Of the women's groups, the National Congress of Mothers
(predecessor to the Parent-Teachers' Association) was the one most likely to favor pensions as a way to obviate the need for work. A conservative, minimally educated group of women, few of whom themselves had worked, members of the NCM looked with apprehension at trends in women's labor force participation. Openly concerned about threats to women's traditional place in the home, they were responsible for a good pact of movement propaganda promoting the ideology of women's place. Several of the other women's groups, such as the women's clubs, gave a more restrained, cautious response. While unquestionably sympathetic to the plight of overworked widows, the more militant suffragists were less supportive of the traditional outlook and the disparagement of women's work that was inherent in the speeches and writings of the
National Congress of Mothers.
Many of the other important groups which participated in the campaign were not primarily concerned with the issue of women's work. The social insurance advocates, for example, were interested largely because the success of 89
the pension movement seem to augur the achievement of workers' compensation laws. The National Consumers' League and the National Child Labor Committee supported the pensions in good part because they complemented their own campaign against child labor. In 1911, most states had not enacted laws prohibiting or restricting child labor, and therefore these national organizations were struggling for federal child labor legislation. It was common knowledge that children of widows often worked, and the child labor reformers perceived the pensions as replacements for the earnings of children, who would ideally be in school.
Earlier prototypes of the mothers' pensions laws, passed in Oklahoma and Michigan, had in fact been designed to compensate mothers for their children's former earnings.
Indeed the idea informing the pension movement was less that mothers should not be workers than that the children were not yet workers. Funds to cover the mothers' 18 sustenance did not become part of the grants until 1950.
There is little to support the belief that male backlash to the general prospect of women working or competing for men's jobs had an impact on the pension movement's characteristics or goals. Although people did express fears, anxieties, and resentments regarding women's increasing numbers in the labor force, the focus of these warnings aid criticisms concerned largely 90
professional women and young women. One of the main purposes of the protective legislation movement, for example, was to control the extent to which young women could become a part of the world of work. There is little evidence to suggest that people feared the competition of the usually older, widowed mothers who were the focus of the pension campaign. Widows hardly constituted a new group of women workers. In 1890, widows represented 18% of the female labor force, a participation rate that remained relatively constant during and after the years of the pension campaign. By 1915, household technology had not advanced enough to make dayworkers a fringe group. It was a fact well-known to reformers and to the general public that most poor widows with children worked in this least competitive of occupations. As a group, they made few entries into occupations dominated by men, and the nature of their work posed no challenge to tradition.
Much of the propaganda, however, with its sentimental anecdotes of the floor-scrubbing widow supporting her institutionalized children, could generate the impression that eliminating the need for work was a central goal of the movement. The arm of the movement that actually protested most vigorously against the typical employment of widows, thus making it appear to be the main focus, was the New York Commission on Relief for Widowed Mothers. In 91
1913, this commission fought the greatest battle for the
pensions against the leaders of the New York Charity
Organization Society. The officials of the New York COS
agreed that widows should receive funds, but they insisted
that these provisions be the exclusive function of private
charities. The COS's had successfully fought against
outdoor relief in the late 19th century and believed that
publicly-administered and funded mother's pensions would
undo their greatest accomplishment. Although scientific
charity organizations had passed the peak of their
influence and the tide of public sentiment was against
them, the COS remained strong in New York and, by 1913,
had managed to block the passage of a pension law for over
2 years.
Social workers established the New York widows'
commission in order to present a strong case for public
pensions and enact the law over formidable COS opposition.
Like other protagonists of public welfare, the members of
the New York commission were also engaged in an energetic defense of the ability of public welfare officials and administrations to operate as efficiently and effectively as did private organizations. In the late 19th century,
the private reformers who had outlawed public outdoor relief had scored important victories for the voluntaristic tradition. The central tenet of this 92
tradition claimed that private giving— which bound the
poor to their wealthier benefactors— was by definition
superior to public aid. The very existence of the latter
wrongly implied, said the voluntarists, that the poor had
a right to assistance. By the Progressive era, however,
the public welfare sector had grown; it included state boards of charities, local boards of public welfare, and other administrative and supervisory agencies ready and 21 eager to prove their mettle.
Therefore the pension battle in New York--and elsewhere— represented an important chapter in the growing rivalry between public and private charity, the one attempting to safeguard its time-worn prerogatives, the other struggling to win status and recognition of its professionalism. The issues concerning the mothers' pensions, including women's work, became sparring points in a fight to gain or maintain control of the poor. Public funds had previously supported children in orphanages, but these institutions had become disreputable places. One of the best ways for public welfare to acquire status was to assume the role of caretaker in the most valued of all institutions: the family home, complete with a loving mother. To make its case most convincingly, the commission endeavored to prove that private charities had done this job poorly and the public welfare sector would do it well. 93
The commission's published report thus emphasized that
limited, unpredictable private aid had failed to protect
children against institutionalization and their mothers
against poorly paid drudgery. Publishing authentic case
histories to embellish its argument, the commission
sharply berated the private charities for their role in
keeping widowed mothers in the low-wage labor market while
encouraging dangerous industrial homework among them. The
commission's statement clearly discouraged work and
implied that the public program would provide funds ample 22 enough to avoid the sins of the private welfare sector.
The New York reformers made these accusations and
promises in the course of a widely publicized debate
designed to discredit the opposition in a state where the
success of the pension movement was very uncertain. The
position taken in regard to women's work was very much a product of the rivalry between public and private welfare.
The commission's report was widely read and became an
important source identifying the purposes of the movement.
The arguments of this report, combined with propaganda of
the very sentimental and vocal Congress of Mothers, may have helped to create the impression that obviating the need for mothers' employment was the central goal of the campaign and a major reason for its very existence and ultimate success. 94
Even contemporary reformers and commentators, however, made it clear that the work of single mothers was not the predominant concern of the movement. Judge Merritt
Pinckney of the Chicago Juvenile Court, an important figure in the development of the first pension statute, argued that it was not the intention of that pivotal law to encourage "dependency" and exempt mothers from the labor force. Rather, he claimed that the legislation aimed to "supplement the family income...whenever such income is earned without neglect of home and children." He insisted that the "spirit of self-dependence must not be broken down, nor should the effort to accomplish partial self-support be discouraged." Most telling was Pinckney's review of past experience, which he argued "teaches us that many mothers can almost support themselves and their children.
The remarks of other contemporaries support the view that concern with eliminating the need for most pensioned mothers to work followed rather than accompanied the pension movement. Several years after most states had enacted laws, a U.S. Children's Bureau official wrote a letter to the Bureau's head, Julia Lathrop, explaining that "In the early days of agitation on the subject...it was frequently said that widows' pensions would be a means of keeping children out of institutions, but of late the 95
dominant idea has been that they would keep the mother in
the home, preventing her from going away to work." By the
time of this correspondence, the movement was over and
nearly 40 states had programs. Thus it was only after the
programs had been effective for several years and large
proportions of mothers were working that reformers began
to attend to the employment issues. By then, social
workers were complaining that Pinckney, the judge who had
spearheaded the pioneering and highly influential Illinois
law, perceived the grants only as small supplements to
other assumed resources.
C. The Mothers' Pensions Program v. State Foster Care Systems: A "Cheap" Substitute?
The previous section has argued that philosophies regarding family preservation and women's work do not sufficiently explain the acceptance of the mothers' pensions by state legislatures and tax-paying voters. The best explanation for the widespread acceptance of the proposed pensions was probably expressed by Robert Bremner when he explained that they "hurt no interests--and they cost very little." While it is true that reformers and the general public were sympathetic toward the hardships of working widows, it is also true that this program would 96
not have received such widespread and immediate popular
support had the pensions involved substantial tnx expenditures. The program that would decades later be criticized by left and right as the heart of the too-costly "welfare mess" slipped through legislative halls because the pensions were supposed to be very cheap.
The strongest argument of the campaigners was their repeated claim that the pensions would save taxpayers' money because the cost of supporting a child at home was much less than the price of tax-supported institutional or foster home care. This argument was an important one which merits analysis, not only because it was influential, but also because it was inconsistent with the argument that pensions were designed to enable many or most mothers to remain out of the labor force. The very argument which facilitated the passage of the laws inherently required that large numbers of women work while receiving pensions.
As will be shown, the claim that pensions would be cheap was based on a combination of impressions, prejudices, and unstated assumptions about the economic flexibility of the home unit.^^
Whether state lawmakers had reason to believe that taxpayers would save money by creating a pension program depended on how or whether public funds in that state had provided for dependent children before pension laws 97
developed. The areas that stood to gain the most from such
laws were obviously those which had spent a great deal of
public money specifically on children in institutions and
foster homes, assuming that many of these children were
children of single mothers. While most states ussd a
variety of foster care methods, there were four basic
methods and most states tended to favor one over the
others. These were the subsidy system, county homes, state
foster home placements, and the state schools. As reformers and state legislators devised their pension programs, they envisioned either removing children from
these types of care, or reducing the number of children who would be placed under these systems in the future.
Campaigners in all states argued the economy of the pensions, and lawmakers accepted such arguments. Therefore it is necessary to explore these particular systems to examine the bases, if any, of the arguments that children could be cared for at home so much more economically than in the facilities provided by the states.
The first method, the subsidy system, was actually the one that most critics had in mind when they complained about the high costs of institutional care. Most institutions in the U.S. were in fact private, but public funds nevertheless often reached them through the subsidy system. This method had become common after states 98
outlawed , poorhouse care for children in the late 19th century. Some states had chosen this method because at the time it appeared to be cheaper than building public institutions and because the subsidy system had developed during the 19th century when child care was widely 26 considered a private undertaking.
The subsidy system was the dominant method of public child care in New York, California, Maryland, and
Washington, D.C. A number of other states, including
Oregon, North Carolina, Delaware, Maine, New Hampshire,
Pennsylvania, Tennessee, and Illinois, employed the system to a considerable extent. The New York system, the oldest and most notorious example of the expenses incurred by the use of subsidies, illustrates the problems inherent in this particular method. During the early 19th century. New
York had provided subsidies to private institutions, such as Catholic orphanages. As the decades passed, the numbers of institutions requesting aid grew rapidly and costs skyrocketed until in 1874 lawmakers forbade such state aid through a constitutional amendment. The new law, however, permitted localities to subsidize private institutions. In
1875, when the Children's Law ordered the removal of all minors from poorhouses, state officials hoped that localities would adopt a system of child-placing in family homes. All local governments, however, opted to extend the 99
existing subsidy system to already existing private children's institutions and the new ones to be created in 27 the wake of these developments.
The number of children living in institutions after the passage of these two laws increased dramatically, their numbers greatly exceeding the numbers who had resided in the poorhouse. From 1875 to 1900, the population of New York state grew by 55%, while the population of children's institutions increased by 139%.
In 1875, there were 13,500 children in orphanages, and by
1915, over 37,000. During the early 1900s, approximately
15,000 of these institutionalized children were in New
York City alone. While the New York system was by no means typical, its importance lay in the fact that 25 to 30% of the institutionalized children in the United States during the century's first decade were in New York state's subsidized orphanages. By 1905, over 50% of the expense for maintaining New York's children's institutions, as compared to approximately 20% nationally, came from public funds.
By the 1880s and 1890s, the subsidy system had come under fire. Critics of the New York system and other similar arrangements charged that the practice had increased the size of the dependent child population far beyond any reasonable estimate of true need. Since the 10 0
State laws mandated that local officials place children in
institutions promoting their parents' religions, these
critics believed that immigrant Catholics in particular
freely relinquished children to what appeared to be nearby
religious boarding schools. These charges may have
contained a grain of truth, since the alternative for the
poor was sometimes seeing their children picked up off the
streets and sent to farm homes out west by the Children's
Aid Society. Those who objected to the system also claimed
that the owners of private institutions were profiteering by admitting all children and keeping them there for 29 unnecessarily long periods at city expense.
These charges were common knowledge among the public.
The majority of taxpayers therefore believed that they were paying for "artificial dependency" and at the same
time spending money on an inferior form of child care in institutions. From this perspective, children were residing in orphanages unnecessarily, and any reduction in the numbers of institutionalized children was welcomed by those who shouldered the indefensible expenses incurred by the system's inherent abuses. The pension movement received strong support from the general public as well as from special interest groups, and the economic arguments tapped a responsive chord among voters. Much of the hype regarding the purported "savings" that would result from 101
"cheap" pensions derived from this dissatisfaction with
the practice of subsidizing "too many" children. The belief that children would actually cost less at home, however, was not accompanied by any scientific analysis.
Although the amounts required from local funds to subsidize a child in an institution varied among states, reports concerning California and New York indicate that during the 1890s, the yearly institutional cost of one child was roughly $100. Most analysts estimated that the cost of living for a family of five in the early 1900s was between $600 and $700. Thus it is not clear why reformers, legislators, or tax-payers thought that a widow with three children could support her family on less than the $300 that a subsidized institution would otherwise receive from public funds.
If no one proved that public costs per child would be reduced through a pension system, there was also no reason to believe that the total number of children in public care would not actually increase if the state adopted mothers' pension laws. In 1914 the New York Commission on
Relief for Widows reported that 3,649 children in New
York state institutions had widowed mothers whose only crime was destitution or illness. This was less than 10% of the number of institutionalized children during that period. In theory, pensions would allow these children to 10 2
return to "cheaper" homes. In 1923, 8 years after the
passage of the pension law, the number of children in
orphanages dropped by about 7000. There were, however,
still close to 30,000 in New York institutions throughout
the 1920s. In 1922, New York City alone also supported 31 27,000 children whose mothers received the pensions.
Thus institutions continued to support almost as many
children as they had earlier, and in addition there were
tens of thousands of children receiving regular monthly
pensions payments. Although it is true that taxpayers paid
less per capita a year for the pensioned children, it is
also true that due to the pensions, public agencies were
supporting a vastly larger number of children than they
ever had in the past. New York's pensioned children were
not all "expensive" institutionalized children who had
returned to "inexpensive" homes. Any estimate of need in
New York City alone would have told public officials who were considering the pensions that they were assuming a new responsibility entailing significant funds.
The only way that public authorities could make this new system politically acceptable and distantly true to
its promises of "savings" was to make it as inexpensive as possible. If cities poured less funds into homes than to institutions, it was not because children were truly
"cheaper" there but because public officials required that 103
most women find ways to make up their large deficits.
Pensioned mothers in New York worked in large numbers.
During the early 1920s, 40% of the mothers in New York
City and over two-thirds of those in Westchester County of
New York were employed while receiving pensions. Despite the rhetoric of the pension commission, the only way most mothers could live on the pensions was to continue the very type of labor that the reformers had criticized. In all areas that had paid subsidies, the belief that pensions would save money had little rational basis and was rooted in prejudices against the subsidy system and institutions which exaggerated and distorted the meaning 32 of that purported economy.
Although widely practiced, the subsidy system was not the central method of child-caring adopted by most states.
In terms of per capita expenses, the subsidy system was actually the most economical system, as the public was footing only part of the bill. Yet because the system appeared to inflate the number of foster care children, many states designed their dominant methods in conscious reaction against the New York experience. Public welfare leaders who strongly opposed the subsidy system favored the creation of fully public systems over public-private arrangements. Although this could potentially create much greater public expenses than did the subsidy system, the 104
hope was ulimately to see all children who needed foster care in foster homes rather than orphanages. The debates of the late 19th century, it must be remembered, had first led to the conclusion that foster homes were better for children than institutions. These fully-public state plans thus tended to create public institutions which ideally would provide temporary shelter until public agents located suitable free foster homes. With this purpose in mind, three alternative methods to the subsidy system were developed during the late 19th century: the county home system, a state system of direct placement in foster homes, and state schools which housed children prior to placement.
States using completely-public systems were spending more money per child than were those that used subsidies. Perhaps, then, these states had stronger grounds upon which to argue that pensions would be cheaper than the cost of institutions. The county homes, the earliest form of public foster care, were the dominant method in Ohio, Connecticut, and Indiana. Ohio was the first state to outlaw poorhouse residency for children, and accordingly in 1866 the state authorized counties to develop such homes from county taxes. Legislators designing these laws had two expectations that would make such a system economical. First, since local taxpayers 105
were footing the bill, people in the community would
either be hesitant about sending their children there, or
they would be frowned upon by the community. Secondly, the
homes would be primarily child-placing agencies, retaining
the children only as long as it took to find free family
homes. Neither hope materialized. The response of poor
families was somewhat like that of New Yorkers who felt
less remorse about sending children to homes nearby where
they could see them. By 1900, 83% of Ohio's counties used
this system. Few of the county homes developed any
substantial practice of foster home placement. By 1900,
over 24,000 children had entered the homes, but less than
a third had moved to families. The homes therefore became
long-term residences for large numbers of children at
public expense. Due to local pride and the control of
entrenched interest groups, county homes endured and
slowed Ohio's transition to the later nationally dominant 33 foster home system of child care.
With some variations, the county systems in
Connecticut aod Indiana shared similar features and
encountered similar criticism, reformers seeing in them many of the problems endemic to the subsidy system. Since
the entire cost per child came from public funds,
reformers had somewhat stronger grounds upon which to argue that pensions might save taxpayers money, although 106
as in New York these statements were not accompanied by any scientific assessments regarding living costs in family homes. And again, the development of mothers' pensions did not reduce costs any more than they did in
New York. The county homes in Ohio continued to grow all the way through the Depression, and their major impact was to keep the thousands of women on pensions saddled with low grants because the state would not or could not invest funds in so many children. As in New York and other places, the creation of a pension program did not replace an older method of child care with a new and less 34 expensive one.
The states which chose a direct form of paid foster home placement also spent more money per child than did those which subsidized private institutions. Massachusetts had pioneered in this method, which was to some extent later adopted by New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Washington,
D.C. When Massachusetts began to remove children from the poorhouses during the 1860s, state leaders did not choose to send them to other special institutions and made negligible use of the subsidy system. Sentiments opposed to institutions and favoring foster homes had been developing for over a decade, and leaders of
Massachusetts' State Board of Charities were particularly forceful in promoting home care. Therefore Massachusetts 107
was the first state to establish a government child
placing agency which initially channeled children from a
state public school to foster homes and later dispensed
with the school, placing the children directly without the 35 intermediary of any institution.
One of the key features of the Massachusetts system
was that, from the early years of the program, the state
paid a boarding fee for at least some of the foster homes.
Foster home care had traditionally consisted of "free
homes," often combined with indenture arrangements for
older children. When Massachusetts began to pay board,
state leaders were acknowledging that free home care was
not appropriate for many children whose needs for foster
care were temporary. Increasingly Massachusetts paid for
children's care until their disposition was settled,
either to return to their original homes or be adopted. In
1876, 2% of the state's charges were placed at board, and
the percentage steadily increased thereafter: 25% by the early 1890s, 40% by the early 1900s, and nearly all state wards by the Depression, were in boarding homes.
Under somewhat different arrangements. New Jersey,
Pennsylvania, and D.C. began extensive use of boarding homes during the 19th century, and several other states followed by the early 20th. Although boarding home care
(to be discussed more extensively in chapter 5) did not 108
become the dominant form of foster home care until the
1930s, it was clear by the time of the mothers' pension
movement that families had to receive pay for children in
large numbers of cases where adoption was not practical.
During the early 1890s, Homer Folks warned social agencies
that it was inevitable that they must pay board for
certain classes of children. By that time many of the
large, nationally and regionally-based private child
placing agencies had begun to adopt boarding practives,
sometimes in conjunction with programs of public agencies.
Although reformers talked a great deal about the
inordinate expense of institutions and more sparingly
about paid foster homes, it was clear that boarding care
was at the cutting edge of change. If institutions were
gradually to disappear and foster home and mothers'
pensions replace them, it was obvious that foster care
would no longer be predominantly free. The increasing
tendency to use boarding homes provided a strong incentive
to keep as many children as possible in their own homes
and probably played a greater role in the passage of 37 pension legislation than has been recognized.
Costs of boarding care are difficult to determine, but
the few available figures suggest that during the 1890s, board per child was between $2 and $3 per week, and by
1920, approximately $4.50 per week. Thus by the time of 109
the pension era, states that used this system were paying
somewhere between $150 and $230 a year. The upper limit
suggests that a mother might be able to support her
children on less than the state was paying foster parents.
In Massachusetts, the most progressive of states in the
child care field, there was some degree of rationale in 38 the claim that pensions would save taxpayers money.
The final state system, although superficially
resembling the Massachusetts child-placing practices, was
actually the financially least burdensome of all these policies. A large number of states, located mostly in the
West and Midwest, adopted the state school system. Unlike eastern areas, these newer parts of the country tended not
to have well-developed private institutions and therefore were less tempted by the subsidy system. They also consciously sought to create a child-caring structure that would involve minimal public funds. Michigan pioneered in this method and was the first state to create an exclusive state system for all children who depended on public support. Like the early Massachusetts school, the Michigan school was to be a temporary home for children who would be placed in free foster homes, usually indentured. The emphasis on family homes was the outstanding feature of this system, as the institution would ideally remain a small receiving home which kept children only until homes 1 1 0
39 were found.
The Michigan system differed from the Massachusetts version in that it retained the school as the mediator for placement and it used free, indentured homes throughout most of its long history (1874-1935). Unlike the Ohio county homes, the state school was but one institution, centralized in a rural county generally at some distance from the children's parents. By placing virtually all the children who passed through its doors in free homes,
Michigan avoided the costs of expanding institutionalism that plagued the Ohio system. The proponents of the state school method believed, rightly or wrongly, that subsidy practices and county homes had inflated the number of
"dependent" children, and that the best route for new states to follow was one avoiding those systems and the temptations they presented. Far from the child's own home, legally prohibited from teaching religion, and meant to be places of brief respite prior to indenture and perhaps adoption, the state schools would make any parent nervous about allowing a child to go there.
Michigan and the other states which created state schools--Minnesota, Wisconsin, Rhode Island, Texas,
Kansas, Colorado, Nevada, and Iowa— took great pride in the purported superiority of this sytem. The deterrent effects of the system kept the dependent population small. Ill
and those declared dependent were soon shuffled away to a
free home. The Michigan school and its prototypes received
thousands of children, but only a small number were at
any time actually housed in the institution. By 1900,
almost 5000 children had been admitted to the school, but
only 155 were residents. The Minnesota school had received
about 2200 since it opened in 1885, and only 255 were
there in 1900. The Wisconsin school housed only 147, after
receiving, since 1885, numbers comparable to Minnesota.
In 1888, when New York housed 250 children per 1000
population in institutions, and California 268 per 1000,
Michigan provided public care for only one child in
10,000. With most children indentured, the basic costs of
these institutions covered maintenance, staff, feeding and
housing a small number of children. In Michigan, these
costs amounted to $45,000 a year, as compared to the $13 million spent annually to maintain institutions throughout
the United States in the 1890s. Homer Folks, president of
the conservative New York State Charities Aid Association, admitted that the "amounts spent by the states of Michigan and Minnesota for the care of destitute children seem almost ridiculously small compared with the amounts expended in other states." Like many others. Folks nevertheless praised the system for keeping the numbers of dependents low.*^ 112
In an age before anyone had really undertaken to estimate the degree of poverty and dependency, these appraisals meant very little. Reformers from the social work field, such as Folks and Josephine Lowell, consistently assumed that less meant better. The subsidy systems and county homes had exaggerated need, created artificial dependency, and state schools served as correctives to a national phenomenon gone out of control.
The truth, however, was that states like Minnesota and
Michigan were simply not taking care of very many needy children. Although the expenditures of totally public state school systems were higher than those of public-private ventures— $150 per child a year as opposed to approximately $100— so few children remained at the schools that this difference was irrelevant. State schools constituted rational, streamlined systems that left most poor people to their own devices or dependent on private charities. This was especially true of Michigan. As late as the 1930s, when more and more states were taking responsibility for foster care, almost three-fourths of children in foster care in Michigan were supported wholly by private funds.
For states such as Michigan, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and others where the state school was the only significant method of public child caring, mothers' pensions could 113
only entail increasing expenditures because the public
purse paid for so little. Michigan lawmakers and reformers
could not rationally argue that creating the pensions
would save taxpayers’ money because, unlike some of the
other states, these regions had not set up systems marked
by substantial costs which the pensions might reduce.
There are only two possible rationales for initiating a new program: the officials in these states were aware that many children received no public attention, or they could see that the archaic indenture system's days were numbered. With the demise of the latter practice, states and localities would eventually have to pay expensive boarding fees. Since other states and several prominent private organizations had initiated boarding practices, it was clear that those using the state school system would eventually feel pressures to follow suit.
Those considerations notwithstanding, it is nevertheless nonsensical to proclaim that developing a new public program where none of any consequence hitherto existed could save taxpayers money. More obviously than in other states, the creation of a mothers’ pension program entailed potentially high costs. Yet campaigners argued about the "cheapness” of the pensions in states using the state school system as they did elsewhere. It is perhaps for that reason that three-fifths of the 114
mothers receiving grants in Minneapolis were employed in
the early 1920s.
Thus the methods and the costs of child-caring varied
throughout the country. In some areas, particularly those
that were developing public boarding plans, there may have
been some limited rationale for assuming that adopting
mothers' allowances could lead to savings further down the
road. Yet for the most part, the states were assuming a
new responsibility rather than replacing older methods
with less expensive ones. The belief that public funds
could support children at less expense in their own homes
was rooted in irritation with existing systems and seldom
based on any scientific assessment of costs of living. As
the next section will show, claims in regard to "cheap" pensions were also a product of the tacit yet important assumptions concerning the economic flexibility and resources of the family unit.
D. The Interests of the State: Children at Home with "Good" Mothers
Given that a family of five needed approximately $600 to $700 a year to maintain a minimum level of decency, it is not clear why pensions would be less costly than the amounts taxpayers had been paying to subsidized institutions or even for the more expensive state systems. 115
To give an indication of how little some authorities
thought single mothers required, a typical situation
described by Judge Pinckney of Chicago is quite telling.
Defending the economy of the pensions against critics,
Pinckney explained:**
Take a widowed mother and her group of six little ones...Even after you eliminate the mother and her future welfare from your consideration, you will find that the amount of money demanded by institutions for their care and custody is nearly double that required to rear these children in their own homes. The expense of maintaining the family group of six in institutions is $75 per month... It must be conceded that these children can be supported at home at a much smaller expenditure.
Exactly why or how Pinckney thought that a family of 7
could live on approximately $450 a year is not clear.
While Pinckney used specifics in his attempt to show that pensions were an economical replacement for existing forms
of care, other involved groups appeared to accept on faith
their apparent economy. Years later, critics of the movement such as Emma Lundberg and Grace Abbott would explain that the first appropriations for mothers' pensions were accompanied by almost no rational assessments of needs and costs. The state politicians who passed the laws had little particular interest in them and approved them in response both to strong public opinion 116
and the pressure of effective lobbies. In most states, the
laws were "permissive," which meant that localities were
allowed to implement them and in many cases foot the
entire bill. So superficial was the law-making process
that in Illinois, the mothers' pension bill amounted to
"nothing but a brief paragraph" added to the juvenile
court law, with the legislators making no estimates of the
probable costs. Writing about the pensions in 1930, Ada
Davis commented that the "fortuitous aspects" of the laws
and the absence of any scientific basis undergirding the
details of the pension bills were their most notable
features.
Thus it is not clear that lawmakers even thought about whether or not 3 children requiring $300 per year in a
subsidized institution would need less than that at home.
Yet this very lack of scrutiny in regard to a matter so important as the welfare of children is symptomatic of the degree to which those in power mindlessly took for granted that women would find some way to support their children.
Economy dominated their considerations as legislators ensured that pensions would be as cheap as possible by placing maximums on the grants. Lids on the pensions guaranteed that a savings would result in cases of children who in theory might have otherwise been sent to institutions. Children who went to institutions were 117
subsidized as individuals; for example, in Cook County,
Illinois, each institutionalized boy and girl received
$10 and $15 a month, respectively. If that child remained
at home, he or she would belong to a family economy where
the maximium allowance was $40 a month regardless of the
size of the family. In 1921, 31 of the 40 states which
were by then administering the pensions designated
maximums for a family of three children. In 7 states, the
highest permitted grant was $20, in 9 states, from $22 to
$29; in 8 states, from $30 to $39;, and in 4, from $50 to
$55. These were allowable maximums, obviously inadequate
for many families given the estimated cost of living,
but in most cases women did not even receive these
amounts. Averages reveal what the programs generally
offered: the highest were $51 a month in New Jersey, $39
in Massachusetts, $36 in Connecticut, with the remainder
below $30.4*
It is in these restrictions, and the structural
differences between payments to institutions, that a
savings to the public purse accrued. The same structural
arrangements applied to boarding homes and were in some
respects more significant. Public authorities paid a set
fee per foster child regardless of how many children went
to one family and without consideration for that family's resources. In other words, foster parents receiving 2 118
children in 1920 would receive approximately $40 per month
even in two-parent families with a full-time wage earner.
In the eyes of the state, these foster parents were being paid for a service. The agencies administering mothers' pensions did not perceive children's own mothers in the same way: they would receive only what was necessary after all other possible sources of income were isolated.
The low pensions allotments make it apparent that agencies administering funds assumed, although without giving it much thought, that some other source of money was available. Reformers and lawmakers approached female-headed families in the manner they would approach an elite group of the working poor; relief was needed, but some other sources of inadequate income was probably available to the family. The tacit, half-conscious assumption was that the family unit had other resources upon which to draw as well as flexibility in ways of spreading a flat income. Sometimes these additional resources might be the aid of other social agencies or help from relatives, but to a considerable extent it was the earnings the mothers could draw upon from their traditional work in the irregular labor market. Although legislators and local administrators did not conspire to force women to do such work, they also saw no reason why single mothers should not continue to earn a few dollars a 119
week in the low-wage labor market. This was a common yet
significant expectation that would endure in the decades
to follow, long after domestic labor had been shunned by most women as a standard occupation.
An examination of the early pension laws make it clear that this type of employment was what lawmakers and administrators had in mind. A superficial reading of the statutes, however, may suggest that they were restrictive in regard to employment. For example, the Ohio law specifically stated that the mother "may be absent not more than one day a week for work." Several states ruled that women could not work "regularly" away from home, and other statutes or local agency regulations contained some version of the so-called "three-day rule." Leaving aside the question as to whether local officials ever enforced these parts of the laws, there are good reasons to question the "restrictive" aspects of these clauses. The fact that the statutes even mentioned work suggests that the intention was to make it clear that receiving a pension neither barred nor exempted women from earning part of their•family's support. The term "regularly" was obviously subject to wide interpretation and left ample room for the type of employment most common to single mothers. In Illinois, a state wherein the law barred
"regular" employment, 25% of the mothers were at work 120
full-time in the early 1920s. Many of the laws were permissive, that is, designed to allow courts or agencies to arrange work agreements as conditions of the grants at the time the women received them.^® For example, A9 Minnesota's statutory three-day rule read as follows:
The court may...require the mother to do such remunerative work outside her own home as she can do without detriment to her health or neglect of her family and may limit the number of days per week when she may so be employed.
It is difficult to see in such wording a design to restrict women's access to the labor force. Rather, it allowed courts actually to order women to work and gave the courts the right to regulate their labor. As the various administering agenciesthroughout the country began to see the large numbers of women applying, it became all the more paramount to tighten up eligibility rules and make the families be as self-supporting as possible.
In Illinois, the situation seemed to validate the ominous words of Judge Pinckney. By the early 1920s, the
Chicago administration admitted that "the court policy is to have the mother do all the work she can without injury to her health or to her children's welfare." As lawmakers passed their statutes, the names of the grants were significantly changed from "pensions" to "mothers' aid" or 121
"mothers' allowances." This signaled the acknowledgement
of a certain philosophy as well as a simple name change.
The title "pension" had implied the right to payment for
services rendered to the state; "aid" connoted a
supplement to self-help and "allowance" a free gift
from the state which should be appreciated without
demands for adequacy. With the name change and subsequent
developments, the supplementary nature of the program became apparent.
In designing the mothers' pensions programs, the state did not truly intend to assume a new responsibility, but rather to place as much responsibility as possible back on
the children's mothers. It was apparent by the early 1900s
that rapid industrialization was producing large numbers of children in need of special care and support from public funds. Public welfare administrators, eager to build up their own power and reputation, were willing to embrace that job. Yet institutions were costly, and foster homes increasingly required payment. It was in the interest of the public sector to siphon off one particular group--children of "good" mothers— and slate them for
"cheap" home care. As it increasingly appeared that paid boarding homes were the future of foster care, the argument for "boarding" children in their own homes gained support. Despite the hype about "rights" and the 122
"subsidization of the service of motherhood," the belief
that no one should be paid to support their own children
remained so strong that policymakers would not think of
paying mothers as much as foster parents received for a
child's support. At the same time, it was taken for granted that the "good type" of mothers who received pensions were possessed of the "special" nurturing skills
that would enable them to find ways to get by.
The pensions were a means by which a growing public child care sector placed as many children as possible back in the home, where assumed resources, including the mothers' employment, would make up for serious deficits built into paltry grants. In this way, future child care costs to the state might be reduced by leaving as much of the burden as possible on house-cleaning single mothers.
The real reason for the success of the pension movement had little to do with the goal of family preservation, ideologies concerning women's place, or the publics' desire to halt trends in women's labor force participation. The movement succeeded primarily because lawmakers, relief officials, and most of the American public believed that they would be inexpensive. Or, to put it another way, 40 states would not have enacted these laws within a few years if people believed they would be expensive. NOTES
Grace Abbott, The Child and the State. (Chicago; University of Chicag'o tress, 1938), TTJ 229; Emma 0. Lundberg, "Aid to Mothers With Dependent Children," American Academy of Political and Social Science, Annals, XCVIII (November 1921) 97-98.
^ Abbott, The Child and the State, II, 235-236; Winifred Bell, Aid to Dependent Children (New York: Columbia University Press, 1965), p. 9. 3 Federal Security Agency, Social Security Board, Bureau of Public Assistance, Public and Private Aid in 116 Urban Areas, 1929-1938, Public Assistance Report nol Î (Washington, D.C.: 1#42), pp. 4, 14-15; Michael B. Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse; A Social History of Welfare In America (New York: Basic Books, 1^06), p. 128; Grace Abbott, ''kecent Trends in Mothers' Aid," The Social Service Review, 8 (June 1934), 191.
^ Most summaries of the mothers' pension movement claim that one of its major purposes was to eliminate or at least lessen the need of mothers to work. See Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, p. 125; Lynn Weiner, From Working Girl toWorking MotHer: The Female Labor Force in the United States , li520-l95ïï (Chapel dill : University of North Carolina, 1985), pp"I 128-129, 131; Muriel W. and Ralph E. Pumphrey, "The Widows' Pension Movement: Preventive Child-Saving or Social Control?", in Walter I. Trattner, ed.. Social Welfare or Social Control? Some Reflections on Regulating the Poor (Knoxville: University ÔÎ Tennessee Press, 1983), p. 52; Mimi Abramowitz, Regulating the Lives of Women: Social Welfare Policy From Colonial Times to the Present (Boston: South End Press. 1988), pp. 18T, 190-193.------
^ Genevieve Carter, "The Employment Potential of AFDC Mothers," Welfare in Review, 6 (July-August 1968), 1-10; Irene Cox, "the Employment of Mothers as a Means of Family Support." Welfare in Review, 8 (Nov.-Dec. 1970), 9-17; Perry Levinson, "How Employable Are AFDC Women?" Welfare in Review, 8 (July-August 1970), 12-16.
123 124
^ Michael Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, pp. 115-117; 124-129; Susan Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest; Child Welfare Reform in the Processive Era (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1982), pp. 110-116.
^ Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, pp. 28-29, 114. For the Progressive focus on "prevention," see James T. Patterson, America's Struggle Against Poverty, 1900-1980 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1^86), pp. 20-34, and Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, pp. 110-120. For the environmental approach of the Progressives see John Ehrenreich, The Altruistic Imagination: A History of Social Work and Social Policy in the United States (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 19857, and Roy Cubove, The Struggle for Social Security, 1900-1935 (Pittsburgh: University of I*ittsburgh t*ress, 19687, pp. 94-95. 8 Mary Richmond, Social Diagnosis. (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 19l7), passim; Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, pp. 115-116. Q Robert Bremner, ed., Children and Youth in America, (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University jPress, 1971), TT, 364-365, 369; Lundberg, "Aid to Mothers With Dependent Children", pp. 97-98; Grace Abbott, From Relief to Social Security: The Development of the New Public Welfare Services and Their Administration (New York; Russell and Russell, 19667 » P^ 263; Lubove, The Struggle for Social Security, pp. 98-99; Mark Leff, "Consensus for Reform: The Mothers Pension Movement in the Progressive Era, Social Service Review, 47 (September 1973), 399-400.
Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, p. 127; Pumphrey, "THe Widows' Pension Movement, pp. 54-56; Lubove, Struggle for Social Security, pp. 93-102; Leff, "Consensus for Reform," pp. 402-411 ; Ada J. Davis, "The Evolution of Mothers' Pensions in the United States," American Journal of Sociology, 35 'January 1930), 583-584; Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, pp. 122-123.
Abbott, The Child and the State. 11, 231-233, 251-252; Bremner^ Children and Youth, TT, 373-379, 388 Lubove, The Struggle for Social Security, pp. 102-103 Weiner, From Working Girl to Working Mother, pp. 128, 130 Davis, ’TPEi Evolution of Mothers Pensions," p. 582 Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, pp. 124-125. 12 Lundberg, "Aid to Mothers With Dependent Children," p. 98. 125
Frank Bruno, Trends in Social Work, 1874-1956: A History Based on the Proceedings of the National Conference of Social Work iNew York: Columbia University Press, 195?), p"I 177; Pumphrey, "Tha Widows' Pension Movement," p. 58; Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, p. 128; Leff, "Consensus for Reform," p. 397; Frances Fox Piven and Richard Cloward, "Humanitarianism in History," in Walter Trattner, ed.. Social Welfare or Social Control; Some Reflections on Regulating the Poor, pp. 123, 125.
For the "converging ideas" approach, see Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, pp. 124-125; Pumphrey, "The Widows' Pension Movement," pp. 54-55.
Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, pp. 28, 111-112.
Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, p. 125; Abramovitz, Regulating the Lives of Women, p ^ 184-185; Grace Abbott and Frances Perkins, Mothers' Aid, 1931. Children's Bureau Publication no. 22(5 (Washington, B.C.: GPO, 1933), p. 1.
Leff, "Consensus for Reform," pp. 407-409; Lubove, Struggle for Social Security, pp. 99-101. 18 Leff, "Consensus for Reform," p. 407; Pumphrey, "TheWidows' Pension Movement," p. 56; Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, pp. 131-134; Lubove, Struggle for Social Security! p! 99; Abbott, "Recent Trends in Mothers' Aid," p. 191. 19 Abramovitz, Regulating the Lives of Women, pp. 184-187, 190; Weiner, From Working Girl to Working Mother, p. 120. 20 Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, p. 126; Abbott, The Child and the State. TT! 23l; Leff, "Consensus for Reform," p! 403; Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, p. 83; Lubove, Struggle for Social Security, pp. 101-102. 21 Lubove, Struggle for Social Security, pp. 93-96; 101-106; Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, pp. 67-77. 22 Lubove, The Struggle for Social Security, pp. 93-94; New York State Commission on Relief for Widowed Mothers, Report of the Commission (Albany: J. B. Lyon Co., 1914), pp. 33, 42. 2 3 Bremner, Children and Youth, 11, 372. 126
Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, p. 125: Edith Abbott and Sophonisba Breckinridge, The Administration of the Aid-to-Mothers * Law in Illinoi'sT Children ' s Bureau Publication no. 82 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1921), p. 69. 25 Robert Bremner, From the Depths: The Discovery of Poverty in the United States (New York: New York University Press, 1956), p! 223; Davis, *The Evolution of Mothers' Pensions," pp. 573, 581-582: Abbott, The Child and the State,, 11, 229; Abbott; "Recent Trends in Mothers' Aid," pp. 192-193; Emma 0. Lundberg, Public Aid to Mothers With Dependent Children, Children^ Bureau Publication no. 162 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1926), p. 2.
Abbott, The Child and the State, 11, 15; Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, p. 198. 27 Homer Folks, The Care of Destitute, Neglected, and Delinquent Children (New York: Johnson Reprint Corporation, 1970), pp. 82-83, 116-119, 140-145; Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, p. 120; Abbott, The Child and the State, 11, 10-11, 113; Emma 0. Lundberg, Unto the Least of These: Social Services for Children (New York: D. Appleton-Century-Crofts, l947), p. 771 28 ' Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, p. 104; Folks, The Care of Destitute, Neglected and DelTnquent Children, pp. 172, 127, 131; Abbott, The Child and the State, TT, 74; David M. Schneider and Albert Deutsch, The History of Public Welfare in New York State, 1867-1940 (Montclair, Mew Jersey: Patterson Smith, 1969), pT 392; Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, p. 192. 2Q Bruno, Trends in Social Work, p. 67; Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, pp. 73, 198-199: Abbott, The Child and the S ta tel 11, 15, 75-76; Folks, The Care of Destitute, Neglected, and Delinquent Children, pp. lii-iii, iA7-U%.-----— ------
Davis, "The Evolution of Mothers' Pensions," pp. 581-582; White House Conference on Children, Health and Protection (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1933), p. l77; Folks, the Care of Destitute, Neglected, and Delinquent Children, pT 137; Bruno, Trends in Social Work, p. 67; Abbott, The Child and the State, TT^ 74^ 107; Schneider, History of Public Welfare in New York State, p. 162; Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, pp. 57^ 199; Bremner, Children and Youth, TTJ 283; Paul Douglas, Wages and the Family (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1925), p^ IT; John Â7 Ryan, A Living Wage: Its Ethical and Economic Aspects (New York: MacMillan and Co., LTD., 1912), pp. 110-150. 127
Bremner, Children and Youth, II, 380; Martin Wolins and Irving Piliavin, Institution or Foster Family; A Century of Debate (New YorK: Child Welfare League 5T America, 1964), pp. 39, 45; Schneider, The History of Public Welfare in New York State, (Montclair, New Jersey: Patterson Smith, 1964), 392; Weiner, From Working Girl to Working Mother, p. 132.
Florence Nesbitt, "A Brief Study of Mothers' Pensions in New York City," file 20-100-s, Box 71, Children's Bureau Collection, Record Group 102, National Archives; Florence Nesbitt, Standards of Public Aid to Children in Their Own Homes, Children's Bureau Publication no. Il8 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1923), p. 18. 33 Lundberg, Unto the Least of these, pp. 94-96; Henry Thurston, The Dependent Child (New York; Arno Press, 1974), p. 35] Abbott, The Child and the State, II, 13-14, 44; Katz, In The Shadow of the Poorhouse, pT~ 120; Bruno, Trends in Social WorFI ppl 61-62; Folks, The Care of Destitute, Neglected, and Delinquent Children, pp. lOi-106, ll2. ------^------
Abbott. "Recent Trends in Mothers' Aid," p. 202. 35 Lundberg, Unto the Least of These, pp. 85-87, 39, 93-94; Abbott, The Child and the State, II, 9; Folks, The Care of Destitute, Neglected, and Delinquent Children, pp.
Lundberg, Unto the Least of These, p. 89; Bremner, Children and Youth, TT] 322, 324; Folks, The Care of Destitute, Neglected. and Delinquent Children, pp. 152-154; Abbott, The Child and the State. II, 10, 13-14.
Lundberg, Unto the Least of These, pp. 81-83, 93-94; Folks, Care ol Destitute, Neglected, and Delinquent Children! ppT 150, 154-162; Bremner, Children and Youth, II, 300, 324; Thurston, The Dependent Child, p . 1S6.
Bremner, Children and Youth, II, 322-323; Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, p! ?8; Folks, The Care of Destitute, Neglected, and Delinquent Children, pp! 1.54, 160; Lundberg, "Aid to Mothers With Dependent Children," p. 102. 39 Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, p. 123; Bruno. Trends in Social Work! pp. 37-38, 63; Lundberg, Unto the Least of These! pp! 7*4, 92; Folks, The Care of Destitute, Neglected, and Delinquent Children, pp. 83, 96-97; Abbott, The Child and the State, TT! 12, 54; Henry Thurston, 128
The Dependent Child (New York: Arno Press, 1974), p. 66.
Abbott, The Ct^ld and the State, II, 13; Lundberg, Unto the Least o£ These, pT 521 Bremner, Children and Youth, TÎ1 264; Folks, The Care of Destitute, Neglected, and Delinquent Children, pp. 94-57.
Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, p. 120; Bremner, Children and Youth, TTl 263-264; Folks, The Care of Destitute, Neglected, and Delinquent Children, pp. 02-85, 94-52; Bruno, Trends in Social Work, pp. 67-69.
Abbott, The Child and the State, 11, 13, 76; Bremner, Children and Youth, 11, 283.
Nesbitt, Standards of Public Aid, p. 13.
Bremner, Children and Youth, 11, 372.
Lundberg, "Aid to Mothers With Dependent Children," pp. 101-102; Abbott, From Relief to Social Security, p. 266; Leff, "Consensus for Reform," pp. 4o5-406; Davis, Evolution of Mothers' Pensions," pp. 573, 581; Abbott and Breckinridge, Administration of the Aid-to-Mothers* Law in Illinois, p. l7~.
Abbott, The Child and the State, 11, 8, 12, 99; Abbott and Breckinridge, Administration of the Aid-to Mothers' Law in Illinois, p. 12, Lundberg, “'Aid to Mothers With Dependent Children," p. 102: Abbott, "Recent Trends in Mothers' Aid," p. 198.
Lundberg, "Aid to Mothers With Dependent Children," p. 102.
Bremner, Children and Youth, 11, 387; Weiner, From Working Girl to Working Mother,pp. 131-132; Nesbitt, Standards of Public Aid, p. 19; Abbott and Breckinridge, Administration ôî the Aid-to-Mothers Law in Illinois, p. T3: 49 Minnesota Laws, Statutes, Compilation of the Laws of Minnesota Relating to Children (St. Paul, Minnesota; State Board of Control, l523), p. ill.
Abbott and Breckinridge, The Administration of the Aid-to-Mothers* Law in Illinois, p. 103. CHAPTER III
RELUCTANT DOMESTICS, ENTITLED MOTHERS
The last chapter has demonstrated that in law as well as in philosophy, the framers of the mothers' pensions
legislation assumed that mothers' earnings would continue
to play a role in family support and keep the pensions inexpensive to taxpayers. Statistics regarding the labor force participation of mothers on the pensions indicate
that this became the practice as well as the theory.
Although no national figures on the work of welfare mothers were compiled before the 1940s, a 1921 study by
Florence Nesbitt of the U.S. Children's Bureau indicated that in nine areas explored, 52% of the mothers were working while receiving pensions. This ranged from very small numbers of women in rural regions of Minnesota, to
21% in Boston, 57% in St. Louis, 59% in Minneapolis, 67% in Denver, and 69% in a large New York county. Since most of the pension programs had been created in urban areas and most welfare mothers move in and out of the labor force, it is safe to conclude that an even larger percentage than 52% worked at some point during 1921.^
129 130
The authors of later reports took this development
for granted and seldom tabulated statistics, but rather
analyzed the possible implications of low grants and hard
work for the health and well-being of families. By the
mid-1920s, the budget records of agencies indicated the
degree to which the employment of welfare mothers was
simply assumed. In some areas, such as New Bedford,
Massachusetts, and King's County, Washington, the budget
sheets simply estimated the funds needed for the women's
food and clothing according to whether she worked. Chicago
authorities indicated on the forms that they would make
allowances in the budget depending on how difficult her
job was, and Erie County, New York, went further and made
clothing allotments determined by whether the woman worked
in shops, stores, factories, at home, or by the day. In
Minnesota, the State Board of Control required that
agencies obtain information regarding women's present work
and earnings, and also asked "what work can she procure
and do at home, and what can she earn?" Thus Minnesota,
like other areas, assumed a great variety of work, inside 2 and outside the home.
Some social workers and administrators had hoped these women could remain out of the labor force. Therefore they
sought ways to make the work, necessitated as it was by budget deficits and public hopes of maintaining a "cheap" 131
program, as compatible with women's home role as possible.
The first method was to encourage industrial homework. It
was well known by the 1920s, however, that such work was
generally unhealthy and often led to neglect of children
even when mothers were home. Therefore some agencies
discovered innovative ways to provide work for mothers in
their own homes. In St. Louis, for example, administrators
devised a plan whereby women received payments for taking
in foster care children. In Berks County, Pennsylvania,
the agency replaced the undesirable homework available in
that community's industry with a home craft shop in which 3 women could sell goods.
Such improvisations, however, were few. Most women
continued to work in the old style, social workers
rationalizing this trend with the feeble justification
that "some money-earning occupation on the part of the
mothers was a wholesome influence on the children."
Florence Nesbitt's 1921 study revealed that in the 9 areas
examined, 33% of the women still worked in some form of
industrial homework, 38% by the day, 17% in other forms of domestic and personal service, 10% in factories, and 2% in
sales and clerical/*
This chapter will explore the ways in which women
themselves responded to the pensions and in particular to
the work stipulations. Since the most common type of 132
employment under the pensions was some form of household
labor, section A will examine how single mothers as a group felt about this type of work. I argue that many single mothers were attempting to escape irregular, domestic employment while their caseworkers endeavored to limit them to day work. The second section (B) will show how welfare mothers dealt with the fact that they were obviously still considered to be "employables" under the laws, and how they endeavored to set up the most rational arrangement of work and welfare, while the administration of the laws nevertheless reinforced their dependence on and confinement to the irregular labor market. Sections C and D will deal with the significant question as to whether single mothers thought that they had a right to special assistance, as this is an important historical element in the drive to secure decent grants. Whereas section C provides evidence suggesting that single mothers believed that there should be a special form of aid for women and children, section D focuses on their belief that they had a right to aid whether or not they accepted the moral standards of social agents. The last section will show how the approach of the government changed briefly during the mid-1930s when the government redefined single mothers as "unemployables"— a reformulation of their status which single mothers themselves played no role in 133
devising.
The material in this chapter is drawn from government
reports dealing with several cities, studies relating to
single mothers during the 1920s, and case records and
letters which date primarily from the 1930s. The main
sources are, however, case records of the Minneapolis
Family Welfare Association and the Minneapolis Children's
Protective Society. In conjunction with a few letters and reports derived from other areas, these cases provide much of the basis for the conclusions reached in section A in regard to mothers' feelings about housework, and in sections C and D concerning their attitudes regarding their right to aid. Sections B and E employ some cases, but since these sections deal more broadly with economic and policy issues, they rely more on government reports and studies.
This chapter therefore focuses, although not exclusively, on single mothers in Minneapolis during the
1930s. Although mothers' pensions funds were depleted in many areas during the Depression, the Minneapolis relief department continued to provide them. The 1930s represent an important decade in the history of that program, which was transformed into a national one by the 1935 Social
Security Act. The Minneapolis Family Welfare Association and the Children's Protective Society worked with the 134
Minneapolis Division of Public Relief to place women on
the pensions and, in the case of the CPS, to monitor the
women's behavior before or after they received grants.
Therefore these two welfare organizations provide
excellent records through which to study the experience of
pensioned, single mothers as well as those who never
received pensions. Minneapolis was, of course, a city in
which the population was almost entirely white, and
virtually all the women whose cases have been presented
here are white.
A. Single Mothers: Reluctant Domestics
As the statistics from the Nesbitt study show, welfare mothers worked primarily in domestic service and home work; few had entered better-paying factory jobs or white-collar employment. In later decades, national studies of the AFDC caseload would note that welfare mothers worked in the low-wage irregular domestic labor market in much greater proportions than women as a whole.
Much of this can be explained by lack of skill and education, as these limitations are among the reasons that many single mothers are poor and in need of welfare in the first place. Their sole responsibility for children and lack of funds for child care also historically 135
confined them to irregular, sporadic jobs such as housework, which better educated women were able to avoid.
History suggests, however, that there are other important reasons for the concentration of single mothers in domestic service. In most cases, it was not because women chose this type of work. Since the early 20th century, both case records and social commentaries made it clear that mothers reliant upon any type of relief were becoming increasingly selective about what type of work they did. The least popular was industrial home work, which they accepted when there was little choice. The New
York commission had called home work the "favorite resort of the widowed mother with dependent children, since it offers her some chance of being together with her very small children." Katherine Anthony, interviewing hundreds of New York City mothers in 1914, had found that this was not true; most widows with whom she talked were "too independent to allow themselves to be exploited at home work...they prefer outside wage-earning, as they know that they can get a better return for their time." Other studies suggested that women avoided such work when they could; a 1922 Chicago report on wage-earning mothers, over half of whom were widows, indicated that only 4.3% relied upon homework.^ 136
During the early 1900s, single mothers actually
preferred day work (laundering and cleaning in people's
homes on a flexible, irregular basis) because it got them
out of the house and paid more than did piecework. When
the New York Association for the Improvement of the
Condition of the Poor urged pensioned mothers to stay
home, women nevertheless worked outside, typically
arguing that "I like to get out of my house into someone
else's once in a while." Other contemporaries reported,
however, that many mothers took up this low-paying,
back-breaking task only grudgingly. During the First World
War, welfare mothers become increasingly anxious for
better-paying factory work as they saw more and more
women move into such jobs. Studies of various cities
during the 1920s revealed significant proportions of welfare mothers working in factories. In Philadelphia in
1924, 32% of employed pensioned mothers were employed by
factories, whereas only 17% worked by the day; in Chicago
in 1922, 40% of mothers relying on private charities worked in factories and 28% by the day. These figures indicated that in areas which had greater industrial development, women would take factory work over domestic 6 service.
Social agencies were disturbed by this trend. A 1928 report from Chicago claimed that welfare organizations 137
pressured women to take day work rather than work in
Chicago's factories. The author acknowledged that 'The advantages of this arrangement appealed more strongly to
the agencies than to the women themselves, in whose eyes
the disadvantages loomed larger than any possible gains."
The welfare organizations preferred that women remained confined to flexible day work because it was "one of the few kinds of work that a woman can do and still arrange to have free days for her household." The policy in Chicago was typical: agencies discouraged work of certain types, but they did not discourage work in general. In New York, investigators who were disturbed to see pensioned mothers working at night warned caseworkers that day work must be
"recommended." In Minneapolis, caseworkers of the Family
Welfare Association (FWA) routinely told single mothers to apply for day work at local employment bureaus and often arranged for them to clean the homes of other welfare clients who worked outside the home.^
Thus if welfare mothers continued to work in irregular household labor after other groups of women left that sector, there is evidence that caseworkers and welfare agencies played a role in retaining them in this labor market. From the days of the First World War, many mothers made persistent efforts to escape domestic service, but their caseworkers often pressured them to 138
take household jobs and in fact discouraged them from
trying other jobs or attempting to upgrade their skills.
It cannot be denied, of course, that many mothers,
albeit with reluctance, simply accepted domestic service
as their fate. They had supported their children in this
way for years, and despite general changes in women's
employment, they did not expect their own status to alter
as well. In Minneapolis during the Depression years, the
main complaint of many single mothers was the dearth of
household positions; one baffled mother spoke for many when she explained to her FWA agent that she had "always
been able to find day work until recently." Some women assumed that they would always do day work and nothing else. After finding no housework in Minneapolis, a mother rejected her caseworker's suggestion that she move back to her former town, explaining that "it would be futile to return to...as the housewives did their own housework" there.®
If some mothers were willing to do housework, they were, however, particular about the type. As live-in domestic service lost favor among the married women who increasingly replaced single women in this line of work, single mothers in Minneapolis searched for live-in jobs in homes to which they could bring their children. As a caseworker for the Children's Protective Society tried to 139
channel a mother into day work, the mother responded that
she "would much prefer to get housework where she could
keep ______with her." In another situation, a mother who
had had to place her children in foster care while she
took a live-in job explained that she would "be very happy
to have them with her if she could have a job which would
permit her to do so." Mothers of children of all ages
searched for such positions. This particular type had
advantages which were especially important for single
mothers. Although it was undoubtedly difficult to look
after children, live-in work nevertheless eliminated the
need for paid child care as well as rent. Other less
obvious factors were sometimes involved: one mother
complained that unless she could find a job that provided
room and board, she would have to "take a streetcar, and
eat up much of her earnings."^
In Minneapolis, as in other areas, women with infant
children had the best chances of securing such work. The
frequency with which women with older children searched
for live-in jobs, however, suggests that all single mothers perceived it as a viable option. Case records reveal that some employers would accept older children into their households. During the Depression, however,
fewer middle-class people could afford household help, and many mothers complained of the difficulty of finding 140
live-in jobs. One mother explained that she had "tried
many places to get such a position but had not succeeded
for some time." They sometimes met with prejudices on the
part of middle-class women who did not want their own
children to associate with the children of the "help.
Many live-in positions provided only lodging and food
with no additional cash wages. Some women were satisfied
with this; as she searched for work, Mrs.______told her
Family Welfare Association agent that she was "willing to
take______and work for her room and board if she could
find something like that." More often, however, mothers
expressed dissatisfaction with such arrangements and did not believe they could really support their children without some additional cash earnings. When her caseworker
inquired about her search for work, a mother complained
that she had "answered ads for housekeeping jobs but was told housekeepers could be secured for board and room only." A mother who had in the past worked as a salaried, live-in nurse refused her caseworker's job suggestion because she "was not interested in a position which did not pay any money." A common complaint was that too many of the people hiring live-in women with children were single men whom the women did not trust. Situations like these, wherein mothers became dependent on room and board but received no wages by which they might reassert 141
their independence, could--and sometimes did--turn into
virtual prostitution.^^
Despite these serious limitations, many women
perceived live-in jobs with their children as the best
arrangement if they had to do this type of work. If they
failed in finding such positions, they often had no choice
but to take live-in jobs alone and board their children
in foster homes. Although most mothers hoped eventually to
restore homes with their children, there was a tendency
for foster home situations, once established, to endure.
In some cases, the arrangement was economically the most
viable one: for example, a Minneapolis mother with a
live-in nursing job earned $10 a week in addition to room
and board, and it is unlikely that she could have earned
more with which to support her son, who was not permitted
to live there. Most mothers, however, did not earn that much and would have preferred to find a way to establish homes with their children. Unless the women had had serious discipline problems with their children which sometimes made foster care desirable, this type of 12 housework job was unsatisfactory to all concerned.
A few women looked for live-out jobs and tried to support their children in their own homes. Most did not realize how little they would be paid. A young mother who did not like the prospect of live-in work told her CPS 142
agent that she "could only do housework and would be willing to do that if she could sleep out and see at night." Others knew that live-out work carried small returns. One mother asked her FWA caseworker for help in
finding a job taking care of rentals in a building, for it would bs "impractical for her to do maid work, as she would not earn enough to warrant her having someone in the home to take care of the children." Thus although many women had for years supported their children through some form of domestic service, they knew that the only feasible type of housework for mothers in their situation was 13 live-in work, preferably with their children.
Despite the fact that many single mothers believed that housework was inevitable for them, others expressed a real dissatisfaction with this occupation. Their responses ranged from resisting the suggestions of caseworkers to outright rejection of all forms of such labor from the beginning of their contacts with social agencies. A mother who had been searching for work while on relief told her caseworker that she "hated to think of doing housework" but, as "no other job seemed open for her," she would
"probably have to resort to that." All mothers on relief had to deal with the subject one way or the other, as their agents always pressured them to consider such jobs.
Many women were adamant in their refusal to cooperate. 143
Neither the Family Welfare Association nor the Children's
Protective Society liked to see mothers working in beer
parlors, and when one woman who had refused to apply for
the mothers' pension because she preferred such a job was
laid off, her CPS caseworker recommended that she apply
at the local settlement house for day work. The agent
recorded that this mother "at once stated that she was not
at all interested in housework and laundry" and this terse
reply put the subject to rest. Other women also felt
angered and insulted by such suggestions. A mother of five who was attempting to force child support from her former husband was "thoroughly disgusted" with the caseworker's recommendation that she "go out and do housework." Weeks
later, she was "still angry about Miss ______wanting her to register at the state employment office" for day work. Like other women, she was fed up with the expectation that she could support five children by cleaning someone else's home while her own remained unattended.
These women remained firm in their resolve, refusing to cooperate with agency recommendations. Many others rejected day work, not only from a dislike for household work, but also because they were trying to advance to other types of employment. A mother who had done housework in the past told her Family Welfare Association agent that 144
she "wished to get into another type of work as it was not
possible to earn enough doing housework to take care of
the children and herself." Women who had experience in
better-paying jobs were particularly resistant to
caseworkers' pressure to find day work. Once on relief,
however, detailed resumes seemed to have little bearing on
the advice they received. A mother who was a trained and
experienced practical nurse, for example, learned from her
FWA caseworker that she "could probably find a domestic
job." Regardless of experience, caseworkers routinely
advised women to visit the public employment agencies
regarding housework.
The pressure to do day work became most intense in
those cases where women persistently refused to comply but
found no other enduring job in the meanwhile. One case
story provides a good example of what most "uncooperative" women endured. Mrs. D______was a client at the Family
Welfare Association from the early to the late 1930s when
she died at a youthful age. For the first few years, she worked off and on in the agency's clothing room. When FWA discontinued this work relief program, Mrs. D took a variety of jobs in stores and factories, all of which she lost due to slow business, bad luck, and finally grave illness. 145
After about a year of steady efforts to earn as much
as possible, Mrs. D's FWA agent began harassing her about
housework. When she had been unemployed for two weeks, the
caseworker informed her that she had "seen any number of
newspaper advertisements which could be followed up by
anyone with sufficient ambition" and added that since she
did such a fine job of keeping her own home clean, she would "surely be able to earn money helping other people
keep their homes clean." Mrs. D protested that she wanted
factory work and complained that all the housework ads were placed by single men. After Mrs. D had secured a one-day-a week cleaning job, the caseworker added that she
"could find a great deal more cleaning jobs than that if she would try." Mrs. D replied that she was constantly searching for jobs. The visitor again commented on the neatness of Mrs. D's home and assured her that she was an excellent cleaner.
When later visits brought further criticism, Mrs. D retorted, "'Lead me to a job and you will see how badly I want it.'" The caseworker's response highlighted the class differences between the two women: the caseworker claimed that she "knew there was plenty of work to be found, as she had tried to find help herself and the employment agencies had told her there were more jobs on hand, than women to fill them." Mrs. D continued to insist that she 146
was trying to find a job she could maintain and "wished
the day would come back when she could work in factories
the way she had before she was married.. .she had received
between $11 and $15 a week. In these days it was
impossible to get factory work." The caseworker's only
consolation was to admit that "these jobs were undoubtedly
what (Mrs. D) wanted but she would advise her to look for
a housekeeping job or day work." When another job ended
due to a strike, Mrs. D insisted she would soon get back
on the payroll, but the caseworker advised her that "if
this did not materialize she could undoubtedly pick up a good day work job as the papers were full of such offers."
Mrs. D agreed, but once again insisted that she "was most anxious to get a factory job, which she preferred to housework."
When this case closed, Mrs. D was no longer alive.
Despite Mrs. D's numerous jobs and fairly consistent earnings, the caseworker's closing comments in the FWA record claimed that she had "made little effort to be self-supporting." Mrs. D was, however, actually a woman who hated domestic labor, and refused to submit to the round of irregular, low paying day work while attempting to secure regular, better paying employment. Many cases ended on this same note; women who appear to have struggled to find better ways to improve their earning 147
power were accused by the agencies of being overly reliant
on welfare, unwilling to make the best effort to support
themselves and their families.
The same tendency is apparent in agency indifference
to women's attempts to upgrade their occupational status
through training or education. Agencies routinely
submitted their clients to intelligent tests and often
found mothers with high intelligent quotients. This would
raise the issue of whether the mother should be given an
opportunity for training of some type. The mothers
themselves generally wanted this, but in most cases, the
suggestion would not survive a board of directors meeting.
Mrs. P, who had received high test scores and made efforts
to improve her employment capacity, did receive some
limited encouragement from her caseworker. In the closing
summary of Mrs. P's case, however, the FWA's bureaucracy recorded that she was unlikely to "benefit by training."
No one reading her case would understand how that conclusion could have been reached by any rational process, but it does indicate that social agencies were not interested and saw no reason why women should not continue to work in the irregular labor market.
Thus single mothers did not choose to remain in the irregular labor market. The only type of household labor that appealed to many of then was live-in housekeeping in 148
homes which accepted their children as lodgers. All of the
above women were single mothers, and many of them received pensions as well. Although by the 1930s single mothers as a group were aiming to loosen themselves from the grip of domestic employment, those who received mothers' aid were under greater pressures to remain in day work or some form of household labor. Live-in jobs with children would generally disqualify them for mothers' pensions since the laws required that mothers maintain their own homes. The next section will deal more specifically with the ways in which women responded to the tendency of the pensions not only to confine them to this particular type of labor but actually to require that they work in it.
B. Pensioned Mothers and the Irregular Labor Market
As has been shown, large numbers of mothers worked while on the pensions. They were not "pensions" in the true sense of the term, but supplements to other assumed resources. The mothers appeared to perceive the grants in this way, as supplements to earnings rather than replacements for them. This was bound to be the case since, earlier rhetoric aside and forgotten, agencies often set the grants up with work agreements from the time the women received them. This was especially true if the 149
mother had a job or work history behind her at the time of
application. In Chicago, the court routinely added current
earnings to the budget as well as estimated income if the
judge believed the mother should be employed. The
surviving case stories suggest that many of the women who
were not compelled to supplement their pensions with 18 earnings in Chicago were those who were ill.
Minneapolis case records indicate similar procedures.
This city had a three-day-work limit rule which it
obviously did not enforce. Mothers routinely moved in and
out of the labor force and adapted the pensions to their
work lives. A typical Minneapolis woman received a pension
when her factory hours were reduced, but when her earnings
climbed back to $14 a week--which required full-time work— the court canceled her grant. Later, with her hours
again shortened, she reapplied. This woman and others like
her clearly saw the pensions as available resources to
tide them over difficult times. Agencies sometimes made women agree to very specific arrangements of work, welfare, and child care. In 1928, a Minneapolis mother of two received a grant of $35, the maximum for a family of
that size. Acknowledging that this was inadequate, the court solicited her agreement to work in a laundry and leave her children at a designated settlement nursery. Tne following year her husband was indicted for abandonment 150
and sent to jail where a prison work-plan allowed him to
earn money which, combined with the mother's increased
hours at work, cut the pension in half. Some time later
the court again reduced her grant and, by 1931, her
earnings together with her husband's anticipated child 19 support eliminated the pension completely.
Although women generally cooperated with agencies and
tended to perceive the grants as supplements, they
sometimes refused to comply with all the restrictions.
Some refused, for example, to cooperate with agents who
presented them with child care arrangements and selected
their own babysitters. Women did not, however, as a rule
question the work requirements, but rather the low budgets
on which they were expected to live. Mothers earning
between $10 and $13 a week in Minneapolis sometimes
attempted to apply for the pensions and were surprised to
learn that these amounts disqualified them from the
outset. In South Bend, Indiana, a working mother was amazed that she lost her pension when an older daughter began employment. While protesting that she "missed her pension severely," she argued that the daughter had not been covered by the grant and her earnings did not affect
the mother's responsibilities. The programs, however, took 20 all family income into account. 151
Women's major objection to the work aspect of the
program was not that they had to work, but that the
agencies could restrict the type of employment. The major
difference between women's work experience under the
pensions aid under former private or public relief
programs was not that women ceased employment, but that
their job activities came under greater control by
caseworkers, agencies, and courts. These agents could now
not only apply pressures, but could also legally require
that women work and restrain them in their choice of employment while receiving grants. This had the effect of reinforcing their traditional attachment to the low-wage labor market, for they could be both mandated to work and required to take only certain types of jobs.
Like single mothers generally, many pensioned mothers tried to avoid the irregular day work market. Although factory work was grueling and low-paying, it paid more than domestic service, and mothers often tried to work in factories against their caseworkers recommendations. In
Chicago, mothers alternated between factory jobs and day work, the former being difficult to maintain due to the hard labor and child care problems. Despite the inconveniences involved, these women ignored their caseworkers instructions in order occasionally to benefit from the higher hourly wage of factory jobs. One of the 152
drawbacks of factory work was that it tended to be
full-time, and as such could whittle away at the size of
the grants. It was only because the women could not endure
the work for long that the allowances remained intact.
Occasionally a clever woman would find a way to make the
higher hourly wage serve as a supplement to the pension. A
Chicago caseworker complained of a common tactic used by a
welfare mother who, when she saw her grant diminish due to
factory earnings, took just enough sick days to make her
earnings coincide more constructively with her budget. Hsr
agent complained that this was the woman's "way of working 21 part-time as the company will not give short-time work."
It was not only in factory work that women attempted
to circumvent their caseworkers' plans. Some women who
applied for pensions were employed at night and intended
to retain these jobs, using the pensions as supplements.
Standard objections to night work could wreak havoc with
such plans. Since the slight rise in pension offered by
the court would not compensate for her night work earnings, a Chicago woman refused to comply with a caseworker's command that she leave her job. A court order followed with a threat of a pension stay; thus the woman had little choice but to submit and commence day work at a third of her former wages. Similar procedures prevailed in
New York. A mother who held a night job for four years was 153
satisfied with her child care arrangements, but an
investigator complained that in her case and others like
it, caseworkers should have insisted upon day work as the
standard type of employment. These and similar cases
suggest the difficulty women encountered when they tried 22 to arrange their own work and home lives.
Women desperate to add needed funds to their pensions
defied their caseworkers as long as they could get away with it. A Chicago mother who watched her pension diminish
as her sons came of age insisted, against the agent's advice, upon working full time. The caseworker complained
that this woman "strongly objected to the plan which was outlined for her. She stated that she would not be able to get along on our budget; that even with the extra amount she is earning, she is having a very difficult time." Most women would agree that living on the budgets, which were always set at too low a level to begin with and were never covered by the pensions, was impossible. The only way to maintain a mimimum standard of living was to defy the caseworker, who was often the only authoritative person who had any idea what these typically discreet women were doing. Caseworkers did not always exercise their power to force compliance with agency plans. They had second thoughts about discouraging the self-reliance that remained a goal of the pension program. Many records of 154
social agencies are replete with caseworkers' attempts to cajole independent women into cooperating. In some situations, the caseworkers ultimately accepted the 23 women's own arrangements.
More often, however, social agents made the rules and called upon the state to enforce them in cases of recalcitrant mothers. The mothers' pensions thus played an important role in further entrapping women in the irregular, low wage labor market. As the previous examples have illustrated, caseworkers and courts enforced this by compelling women to drop regular night work and assume irregular work by the day, by discouraging factory work, and by building agreements regarding irregular work into the contract initially awarding the grant. Other structural aspects of the programs also reinforced work in the secondary labor market. The three-day rule, on the books in large urban areas of Colorado, Pennsylvania,
Minnesota, and other places, by definition assured that, when enforced, women would not venture beyond day work or some similar occupation. Areas that did not employ three-day rules used other tactics to the same end. New
York City, for example, devised an "earnings exemption" plan which provided that, in cases where a recipient earned less than $15 a month, none of this amount was subtracted from her grant. Should a woman earn more than 155
$15, however, the pension would be reduced by $15. This
was obviously a "work incentive" plan which in fact
encouraged women to earn $3 to $4 a week in the irregular
labor market. In these and other ways, the very
structure of many of the pension rules set limits on
employment, while low budgets encouraged women to work
within those boundaries.
Another important factor encouraging irregular work
was the fact that increasing earnings could eventually
scale down the size of the grant. Agencies did not always
automatically deduct every dollar a welfare mother earned
from her pension check. In all but a few places (those with relatively generous programs) the system never really worked that way. Agencies built earnings into the plan at
the outset and the budgets, even with the earnings and pensions included, usually contained substantial deficits
larger than the extremely conservative deficit estimates which the agencies conceded existed. Had administrators routinely applied a "100% tax rate" on earnings, only
those women most eager to get out of the house would ever 25 have worked.
The practices varied from agency to agency, but as earnings increased, caseworkers could at some point order a pension reduction. Many Progressive reformers, studying the administration of pension programs during the 156
formative years after 1915, took great pride in the
excellent supervision of women's earnings and the regular adjustment of pensions. Public welfare administrators,
eager to prove that public programs could be as effective and efficient as the previously dominant private societies had been, often held up the monitoring of the earnings of 2ft pensioned mothers as evidence of public success.
Women responded to this in a variety of ways. Some rejected the pension either at the outset or after a short time when they saw that they were supposed to live on so little. Case records of both the Minneapolis Family
Welfare Association and the Children's Protective Society are full of women who simply disappeared in the course of applying for a pension. They disliked both the work restrictions and the moral supervision, to be discussed subsequently, to which they were subject. Others felt humiliated at the prospect of being forced to accept both a pension from one agency and additional aid from another private outfit. Dispensing altogether with the grants was not, however, a feasible option for everyone. Mothers of young children generally needed some help from one agency or another. These women therefore tried to set up the most rational arrangement of work and welfare, which meant a job which would not erode their grants. This is why some women aimed to transform factory work into part-time jobs. 157
Total earnings from a full-time factory or clerical job
would in most cases not constitute "real wages"; as much
as a half to two-thirds of the paycheck might simply be
deducted from the pension. Women could not successfully
negotiate with their employers for an arrangement of work
hours that neatly coincided with budget deficits in these
types of jobs. Therefore, they might periodically fail to
appear for work. Yet it was also the case that mothers,
desperate for the portion of the $30 a month salary which
they could keep, would work full-time if that is what it 27 took to add, say, another $15 to their budget.
More often, however, agency monitoring of earnings
compelled women simply to work in the secondary domestic
labor market. The kinds of money they earned in that market would usually not affect their pensions, but it would help the women live and support their children. Even
these jobs could potentially interfere: a mother from
South Bend, Indiana, who had received the full amount permitted under Indiana law in 1930, told an interviewer that she "would not work unless she could earn more than it amounts to, unless it were homework to supplement, or such kind as would not disqualify her" from receiving the full benefit of the grant. Women who had received sizeable pensions thus perceived most types of work as pointless, for they knew the agencies expected them to live on low 158
budgets and would not let them get very far ahead. Yet
most women had not received anything close to enough to
begin with and thus had little choice but to seek the most 28 practical arrangement of work and welfare.
For these reasons, women found it both difficult and
often futile to attempt to escape the irregular labor
market, although many did try. They had been working from
the beginning of their contact with pension agencies and
did not expect to stop, despite the earlier promises of
the movement. Having designed the grants to be a "cheap"
method of child-caring, the state required that as many mothers as possible earn substantial portions of the
family income. There was little in the early laws or subsequent programs to suggest that policymakers viewed single mothers as a special class exempt from the labor force, and neither did the women perceive themselves in that light. Agencies approached the women as "employables" and ascertained in some detail the women's earning capacities. The laws and their embodiment in policy, despite a number of "restrictions," explicitly stated that work and welfare were compatible for single mothers. 159
C. Women's Consciousness: The "Right" to Aid?
It has been noted that pensioned women perceived themselves as employables. This is not, however, intended to imply a value judgment stating that they should have been working, or that their performance while on the pensions should be assessed according to the "work ethic."
These womsn already had a full-time job at home, and the amount of money that they could earn outside the home was so small that self-reliance was not necessarily the best goal. Married women whose husbands made decent earnings assumed the right to stay home, and for that they were normally commended by society. Ideally, the same choice would have been proffered to single mothers through the availability of substantial pensions. A necessary philosophical underpinning of the welfare rights movement of the 1960s was welfare mothers' recognition that they had a right to a decent living for themselves and their children whether or not they were able to work outside the home and command adequate wages. During the early decades of the 20th century, single mothers were certainly not united in any political movements, yet it is still possible to ask if they manifested any seeds of incipient group, class or feminist consciousness in regard to their situation. Did women perceive that it was their right to 1 6 0
be assisted in the task which society demanded of them and
claimed was so important? Did they resent that they, as
women, were faced with a situation with which men did not
have to deal? Did mothers, recognizing the difficulty of
independently raising and supporting their children,
accept the opinion, feebly expressed and subsequently
abandoned by reformers, that they had a right to aid? And
how did they react to other restrictions of the laws that
in practice claimed that they actually had no such right
unless they lived according to the moral prerogatives of 29 their middle-class caseworkers?
Some mothers were very ashamed to ask for assistance
and approached relief societies as though they were
employment agencies. So common was this misperception that
organizations like the Minneapolis Family Welfare
Association typically replied that "FWA was not an
employment agency and...knew of very few jobs but if any
came up" the agents would advise the women. Yet the
"made-work" provided by the agency, as well as various
other work-related services and the willingness of caseworkers to intervene in women's problems with employers, gave many mothers good cause to believe that organizations like FWA could serve as avenues to employment. Women heard about these agency activities
through word-of-mouth, and in their reluctance to request 161
aid, often initiated their contacts with caseworkers
through requests for jobs.^®
Such an approach suggests that some women did not feel
they had a right to assistance. More often, however,
women believed that their responsibility for children
obviously entitled them to aid when they were unable to
support them. The circumstance which had led to need and
marital status appeared to have some effect on how these women would approach agencies. Women whose husbands had been sent to jail were in special circumstances since the
interruption in their relationship, economic and personal, had generally been an unwelcome one. These women displayed a sense of powerlessness over their fates, wrapped up as these were in the crimes and misdemeanors of others. Many assumed that agency funds would at least partially replace their husbands' earnings. A mother of 7 who learned that she did not qualify for county aid despite her husband's long sentence told her agent that she believed "some agency would care for the family during (her husband's) incarceration." A mother whose husband received a
5-year sentence informed her FWA caseworker that the agency "might have to look out for her until she got some work...She did think that relief had to be given." This type of self-assertion sometimes irritated caseworkers.
When a mother of three young children argued that it was 162
not her fault her husband was being punished and that it
was therefore up to an agency to support them, FWA
responded grudgingly to her repeated requests for
groceries and finally sent her to the county public relief
office.
All of these mothers were aware that they lacked the
skills by which to command a living wage and assumed that
there must be some help available for young children.
Women in other situations also felt entitled to support.
Those who were widowed, divorced, separated, or deserted had to think in terms of permanent plans, whereas wives of imprisoned men might be anticipating a return to the earlier financial circumstances. In the eyes of most social agents, the only women who were blameless in regard to their plight were widows, and to a lesser extent wives of imprisoned or incapacitated men. Divorced and separated women were suspected of having brought on their present need for help, and it was assumed to be their job to make ex-husbands continue to support the children. Women in these last-mentioned categories had a harder time procuring assistance than did any other group of women except unwed mothers.
Divorced and separated women nevertheless felt that they were entitled to aid. A mother of two whose connections with the Minneapolis Children's Protective 163
Society spanned a 15-year period was receiving relief in
1934 when her caseworker pressed her regarding her future
plans. The mother replied that she "saw no reason why this
arrangement with DPR (the Minneapolis Division of Public
Relief) should not continue indefinitely. (She) Did not
feel she could work when she had two children to take care
of and felt.. .entitled to help from the city." The very
young ages of the children was a factor in this particular
case, but mothers who had demonstrated that they could
hold their own in the labor market also felt that they
should receive aid for their children. A divorced mother of two young children worked for $15 a week in a clothing
factory, but explained to her FWA agent that she did this only because her husband was remiss in child support.
Demanding either help with forcing child support or more assistance, this woman argued that she "did not expect to continue working all of her life" and should be able to 32 spend more time at home.
The feeling of entitlement was common. Women believed that they should not be forced into labor markets, all of which paid much too little to carry out the societally sanctified tasks of raising future citizens. The question of expectations is more significant in regard to the type of public aid specifically designed for single mothers, the mothers' pensions. It stands to reason that since this 164
program was for them, single mothers might feel a degree
of entitlement greater than in regard to relief in
general. Women themselves, according to contemporary
observers, had voiced their demands for these grants
during the agitation for pensions, which had been
accompanied by widely publicized rhetoric concerning
"widows' rights.
In order to feel entitled to a specific benefit, a
person has to be aware that it exists. Most poor women
were aware of general relief, but it is less certain that
knowledge of a special form of assistance for single
mothers was widespread. Although the pensions had
developed rapidly and in most states by the 1920s, the
laws generally did not require every county to implement
the program. Most states did not match local funds, and by
the 1930s, local taxes financed 85% of the total
expenditures for mothers' aid. Large numbers of counties and cities never issued pensions and many women were unaware of them.^^
This was especially true in the South, where the programs were poorly developed and in some places did not exist at all. Even after federal funds enlarged and made the programs mandatory, southern women, especially black women, wrote to federal officials requesting assistance for their children. They obviously were vaguely aware of 165
the grants, which they referred to as the "Dependent,"
"child penchon," or other titles obviously learned through
hearsay. Their local welfare officials, reluctant to
encourage black women to seek assistance, had apparently
failed or refused to furnish them with the appropriate 35 information.
Despite their rudimentary knowledge, the letters of
these women suggest that they believed that there should
be some special type of aid for mothers and children. They
tended to be aware of the old age insurance program, which
had actually been the centerpiece of the Social Security
Act. An Alabama mother of four who was currently earning
50$ a day requested federal advice in regard to securing
an "old age pionchin" for her mother with whom she and the
children lived. Some older mothers whose children were
still very young thought that they themselves might be
eligible for old age benefits. A mother who had "made no crop since 4 years ago" wrote to federal officials that she had signed up for the old age program but had received no response. Aware of the central social insurance program, these women and others in similar situation tried to see if they could use it as a means of supporting their children.
Other mothers more explicitly argued that there should be a program, similar to old age insurance, that was 166
specifically targeted at mothers with young children. A
Virginia mother of four was vaguely aware of a "pensionn
where they pay to Dependent," yet she was certain only of
the old age program. This woman addressed the following 37 inquiry to federal officials:
you know they have a law now about when a man work they take some (of) his wages then when git 65 years old he can draw a pension. How about if he dies befor he git 65--and has a family cant they git some to live on as...he would draw his self.
Unaware of the Aid to Dependent Children, this woman was in fact outlining the future Old Age Survivors' Insurance
(OASI), legislated in 1939 to remove most widows and children in her situation from the ADC rolls. While not fully cognizant of the 1935 ADC program, she and other women like her were aware of the old age programs and believed there should be some kind of entitlement for women and children.
It was apparent that southern officials often ignored mothers' pleas. As these women wearied of the effort, their children would sometimes assume the task of soliciting aid that they suspected was or should be available. A 13 year-old girl from Louisiana, whose father had been killed a decade earlier, told federal officials of her mother's attempt to secure a pension. 167
Although "President Long said that he would be glad to do
so" nothing had ensued, and the child asked Washington to
"send my little brother and myself a Pinshon for my dear
mother cant do anything for us." Another child from
Arkansas asked the government to "Please tell me what step
to take to get my mothers pension She is needing help very
bad."38
Vague awareness of the pensions was not limited to the
South. Illinois was the first state to pass the law, yet
some women there knew nothing about them. An Illinois
mother asked a federal agency for "help of some kind" for
her children. Some learned of the grants only during the
course of contacts with social agencies. Upon being
advised to apply for a pension, a Chicago mother whose
husband deserted responded "that can't be true, no one is 39 going to pay you for doing nothing."
While most women would not agree that government
assistance was payment for "doing nothing," few
articulated their requests in terms of a wage for the job
of raising children. Those who were ignorant or only
vaguely aware of the pensions did know that some groups of
people received entitlements and believed that their
situation as well called for aid, but they expressed this more along the lines of simple logic than abstract rights.
They argued that they obviously needed help because they 168
could not "get out and work and leave my babies," or that
they had "put in for some help for the children for I am
not able to work." Although they did not argue that
raising children was a form of payable employment, they
did become very indignant when public authorities retorted
that they must accept the double-day or find some other
means of support. A California agency informed a mother
that she must be "free to work out full days" in order to
receive assistance, to which she replied that "I work when
I can get it but a woman cannot support 5 (children) ...at
250 an hour even eight hours a day. I am sure I cannot
figure out what they expect me to do." Another mother from
New Jersey complained that when she "made application for
pension for the 3 younger ones I was politely told by the mayor if my son did not keep me who do I think should."
These women and others like them believed that there
should be some kind of public remedy for their situation which rendered them unable to support their children.^®
As previous examples have shown, knowledge of the pensions was limited in both the North and the South.
Awareness of the programs was, however, generally more widespread in the northern states due to the earlier development and greater implementation of the pensions in northern cities. Many women became pension recipients after having spent months or years as clients of private 169
or public general relief agencies, but they often had
acquired a general sense of the program through
word-of-mouth channels. Upon being advised by a caseworker
that she should apply, a Chicago mother replied that she
"had heard of mothers' pensions, but was very uncertain as
to just what she could expect from this and how she could
go about securing the same." This was a common situation.
Women often did not know the rules governing grants nor
the exact procedures involved in applying for them.
Nevertheless, the women clearly felt entitled to them.
Some women made this very explicit. A Minneapolis mother
of two who had worked for 6 years in a candy factory
followingher husband's death complained that her
application had been rejected. Explaining to her Family
Welfare Association agent that she did not know the
reason, she asserted that she felt "entitled to that allotment" as she had "lived in Minneapolis all of her
life" and had aimed to "do the right thing for her family
In explaining that she had "lived in Minneapolis all of her life," this woman was expressing her own entitlement as a taxpayer, but also her awareness of residency regulations, which constituted one of the central rules governing pensions. Many women were unaware of these and other rules and became indignant upon 170
learning of these barriers to acquiring grants. Women
applied for the pensions only to be shocked to learn that
they had forsaken their residency by marrying a
foreign-born husband. One woman told her caseworker that
she "thought it was a 'crazy law' that people could not
get assistance" for their children until they had
established lengthy terms of residence. Women generally
knew little about property or insurance qualifications
that could render them ineligible and protested these when
informed. One FWA client argued that she thought
"insurance money would be no bar...as she knew of 2 or 3
families who were getting CA (the mothers' pension) and
whom she knew were being paid insurance money." Others
protested requirements that they strip their possessions
down to the barest essentials in order to qualify. One woman let her caseworker know that she resented having to
remove her telephone, and another simply refused to sell her car and live temporarily on funds thus acquired in order to become eligible for the grant. Women who had come
to feel that adoptive children were their own were surprised to learn that in most cases, they were by definition ineligible. On the other hand, those women whose circumstances had forced them to place their children temporarily with relatives or other families in order to work faced a dilemma: they must be living with 171
their children at the time of application in order to
qualify, yet they needed the pension in order to bring the
children home.*^
In all these instances, regardless of the outcome,
women felt entitled to pensions and made the effort to
acquire them with as little interference as possible. Many
of them tried to apply for the pensions directly at the
office which administered them, but it appears that women
commonly had to apply on referral from another public or
private agency. In Chicago, some mothers found that if
they applied independently their applications were ignored
or placed very low on waiting lists. Comments of
caseworkers suggest that in Minneapolis, women had to work
either through the Division of Public Relief or, more
commonly, the FWA or CPS before they could reach the
County Aid* office. Tnose who tried to go on their own
later learned that a referral from another agency was
needed. Perceiving the grants as their entitlement, these
women had hoped that applying might be a relatively
simple, technical procedure achieved through contact with
the central administering agency. Instead they found
themselves shuffled from one desk to another, an
*The County Aid office was the relief center of Hennepin County, in which Minneapolis was located. In this area, mothers' pensions were referred to as "CA". 172
experience which they found oppressive and humiliating.
Women explained to their caseworkers that they were
"hesitant to apply to an agency" once they were the client of another organization. A woman who was currently being assisted by FWA expressed a great deal of anguish when she learned that receiving a pension (known as "county aid," or CA, in Minneapolis) might also mean relying on additional aid from the public relief division, and thus having three agencies in her life at the same time.^^
Most women, however, did what they had to do to access their "entitlement." They waited until they had been resident long enough to apply, used up available funds, and went through the rounds of offices while investigators passed on their applications. This required great patience, but these women were accustomed by the trials of their lives to persistently struggling to achieve the means of temporary survival. Caseworkers in private agencies were often only vaguely aware of the rules and sometimes led the women to hope for pensions on the basis of misinformation. Whether mothers succeeded or not, they obviously felt that they had a right to such assistance.
Others who agreed that such aid should be available did not want it for themselves. In some cases, this was because they preferred to work full-time at higher wages or, as the next chapter will show, because 173
they chose to participate in the Work Projects
Administration programs.
D. Women's Consciousness: The "Fitness" Factor
There was another very significant factor, which had little to do with a work preference, contributing to mothers' rejection of pensions even when they believed they had a right to them. Most women were aware that receiving a government grant meant facing unwelcome intrusions into their private lives. From the early days, the pensions were arranged as an elite program for
"worthy" mothers, usually widows. In keeping with a well-established American tradition, only those women deemed "proper persons"— those who were competent and whose lives complied with the family ethic— would receive and retain pensions. Despite broadening of the laws from
1915 to the early 1930s, over four-fifths of the women receiving pensions by the 1930s were white widows. All women applying for grants were subject to stringent investigation prior to approval. These investigations ascertained the absolute necessity of the pension, the eligibility of the mother, and her competence as a parent and "fitness" as judged by middle-class standards of morality. Even after a pension was granted, supervision 174
continued at regular intervals, at least quarterly in
Minnesota and much more often should any suspicions arise
regarding the family situation.
While it is true that women receiving general relief
were also subject to investigation and harassment, the
demands entailed by receipt of a pension were much more
rigorous. Many women who had casually accepted general
public or private relief expressed agitation when their
caseworkers informed them that it was time to switch to
the grant more appropriate to their situation. The Family
Welfare Association routinely sent single mothers to the
county aid office when it became apparent that the family
would not become self-supporting. With the passage of the
1935 Social Security legislation, local public relief
agencies especially preferred to have single mothers on
the pension because part of the cost was now borne by
state and national governments. A caseworker recorded a
typical reaction of a woman who, "when told regarding
mothers' pension...did not seem interested" because she
knew of the additional supervision required. Women who had
attempted to secure the grants complained that they were
not worth the effort, in one case complaining that "People
had come to her house and asked her a million questions
but had not given her any help." Those who endured the painful procedures involved did not always miss the 175
pensions when they were gone. A mother formerly on a
pension was advised by her caseworker to re-apply when her
earnings declined, but she was reluctant as she "felt that
the CA worker had been very snippy and unpleasant to
her."'*5
Although not a unified group in the political sense of
the term, welfare mothers did have some limited contacts
with other women in their situation. Such connections had
actually been discouraged from the early days of the
pensions by Progressive reformers. Grace Abbott and
Sophonisba Breckinridge, two of the foremost proponents
of liberal pension laws, had admitted that they did not
like the idea of pensioned mothers gathering at offices to
receive their monthly checks, as their collective, shared
information might generate dissatisfaction with the
programs. Nevertheless, single mothers benefited by
information acquired through rumor, gossip, neighborhood
and shop room talk in the work-relief rooms of welfare
agencies. A woman who absolutely refused to apply for
county aid under any circumstances articulated a common
feeling towards the program. She explained to her CPS agent that pension investigators "were 'snoopery old maids' prying into one's private affairs and that she was old enough to manage her affairs without any assistance or suggestions from them." Some of this agitation related 176
to intrusions of an economic nature, such as extensive
scrutinizing of a mother's income resources or invasive
examination of housekeeping skills. When a widow who
had struggled for years to turn part-time sales work
into a regular position was advised by herFWA agent to
give that up and apply for CA, the woman explained that
she "had been skeptical of applying for Mother's Allowance
because she had heard of inhuman treatment accorded relief
recipients by the workers in that office.Upon learning
thatinvestigators would in fact search through her cupboards and have access to her bank account, she stated
that she
could appreciate their need for doing this realizing that many people were not truthful, however she felt...(they) should be able to tell which persons were and were not truthful, and that they seemed to forget that although poor, poor people had their pride and should not be investigated so minutely.
This woman expressed a common sentiment when she complained that such an extensive invasion of clients' business was "prying too much into their personal affairs." Unfortunately she, like other women, had little choice but to accept it.^^
Many women shared this aversion to the general supervision and obvious lack of trust on the part of 177
pension agencies. The more significant aspect of the
supervision, however, was the agency's assessment of the mother's "fitness." This category in some cases referred
to the mother's capacity to care for children. For example, women who appeared to have drinking problems, were involved in bootlegging, or were in some way mentally questionable were generally declared "unfit mothers" and ineligible for the grants. The "fitness" category was thus a broad one and included general competency as well as morality.
The most common basis, however, for declaring a mother unfit was her sex life. At one extreme were mothers who were unmarried when their children were born. Although by the early 1930s a few state laws explicitly permitted unwed mothers to receive grants, this occurred very rarely. Localities in some states which would not support an "illegitimate" child would provide for the legitimate children of the same mother. Given this national development, Minnesota's law was relatively harsh: until the 1940s, most areas in the state refused pensions to illegitimate children and should a mother currently receiving CA give birth to a child out of wedlock, the legitimate children would lose their aid. Although
Minnesota's attorney general ruled in 1939 that illegitimate children were eligible, localities were very 178
slow to give this any real meaning. Thus the discovery that one child was illegitimate was the surest grounds on which a mother was declared unfit, either denied a grant without deliberation or summarily losing the one she had . . . 48 been receiving.
Most charges of unfitness, however, were not so extreme and black and white. Whether or not a woman was a
"proper person" was generally not clear even to the moralistic agents investigating her case. In most situations, questions of character centered around a hard-to-prove suspicion that mothers either lived with boyfriends or otherwise maintained "immoral" relations with men. Such suspicions might never be proven, but they could delay the approval of an application for an indefinite period of time. Whereas in cases of illegitimacy, public authorities refused to subsidize a family arrangement contrary to the norm, in cases of non-marital relations caseworkers sought both to prevent public funds from surreptitiously reaching men and from reaching women who ought to marry these men and compel them to support the family. Much has been made of the fact that these pressures were brought to bear in order to keep men available for work in low wage labor markets. Less has been made of the important fact that the purpose was also to force women to exact full rather than partial support 179
49 from their male companions.
Due CO the obvious difficulties involved in the
attempt to ascertain the exact nature of these
relationships, the most salient feature of these cases was
the long investigation, wrought with ill feeling on both
sides, during which the agent tried to reach a conclusion.
Despite surprise visits at unpredictable hours of the day,
caseworkers as a rule proved nothing. Agencies told their
investigators to watch for men's clothing and other
indications of a permanent presence. These records are
therefore replete with detective work and reports on the
evidence : a pipe on the kitchen table, a jacket over the
chair, a man sitting on the bed reading a newspaper, or
candidly admitting the agent to the home and disappearing
into the back room to grant privacy. The home environment was marked by lack of privacy. Making the rounds at shabby dwellings with no locks on doors and torn or missing curtains on the windows, the agents often simply walked in or peeped through the glass. The very smallness of the one or two-room apartment meant that even when admitted, the caseworker could in a single glance span the entire abode
for signs of unacceptable residents.
As abundant as were these "clues," it was not easy actually to prove that the men lived there. Many men could give other addresses, sometimes with relatives, and in 180
other instances the men actually did have their own
separate residence. Tnis might be, for example, an
apartment or a room in the same building. Where the man
actually did live within the mother's home, her most
common explanation was, of course, that he was "just a
boarder." In some cases, this was technically true; the
man had joined the family during the earlier marriage and
had retained an economic relationship as a boarder,
despite his involvement with the woman, because he did not
want to marry and assume full support of the family. In
another type of setting, the mother, as a live-in
housekeeper, had taken her children to board in a man's
home. All of these situations were grey, and many a case
ended with the caseworker's frustration over suspicions
never confirmed.
ADC procedures in regard to charges of "unfitness"
differed from those applied to unwed mothers. Women living
what caseworkers deemed immoral lives could qualify for
the grant if they changed their style. This meant removing
all male boarders of any type from the home, ceasing to
see men with whom caseworkers believed they had sexual
relations, and otherwise convincing the authorities they
lived morally irreproachable lives. Thus ADC became a tool of social and moral coercion. In some cases where mothers had been working rather than receiving any type of relief. 181
social workers pressursd the women to apply for ADC
precisely to force them to "clean up" their lives. In
those instances, the purpose of ADC appears to have been
less to provide children with means of support than to
place their mothers under moral surveillance.
Women's responses to these charges and the demands
that accompanied them varied greatly. Many initially
denied any amorous relationships and insisted that these
men were only boarders, but upon learning that these, too,
must go, the women acquiesced in order to qualify. Some
women simply accepted the fact that the agencies objected
to the permanent or frequent presence of boyfriends in the
home and tried to make the men agree to cooperate. A
mother who was being watched by CPS prior to a CA decision
told her agent that she "had talked matters over with
Mr.______and he had agreed to remain out of the home."
Other women who attempted to comply ran up against stubborn boyfriends; a woman who htid supported her children for 10 years prior to applying for CA complained that her friend continued to appear at the apartment because he did not want her to receive the grant and 52 become independent of him.
This last situation points to a common theme: the women often agreed to the agencies' demands because the regulations were not so greatly at odds with their own 182
wishes. Many women admitted that they remained with these men for no reason at all except that they needed financial help. One mother candidly admitted to her CPS caseworker
that she permitted her friend to stay in the home because he gave her cash from time to time and "it made no difference how you got them." Women felt that this strategy had been justified, one woman arguing that
"anyone in her position would have done the same thing."
In some cases, women felt that they had become entrapped in virtual prostitution and welcomed both the grant and the restrictions as a way out. A mother who had become a live-in housekeeper with her two children found that her
"employer" ceased to pay her, believing he was doing a great deal for the family simply by allowing them to remain there. Other demands obviously followed, and she welcomed the grant as a way to have an income and her independence restored. In submitting to agency rules, these women were not yielding to moral imperatives as much as they were using those imperatives to serve their own ^ 53 interests.
Many of the women who welcomed CA rules were not really being "supported" by men, who occasionally helped but were in no economic position to provide for the family. Their assistance was dispensable. Not all women, however, either desired or were able to make these adjustments. 183
Caseworkers reported women who were "unable or unwilling"
to keep men away and who as a result never qualified for
the grants. In many of these cases, the economic and
practical life of women and men had become deeply
intertwined, and these women resented the agent's efforts
to drive the men away for the sake of oppressive and
generally unsatisfactory pensions. Women occasionally gave
specific reasons why the men were around; they helped with
electrical work, brought food over, stopped by to see if
the family needed anything, and assisted them in a variety
of ways that the agency did not. One indignant mother,
under pressure to move away from her boyfriend, informed
the Children's Protective Society that "they would have
to find her a place and someone to help her with the heavy
work like Mr.______did" if they expected her to comply.
Some women tried to impress upon their caseworkers that
they had set their lives up as best they could, and these
men were often the only people in their world who helped
them with anything. Such women did not receive the grants because they would not introduce the required changes.
Of those women who did cooperate, it is not always apparent how they felt about the criticism they had encountered regarding their moral lives. Many mothers did, however, admit that they had men friends and intended to keep them. Without revealing any details about their 184
relationships, they asserted their right to have them. One woman became upset at the prospect of meeting CA investigators because she "had heard from people who had received CA that they were more like detectives than understanding friends in that they would not even permit a woman to have a 'boyfriend'," not even in the friendly relationship she had with hers. Later, she huffed out of the welfare office, complaining that she was summarily told not to have any boyfriends. Caseworkers occasionally showed up at homes unannounced to test their theories that women lived with men. One mother caught off guard told her agent that she was "annoyed...there had been any complaint as she felt she had a right to have a boyfriend" and was
"anxious to know just what she could do without being criticized in the way of entertaining a man friend." This woman had combined her pension with a job and was upset to come home to accusations that might cut her income in half.55
Many of the women who were suspected of "immoral relations" with men were supervised by the Children's
Protective Society while their C.A applications were pending. Since policymakers considered immorality to be equated with neglect of children, they relegated the job of supervision to that agency. Oftentimes the CPS traced the misbehavior of the children back to the mother's 185
•'immorality." When the society tried to blame her son's
"delinquency" on the fact that the mother had men friends, one woman retorted that she "felt that she should be able to have some friends and some activities and she couldn't be expected to stay at home and care for the children day and night." When the agency continued to threaten her even after concluding that she was not culpable in the case of her son's problems, she informed them that it was her right as a widow to have a boyfriend. The mother's sex life was always one focus in the case of children's misbehavior. In a similar case, a mother demanded that the supervision stop as she "had always endeavored to do the right thing" for her children. Like many others, this woman had combined the pensions with a job and was dismayed to be greeted with such accusations which could lead to a grant cancellation. These women did not believe that their connections to men lessened their ability to care for children or made them less entitled to public support.
Occasionally women would catch the agents in the web of their own contradictions. A CPS caseworker had denied a grant to a mother of two teenage boys because she would not stop seeing her male friend. Without a job and supported by only a small rent allotment from general relief, the woman could not afford to remain in her 186
present cheap yet decent apartment. The caseworker
informed her that public relief division would not
increase the rent allotment and that she must move to
quarters so inexpensive that it could be only a one-room domicile. Alarmed at the thought of sharing a room and probably the same bed with her sons, the mother snapped
that "They think I'm not moral enough for mothers' pension and yet they would suggest such a thing." In some ways, the poor, having lived in cramped quarters where invaded privacy was a part of life, were more cognizant of the subtle forms of incest than were their forever-prying yet naive caseworkers. To the agents, small cheap quarters, where a boyfriend's visits would obviously be restrained, were ideal. The woman was simply someone to be stashed away in the cheapest and most convenient way possible.
These women clearly recognized the pensions as tools of moral and social control. While affirming their right to assistance, they weighed their need for help against their need for and right to privacy. When it suited their purposes, they used the agency's program of control to assert their independence from men who were apparently necessary yet oppressive forces in their lives. More often, however, these mothers simply kept their agents "on the run" and in the dark, hoping that the caseworkers would weary of the effort involved in their attempts to 187
document their clients' "immorality" and approve the pensions. If this strategy failed, the women refused the grants and the changes they would have had to make in their lives in order to receive them.
E. Who decides "Employability?" Shifts in the Work-Welfare Policy for Welfare Mothers, 1933-1935
While disliking the moral restrictions and monitoring of their funds, most women who received pensions expected agencies to assess their capacity for work throughout the early period of the pension program. This perception, however, began to change during the 1930s, especially after 1935 when the Social Security Act revamped locally-administered and supported mothers' aid plans as the federally-supported Aid to Dependent Children program.
As women sought the advice of social agents, these women repeatedly expressed the belief that work and welfare were mutually exclusive alternatives. One reason for this, of course, was the paucity of both funds and jobs during the Depression. Women seemed to believe that any improvement in their financial situation would cost them their assistance. Anxious mothers, particularly when they knew concealment was impossible, nervously reported gains in earnings to their caseworkers. Fearing a complete cut-off, they often bargained with their agents in hopes 188
of retaining their aid a bit longer. When a mother of five
began to earn nearly $8 a week, she anticipated losing her
aid and told her FWA agent that she was "anxious to know
if it would be all right for her to save her wages to pay her taxes." Generally women couched their requests in
terms of some specific goal of this type rather than a simple need for more money. A mother who had procured
"made work" from FWA feared that the return of an older employed son would inspire the organization to dismiss her and she pleaded with her agent not to "take away her job immediately because she...had paid nothing on the house" 58 for several months.
As the perception grew in these years that any kind of job would eliminate assistance, Minneapolis women expressed a great deal of anxiety at the prospect of being compelled to support their children in labor markets wherein they knew they could not compete for decent wages.
When opportunités came their way, women commonly expressed misgivings about going on their own after months of assistance. Upon finding a job after months of searching, a mother of two feared she would "not be able to assume the full support for her family" and thought that "if she got a job she would automatically be put off by FWA." This sense of futility about the rewards of jobs once found was a common theme among welfare mothers. A mother who had 189
combined welfare with irregular restaurant work was
reluctant to accept a full-time job offer as she "was
very much afraid that she would not be able to earn enough
to completely support herself and wondered if there would
be any advantage in earning an insufficient wage." This
was obviously an indirect way of asking her agent if a job 59 meant she would lose all her aid.
Other women who had come to believe that work and
welfare were incompatible in the 30s approached this issue
from another angle. They increasingly expressed their
reluctance to accept the pensions because they believed
or suspected that they could not supplement the grants
with earnings. A Minneapolis mother of five had supported
her children for several years with part time work and
private assistance and was working as a waitress at the
time she applied for the mothers' pension. While waiting
for the verdict on her application, she inquired of her
FWA agent if she could "work and receive CA at the same
time. She was under the impression that she could not do
that." Other women had apparently heard rumors that made
them quite certain pensions would preclude the option to earn additional money. When a CPS caseworker advised one mother to apply, the woman explained that she wanted to be free to work in the future and "knew" that receiving a pension would prohibit employment. Women in other areas 130
expressed similar fears. In 1937, the federal government
conducted an unemployment census which many single
mothers, like other respondents, mistook for a job
application. Writing to federal officials, several ADC
recipients inquired if they could "apply" for the jobs 60 given their present welfare status.
More and more women expressed confusion regarding
their employment status in relation to the pensions. Many
of their caseworkers were from private agencies, knew
little about public programs, and admitted that they would
have to check on these matters when women inquired. It was
from some other source that women derived this perception
about the program which had long been known to demand work
obligations of many recipients. Depression circumstances
in general, and the fact that private agents often sent women to apply for the grants after months and years of a
futile search for work, were factors that may have played a role in generating this belief. The administration of pensions had, however, actually undergone a significant change. From 1911 to the early 1930s, local agencies had conducted all the programs, generally without any support from state funds. Despite restrictions and limitations, mothers remained "employables" under the early laws, the purposes of which had never been to extricate women from the labor force. By the early 1930s, however. 191
policymakers, especially those at the federal level, were
in the process of redefining mothers of dependent children
as "unemployables.
For many years. Progressive reformers such as Grace
Abbott, Helen Tyson, and Emma Lundberg had criticized the
local programs for their failure to enable mothers to avoid the low-wagelabor market. From their position in
the Children's Bureau and other agencies, these leaders kept alive a viable lobbying effort toimprove the laws by making them mandatory throughout thestates, augmenting the grants with state funds, and widening their coverage to include women of all marital statuses in fact as well as in theory. By the 1930s, they were also pushing for federal involvement. Through the work of Abbott and others in the Children's Bureau, it became common knowledge that low grants had compelled overwork and that many mothers had dispensed with the program altogether, preferring to 62 work full time without interference.
Despite the energetic lobbying and genuine commitment of women in the Children's Bureau, the drive for federal involvement might not have succeeded had there been no
Depression. Lawmakers at the national level had been indifferent to the defects of the pensions until they found that federal^ agencies designed to deal with unemployment were saddled with large numbersof mothers 192
and children. Federal officials became aware of the plight
of women and children as an obstacle to the government
effort to deal with unemployment. During the 1930s,
mothers increasingly had to seek aid from federal agencies
because many of the mothers' pensions funds were depleted.
Although the pensions had constituted 40% of all outdoor
aid, public or private, in 1929, by 1938 their proportion
had dropped to only 4%. General relief expenditures,
matched by federal emergency funds, had grown from $13
million in 1929 to $533 million in 1935. The pensions, on
the other hand, had grown from $18 million in 1930 to
$24.5 million by 1935 in 120 major urban areas studied. By
1938, private funds constituted only a miniscule proportion of home relief.
Clearly general relief augmented by federal funds provided the major means of support for single mothers during these years. Had the pensions been providing for a reasonable number of the families in need, they would have grown much more than they did during the 1930s. In 116 urban areas surveyed in 1929, 104 mothers' pensions programs continued to operate in 1934, but most single mothers in these areas relied on general funds enlarged by the Federal Relief Emergency Administration.^^
It was the presence of large numbers of women and children on the emergency relief rolls, which lawmakers 193
had designed for the truly "unemployed," that convinced
officials of the Roosevelt administration of the need for
a federally-supported mothers' aid program. Although FERA
during its first year provided primarily cash relief,
federal policymakers intended it to serve as the
foundation of its successor, the Work Projects
Administration. The government authorized the states to
distribute the funds only on a general basis to those
temporarily impoverished due to unemployment, thus
prohibiting the states from using the money to build up
their depleted "categorical" programs for the aged,
blind, or dependent children. People from these categories could, however, request general assistance from FERA funds
if the locality had exhausted its specified grant 65 allotments. This loophole in the law created a problem for the administration. Contrary to expectations, many
"unemployables" became mixed in with the employable, yet currently unemployed, groups of recipients. The former would eventually provide the population supported by the
Social Security Act. Members of the employable group would find private employment, perhaps after a brief stint with the Work Projects Administration or a period during which they received the newly-created unemployment insurance. In the meanwhile, however, the research 194
division of FERA kept a close eye on the program's
recipients, dividing them up into these two categories.
The purpose was to discern how many could and could
not eventually be absorbed by employment under a revived
economy. Grace Abbott used this situation to argue that
"permanent plans be made for all those for whom employment
is not to be sought." FERA similarly defined single
mothers as a primary group for whom employment was not a
solution. The presence of so many women and children on relief roles led administrators to define them explicitly as unemployables. In a weak economy, where jobs did not exist for "real workers," single mothers searching for work were a thorn in the side of policymakers endeavoring to restore employment.
Several reports reveal this development. Between 1933 and 1935, FERA studied from a variety of angles the relief populations in both urban and rural areas. A 1934 study of
79 cities, including over a million cases or 40% of the urban relief population, indicated that 14.2% of the families receiving assistance were headed by women.
Interviews revealed that 62% of these women reported themselves as workers. While some may have been supporting other adults, most relief families headed by women had children. FERA ignored the women's self-designations and claimed that most belonged to the unemployable category. 195
In a related study of the national urban relief load, FERA
stated that the 241,000 mothers of dependent children were
unemployable. The writers of the report, however, were
aware that most of the mothers did not perceive themselves
this way. They indicated that "most of the female heads
consider themselves in the labor market" as was "evidenced
by the fact that about 60% of them reported that they were
working or seeking work" in domestic service or 68 semi-skilled manufacturing.
Rural studies yielded similar results. A 1935 FERA
bulletin aimed to determine the types and relative amounts
of unemployability in rural areas. In early 1935, there were almost 2 million rural relief cases nationwide, and
federal officials deemed 190,000 of these to be unemployable. While the elderly made up the majority of this group, 90,000 cases included members of working age who, due to various disabilities, were not part of the labor force. Federal officials expected mothers of young children to belong to the latter group. The majority of mothers, however, did not designate themselves as such.
The authors of the report therefore devised a separate category which they entitled "potentially unemployable."
Of the 98,000 cases in this group, 83,000 were female heads of families. The report explained that "This type of relief case is regarded as only potentially 196
unemployable since the female considers herself in the
labor market and...would accept employment if it were
available." Referring specifically to the 54,000 mothers
whose children were all under 16, the authors estimated
that "considerably more than half of these
females...reported themselves as workers or seeking work,
still considering themselves in the labor market.
Although bowing to claims made by the women, the
concession was a grudging one. The authors qualified their
findings with the statement that the "average rural
household...requires the more or less continual presence
of an adult female." FERA had to grant some type of
employment status to these women because anyone who
claimed to be working or seeking a job was by definition a
part of the labor force. Rather than categorize them as
the employables they claimed to be, FERA compromised and
referred to them as "potentially unemployable." This was
FERA's way of placing them in the unemployable category.
Finally, the report simply stated that "their
employability composition is not accurately known" and
that "this type of broken home may best be dealt with by a
special program not of an emergency nature." A 1935 comprehensive survey of the entire relief load said the
same more explicitly. According to this survey, 333,500 relief cases including only women and children were 197
unemployable by virtue of their family composition.^®
Local studies illustrate the same trends. All relief recipients were required to register with local employment bureaus in case private employment should become available. FERA officials examined local areas primarily in response to complaints about job refusals, some of which involved single mothers who had registered as household workers and refused the positions offered to them. Investigating these charges in several large cities,
FERA learned that some women had turned down these jobs because the wages were unusually low or had been falsely advertised. Having initiated these studies questioning mothers' refusal to work, FERA investigators closed their reports questioning their ability to work. Regarding the women's self-assigned employment status, officials inquired, "Even though they may once have been properly classified as 'domestics', is it proper to so classify them now?" One city report clearly blamed the women for making more work for administrators by searching for jobs.
They complained that "were it not for the failure of some of these women adequately to state the facts when they register, they would be classified as 'unemployable.'"
Thus it appears that women who turned down domestic jobs because they paid almost nothing could only be understood by federal officials as women who could not arrange child 198
care and therefore had no business designating themselves
as members of the labor force.
It is not surprising, however, that mothers who had
baen pressured to work for decades would assume that
relief agencies expected them to admit both their ability
to work and past work experience. FERA was the first
official policy-making body which explicitly defined
single mothers as unemployables. The Depression had created an extreme situation which forced a new classification which had been neither necessary nor desired by the state before this time. While some of the reformers who spearheaded the mothers' pension movement and those who lobbied for improvements clearly desired that women be enabled to remain at home, this would become a reality only under circumstances in which it was difficult for anyone to find a job. During these years a campaign against working women in general, who were supposedly taking men's jobs, was picking up steam. Given this development, policymakers could only perceive mothers of young children seeking jobs as a nuisance as they struggled to remedy the unemployment crisis. It was the state, and not the women themselves, which had the last word in deciding whether or not women were employable.
FERA extended the "unemployability" label over a broad group and disregarded the women's own ideas about what 199
they could a id could not do, primarily to serve the
interests of federal efforts to deal with the Depression.
The "unemployable" label would endure only as long as did
high unemployment. In better times, policymakers would
develop work incentive programs designed to push welfare
mothers into the labor force.
Thus it was from criticisms of women's work in
general, discussions of the weaknesses of the earlier
programs, and from actual changes in policies that women
began to view ADC differently than the mothers' pensions.
The propaganda and rhetoric that had accompanied the drive
for a federally-supported program promised to correct the
well-known defects of the older pension plans, in
particular the need to work. The Social Security Act of
1935 promised federal matching grants to states which set
up pension programs on a statewide, mandatory basis. The
old laws had left the decision up to localities, and only
a few states provided any funds. The expansion of the
program meant that more women would become eligible, and
there were some improvements in the sizes of the grants as 72 a result of federal contribution.
The wording of the laws changed in important ways.
Three-day rules and other work stipulations tended to disappear, and the language of the laws became more general. The federal law did not actually bar women from 200
working; the actual dynamics :)f the laws, within the
boundaries of certain requirements, were left up to the
states. Yet in these early years, it was understood that,
just as the primary purpose of the mothers' pension laws
had been to find a cheap way to keep children o it of
institutions and boarding homes, the purpose of ADC was to
maintain mothers and children who had been explicitly
defined as unemployables. Thus the Minnesota law contained
no clause specifying the administering agencies' rights to
require or set limits on employment. This old stipulation
had been repeated with every amended version of the law
from 1913 to 1937. In 1937, the new Minnesota ADC law
stated only that the amount of aid "shall be sufficient,
when added to all other income and support available to
the child, to provide such child with a reasonable 73 subsistence" for health and decency.
The issues relevant to the law had also changed.
Whereas women had earlier commonly found that agencies expected them to work, now the question seemed to be arising as to whether they could work while receiving a pension. This is apparent from the Minnesota attorney general's opinion of May, 1939, wherein the justice department clarified that "Mother does not lose right to aid by continuing casual employment and leaving children in care of responsible persons during that time." Although 201
this may sound like the old system reborn, the
significance is that the official ruling indicates that
the mother's right to work beyond the grant had been
questioned. This situation, of course, did not last. Women
continued to work under the pensions, although the high
proportions noted in earlier surveys never showed up again
in periodic tabulations analyzing AOC recipients. Work
requirements gradually slipped back into the laws,
especially as the clientele of ADC agencies became
increasingly non-white after the Second World War. Thus
the seemingly radical revisions of the Social Security Act
did not have long-term repercussions. That landmark law,
however, has often been used to imply that it was not
until the 1960s that policymakers began to require that
welfare mothers work. As has been shown, prior to the 1935
law both welfare officials and single mothers assumed that
mothers on government pensions would work.
The preceding pages have argued that single mothers were "reluctant domestics" who attempted to make the best of their circumstances. If they had to work at housework,
they attempted to make room and board with their children 202
pact of the arrangement. Yet most of them would have
preferred to leave the irregular labor force altogether
aid secure better paying jobs. It was the federal
government, and not single mothers themselves, who decided
they were unemployable. A combination of factors confined
them to the secondary labormarket--lack of skills,
responsibility for children, discouragement from social
workers and welfare bureaucrats, and the fact that the pensions required work while rendering decently-paying
jobs pointless. Although few argued that they should be exempt from the responsibility of earning part of their
income, most of these mothers also felt that they had a right to assistance, regardless of the fact that their moral standards might not meet the stringent demands of middle-class caseworkers. As the next chapter will show, single mothers also believed that they had a right to work rather than receive mothers' pensions, even in situations where sizable pensions were easily available to them. NOTES
Florence Nesbitt, Standards of Public Aid to Children in Their Own Homes, Children's Bureau Publication no. 118 (Washington,B.C.: GPO, 1923), pp. 17-18. 2 Mary F. Bogue, Administration of Mothers* Aid in Ten Localities, Children's Bureau Publication no. 1Ô4 (Washington, B.C.: GPO, 1928), pp. 71, 95, 146; United States Department of Labor, Children's Bureau, Laws Relating to "Mothers' Pensions" in the U.S., Canada, Denmark, and New Zealand, Children's Bureau Publication no. 63 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1919), p. 126. 3 ' Nesbitt, Standards of Public Aid, p. 80; Bogue, Administration of Mothers' Aid in Ten Localities, co. ■55-3ÏÏ:------
^ Nesbitt, Standards of Public Aid, pp. 17. 19.
^ New York State Commission on Relief for Widowed Mothers, Report of the Commission (Albany: J. B. Lyon Co., 1914), p J 33 : Katherine Anthony, Mothers Who Must Earn (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 1914), p. 14; Helen R. Wright, Children of Wage-Earning Mothers, Children's Bureau Publication no. 102 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1928). p. 32.
^ William Matthews, "When Fathers Drop Out: What Happened to 115 Widows and Their 470 Children" (New York, N.Y.: New York Association for Improving the Condition of the Poor, 1924), p. 34; Elizabeth L. Hall, Mothers' Assistance in Philadelphia: Actual and Potential Costs (Minneapolis: The Sociological Press, 1$33), p”! 32; Wright. Children of Wage-Earning Mothers, pp. 27, 31.
^ Wright, Children of Wage-Earning Mothers, pp. 30, 32; Grace Abbott and Sophonisoa Breckinridge, Administration of the Aid-to-Mothers' Law in Illinois, Children ' s Bureau Publication noT ÏÏT~, pi 46; Florence Nesbitt, "A Brief Study of Mothers' Pensions In New York City," File 20-100-S, Box 71, Children's Bureau Collection, Record Group 102. National Archives; Cases
203 204
#37118 and #37165, Reel 332, Minneapolis Family and Children's Service microfilm collection. Social Welfare History Archives, University ofMinnesota. Subsequent references to the cases in this collection will appear by case numbers and reel number only.
® Cases #37170, 37106, 37096, 37148, Reel 332.
^ Case #12032, Reel 355; Cases #37151, 37108, 37159, Reel 332.
Linda Gordon, "Single Mothers and Child Neglect, 1880-1920," American Quarterly, 37 (Summer 1985), o. 184; Case #37108, Reel 332; Case #35045, Reel 330.
Case #37115, Reel 332; Case #37191, Reel 332; Case #37041, Reel 331; Case #35106, Reel 330; Case #11821. Reel 350; Case #11841, Reel 351.
Case #35129, Reel 330; Case #37041, Reel 331; Case #11797, Reel 350.
Case #13335, Reel 381; Case #35045, Reel 330.
Case #12915, Reel 373; Case #13031, Reel 375; Case #12501, Reel 364.
Case #37031, Reel 331; Case #37041, Reel 331; Case #37118, Reel 332.
Case #35106, Reel 330.
Case #35434, Reel 331. 18 Abbott and Breckinridge, Administration of the Aid-to-Mothers* Law, pp. 49-63. IQ. Nesbitt, Standards of Public Aid, p. 19; Case #37108, Reel 332; Case #11706, Reel 350.
Case #37643, Reel 335; Case #37003, Reel 331; Interviews for Women's Bureau Bulletin 88, Box 219, Records of the Women's Bureau, Record Group 85, National Archives. 21 Sophonisba Breckinridge, Family Welfare Work in a Metropolitan Community; Selected Case Records (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1924), 491, passim. 205
27 Abbott and Breckinridge, The Administration of the Aid-to-Mothers Law in Illinois! p?^ 45-46; Nesbitt, Brief Study oT Mothers' Pensions in New York City." 23 Breckinridge, Family Welfare Work, p. 511.
Nesbitt, Standards of Public Aid, p. 19; Nesbitt, "A Brief Study of Mothers' Pensions in New York City," p. 13. 25 Mildred Rein, Work or Welfare; Factors in the Choice AFDC Mothers (New York: Praeger, 19?4), p. 74. 25 Abbott and Breckinridge, Administration of the Aid-to-Mothers Law in Illinois, pp. 27-47.
Case #35045, Reel 350. 28 Interview no. 1012, interviews for Women's Bureau Bulletin 108, Box 264, Records of the Women's Bureau, Record Group 86, National Archives. 29 Guida West, The Welfare Rights Movement (New York: Praeger, 1981); pp. 245, 288, 832, passim.
Case #30592, Reel 305; Case #35045, Reel 330; Cases #37108, 37111, 37122, 37127, Reel 332; Cases #37596, 37606, 37643, Reel 335.
Case #27408, Reel 276; Case #30566, Reel 305; Case #31223, Reel 310. 32 Case #11855, Reel 351; Case #35557, Reel 331.
Gordon, "Single Mothers and Child Neglect," p. 191; Clara Cahill Park, "Pensions for Mothers." Survey, 30, April 12, 1913, 669; Clara Cahill Park, ' Motherhood and Pensions," Survey, 30, April 12, 1913, p. 74.
Grace Abbott, The Child and the State (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1908), II, 235.
M. S. to the Census, Aug. 24, 1938, Alphabetical name file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, Records of the 1937 Census of Partial Employment, Unemployment, and Occupations, Record Group 29, National Archives; In order to protect privacy, all names of women correspondents have been listed by initials only. Readers who wish to track the document should consult the author. 20 6
36 B.S. to the Census, Nov. 1937, Alabama file, Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; P.M. to Franklin Roosevelt, Nov. 22, 1937, Alphabetical name file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA. 37 M.S. to the Census, Aug. 24, 1938, Alphabetical name file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA. O O H.J. to the Census, June 13, 1938, Alphabetical name file. Correspondence with the Public, RG 29, NA; C.W. to the Census, Jan. 11, 1938, Alphabetical name file, Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA.
R.D. to the Census, Nov. 17, 1937, Illinois file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; Wilma Walker, ed., Child Welfare Case Records (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1937), p. 82.
R.D. to the Census, Nov. 17, 1937, Illinois file, Letters Reporting Unemployment,RG 29, NA; No name, n.d., to the Census, Alphabetical name file. Correspondence With the Public, RG 29, NA; M.G. to the Census, Nov. 16, 1937, California file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; E.R. to John Biggers, Oct. 7, 1937, Alphabetical name file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA.
Breckinridge, Family Welfare Work, p. 467; Case #37202, Reel 332.
Breckinridge, Family Welfare Work, pp. 166-178; Case #30630, Reel 305: Case #11821, Reel 350; Case #27398, Reel 276; Case #13343, Reel 381; Case #12038, Reel 355; Case #31218, Reel 310; Case #35426, Reel 331.
Breckinridge, Family Welfare Work, p. 497; Case #27390, Reel 276; Case #57ÛÔ3, Reel 33l; Case #35045, Reel 330.
Winifred Bell, Aid to Dependent Children (New York: Columbia University Press, 1965), pp"I 1-19; Grace Abbott and Frances Perkins, Mothers* Aid, 1931, Children's Bureau Publication no. 22%) (Washington, BTC. : GPO, 1933), pp. 13, 25-27; Minnesota State Conference on Social Work, Study of Mothers' Allowances in Minnesota (Minneapolis: The Conference, 1935), p. 24.
Case #12041, Reel 355; Case #27384, Reel 276: Case #37108, Reel 332. 207
Abbott and Breckinridge, The Administration of the Aid-to-Mothers' Law in Illinois, pi 2ol Case #13443, Reel 383; Case #306247 Reel 305.
Case #30624, Reel 305.
Bell, Aid to Dependent Children, p. 8; State Board of Control, Compilation ofthe Laws of Minnesota Relating to Children (St. Paul: State Board of Control, 1923), ppV IÔ8-I1O; State of Minnesota, Digest of Laws: Attorney General's Opinions and Supreme Court Decisions Relating to Minnesota Assistance and llelief Programs (St. Paul : Division of Social Welfare, l440), p. 66. 49 Frances Fox Piven and Richard Cloward, Regulating the Poor: The Functions of Public Welfare (New York: Vintage Books, l$7l), pp. 1.23-177.
Case #13352, Reel 331; Case #13373, Reel 381; Case #13245, Reel 379; Case #13443, Reel 383.
Case #13245, Reel 379; Case #11841, Reel 351; Case #13402, Reel 382; Case #13495, Reel 384; Case #12866, Reel 372.
Case #13326, Reel 381; Case #12938, Reel 373; Case #12497, Reel #364.
Case #12497, Reel 364; Case #13326, Reel 381; Case #12927, Reel 373; Case #11841, Reel 351.
Case #12516, Reel 364; Case #13245, Reel 379; Case #12505, Reel 364; Case #12041, Reel 355. Case #12814, Reel 370; Case #12938, Reel 373; Case #12927, Reel 373; Case #12866, Reel 372; Case #13320, Reel 381. 55 Case #35045, Reel 330; Case #11786, Reel 350. 56 Case #12505, Reel 364; Case #13440, Reel 383. 57 Case #12497, Reel 364. 58 Case #31887, Reel 315; Case #37596, Reel 335. 59 Case #35434, Reel 331; Case #35045, Reel 330. 60 Case #31887, Reel 315; Case #13015, Reel 375; A.B. to Mrs. Franklin Roosevelt, Nov. 20, 1937, Indiana file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; L.L. to the President, Dec., 1937, Alphabetical name file, 208
Correspondence With the Public, RG 29, NA.
Abbott, The Child and the State, II, 235.
Grace Abbott, "Recent Trends in Mothers' Aid", Social Service Review, 8 (June 1934), passim.
f i 1 Federal Security Agency, Social Security Board, Bureau of Public Assistance, Public and Private Aid in 116 Urban Areas, 1929-1938, Public Assistance Report no. 37 (Washington, D.C., I?42), pp. 4, 14-16, 23; Emma A. Winslow, Trends in Different Types of Public and Private Relief in Urban Areas, 1939-1935, Children's Bureau Publication no. 237 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1937), p. 24.
FSA, SSB, BPA, Public and Private Aid in 116 Urban Areas, p. 22.
Josephine Brown, Public Relief, 1929-1939 (New York: Henry Holt, 1940), pp. 145-l70.
Brown, Public Relief, pp. 151-162, 145-298, passim.
Grace Abbott, "Recent Trends in Mothers' Aid," p. 209. CO Gladys L. Palmer and Katherine D. Wood, Urban Workers on Relief, Part I (Work Projects Administration, Research Monograph IV, Washington, D.C., 1936), pp. xvii, 12, 25; Federal Emergency Relief Administration, Division of Research, Statistics, and Finance, "An Analysis of the 'Unemployable' Families and Non-Family Persons on the Urban Relief Rolls, December, 1934," Research Bulletin D-6, February 5, 1934, pp. 1-2.
Federal Emergency Relief Administration, Division of Research, Statistics, and Finance, "Some Types of Unemployability in Rural Relief Cases, February 1935," Research Bulletin H-2, October 4, 1935, pp. 1-3, 10, 12-13.
Ibid., p. 13; Federal Emergency Relief Administration, Division of Research, Statistics, and Finance, "Estimated Number of Cases, Unemployable by Reason of Family Composition, Receiving Emergency Relief in the United States, by States, December 1934," Research Bulletin D-10, March 5, 1935, p. 1
Federal Emergency Relief Administration, Division of Research, Statistics, and Finance, "Report of the Alleged 209
Job Refusals by Relief Clients in Baltimore, Maryland," Research Bulletin D-12, June 13, 1935, pp. 4-6; FERA, Division of Reseach, Statistics, and Finance, "Report of the Study of Alleged Job Refusals by Relief Clients in Washington, D.C.," Research Bulletin D-14, Aug. 6, 1935, p. 1. 72 Bell, Aid to Dependent Children, pp. 20-39. 73 State of Minnesota, Laws, Statutes, Aid to Dependent en Act (St. Paul; State Board of Control, Ï93/),
State of Minnesota, Digest of Laws, p. 66. CHAPTER IV
GRANTS OR JOBS? SINGLE MOTHERS AND
THE WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION
Although Aid to Dependent Children was the major New
Deal program intended to support single mothers, it was not the only new source of income upon which they could draw during the Depression. In 1935, Congress approved legislation for the Work Projects Administration, a work program that hired heads of households, as well as for
ADC. Each program was a product of the nation's experience under the Federal Emergency Relief Administration and each was an expression of policy defining appropriate ways to deal with a relief population of unprecedented size.
FERA had provided aid for people in need from all categories--the young and old, single and married, employable and unemployable. The creation of a major public works program and Social Security, of which ADC was one component, signaled a rational division of a large, hitherto undifferentiated relief clientele. The federal government, which under FERA had cooperated with the states and localities to aid the destitute of all
210 211
categories, would in the late 1930s limit itself primarily
to providing jobs for employables through WPA, while
leaving to the states responsibility for unemployables. By
means of matching funds, the federal government would
continue to assist the states in providing allowances for
those unemployables who qualified for the new categorical
programs--the blind, the elderly who were not eligible for
old age insurance, and dependent children of single mothers. Those who neither belonged to a category nor
secured WPA jobs would be eligible only for local, general relief. Policymakers believed that the strain on local coffers, although deprived of federal funds, should not be
too great since many former FERA clients would transfer to
WPA or to the jointly subsidized special programs.^
As heads of households, single mothers were technically eligible for WPA; as mothers of dependent children they were the population for whom policy makers had designed AOC. The presence of large numbers of single mothers on FERA work relief, even in areas where mothers' pensions were effective, had been one of the major catalysts behind the creation of a national program for dependent children. Therefore it would stand to reason that most mothers would qualify for ADC and few would work for WPA. The division of the FERA relief clientele, however, was not as neat as planners had anticipated. 212
Congress never appropriated enough funds to enable either
the work projects or the categorical programs to provide
for all those in need of their services. The months during
the liquidation of the FERA therefore stood out as "a time of uncertainty, insecurity, and even terror for the relief client who could not get a work relief job and who had no sure niche in the developing categorical programs."
Even single mothers had "no sure niche." Although ADC did grow after 1935, many single mothers remained on general relief and worked part-time, while substantial proportions 2 worked on WPA.
The experience of these women on a public work program not intended for them provides an excellent case study of the relationship between work and welfare. The WPA was by definition an agency which combined in its projects elements characteristic of both and therefore is relevant to the subject of the dual reliance of single mothers on labor and relief. A study of WPA also provides a lens through which to explore the government's efforts to control women and women's efforts either to resist that control or turn it to their own purposes. As a work-relief agency the WPA bore a rather ambiguous relation to its workers' lives off the job: as an employer, it could be as indifferent as were employers in the private labor market, yet as a relief agency, it could display some of the 213
controlling, punitive functions common to public relief
departments.
The WPA also provides a medium through which to
examine both official policy regarding work for mothers
after the creation of ADC and the consciousness of women
who made efforts to secure WPA jobs despite the new social
security. The fact that mothers did work on the projects,
which Congress had designed only for the "employable"
unemployed, illustrates once again the flexible, expedient
nature of the official employability status of single
mothers. The WPA was a work program jealously guarded by
the "elite" of the unemployed--the "true workers" with
housholds full of dependents. The degree to which women
endeavored to work on WPA, then, indicates the extent to which they saw themselves as employables entitled to jobs, especially jobs the avenues to which were the relief departments on which they relied. Although WPA has been criticized for employing women primarily in sewing projects, "the most traditional of female work," the women's efforts to secure these jobs nevertheless reveals a great deal about their consciousness in regard to work 3 and welfare.
This chapter will explore the experience of single mothers on WPA. Since little has been written about WPA in general, section A will demonstrate that single mothers 214
were included in the work relief clientele. Although
officials had anticipated such a development, they used a variety of policies to keep the number as low as possible or to remove women from the projects after they had worked
for some time. The second section will thus explore the efforts of women to secure work and their conscious responses to policies designed to impede them. Although many of these policies were general and could apply to all women, policies restricting potential ADC mothers from WPA eligibility were specifically targeted at single mothers and require separate treatment in the section C. Since many single mothers did attain work despite these various policies, the fourth section (D) will explore Minneapolis case records to ascertain the conditions under which these women secured WPA jobs and their self-assertion in the face of policies militating against their right to work.
A. Women on the WPA: Who were they?
In his lengthy history of the WPA, written while the agency was still in operation, Donald Howard admitted that
"little, unfortunately, is known of women employed by the
WPA" except that they were the logical breadwinner of the family. The WPA requirement that all of its workers be heads of households could, however, include women in a 215
wide variety of situations--wives alone with disabled
husbands, women who were the only employables among a
group of adults living together, single women, and, of
course, mothers alone with children. The only women
clearly excluded were wives of able-bodied men, young
women under 18, and mothers or elderly women already
receiving social security in the form of ADC or old age
assistance.^
The WPA assembled few statistics regarding the
demographic composition of its female employees, at best
leaving rough, unscientific estimates and qualitative
descriptions which collectively suggest the extent to
which single mothers were employed. Narrative descriptions
of the clientele of WPA sewing rooms, which employed the
majority of women, indicate that women from a great
variety of family situations worked in the rooms. Several
local areas echoed the report of one small project where
"75 women of all ages and of varied backgrounds" sat at
their machines from 8 o'clock each day. Minneapolis emphasized that the "1100 women who are responsible for keeping homes and families together" ranged in age "from
19 to 60" and came from every marital status. While these regional reports stressed youth as well as age and motherhood as well as childlessness, some localities focused on the "aging" of the sewing room workers. Always 216
concerned that "unemployables" had been certified for work, WPA officials kept their eyes open for those who would never be reabsorbed by the private labor market.
Thus when officials studying such areas as Cleveland,
Milwaukee, and Rochester, New York expressed concern over
the age of women on the sewing projects, they meant that
two-thirds were over 35 and therefore unlikely to find employers who would hire them. In a very few areas, such as Sacramento, California, where one-half of the women were over 50, the sewing room clientele may be fairly characterized as an "older" group, but the average age of women employed on the WPA nationwide was 39, certainly young enough still to be caring for dependent children and much too young for old age assistance.^
The fact that the women were young enough to have children does not, of course, prove that they did, and single women with no dependents of any type were eligible for WPA. A few narrative reports indicated significant numbers of single women in the sewing rooms. In one large
California county, almost one-third of the women supported only themselves, and an Iowa report claimed that
"the majority of these workers are younger and unmarried" or "homeless and alone." It was, however, a WPA policy to give priority to workers with dependents. Since the agency was always under fire for hiring "too many women" who. 217
according to long-standing prejudices intensified by the
Depression, did not need to work, the WPA responded to
pressures to prove that the employed women had to support
others. In 1938, Ellen Woodward, head of the women's
projects, released the results of a survey indicating that
the majority of women employed in rural areas of Missouri
and Philadelphia supported their families alone. In
Philadelphia, 85% of 2000 workers were either divorced, widowed, or never married and all of the women supported
from 1 to 5 additional people. In 1939, WPA statistics indicated that, nationwide, 79% of the women on WPA had dependents, and 50% of these supported at least three people besides themselves.^
Thus a majority of women workers were the breadwinners in their families. These statistics do not indicate how many had children, but it is highly likely that three or more dependents in most cases included some children. The narrative reports on the sewing rooms support this conclusion, as they indicate that single mothers were a common and sometimes even dominant client group. Areas as diverse as Montana, New York, Washington, Louisiana,
Detroit, and a hypothetical urban region called
"Midweston" all described as typical the situations of mothers alone with their children. Authors of a report from a Colorado county explained that the project there 218
would "employ only women who are for the most part widows
with children" or wives who were the only available
workers. An Iowa report described local sewing room
workers as "widowed women, with children" and women with
"both an invalid husband and children to support." A
former supervisor from Hammond, Louisiana who had been
criticized for being too easy on her employees explained
that she felt sorry for these women who "could not stand
up to married life, left with children to rear and
educate." These and many other narrative reports give
substance to the central WPA statement that "Behind each
WPA woman worker is a family of children or of old people,
or of people sick or unable to work.
Although the latter comment is an exaggeration, it is
also an admission by the agency that it employed mothers
of young children. Throughout its history, the WPA was concerned about the employment of women who should be on
ADC. This concern inspired officials to present rough estimates of the potential ADC population among women employed on the projects. In late 1936, Ellen Woodward claimed that of the 247,000 women then in the sewing rooms, 40,000 might be transferred to social security, a figure that is low in regard to the number of single mothers then working since so many states had not yet set up ADC programs. As will later be shown, the ultimate goal 219
of the WPA was to remove single mothers eligible for ADC
from the work relief program, and state projects made vigorous efforts to implement this policy during the late
1930s. The WPA assessment of the degree to which they had achieved this goal offers the best indication of how common it was for single mothers to work on the projects: in mid-1939, WPA officials testifying before Congress complained that there were still at least 90,000 mothers on WPA who belonged more appropriately on ADC.
Thus in spite of conscious policies designed to deny them employment, the number of mothers working on the projects may have actually grown from 1935 to 1939.
Impressionistic descriptions and unscientific estimates cannot determine the exact proportion of single mothers employed on WPA, but it is fair to conclude that substantial numbers--perhaps as many as a third of the
300,000 or more women on WPA— were mothers of dependent children. The very fact that WPA officials continuously had to make efforts to enforce policy denying work to these women is in itself strong evidence that the women worked in large numbers. As the next two sections will show, many other mothers would have joined those who secured work had it not been for a variety of policies impeding them. 220
B. Unlikely Workers; Barriers to WPA Jobs for Single Mothers
Actual numbers aside, it is clear that many single
mothers perceived WPA as a primary employer and often the
only employer for them during the Depression. In letters
to well-known figures in Washington, these women revealed
that they expected jobs on WPA to be available when all
other options had expired. The sole supporter of 8
children, an Illinois widow lost a fairly well-paying
factory job when the plant replaced women with men and
concluded that "Other than WPA project there isn't any
work for women here." A rural Alabama mother unable to
make ends meet by day work on a farm knew that "the only
work I can do now is sewing on the relief project." As
clients of the relief agencies which generally certified
workers for WPA, single mothers were well aware of the
projects and directly connected to those who could process
their applications. Thus they often took for granted that
the jobs were rightfully theirs. One woman expressed the
indignation of many when she complained that she was "not able to find work, not even on WPA" and requested advice as to how she might secure a project job.^
Many more mothers desired jobs than succeeded in
finding them. Like all potential WPA workers, single mothers had not only to be heads of households, but also 221
to pass two tests of eligibility which certified their need and employability. The need of these women was apparent and, as they were relief clients, usually called for no further evidence. Like all women, however, they were hard-pressed to prove their employability. The central WPA administration in Washington claimed to regard
"as employable anyone who could perform useful work on a project without endangering his own or others' health" and even admitted that the standards of WPA were probably lower in this respect than were those of private industry.
Although Congress and the central WPA were the architects of these broad rules, the local welfare agencies that actually certified applicants interpreted them in ways that greatly narrowed the meaning of employability. One particular ramification of the employability concept--that workers be clearly "available for work"--fell hard upon all women and especially upon single mothers as many officials simply took it for granted (when it was expedient for them to do so) that onerous child care responsibilities placed these mothers squarely outside the labor market. Although men with large numbers of children received preferential consideration, many state WPAs enacted policies aiming to curb if not prohibit the employment of mothers with any dependent children. 222
Many single mothers who considered themselves
"available for work" applied for WPA jobs only to find
they were "classed out with small children" and designated
as unemployables. Reluctant to accept this verdict as
final, they wrote letters requesting advice from officials
in Washington, B.C. An Alabama mother rejected at the
outset asked what she could do after she "tried to get
work myself on the relief but I have got so many small
children they wont let me work." Other women who had
secured work earlier in the lifetime of the agency lost
their jobs later when some state offices decided to create
or enforce existing rules on working mothers. An Arkansas
mother who was "taken off the WPA sewing project because I
had minor children" stated her case and inquired whether
she could "work at the sewing or some other WPA work
project untill our accounts are paid and that we may have
some clothing for the winter." Whereas this woman was merely asking for an extension, others wanted their jobs back without qualification and expressed frustration over
the fact that their children should be perceived as such a liability when it came to finding a means by which to support them. Women in Minnesota, for example, insisted that their child care arrangements prior to their lay-offs had been more than adequate and could have been continued.
Being discharged for the children's sake could have ironic 223
effects; an Indiana woman, upon losing her job, argued
that her daughter attended school "where 1 did work and I
was with her as much as 1 am now if not more."^^
While such convenience was rare, most of the women
were workers who would have to leave the home whether WPA
employed them or not and they were well versed in the
difficult art of finding reliable caretakers. Mothers
sometimes sensed a special form of discrimination aimed at
them and expressed anger at being denied work which they
saw as their right. A California mother of four wanted WPA work so that she might upgrade her employment from the
irregular day work which had long accustomed her to arranging child care. Rejected on the basis of her young children, she asked if she were correct in her belief that
WPA "was for poor people like me." A North Carolina widow who had "tried every branch" of the certifying agencies
"only to be turned down and sent to another" finally learned that she could not work because her daughter was only 13. Claiming that "there are plenty working who have children under 16," this woman could see no legitimate reason why her employability status should be so different from that of adults in two-parent families who also had young children. In all of these cases and others like them, mothers were consciously rejecting the idea that their responsibility for children rendered them 224
1 9 "unavailable for work" and therefore unemployable.
Although WPA agents often used the presence of young children as a basis of ineligibility, it was also common
for them to use other employability criteria even in cases where women did have young children. The WPA defined employability in a great variety of ways which one comtemporary insider admitted "militated against the employment of women...by design rather than by accident."
To be employable, for example, one had to be "actively seeking work," and the burden of proof was heavy on women who could be disqualified if they failed to show up at employment services in due time. More significant in effects on women's employability status were some particular meanings that theWPA attached to the "labor force." Normally referring to all those working or searching for work, the "labor force" under the WPA could mean those who could prove they were employable in the 13 private as well as in the public sector.
The WPA tried to give this harsh and unrealistic
Depression-era qualification some practical application by requiring that WPA employees had worked at a trade for a certain number of years or had worked in private employment fairly recently. Such policies adversely affected single mothers' chances for employment no less than women in general. An Ohio mother was "laid off on 225
account of not having five years industrial experience"
from her job in the sewing rooms which, significantly,
employed the least skilled of all workers, those least
likely to have a real "trade." After going "from one head
to another with the promise" that she would be reinstated,
this woman rejected their employability rules, arguing
that "as I am an experienced seamstress, I think that is all that should be required." The Ohio WPA's response to her complaints illustrates further the way that labor market meanings could restrict women's employment. That office had laid off this woman not only due to her lack of longevity, but also because she was "not the usual wage earner and hence, not normally in the labor market."
Although the "normal wage earner" in this family was now disabled and the mother did have past work experience, a technical definition of the "labor market" disqualified her despite her obvious need.^^
Another ramification of the employability concept that militated against the hiring of women was the rule that successful applicants be "genuinely unemployed." Closely related to the requirement that workers had long or recent employment histories was this qualification that an applicant's need for WPA work be a direct result of unemployment. While this might seem obvious, the meaning of "unemployment," like that of the labor force, had 2 2 6
contracted during the Depression as the number of people desiring jobs had expanded. Authors of a report on "Women and Work Relief" admitted that contemporary questions as to whether unemployment applied strictly to people who had lost jobs, or more broadly to those seeking them, could have a negative impact on women's prospects. WPA preferred the first definition, and in some places women were hard pressed to prove themselves unemployed in this narrow sense. A Kentucky woman who had once been a cook explained that "they won't let me work because I have been out of a job so long" and she had not "had a job and lost it" specifically as a result of the Depression. Although she understood the reasoning, she felt that her past experience and current need to support her children was greater than that of some who fit the technical definition of "unemployed." The meanings rendered to unemployability discriminated in particular against women who had worked but left jobs due to family commitments.^^
It was common for mothers to insist that they had employable skills, regardless of the length of time they had used them in private jobs or the number of years since their most recent employment. Many women argued that it was just obvious that they could work in the sewing rooms, as they could "cut and sew anything" or "turn (my) hand at anything." Others offered more sophisticated resumes. When 227
the Arkansas WPA refused to hire a widow with two children on the grounds that relatives should help her, she protested that "I am a power machine operator in any
Garment company" and that she was unemployed in the strict sense as she had been unable to get work at the two factories in her town. In Minneapolis, a mother who wanted to "return to her own trade of tailoring" tried for months to be placed on WPA and asked her caseworker to inform the local office "that she could run power machines.
...had taken a course at ______and later she had been head lady" at a local factory." Since most women did not know how to run the machines when they first came to the rooms, and since WPA had complained about the low level of seamstress skills among sewers, it stood to reason, in the women's eyes, that previous experience would be helpful.
It seems, however, that there was little connection between women's actual abilities and their success in either securing or retaining jobs. Always fearful that their responsibility for children could cost them their jobs, some women calculated to assure longevity on the projects by upgrading their skills. A Minneapolis mother anticipating a lay off as her employers were "rapidly dispensing with hand sewers" signed up for work on power machines in order to make herself more valuable, thus attempting to compensate for her lower seniority as the 2 2 8
mother of a young child. While this woman did remain at
work and become a power machine operator, the outcome had
more to do with her ineligibility for ADC than her
enhanced employability status. For many others, acquiring
skills did not guarantee that their public employment
would endure until they found an opportunity to employ
their abilities in private sector jobs. One woman was
proud to say that she "had been one of the skill workers
on the sewing project"and had "also operated two of the
big power machines" in a room in a Pennsylvania city.
Nevertheless she was dismissed and had to resort to day work after she "tried all private industries here in town"
for a job. In all of these cases, women perceived
themselves not only as employable workers, but also as certain types of workers with definite skills that were not often appreciated by the WPA.^^
Although need, employability, and the meanings and interpretations attached to the latter were the major criteria defining eligible workers, the WPA established other rules which discriminated against the employment of single mothers. One very important WPA policy, enforced in
96% of the cases, stated that only one member of each household could work on the projects. This regulation obviously discriminated against married women, who almost never worked unless their husbands were disabled. Although 229
the WPA considered all able-bodied fathers the heads of
their families, questions nevertheless sometimes arose as
to which family member would be the one to get the job.
This debate, however, usually concerned fathers and sons.
As a work program incorporating some of the features of a
relief system, WPA was reluctant to hire sons (or
daughters) as there was no guarantee that they were
committed to applying all their wages to family support
and their selection would tend to undermine parental 18 authority.
Although single mothers were family heads regardless
of who else happened to be living at home, there is
evidence that the above concerns about irresponsibility and threats to a parent's authority applied primarily to male-headed families. Some mothers, vaguely aware of the rules, would inquire "if two are allowed to work in one family" when someone else had been chosen over them.
Certifying agents were unconcerned about eroding the authority of a single mother when an older child or other male relatives lived in the home. An Arkansas mother of four complained of being unable to pay her bills since the
WPA had dismissed her and "let my little girl have ray case no." Trying to provide a stable home for an 8 year old son and a newborn baby, a mother in Minneapolis was "anxious to get on WPA" after losing her regular job and applied. 230
only to find she could not work as long as a brother
living in the home was on a project. Some women in such
situations simply waited until their living arrangements
changed and then went to work. But others were impatient
with rulings that interfered with their efforts to support
themselves and their children. In Minneapolis, a mother
whose older son was chosen over her asked the agency
"several times to allow her to have the WPA work instead
of ______" but only when subsequent quarrels catalyzed
his departure did she attain a position. The problem in
these cases was that the person at work did not necessarily support the family, while the income made the mother less eligible for other major sources of assistance. Having lost control of the purse strings, mothers nevertheless retained primary responsibility for their dependents, while the workers on WPA "helped.
Similar dilemmas could arise from other related policies. Whereas the central WPA office ruled that only one person per household could work, younger members in families with a WPA employee were permitted to work on the
Civilian Conservation Corps or the National Youth
Administration. The wages appropriated for the latter were very small and intended only to cover a small portion of the expenses of dependents. Young men employed in the CGC camps were away from home and the WPA ruled that they were 231
allowed— not compelled--to send allotments to their
families. Two studies revealed that the great majority of
men did not send money home--only 20% of them did so in
July, 1939, and 16% in July of 1940. Therefore the WPA
could not make applicants ineligible on the basis of CCC
wages. Local agencies interpreting these national rules,
however, sometimes frowned upon the doubling up of public
jobs. When the wife of a disabled husband lost her WPA
job, the Ohio office gave as explanation both that she was
"unemployable" and had a daughter on NÏA. An Alabama widow
with five daughters tried to register for work and agents
asked her how she had been getting along. Rejected when
she admitted that a son in CCC helped her, this woman
argued that although she was "proud of his being there,"
she needed much more than her son contributed and knew
that there were many men on WPA whose sons worked in the 20 camps.
That the rules were applied inconsistently and in discriminatory ways was a common perception among single mothers. The prejudice directed at married women during these years--embodied in accusations that they were taking jobs that they did not need away from male breadwinners--had a peculiar counterpart in work relief where single mothers were the sole breadwinners. Agents undoubtedly knew that CCC, NYA, and even WPA wages of 232
household members other than the mother were insufficient
and not at her disposal. Nevertheless they expected these
women to scrimp by on less, as they always had, by
combining an assortment of small resources— children's
pay, surplus commodities, in-kind relief from welfare
agencies, irregular wages, public assistance benefits of
live-in relatives. The latter could be extremely small, and the WPA ruled that families in receipt of categorical aid were eligible for WPA work as long as benefits combined with wages did not place the family beyond need.
Yet an Oklahoma mother, describing her efforts to get work, explained that "you really have so far to go to get registered then when those trips are made the ladys in charge find a thousand reasons to not register me." On her most recent trip she had learned she was ineligible because her mother lived with her and collected a tiny monthly old age check, most of which paid for medicine.
This income being clearly unavailable, this woman saw the rationale as simply another excuse to deny her work. That many state WPAs so quickly rejected women on the basis of such small returns suggests that agencies believed that they were in no more need of a basic, substantial paycheck than were married women. Husbands would take care of the latter, and a combination of local funds and 21 irregular earnings would sustain the former. 233
Although these women objectedto the grounds for their
rejection or dismissal, they at least knew why the WPA
refused them the jobs. Another large group of mothers
never seemed to know when or if they would have
employment. Women complaining that they had "tried and
tried" only to find that the local agency "could not do
anything for me right now" became impatient as months and
even years passed but "they haven't let me in yet." These
were not, however, frantic cries of individuals ignorant
of the necessary procedures; most of them had taken all
the required steps and felt that there was little left to
do but appeal to a higher authority. Typical was the
experience of a Texas woman who, after enduring months of
red tape and travelling from one office to another for certification, finally gave up, confiding that "I dont know what steps to take to get help so it came to me to write your administration." The fact that these women did not cite any known obstacles in the path of the job assignment suggests that either the agencies had long waiting lists or left women in the dark regarding their 22 prospects.
Many of the women whom the WPA seemingly put off with no explanation were from the South and admitted in their letters that they worked part time in seasonal labor.
Ellen Woodward's office, handling much of this mail, 234
believed that Southern women inquired about WPA jobs
because they had so few alternatives in states with weak
social legislation. Yet WPA wages were higher than ADC
grants in places where both were available. The interest
of Southern employers in a cheap labor supply also impeded
women's efforts to work on WPA, much as it retarded the
growth of ADC. Since federal regulations prohibited WPA
from interfering with the private labor market, applicants
were ineligible if other suitable work were available, and
those on projects had to respond to openings in the
private sector, provided that in both cases the positions 23 paid standard wages.
The WPA routinely gave temporary jobs to farm
laborers, "a group which was intermittently dependent on
public aid because earnings were insufficient to last
through the slack period.” The corollary to this was that
WPA employees would have to return to farm labor during
the growing season. In the South (as well as in some
Northern areas), where farm work meant low paid field work, policy was much more problematical. The rules stated
that workers had to accept private jobs if they were full-time and paid the local standard wages for the type of work at hand. In the South, of course, wages for seasonal work were much lower than WPA wages. The WPA ruled that workers did not have to leave the projects to 235
take substandard wages, with Harry Hopkins proclaiming
that the agency was "not going to kick anybody out...just
so some bird can get a lot of cheap labor." In areas where
standards were dreadfully low, however, "substandard" had
little meaning. If an employer normally paid the field
hands 10^ an hour, dismissed WPA workers would receive the
same. Under heavy fire of criticism that public works
generated labor shortages, WPA in fact did release workers
to such employers, particularly to Southern cotton 24 growers.
It is not surprising, then, that single mothers who
routinely worked in seasonal jobs were not taken seriously
by the WPA. A mother describing the run-around she had
endured at the welfare department added that she had
recently "picked a little cotton." Complaining that certifying agents had laughed at her when she asked for a job, a Florida woman further explained that "me and my boys work at ______fruit canners...about 4 months year" and relied on a small relief check at other times. Women who worked as sharcroppers or "by the day on the farm" found it difficult to secure public work which could offer at least temporary respite from low paid field work or seasonal factory labor. The few who were fortunate enough to attain project jobs during the off— season stood a good chance of losing them permanently once the good weather 236
returned. Although Congress had in 1937 legislated that
WPA must reinstate former workers if the jobs for which
they had left WPA terminated, local offices found ways
around this law. A mother of 8 in Oklahoma had left when
field work became available and wondered why, now that
"al the cotton is picked," she could not return to WPA.
For others, the connection between seasonal labor and the
permanent loss of a better paying position was clear. A
Texas mother of 3 asked for federal guidance after "I went
to pick cotton" and upon her return found that "they never
wanted (to) give my wors" on the sewing project. Local
agencies could always employ the unassailable excuse that
there were no immediate openings, despite the rules 25 mandating reinstatement.
Many women stated in their letters that they were
black, and others probably also were. WPA established an
anti-discrimination policy and was proud of its record,
claiming that many black women had come by their "first
opportunity for employment in work other than domestic and
personal service or in the cotton fields." Although from
1939 to 1942, only between 2 and 3 percent of all WPA workers were black women, their proportion was somewhat greater in the Southeast. Since WPA allowed local officials to discharge women at cotton picking time, sporadic WPA work did not interfere with the demand for a 237
cheap labor force. In regions where ADC was poorly
developed, there was some incentive on the part of WPA
officials to place black women on the projects during the
off-season when they might otherwise seek general
relief.26
Although black women did get jobs, local WPAs in the
South prescribed numerous policies to restrict their
opportunities. According to Donald Howard, agencies
enforced stringent employability criteria, handled the
applications of black people with deliberate slowness, and
sometimes engaged in the illegal practice of giving them
fewer than the standard number of WPA hours. Certifiers
also took the position that black people had learned how
to live on less resources than were required by white
people. This belief provided agents with the rationale by which to render black people ineligible on the basis of need. Beyond the problem of certification there was the difficulty of finding Southern sponsors, whose funds were required to initiate all projects, to set up sewing rooms for black women. A Texas woman unfamiliar with public works in her area hoped that she could replace her husband on WPA after ha died, only to find that there was no
"col. (colored) sewing room" in her town. Arguing that black women needed work, a Georgia mother complained that her locality had a sewing room "But nothing works on it 238
but white peoples." Sponsors would not come forward because they wanted the women to remain available year round for domestic service, a form of cheap labor not subject to seasonal variation. Black women expressed anger that white women had more options while they "had to work for just what these white women would give me." Following a tip from "white people (who) told me surly they would give me a government job," a woman spoke with an agent who
"just told me to go to another boarding house with nine rooms" to clean at 50^ a day, as she had done before.
These experiences and others like them suggest that many black women encountered obstacles when they attempted to get their "first chance," as WPA called it, for better 27 employment.
There were, then, many policies that stood in the way of WPA jobs for single mothers. Some of these policies affected all women, and the WPA could apply a few of them to all workers. There were never enough jobs for all who wanted them or even for all who could qualify, and the agency was always trying to design ways to eliminate groups and individuals from the roster. Women's prospects for work, however, suffered more than did men's from employability definitions. Although single mothers actually had a better chance than did married women, eligibility requirements eroded their status as heads of 239
families totally responsible for dependents. Their right and need to work was always weighed in reference to someone or something else--children, other potential WPA workers in the household, sons or daughters in public works, or the availability of low wage labor and the willingness of sponsors to set up sewing projects in black communities.
Although most of these policies bore a relationship to their status as mothers of young children, none of them was specifically directed at their position as single mothers. Certifying agents did not always, as has been shown, declare women ineligible simply on the basis of minor children in the home. In some cases, the utilization of other criteria— the CCC work of older children, the receipt of old age pensions by other family members, charges of specious unemployment or labor force participation--may simply have been the result of overworked agents selecting the first obvious reason to eliminate applicants. But it is equally as likely that some agents tried to avoid disqualifying single mothers on the grounds of their responsibility for young children in areas where there was no ADC alternative. Many of the women discussed above were from the South, and their difficulty in securing or retaining work does not diminish the fact that many Southern women did work on WPA, 240
precisely because there was so little ADC. As the next section will show, however, the availability and even the mere existence of ADC, whether actually available or not, could place serious obstacles in the way of single mothers' attempts to work on WPA.
C. The ADC "Option" and WPA Opportunities
The major policy that limited the option of single mothers to work on WPA was denial of work to women purportedly eligible for ADC. The existence of ADC could not legitimately render all mothers ineligible, as one of the reasons for the presence of so many mothers on projects was the slow growth of ADC. Although Congress passed ADC legislation in August of1935, a Southern filibuster, serving the interests of employers of cheap labor, retarded the distribution of federal fundsto the states until February of 1936. Even bythen, many states had not submitted plans for federal approval or initiated the funds required for matching federal contributions. ADC increased from approximately 100,000 families in 1934 to
300,000 in 1939, but by that year 9 states had not yet created a program. WPA, on the other hand, began hiring in the summer of 1935 and by December employed over 300,000 women. Since most of the early WPA workers came directly 241
from FERA work rolls, it was not uncommon for single
mothers, giventhe limited availability of mothers'
pensions,to transfer fromthe old to the new work 28 program.
WPA officials had in fact anticipated such a
development. The authors of an early report, acknowledging
that in some states women would get public jobs rather
than pensions, added that work relief was the "necessary
rather than the best answer to their needs." They hoped
that ADC would expand and take these women "out of the
ranks of the unemployed and out of work relief
employment." Since they perceived the women's earlier
status as one of "secondary unemployment," the authors did not consider the transformation in their employability
status to be a radical one. On the other hand, some women would remain employable, their self-conceptions aside, by 29 virtue of their exclusion from ADC.
There was, then, a grudging admission that during the burgeoning years of social security, WPA employment of some single mothers was inevitable. The agency did not, however, want to encourage such a trend. The central WPA administration under Harry Hopkins recognized that the concurrent organization and operation of WPA and social security programs raised problems, and administrators were uncertain as to whether eligibility for Aid to Dependent 242
Children should exclude women from WPA employment. During
the first four years, the central office actually had no
wide-ranging policy and left the decision on the
employment of mothers up to local and state offices. Only
in late 1938 did the central administration, faced with a
tight budget and dissatisfied with local progress in weeding out the ADC population, take a major stand by dismissing over 45,000 workers. Congress soon forestalled further purges of this type, and policy returned to 30 case-by-case decisions at the local level.
Taking advantage of this relative freedom to disqualify women eligible for ADC, state and local agencies, according to Donald Howard, made "more or less consistent attempts" to exclude single mothers. WPA officials argued that single mothers should get low priority for three reasons: there were not enough jobs to go around; mothers had an option in ADC that was not available to other workers, and Congress had in fact defined these women as a state and local rather than a federal responsibility. One high official even admitted that WPA denied work to these women in order to pressure state legislators to establish or improve existing social security programs. Such rationales catalyzed sudden dismissals of thousands of women long before the purge of
1938. In December of 1936, the Baltimore WPA released 243
large numbers of mothers who had to return to general
relief pending the verdicts on ADC grants for which they
had not even applied when they lost their jobs. Likewise
the city of Indianapolis was unprepared to provide
pensions for recently discharged women in 1937, while in
St. Louis a very small project was closed down because it
employed only single mothers. Similar occurrences took
place in many other cities with some, such as a major lay
off in Detroit, sparking mass protests. Under pressure,
Harry Hopkins ordered the reinstatement of these women
until their grants were certain, but the basic policy
remained unassailed— women eligible for ADC must accept it
over WPA.^^
The projects targeted in these massive lay offs were
all sewing projects, on which most single mothers worked.
While the rationale was the fact that ADC either was or
should be available, WPA had other reasons for wanting to
trim the size and number of these particular projects.
Subject to yearly Congressional appropriations, the agency routinely combed the rolls for inéligibles, and clubwomen and politicians claimed that the sewing rooms were taking more than their fair share of the cuts. Ellen Woodward admitted that cutbacks by quotas had been "especially true of sewing projects upon which too large a percent of the total number of persons have hitherto been employed." 244
total number of persons have hitherto been employed."
There were many bases for this judgment: the non-labor costs of sewing projects were slightly (1%) higher than those of other projects; the WPA employed women in areas where no garment industry existed which could later absorb them; and, last but not least, the WPA did not want to be accused of employing "too many women." Despite the obvious achievement of the sewing rooms in providing clothing to the poor, even sympathetic observers perceived them as 32 "expensive and unfruitful blind alley(s)."
The sewing rooms thus had many strikes against them, making potential ADC mothers a convenient target group whose dismissal would lower the costs of unproductive labor. Feminists argued that ADC should not be a liability for those women who chose to work and that they should be
"treated administratively and financially in exactly the same way as all the men are being treated." Top WPA officials skirted some of these arguments and concerns by claiming that only those who "because of age, physical infirmity, or mental condition are really unemployable" would be permanently removed from the projects. In their replies to concerned individuals, WPA leaders never mentioned motherhood as a basis for unemployability. The large lay-offs as well as individual dismissals, however, indicate that the able-bodied were as subject to discharge 245
33 as were those who were genuinely unemployable.
Since the sewing rooms were an obvious target, women
expressed fear and anger over the uncertainty of their
positions. A New York mother wrote a polite yet imploring
letter to Eleanor Roosevelt, explaining her need for the
job and her "hope (that) you will continue it." Others
were less gracious; a group of mothers in Detroit, sensing
an impending lay-off, complained of their supervisor's
habit of "putting fear into the employees that every week
would be the last week of work...and to get out and get a
job in private industry--when there is no job to get." A
North Carolina "poor mother with 7 looking to me to eat"
was angry over seeing so many mothers laid off while she
herself was "expecting to be cut off any time." Many of
these women saw no alternative either in work or ADC and
asked if "this WPA work was put out for the benefit of the
Poor People that could not find work elsewhere.
The justification behind dismissals of single mothers was that they could endure a lay-off more readily than could other workers due to the existence of another means of support. ADC benefits, however, were almost always
lower than WPA wages and the "option" was not comparable
to the job. In order to maintain an employee's incentive both to remain off relief and continue to search for private employment, WPA paid "security" wages--higher than 246
relief but lower than average wages for the same skill
level in the regular labor market. For most unskilled
women, however, WPA wages were much higher than those they
had received in former jobs. Copying the patterns
prevalent in private industry, WPA wages were based on
degree of skill, region of the country, and urbanization
of the locality. Unskilled laborers on WPA in large urban
areas made between $52 and $57 a month in the North and
Northwest and between $45 and $50 in the South. In rural
areas, the rates were between $40 and $50 in the North,
and in the $30s in the South. Average ADC benefits, on the
other hand, ranged from $8 to $20 a month in Alabama,
Arkansas, North Carolina, Oklahoma, and Tennessee; from
$20 to $30 in Georgia, South Carolina, Indiana, and
Nebraska; and from $30 to $40 in California, Minnesota,
Ohio, and Pennsylvania. Only in New York, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts were ADC benefits comparable to WPA paychecks. Even though WPA wages were the same regardless of family size, the state practice of placing maximum lids on ADC grants without reference to the number of children meant that even women with large families might have 35 greater income from WPA work.
Critics argued that women who preferred to work should not be forced to take the lower grant and that ADC was not always a viable option. Admitting the substantial 247
discrepancy in payment size, officials claimed that the
loss in funds was compensated by the social benefit gained
when mothers remained home to care for their children.
Thus when the WPA in Alabama reclassified single mothers
as a "Mothers' Aid Group" which must leave the projects
and accept $16 a month for two people, the central
office's reply to disappointed women was that "Possibly it
was felt that you were needed at home to care for your
children, and a mothers' pension would be better for you
than to work on a project." Other officials realized that providing better child care without adequate resources could not make ADC appear the more attractive alternative.
In 1937, for example, the West Virginia WPA sent notices to mothers "reminding them of the pensions to which they were entitled." While admitting that the grants were "less generous than the WPA wage," these officials added that they were nonetheless "more secure, not being at the mercy of annual Congressional discretion." This argument applauding security at the expense of dollars failed, however, to sway the West Virginia women who refused to 36 give up their jobs.
The above example was the exception rather than the rule, in that most women had little choice. Although many state WPAs used policies allowing them to eliminate women by groups, individual job refusals or lay-offs related to 248
ADC were just as common. In some instances, WPA employed
the "eligibility for ADC" criterion almost rhetorically;
i.e., the agency laid off women in areas where no ADC
program even existed, and in other places where there were
no guaranteed openings. By the late 1930s, women from
various areas often expressed an awareness that pensions
were available to some women. In Oklahoma, which had no
program by 1938, a mother released from WPA to pick cotton
asked to be reinstated on the grounds that "1 don't get no
Depent Child check." South Carolina did have ADC, but it
was of no use to a mother who, after WPA rejected her,
sought advice about a pensiononly to be informed by
relief agents that these were available only for "old
people." Others learned that the pensions might be
forthcoming in the course of their unsuccessful efforts to
secure WPA work. A Florida woman, assuming a relation
between her rejected application and rumors that "widows
are going to draw a pension that have got dependent
children," said she hoped these would soon become 37 available if she could not have work.
Since the WPA did not guide women through the process
of securing the ADC to which it had released them, these
women and others like them sought the grants on their own,
believing that ADC would provide a viable alternative.
Women who had already been forced to transfer from project 249
jobs to allowances, however, knew that this was not true.
Even before the creation of WPA, mothers had written to
Eleanor Roosevelt's office complaining about large drops
in income after they moved from FERA work relief to
mothers' pensions, and WPA paid more than FERA. Women
suspended from the projects to take ADC did not seem to
realize that these transfers were permanent. An Indiana
mother insisted that she had been able to take care of her
children until "layed off on child penchon" and thought
that with some help her job, still "open" because no one
had filled it, could be restored to her. A woman in West
Virginia who expected to return to WPA had "never gotten
any work since" her lay-off and complained that "now they
send me 12 dollars a month for my boy...and nothing for
me." A Colorado mother who could not "make ends meet on
$18.00 a month as I get now" claimed that after her
dismissal, they "promised to call me soon, and I'm just
getting tired of waiting they just keep putting it off all
the time." In an apparent effort to ease their discharge
from the projects, officials had neglected to inform the women that it was almost impossible to return to WPA after 38 accepting ADC.
All of these women knew from direct experience that
they were better off financially while on WPA. But even
those who had never succeeded in their attempts to work 250
were aware of the income differential between WPA wages
and AOC allowances. Two contemporary observers claimed
that women, well-accustomed to the low-paying
"made-work" available in earlier sewing rooms of public
and private relief agencies, had all heard the "news" that
WPA rooms paid much more. Some even compared it favorably
to jobs in the private sector; a mother in Minneapolis
naively told her caseworker that she thought she would be better off on WPA than in an available sales job as the wages for the latter "were so small and she could make more if she were on WPA, and would even have more time off." Such an admission was dangerous, as WPA was not supposed to substitute for available work, and the mother ended up on ADC. Others who had to take ADC over WPA complained of the pitifully small amounts on which they were expected to live. A North Carolina woman was dismayed that now her "only support" would be "$10 per month for dependent children" rather than WPA pay. Some women who had been on ADC for a while attempted to apply for WPA to improve their living situation. A Minneapolis widow tried to enact such a transfer after the death of one child reduced her $50 grant to only $35, only to find that once in receipt of ADC she was ineligible for WPA and would remain so regardless of changing circumstances. Apparently unfamiliar with the rules, a California mother receiving 251
$10 a month for one daughter tried to work on WPA at the
same time. Arguing that "nobody can live on $10 a month,"
she desired a WPA job "so I would make $55 a month." Since
even $65 a month would not have been truly adequate, it did not occur to her that the small allowance disqualified 39 her from the higher pay.
Those women who wanted to work, then, were well aware of what it could cost them to have ADC as the primary
"option." The availability of ADC diminished the status of single mothers as heads of households with dependents, otherwise the top priority for WPA eligibility. Despite women's past work experience and the accessibility of child care, the mere availability of resources provided by the state could radically alter the employability status of single mothers in the eyes of those dispensing public jobs. Although some area WPAs disqualified women even where there was no guarantee that they would receive grants, limited or non-existent ADC funds could also increase women's chances of securing work. By early 1939, the efforts of policymakers had impeded the attempts of many women to be placed on WPA, and yet WPA spokespersons could still complain to Congress that almost 100,000 single mothers who should be receiving ADC were working on
WPA projects. The weak development of social welfare legislation was doubtless the major reason for the 252
presence of substantial proportions of single mothers on
WPA projects in the South, but it was not the only reason. As the next section will show, many factors helped to determine whether mothers would receive grants or jobs, and this was true even in areas with the more progressive welfare systems.
D. Breaking Through the Barriers: The Art of Getting Jobs in Minneapolis, Case Studies, 1935-1940.
Although single mothers encountered a variety of obstacles when they tried to secure or retain work, it is clear that many single mothers did work on WPA well into the life of the program. Since women usually wrote to public officials only when they had met with reverses, their letters seldom reveal the conditions under which they had originally secured placement on the projects. The rationale according to which certifying agents assigned mothers to jobs were undoubtedly as varied as the policies by means of which they excluded them— the non-existence or limited availability of ADC, the number of WPA openings, the ineligibility of some women for ADC, the mothers' requests for work, individual prejudices of caseworkers in regard to women's right to select jobs over ADC, and arbitrary decisions by agents busy with heavy caseloads.
The WPA, however, left no information which clearly 253
reveals the circumstances under which mothers were most
likely to attain work. For this, it is necessary to turn
to case records.
Since nearly all WPA workers were former relief
clients, single mothers were commonly under the care of
social agencies, the case records of which suggest many of
the paths along which mothers might progress from public
aid to a work relief job. In Minneapolis, the Division of
Public Relief (DPR) was responsible for certifying WPA workers, while the private Family Welfare Association and
the Minneapolis Children's Protective Society also had extensive contacts with the same women. Collectively,
their records offer extensive information about both the processes involved in securing WPA work and the consciousness of the mothers themselves in regard to work and ADC. Therefore this section will employ the case study approach, focusing exclusively on clients of Minneapolis agencies in order to examine issues which cannot be explored easily in any other way.
Unlike many of the areas previously discussed,
Minneapolis was a Northern, relatively progressive urban area where both WPA wages and ADC benefits were fairly high by national standards. In large families, mothers might receive grants that were slightly more substantial than wages. In each ADC family, a first child received up 254
to $20, and each subsequent child up to $15, depending on
family resources, so that families with five children
might get as much as $80 a month. WPA wages were generally
between $60 and $72. Most single mothers, however, had
fewer than three children as divorce, separation,
desertion, and even widowhood had in many cases brought
their child-bearing years to a temporary or permanent
halt. Those women who desired to work and could arrange child care might therefore find WPA to be the more attractive alternative even in a city with relatively high
ADC.4°
Many women in the South were assigned to WPA precisely because of the dearth of AOC funds. Since policies frowning on WPA work for single mothers were prevalent everywhere, it would be expected that an area such as
Minneapolis with ample AOC allotments would restrict women's work opportunities. Such efforts were apparent from the early years of the program; in March, 1936, the
Minneapolis WPA indicated that large numbers of single mothers on the rolls constituted a problem. A year later, when agents from the Minneapolis Children's Protective
Society inquired about work for their clients, WPA discouraged this, explaining that there was a "WPA regulation that no woman with minor children should be working on WPA." Mothers remained employed, however, and 255
in 1939 Minneapolis responded to the ill-fated order from
the central administration in D.C. by dismissing large
numbers of potential ADC mothers. Even in the early 1940s,
WPA officials were still professing that they were
"becoming" reluctant to accept women with young children"
(emphasis added). The rules, whether they were enforced or
not, gave way in many cases to the WPA's willingness to
accept the recommendations of the social agencies dealing
with• L poor women. 41
The Division of Public Relief, however, was under
obvious pressure to avoid placing single mothers on WPA.
There were nevertheless a number of situations which might
lead a DPR agent to certify mothers, with or without a private caseworker's recommendation. Some of the circumstances pertained to a mother's eligibility for ADC.
To qualify for pensions, divorced or separated women, unless their husbands were imprisoned or incapacitated, had to file non-support or abandonment lawsuits, as they could not receive ADC were the fathers actually supporting the children. Many women were reluctant to take this first and necessary step. Some stalled in uncertainty as to the permanence of their separations, while others concurred with a mother who resisted agency pressures since she did not want to be "in touch with him." A fear of incriminating jobless husbands was common; one mother 256
"worried...as she was not willing to impose a 7-year
prison sentence" on her former husband, while another
woman waited, thinking it "only fair to give (him) an
opportunity to pay something first" and many others
thought that their husbands had no money to offer.
This hesitancy was often coupled, however, with a conscious refusal to process non-support actions precisely because the women wanted to work and knew the rules well enough to realize that rendering themselves eligible for
ADC lessened their chances to secure or retain WPA jobs. A woman who "didn't approve of mothers’ pension because of the supervision it entailed" refused to file non-support until the DPR finally gave in and placed her on WPA. Once on the projects, however, caseworkers often continued to hound mothers to apply for ADC. A mother with four years of WPA work behind her "repeatedly told investigators that she was employable and therefore not eligible" for ADC.
Later this woman admitted to her caseworker that she was
"not anxious to have abandonment action taken...as she did not want to have to go on mothers' allowance" and relinquish her job.*^
Widows who wanted to work were at a disadvantage in this regard, as their applications for ADC were much less complicated than those of divorced or separated women. A widow who had secured work when her daughter was away 257
resisted efforts to make her leave WPA as "she preferred
to work for what she received" and "did not want the
mothers' pension." While this woman was successful, most
widows were not. Typical was a mother who had insisted
upon working in beer parlors rather than take ADC. Elated
when her caseworker offered to recommend her for WPA, this
woman discovered that as a widow, she must apply for ADC
concurrently, something that she "was not very anxious to
do" as "she feared she might not be placed on WPA." Her
fear turned out to be well-founded; without the necessity
for cumbersome non-support procedures, a major barrier to
ADC eligibility was eliminated.
Since agencies could not force women to process
non-support lawsuits, mothers who for one reason or
another refused to do so often secured WPA jobs. In a
sense these women had made themselves eligible for WPA by
rendering themselves "artificially" ineligible for ADC.
Although the Division of Public Relief preferred to have
them work than remain indefinitely dependent on general
relief (the only other alternative to WPA, private
employment, or ADC), the more conscientious agents never
approved of this means of achieving WPA placements. In
particular, they objected to replacing former husbands' child support payments with WPA wages for mothers. Single mothers, already chafing under the pressure to take ADC 258
rather than WPA jobs, also complained that their right to
work was assessed in relation to the situations of their
ex-husbands. Women often protested that they could not
secure needed assistance of any type because of the
support that husbands were supposed to provide. One mother
spoke for many when she complained of being "worse off
receiving some assistance from father than none at all."
Agents feared that WPA work clearly gave mothers
"breadwinner status." When one woman's ex-husband
candidly admitted that he would not offer child support
since she made more on WPA than he did, the project
supervisor pressured the woman to take legal action, which would cost her the job. Another mother wanted to keep the work relief she had obtained during one of her husband's repeated desertions, but officials discharged her on the grounds that her continued work would "only encourage her husband's present attitude." The agency wanted to guard against this as the mother "should not assume the status of the breadwinner in the family." Prejudices against female heads of families blinded the WPA to the fact that this woman was, for all practical purposes, the only available breadwinner in this family. Agency insistence upon defining women's right to work in reference to husbands' responsibilities interfered with women's abilities to execute what in fact had become their 259
responsibility alone.
Separated women who refused to take legal action and widows who resisted filling out ADC applications were
aware of the rules and calculated to maintain their chances of working on WPA. Another large group of women applied for both WPA and ADC at the same time. Although
they apparently wanted to keep both options open, many of
these women preferred to work and did not realize that
their eligibility for ADC would invalidate their WPA applications. Approval of an ADC application could involve a long, drawn out process, and caseworkers had to hand down the verdict on ADC before they would even consider a
WPA request. Some women became impatient and displayed their own preference for work by finding private employment in the interim. Thus by the time ADC agents came to see her, one mother was working in a cafe and told them that "she did not need assistance at this time. She would ask for it when she was in need." Another mother who had formerly worked on WPA tried to be reinstated but the relief department gave her ADC instead, which she then used only intermittently when not working in private jobs.
Sometimes women would apply for both WPA and ADC and secure the job as a result of what DPR referred to as
"mistakes." One woman who went to work on WPA when the DPR thought she had been sent to ADC was later dismissed. 2 6 0
After asking for reconsideration, this woman decided that
she "would prefer to do without county aid" (the
Minneapolis term for mothers' pension and ADC) and found
private employment. In cases such as these, the women managed to find jobs when ADC interfered with their
freedom to work on WPA.^^
Women could, as has been shown, sometimes obtain WPA jobs despite the relief division's efforts to keep them off the projects. There was another important route to WPA jobs over which mothers actually had much less control.
Whereas divorced or separated women sometimes deliberately made themselves ineligible for ADC, caseworkers could also declare them ineligible on the grounds that they were
"unfit" mothers. Like many other areas, the Minneapolis
ADC program had retained the "suitable home rules" devised earlier under the mothers' pension plans. Although the
1935 social security legislation had in some ways liberalized the pensions, federal regulations still allowed states to employ "moral" criteria as a basis of
ADC eligibility. As the previous chapter has shown, many women refused to apply for the pensions precisely because of the moralistic approach adopted by caseworkers.
When ADC applications failed for reasons of purported unfitness, agents were quick to suggest WPA as an alternative means of support. The DPR, as a general relief 2 6 1
office, was potentially under more legal pressure to
provide aid to all in need than was the selective ADC
program. Local relief officials were, however, no more
anxious to provide funds for single mothers with
boyfriends than were ADC administrators. WPA, as both a
relief agency and employer, displayed some moralistic
features but the fact that the agency made people work for
their keep tended to make it the most morally "neutral" of
these three programs. Therefore, WPA was the most likely source of support for mothers whose "unfitness" had disqualified them for ADC. The irony was that, although the agencies believed that these women were bad mothers, their children generally remained with them as there was no process guaranteeing children's removal from these homes. WPA accordingly paid "unfit" mothers more to leave their homes each day than ADC paid "fit" mothers to remain in them. Some mothers sensed the inconsistency. When a woman lost her ADC because she had a boyfriend, she gave a hostile reply to her caseworker's suggestion that she apply for WPA. Arguing that "since there had already been so much criticism regarding the behavior of the children,... it would be well for her to remain at home and look after them," this woman voiced her resentment over moral meddling and her view of the caseworker's 47 inconsistencies. 26 2
While resenting and rejecting such assessments of
their moral character, most women welcomed the opportunity
to work. Caseworkers as a rule presented the work option to them, but it was common for mothers to play a more active role in initiating the process. When one woman lost her ADC on a drinking charge, she "was very anxious to get a WPA job" despite the chance of reinstatement should she
"prove" herself. Bad reports from neighbors invalidated another woman's ADC application, prompting her to ask her caseworker if she could go on a sewing project. After the
DPR canceled a mother's ADC application because she lived in a very bad neighborhood, she responded that she "was hoping to get some work soon" and eventually secured a WPA job that enabled her to move. A mother who had lost her
ADC for moral reasons later considered re-applying, but confided to her caseworker that she "questioned whether she would be able to secure any help from that division since they had taken it from her before" and "wondered about the possibility of getting on WPA." In each of these cases, the woman had only one to three children, and the job provided more income than the grant. Just as women sometimes complied with the moral demands of ADC agents to release themselves from dependence on men, so did they turn the agent's criticism of their "unfitness" to their own ends in obtaining WPA jobs. While not agreeing with 263
the caseworkers' points of view, these women used the
state's attempts to control their lives to suit their own 48 purposes.
There were, then, at least two common paths to a WPA job--mothers could avoid becoming eligible for ADC, or
their caseworkers could rule them ineligible. In many cases, however, the divisions were not so neat; i.e., it was not just "uncooperative" and "unfit" mothers who obtained jobs. One trend is apparent, however; many women who successfully pursued WPA work presented themselves to agents as workers in need of a job. Many of these women were already in receipt of child support payments from ex-husbands, so there was no question of any pressure to apply for ADC. These support payments, however, were so small and sporadic that these women generally worked full-time, and when they lost their jobs in the private sector they need only convince the WPA office that they were "unemployed employables." They normally went to the
DPR, received aid while they continued to search for work, and when this failed, the agency eventually certified them for WPA.
These women still had to demand the work, however, for jobs seldom came easily to any mother. Women who had worked as waitresses and dayworkers faced the usual problems in convincing the agency that they were 264
"employables" or "genuinely unemployed" persons, and it was usually only after DPR wearied of paying their rent
that these women were sent to WPA. Women who had once worked on FERA projects and had been privately employed for a time after that agency's closing presented that background as a strong point in their resumes. A former
FERA worker who had later worked for three years in a sales job while collecting small child support payments emphasized that she "preferred working to accepting direct relief... they practically starved to death on food budget." This helped her in securing a WPA job after both her private job and husband's payments stopped. Another mother, upon arriving at the relief office, told the agent that she "wanted WPA work. She had formerly been on
(F)ERA" and had been employed at a cafe.*^
Presenting work histories that defined them as employables, these women sold themselves to agents as unemployed workers. By the late 1930s, some women were receiving the newly legislated unemployment insurance, an additional credential attesting to their official unemployed status. Caseworkers were more inclined to perceive women as workers if the federal government had already done so, and women collecting unemployment obviously expected to regain their position in the labor market. The WPA had ruled after some debate that workers 265
in receipt of unemployment insurance could work on WPA.
Some women had requested relief from the Family Welfare
Agency, which could not certify them for WPA, while they
searched for work. As a casework agency dedicated to
solving complex "family problems" of a psychological and
sociological nature, FWA was reluctant to turn their
clients over to DPR unless the agents were convinced that
the women's problems were primarily economic. Therefore in
order to effect a transfer to DPR, mothers had to convince
FWA that the solution to their plight was income and
employment rather than counsel. A mother who had lost a
sales position and was awaiting unemployment checks continuously hinted to her FWA agent that "she wanted to get work on WPA" if she could find no other job. Her agent, finally believing this case to be an "unemployment problem," sent her to DPR. Another mother collecting unemployment told her agent that she would like to be transferred to DPR but "only... to get WPA work." In these ways, women who had initially ventured to the "wrong agency" could, after they failed to find regular employment, effect transfers to the public office for work.50
Although some women could succeed in using their status as workers to improve their prospects, obstacles still stood in the way. Sometimes even "employability" 2 6 6
could serve as a liability in securing WPA placement.
Caseworkers who had kept a mother in the dark as to how to
apply for WPA finally told her that "she was a very
employable person" and for that reason should not seek
public work as that was "again a form of relief." A common
criticism that "WPA was rather indefinite" and "might be
out of existence within 2 months" could limit a woman's
luck in getting jobs. Like most WPA workers, single
mothers perceived project work as regular employment
rather than as relief. Their comments about the work made
this perspective very clear: they argued that they wanted
the work because they "disliked being on relief very much" and once on the projects they professed to be "glad to be off relief." The women's perceptions of what constituted work and relief did not match that of the agents. Having worked in such poor employment in the past, WPA was a major step ahead for them and it was irrelevant to them that the work they did on the projects was only generated by a national emergency.
Despite these various routes to WPA jobs, most women met with resistance and many never succeeded in achieving their goal. Regardless of the women's situations or their work histories, many agents were determined to apply strictly the rules concerning employment of mothers of young children. A mother of a six-year old boy asked for 267
WPA work whan she lost her restaurant job, but her
caseworker admonished her to "remain at home and take
care of ______The women continued to press her agent
and finally accepted a compromise by waiting for her son 52 to begin school before she took the position.
In many cases, more than individual perseverance was
required. On the whole, welfare mothers of the 1930s were
isolated from one another and did not constitute a
pressure group which could present collective demands for
equitable treatment by New Deal agencies. It was not
uncommon, however, for mothers to solicit the aid of other
organized political committees. Widows occasionally
requested the aid of unions to which their husbands had belonged, and some mothers who had encountered resistance
in their quests to obtain WPA jobs enlisted the support of
the radical Workers' Alliance, a national coalition of the unemployed. Created by the WPA and other groups, the
Workers' Alliance applied pressure tactics to improve the wages and working conditions of WPA workers, but more broadly it aimed to serve the interests of the needy and unemployed in general. Single mothers occasionally showed up at relief offices with advocates whom they called
"union men." These connections were often fruitful. A mother who had endured years of slander by a former husband engaged the WA to help clear her record and 268
expedite her transition from general relief to WPA
employment. When a woman "threatened to see the Workers'
Alliance and force DPR to fulfill her requests," the
relief agency became more cooperative. Those who had
secured WPA work and were under pressure to leave and
accept ADC also sought such assistance. Conferring with
the WA "to see what they could do about having her
reinstated," one mother in these circumstances returned to
her agent with a long list of details stating her case for 53 remaining on WPA.
Third parties were not always able to intervene
successfully. The DPR often resisted providing WPA work
to mothers who had returned to their parents' homes and desired the work in order to set up separate quarters with
their children. An attorney's attempts to place a mother of an illegitimate child on WPA could not sway DPR agents, who had decided that the mother "would probably demoralize other people on the job" and should stay home and learn housekeeping skills. Arguing with her agent, another young mother who had temporarily returned to her parents' home insisted that she needed a job and "could have work if
(the agent) would make her eligible." Although she was apparently aware of the ease with which the caseworker could decide her fate, she was not able to change the agent's mind. Later, however, she solicited the aid of 269
settlement house workers who operated a sewing project and managed to pre-empt the normal procedures for certification. In both of these cases, certifying agents had assessed the right of these women to work in relation to the willingness of others to provide homes for them--a type of care that the mothers, desiring independence, did not want.^*
Just as the availability of parents' assistance forced women into undesired domestic situations, so could residency laws pressure mothers to return to husbands.
Although the WPA purported to permit non-residents to work, the rules were actually quite vague, and cities could deny jobs to non-residents by refusing to take them on as relief clients. Thus when a mother who had left her home town to escape an abusive husband tried to get WPA work, DPR said that she must return to her own county because the relief office "was anxious to get the family back" and her husband "was financially able to take care for them there." In an age before no-fault divorce, agencies tended to think that women had not made up their minds and that casework, especially when the need for relief was involved, could restore a home. In this particular case, themother repeatedly asserted that DPR could "put me in jail before I would return to______" and visited the Workers' Alliance on several occasions with 270
complaints about the agency's treatment of her case.
Although the residency rules played a role here, the real
issue was the mother's need and right to work which, in
this case and in others like it, was assessed in reference
to her husband's whereabouts and willingness to support her. In all of these cases, women were asking not for relief but for work which would enable them to care for 55 their children independently of parents and husbands.
In hopes of rebuilding homes with their children, another large group of mothers secured WPA jobs when and because their children were away. Court-oraered or voluntary placements of children (to be discussed in the next two chapters) occurred for a variety of reasons--homelessness, physical or mental illness of the mothers, separations that left families with no means of support, delinquent behavior of the children, or criminal or immoral behavior of the mothers. Although the
Minneapolis Children's Protective Society was best known as a child-placing agency, the majority of CPS placements were actually temporary sojourns in nearby orphanages or foster homes. Many single mothers were clients of CPS at a time when they were trying to learn if, when, and how they would make homes with their children again. Although ADC might be an option if the children returned, many mothers endeavored to be placed on WPA as a means of supporting 271
their children and thereby expediting the restoration of
their homes.
Mindful of the rules on working mothers, caseworkers were actually inclined to suggest WPA if it appeared that
the mothers would be supporting their children in other
homes. After a long hospitalization, a mother was hesitant
to resume total responsibility for her four children,
leading her agent to remark that she was "anxious to certify mother to WPA if she was not to take the children." Unaware of the policies, the mother took the work assuming that this would enable her to bring her children home. When they finally returned, she already had a job which in their presence she might not have secured.
Agency policies were, however, very inconsistent.
Sometimes women who had lost their children had to work if they were to remake homes with them. When a mother's drinking problem led to temporary removal of her daughter, the woman told her caseworker that she "was hoping to get a WPA job and wondered if this would make any difference" in expediting her child's return. Obviously perceiving work as a point in her favor, this woman learned that a judge had ordered her to "find work and live an irreproachable life" if she expected to live with her daughter. More often, however, mothers who secured WPA positions in their children's absence continued to support 272
them in foster homes. Ironically, they sought the jobs in
order to effect their children's return, but children's
presence could make them ineligible and therefore they
supported them at a distance, seeing them regularly but
never living under the same roof.^^
Mothers in other circumstances, too, sought WPA jobs
as a means of restoring children to their homes. While in
the process of a divorce, one woman registered for WPA in
hopes of building up her case for custody, since her
husband claimed she was unfit to have the children. A
mother anxious to gain custody of a child then living with
a drunken father replaced her $5 a week position with a
WPA job and told her caseworker that, although the job was
hard, she was "glad to be able to earn a living for
herself and for ______A woman whose live-in chamber
maid position had forced her to place a child with friends
informed her agent that she "had worked at one time on
WPA...and she hoped that she might return there" so that
she could live with her child. After a five-year struggle
to keep her home together, a woman hoped that her progression from FERA to WPA would enable her to bring home two girls who had been placed out while three boys remained home. Thus women whose children were away, whether by court order or circumstance, wanted WPA work because the jobs were among the very few available that 273
might make it possible for them to support their
children.
Whether their children were away or currently living with them, most mothers knew that their responsibility for children could hurt their chances for placement on WPA.
One element in getting a job was convincing caseworkers
that children would be well-cared for in the mother's absence. Women freely volunteered information regarding child-care plans. Many women hoped to use the nursery schools at settlement houses, an arrangement well-received by social agencies. Some mothers complained, however, that the nurseries were too far away, closed too early, had long waiting lists or suffered from overcrowding. Those who could not or preferred not to use them had other ideas. A mother who had been pushing for a job for months assured her agent that her child "would be well care for" oy "relatives who were anxious to have
(the child) stay with them". While some women explained that they had friends who could provide child care, mothers with no available friends or relatives anticipated that they might meet other WPA mothers on the job and "If their working hours were at different times there would always be someone home to look after the children." This was not always wishful thinking. It was common for working mothers to live in the same apartment building, another 274
basis for some degree of group contact among welfare
mothers. A mother seeking re-instatement on a project
argued that she would work out a plan with a WPA mother
living down the hall so that "whichever mother was home
would take care of the children.
Most of these mothers ware seasoned to the task of
finding caretakers for their children. Therefore they did
not always offer very specific descriptions of their
plans. One mother typically told her agent that she "felt
confident that she would make suitable arrangements for
the children while she was working," just as she had in
the past. But the mere promise of good child care did not
entail complete freedom from the watchful eyes of the
social agents, some of whom might have preferred to stick
by the rules prohibiting employment of mothers of young
children. WPA kept a record of the child care methods of
their clients, and agents were well aware that certain women might more appropriately belong on ADC. If the
relief office received complaints or had any reason to
suspect that the children were neglected, the CPS would
investigate and recommend, if necessary, that the mother be returned to general relief.
This seldom happened, however, as mothers either remedied child care arrangements that did not work out or successfully defended their methods. Caseworkers often 275
found that mothers had replaced unsatisfactory babysitters
before the agents arrived to order the change. One mother
who had "moved to be near the______Neighborhood House" (a
settlement which housed a nursery school) discovered that
she had to wait months for an opening and defended herself against neighbors' criticisms of the makeshift arrangements on which she thus had to rely temporarily,
Caseworkers and mothers often disagreed about the age at which a child could be left alone. When a mother was reprimanded for leaving a teenage son alone for a few hours after school, she retorted that he was "old enough to be left without supervision." Some found the agency's standards amusing; one mother "laughed and said she thought he was old enough to take care of himself part of the time." Although it was GPS's job to make sure that children received good care, some mothers became impatient when agents continued to supervise them long after it seemed necessary. Taking her case to court on this point, one mother convinced the judge that "______was a healthy, well-cared for boy," and that "so long as that was the case she should be left alone by CPS."^^
On the other hand, the CPS was rather liberal in the matter of mothers' working, and once mothers demonstrated that their child care arrangements were satisfactory, CPS generally recommended that these women remain on WPA. This 276
approach could sometimes put CPS agents at loggerheads with DPR and WPA supervisors, whose objections to women's child care methods carried little weight unless a casework agency such as CPS agreed that mothers should cease work.
A controversy began in 1938, when a WPA official complained to a CPS worker that WPA "had been receiving many complaints...about many women...who were working on
WPA and leaving their minor children in the care of a hired maid." At approximately $2.75 per week, the cost of a live-in babysitter was a little over twice the price of settlement day nurseries. Although WPA wages were not high by absolute standards. $70 a month could nevertheless enable mothers to pay for a type of very convenient child 62 care that had hitherto lay well beyond their reach.
Aware that some women were willing to spend a substantial portion of their wages on hired maids, the WPA tried to force a stop to this practice and warned some women who were about to work that they must take full responsibility for their children after hours. One case illustrates the issues that were involved. A mother who had repeatedly refused to file non-support action, thereby leaving herself ineligible for either ADC or legally compelled child support, secured work on a sewing project.
Upon discovering that this woman hired a live-in babysitter, the WPA supervisor began a campaign to make 277
the mother adopt a different method. To the mother's argument that the maid was competent and was doing a fine job, the agent rejoined that "a person employed in the home couldn't give the children as much as their own mother in the way of training." Despite repeated harassment and threats, the mother refused to dismiss the maid and made clear that were she removed from WPA, she would "go out and scrub floors" before she would stay home and accept relief. Much to the consternation of the WPA,
CPS defended the mother's right to work after several visits indicated that the children were in good hands.
The crux of WPA's objection appears to have been this; the mother was a potentiel ADC recipient who had maneuvered to ensure a job on WPA, and once in receipt of an income, she had adopted a practice which in the eyes of
WPA was a luxury. WPA and DPR did not like the idea that work-relief wages could grant women of the lower class too much flexibility with their mother role. In the eyes of the WPA supervisor, soliciting the services of hired help was inappropriate class behavior for a work-relief client.
Just as DPR had discouraged public work that gave mothers breadwinner status, so did WPA agents object to the use of
WPA wages to purchase middle-class privileges. Relief agencies that dispensed in-kind assistance and ADC offices with supervisory powers maintained direct control over 278
women's lives and spending habits. The WPA, on the other
hand, tended to forfeit the means of control by paying
cash wages which women could spend as they
pleased. In their objection to women's practice of hiring
live-in help, WPA officials displayed that they could
function both as neutral employers and moralistic relief
agents. Moreover, their objections to hired maids was
symptomatic of their fears of loss of control over women.
On the other hand, it was precisely for these reasons that
mothers desired to have WPA jobs.
The fact that agencies watched over women's child
care plans and objected to certain arrangements
illustrates another impediment in the way of WPA jobs.
While their work was always assigned in reference to
children, some women got jobs only by agreeing beforehand
to certain child care arrangements. These included agreements to leave children at settlement houses rather
than with friends, to pay for foster home care, and to move the entire family or at least part of it to the home of grandparents or other relatives. Should family situations change or mothers fail to honor these agreements, WPA would threaten dismissal. While it is clear that agencies expected mothers to support their children as well as did male WPA workers, WPA and DPR sometimes attempted to arrange and monitor the mothers' 279
work and family lives. Whereas single men and women could secure and retain WPA work despite their lack of responsibility for anyone besides themselves, the jobs of single mothers were contingent upon and designed in reference to their responsibility for dependents.
The ways in which single mothers secured WPA jobs and the obstacles to success were therefore great and varied.
It should be noted that a final reason for the presence of many single mothers on the projects was simply the inconsistent application of the rules. When faced with evidence to the contrary, the DPR denied that it certified mothers of young children. When in early 1937, an angry mother complained to the mayor, alderman, governor, and other authorities about her recent WPA lay-off, an embarrassed DPR official explained that "Through some mistake mother had been placed on WPA work on 2 or 3 different occasions. This was very much against their principles because mother had 2 children." Yet it is apparent that DPR certified mothers for work all the time, in some instances even against the mothers' will. When the agency no longer wanted to subsidize a mother of five young children through general relief, DPR insisted that the woman "go on WPA which she did not wish to do, and leave the children alone" unless her hours could be arranged conveniently for child care. Not only did the DPR 2 8 0
and WPA apply the rules inconsistently, but the agencies
also changed them radically over short periods of time. A
mother who had placed her child out was laid off from WPA
in early 1939 on the basis of her eligibility for ADC. In
order to be reinstated, she had to request that social
agencies recommend that her child remain in foster care,
thus rendering her ineligible for ADC. Laid off again a
year later, DPR informed her that she would not be
reinstated on the projects unless her daughter were
actually living with her. Such policy reversals were not
uncommon; a woman in a typical situation noted that "on
the same information previously given my case was marked closed." Thus in many instances, there was neither rhyme nor reason to the application of the rules regarding mothers' WPA work, and some mothers secured jobs regardless of their situation.
The foregoing examination of Minneapolis case records helps to explain how many mothers achieved placement on
WPA projects despite national and local policies aiming to inhibit their employment. For a variety of reasons, many women preferred work and used their knowledge of ADC rules and "employability" requirements to serve their own interests in obtaining employment. Sometimes this involved apparent acquiescence to the caseworkers' insinuations that the mothers were not "fit" for ADC, but the women 281
ignored these moral swipes when it served the purpose of
increasing their incomes.
These social agency cases and letters from single mothers to government officials collectively reveal that
the existence of ADC could work in two ways. On the one hand, if ADC was available in an area, and women were eligible for the grants, they could be designated as
"unemployables" and ineligible for WPA. On the other hand, if grants were not available or particular women did not qualify for them, then agencies could declare these women eligible for WPA and therefore employable. The right of single mothers to work was assessed in relation to resources which the state might or might not have. The employability status of the mothers bore little relation to their self-assessment and was in most cases defined by others in accordance with expedience; if there was no ADC, relief officials would place the women on WPA; if ADC was available, agents would aim to remove these women from the labor market. In cases where agents declared mothers
"unfit," the progression to a WPA job was relatively simple. More often, however, mothers had to pressure their caseworkers, prove themselves to be workers, solicit the support of third parties, and even manipulate the system if they were to secure and retain these positions. 282
These women saw themselves as employables who should
have the option to work regardless of the existence of public funds for ADC, and they perceived their responsibility for children as a reason why they should secure jobs rather than stay home full-time. Although WPA wages were certainly not generous, they were significantly higher than the former earnings of most of these women.
Relief agencies that had once gladly put women to work in earlier-style sewing rooms at a pittance, or had sent them out on occasional day work jobs, were not so keen on the idea of these same women holding WPA jobs. The latter resembled more closely than did the older work relief jobs the positions of the regular labor market. It was precisely for that reason that mothers wanted the WPA jobs; the higher income and the relative freedom from relief control allowed them to order their lives more independently than they had in the past. Poor single mothers had little choice but to rely on some type of public assistance, whether it be the general, in-kind relief provided by DPR, the cash aid provided by ADC and contingent on "good behavior," or the cash provided by government-created jobs on WPA. From the perspective of many single mothers, the latter option offered the greatest resources with the least social control. 283
Single mothers from all parts of the country worked
on WPA. As these letters and case records show, they
demanded the jobs, and as the case records reveal, they
used considerable ingenuity in acquiring them. In their
insistence upon the jobs, these women demonstrated their
capacity to resist state rules and classifications which
interfered with their ability to support themselves and
their children. As female "heads of households," single
mothers in fact "claimed" WPA work as their own despite
national efforts to declare them ineligible.
The Work Projects Administration was a program of the
national government which, through its state offices,
attempted unsuccessfully to exclude single mothers from a
practical means of support. The rationale was that mothers could receive special government grants. Governments at
the state and local level also arranged a third means of support for children which could affect single mothers in a variety of ways. As this chapter has shown, some women worked on WPA because their children were in foster homes.
Although the central government never established a central foster care policy or program, certain trends developed throughout the country. The next chapter will examine those trends, the methods dominant in Minnesota, and the meaning of Minnesota's foster care system for single mothers. NOTES
Abbreviations ;
RG 29, NA: Records of the 1937 Census of Partial Employment, Unemployment, and Occupations, National Archives
RG 69, NA; Records of the Work Projects Administration. National Archives
MFCS, SWHA: Minneapolis Family and Children's Service microfilm collection. Social Welfare History Archives, University of Minnesota
DWPP: Division of Women's and Professional Projects Sewing Projects, RG 69
^ James T. Patterson, America's Struggle Against Poverty, 1900-1980(Cambridgi^ Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1981), pp. 56-77; Josephine C. Brown, Public Relief, 1929-1939 (New York: Henry Holt, 1940), pp. 3 Ù Ï - 9 4 ! ------
^ Brown, Public Relief, p. 325. 3 Lois Sharf, To Work and to Wed: Female Employment, Feminism, and the ^ e a t Depression (Westport, Connecticut; Greenwood Press, 1980), p. 124.
^ Donald S. Howard, The WPA and Federal Relief Policy (New York: Russell Sage"! 1^43), pT 3Ô3 ; Federal Works Agency, Final Report of the WPA Program, 1935-43 (Washington:GPO, l947), pp. 17-10. 5 "WPA Sewing Projects as a Beehive of Activity," March 10, 1937, Folder 951-A, Box 85, Records of the Work Projects Administration, Record Group 69, National Archives; Release to the Minneapolis Journal, July 29, 1939, Minnesota State WPA office. Folder 951-A, Box 85, RG 69, NA; "Subject: Survey of Women Employed on WPA Sewing Projects in 3 Cities, February 9, 1937, California
284 285
folder, Division of Women's and Professional Projects, Sewing Projects, RG 69, NA; "Subject: Survey of Sewing Projects in Sacramento County, California, April 6, 1937, California folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA; Howard, WPA, pp. 273-283.
"Subject: Survey of Sewing Projects in Sacramento Coounty, California;" "Excerpt from Iowa Narrative Report," Feb. 20 to Mar. 20, 1936, Folder 951-A, Box 85, RG 69, NA; Howard, WPA, p. 279; "WPA workers are 'Economic Heads of Families,’™ October 15, 1938, Folder 988-B, Box 91, RG 69, NA; FWA, Final Report, p. 46.
^ H.C.L. Jackson, "Such a Sewing Circle," Detroit News, Feb. 7, 1941, Folder 951-A, Box 85, RG 69, NA; "Sewing Rehabilitation," May 12, 1939, Folder 951-A, Box 85, RG 69, NA; Jeanne Stoval, "A Report From the State of Washington," Folder 988-A, Box 91, RG 69, NA; "Finding Jobs for Women on Relief," May 21, 1936, Folder 988-B, Box 91, RG 69, NA; "Excerpts From Colorado Narrative Reports," Nov. 20, 1936, Folder 951-A, Box 85, RG 69, NA; "Excerpts From Iowa Narrative Report, Folder 951-A, Box 85, RG 69, NA; S.J. to Ellen S. Woodward, Jan. 20, 1937, Louisiana Folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA; "The WPA Provides Jobs for Women," May 1937, Folder 988-B, Box 91, RG 69, NA. Q Ellen S. Woodward to Mr. Hopkins, Jan. 14, 1937, Massachusetts folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA; Howard, WPA, p. 431.
^ M.D. to the Census, Nov. 18, 1937, Illinois file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, Records of the 1937 Census of Partial Employment, Unemployment, and Occupations, RG 29, NA; L.R. to FDR, Nov. 1937, Alabama file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; A.P. to Sir, Nov. 15, 1937, Illinois file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA. In order to protect privacy, the names of these women correspondents are listed by initials only. Readers who wish to track the documents should consult the author.
FWA, Final Report, pp. 8, 15-16, 18-19, 41; Howard, WPA, pp. 27ff7"34grT?2-485.
S.J. to Ellen S. Woodward, Jan. 20, 1937, Louisiana folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA; Mrs. P.E. to the President, Nov. 18, 1937, Alabama file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; Mrs. J.L. to the Census, Nov. 29, 1937, Arkansas file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; Case #12514, Reel 364, and Case #13342, Reel 381, Minneapolis Family and Children's Service microfilm collection. Social 286
Welfare History Archives, University of Minnesota; E.W. to the President, Nov. 1937, Indiana file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA.
Mrs. D.D. to the President, Nov. 26, 1937, California file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; Mrs. L.K. to John Biggers, June 29, 1938, Alphabetical name file. Correspondence with the Public, RG 29, NA.
Howard, WPA, pp. 452, 451, 481.
Howard, WPA, pp. 451, 481; Mrs. C.B. to Mrs. Roosevelt, April 4, 1937, Ohio folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA; O.G. to Frank A. March, Director, DWPP, April 28, 1937, Ohio folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA.
Howard, WPA, p. 472; S.D. Ozer, "Women and Work Relief," Folder 9o8-B, Box 91, RG 69, NA; O.C. to Mrs. Roosevelt, June 13, 1938, Alphabetical name file. Correspondence with the Public, RG 29, NA.
I.e. to (John) Biggers, Jan. 8, 1938, Alphabetical name file. Correspondence with the Public, RG 29, NA; Mrs. A. S. to the Census, Nov. 18, 1937, Arkansas file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; Case #12888, Reel 372, Minneapolis Family and Children's Service microfilm collection. Social Welfare History Archives, University of Minnesota.
Case #12795, Reel 370, MFCS, SWHA, University of Minnesota; B.V. to the Census, Oct 4, 1937, Alphabetical name file. Correspondence with the Public, RG 29, NA.
Howard, WPA, p. 342; FWA, Final Report, p. 17. 1Q Mrs. N.M to Mr. Biggers, Feb. 3, 1938, Alphabetical name file. Correspondence with the Public, RG 29, NA; Mrs. J.L. to the Census, Nov. 29, 1937, Arkansas file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; Case #13197, Reel 378, and Case #12888, Reel 372, MFCS, SWHA, University of Minnesota. Ofl FWA, Final Report, p. 17; Howard, WPA, p. 207; Mrs. C.B. to MrfI Roosevelt, April 4, 1937, Ohio folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA; l.M. to the Census, September 6, 1938, Alphabetical name file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA. 21 H.W. to the Census, February 8, 1938, Alphabetical name file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA. 287
99 D.J, to FDR, May 14, 1938, Alphabetical name file. Correspondence with the Public, RG 29, NA; Anonymous to Mr. Coles, April 5, 1938, Alphabetical name file, Correspondence with the Public, RG 29, NA; S.B. to the Census, Nov. 27, 1937, Florida file, RG 29, NA; Mrs. J.R. to the Census, Jan. 17, 1938, Alphabetical name file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA.
Typescript, n. t.. Folder988-A, Box 91, RG 69, NA; Frances Fox Piven and Richard Cloward, Regulating the Poor; The Functions of Public Welfare (New York: Vintage Press, 1971), passim; Howard, WPA, pp. 486-513.
FWA, Final Report, p. 45; Howard, WPA, pp. 487-88, 491. 9 S Mrs. J.R. to the Census, Jan. 17, 1938, Alphabetical name file, Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; L.P. to FDR, June 27, 1938, Alphabetical name file, Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; L.R. to the Census, Alabama file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA: Howard, WPA, pp. 486, 494; B.G. to John Biggers, Jan. 26, 1938, Alphabetical name file, Correspondence with the Public, RG 29, NA; Mrs. L.C to the President, n.d.. Alphabetical name file. Correspondence with the Public, RG 29, NA.
Howard, WPA, pp. 231, 285: "Negroes Under the WPA, 1939," Monthly Labor Review, 50 (March 1940), p. 636; FWA, Final Report, p. A5.
Howard, WPA, pp. 292-294, 452-453; Mrs. E.S. to the Census, June 3, 1938, Alphabetical name file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; F.B. to the Census, Dec. 3, 1937, Georgia file, Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; O.C. to the Census, Nov. 24, 1937, Florida file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; L.I. to the Census, Jan. 10, 1938, Alphabetical name file. Correspondence with the Public, RG 29, NA. 9fi Brown, Public Relief, pp. 315, 328-331; Patterson, America's Struggle Against Poverty, p. 68; FWA, Final Report, pp. 28, 46j Howard, WPA, p. 280. 29 "A Work Relief Program for Women," Folder 988-B, RG 69, NA, pp. 6-8.
FWA, Final Report, p. 18; Howard, WPA, pp. 429-431. 288
Howard, WPA, pp. 425-434; Miss S. to Mr. (Frank) March, Dec. 22, 1936, Maryland folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA; Licitia Hall Carter, Assistant Director of Women's and Professional Projects, to Ellen S. Woodward, Feb. 18, 1937, Indiana folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA; B.R. to Frank A. March, Dec. 5, 1936, Louisiana folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA.
Ellen S. Woodward to Harry Hopkins, Dec. 23, 1936, Massachusetts folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA; Ellen S. Woodward to James O'Connor, House of Representatives, n.d., Montana folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA; Howard, WPA, pp. 279, 283; Marie Dresden Lane and Francis Steegmuller, Americans on Relief (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Co., 1938), pp. 73-74, 7^; Ellen S. Woodward to Lawrence Robert, Democratic National Committee, July 31, 1937, Illinois folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA. 33 Lane and Steegmuller, Americans on Relief, p. 66; Woodward to Hopkins, Dec. 23^ 1936; Harry ET Hopkins to George McGill, U.S. Senate, Feb. 26, 1937, Kansas folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA; "A Review of the Operations of Work Project 1927, June 30, 1937, DWPP, RG 69, NA.
E.S. to Mrs. Roosevelt, Nov. 22, 1937, Box 6, New York City folder. Division of Women's and Professional Projects of Household Workers and Training Program, Correspondence and Reports by States, 1936-38, RG 69, NA; WPA Workers to Frances Perkins, Oct. 14, 1936, Michigan folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA; I.R to Mrs. Roosevelt, Mar. 23, 1937, North Carolina folder, DWPP, RG 69, NA.
Howard, WPA, pp. 159, 172, 190-191; FWA, Final Report, pp. 23-25; Brown, Public Relief, pp. 168, 383; Winifred Bell, Aid to Dependent Children (New York: Columbia University Press, 1965), pp. 66-67. 35 Howard, WPA, p. 427; Lane and Steegmuller,Americans on Relief, pp. 65, 76-78; Folder 988-A, Box 91, RG 69, NA.
B.G. to John Biggers, Jan. 26. 1938, Alphabetical name file. Correspondence with the Public, RG 29, NA; L.I. to the Census, Jan. 10, 1938, Alphabetical name file. Correspondence with the Public, RG 29, NA; H.S. to the President, Nov. 17, 1937, Florida file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA.
Folder 988-A, Box 91, RG 69, NA; E. W. to the President, Nov. 1, 1937, Indiana file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA; M.P to the Census, Dec. 20, 1937, Alphabetical name file, Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 289
29, NA; Mrs. E.M. to the Census, Aug. 30, 1938, Alphabetical name file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA. 39 Lane and Steegmuller, Americans on Relief, p. 72; Case #13343, Reel 381, Minneapolis Children's and Family Service microfilm collection, Social Welfare History Archives, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis; Mrs. L.K. to John Biggers, June 29, 1938, Alphabetical name file, Correspondence with the Public, RG 29, NA; Case #13015, Reel 375; MCFS, SWHA; E.D. to the President, Nov. 16, 1937, California file. Letters Reporting Unemployment, RG 29, NA.
The amounts of ADC grants and WPA wages are based on collective information contained in 100 cases of the Minneapolis Children's Protective Society, Minneapolis Family and Children's Service microfilm collection, Social Welfare History Archives, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis. Subsequent references to the cases in this collection will appear by case number and reel number only.
Case #13007, Reel 375; Case #11821, Reel 350; Case #12795, Reel 370; Case #12514, Reel 364; Case #11821, Reel 350.
Case #13244, Reel 379; Case #12041, Reel 355; Case #13495, Reel 384; Case #13248, Reel 379.
Case #12041, Reel 355; Case #13495, Reel 384.
Case #12795, Reel 370; Case #13031, Reel 375.
Case #12501, Reel 364; Case #13248, Reel 379; Case #35535, Box 10, MFCS, SWHA. The box number for the latter citation is based on a 1986 classification of cases which were not filmed. The boxes have been reorganized since 1986 and the current box or reel number is unknown to the author.
Case #13245, Reel 379; Case #13452. Reel 383; Case #13342, Reel 381.
Bell, Aid to Dependent Children, p. 29, passim; Piven and Cloward, Regulating the Poor, pp. 124-177; Case #12938, Reel 373.
Case #12915, Reel 373; Case #13037, Reel 375; Case #12789, Reel 370; Case #13343, Reel 381. 290
AQ ^ Case #13373, Reel 381; Case #13356, Reel 381; Case #13007, Reel 375; Case #13245, Reel 379.
Howard, WPA, pp. 435-440, FWA, Final Report, p. 18; Case #35257, Reel 330; Case #35184, Reel"330.
Case #35535, Box 10, MFCS, SWHA; Case #11821, Reel 350; Case #12514, Reel 364; Margaret C. Bristol, "Personal Reactions of Assignees to WPA in Chicago, Social Service Review, 12 (March, 1938), 69-100.
Case #12514, Reel 354. 53 Frances Fox Piven and Richard Cloward, Poor People's Movements; Why They Succeed. How They FaiT (New York: Vintage Books, 1979), pp. 79-92; FWA, Final Report, p. 22; Case #12041, Reel 355; Case #13352, Reel 381; Case #13335, Reel 381; Case #12795, Reel370.
Case #13335, Reel 381; Case #13452, Reel 333.
Howard, WPA, pp. 332-337; FWA, Final Report, p. 18; Case #12946, RëëT 373.
Minneapolis Children's Protective Society, "Agency Study, 1938,' mimeo. Box 14, Folder 4, Minneapolis Family and Children's Service Records, SW75, Social Welfare History Archives, University of Minnesota, p. 14.
Case #13320, Reel 381; Case #12915, Reel 373.
Case #13419, Reel 382; Case #13329, Reel 381; Case #13341, Reel 381; Case #11821, Reel 350.
Case #13352, Reel 381; Case #13244, Reel 379; Case #13248, Reel 379; Case #12888, Reel 372; Case #13343, Reel 381; Case #13320, Reel 381; Case #11855, Reel 351; Case #13452, Reel 383.
Case #11855, Reel 351.
Case #13248, Reel 379; Case #13356, Reel 381; Case #13373, Reel 381; Case #13352, Reel 381.
Case #13495, Reel 384; Case #13248, Reel 379.
Case #13342, Reel 381; Case #13495, Reel 384. 291
Case #11821, Reel 350; Case #12795, Reel 370; Case #13452, Reel 333; Case #13335, Reel 381.
Case #12888, Reel 372; Case #12501, Reel 364; Case #12795, Reel 370. CHAPTER V
FOSTER CARE AND SINGLE MOTHERS: THE MINNESOTA CASE
The previous chapters have dealt with a variety of
situations in which single mothers supported their
children. Most of these women, in the eyes of social
workers, shared one feature: they were "respectable"
women, often widows, whose life habits did not offend
middle-class morals. This was, of course, less true of the
group of women who worked for WPA. In many cases, they had
applied for and were denied an ADC grant on moral grounds.
Yet even these women, for the most part, did not so
greatly violate conservative family norms that public
agencies removed their children from the home. Although
not quite "good enough" for ADC, they qualified for the
less elite government program for single mothers on the work projects.
Another large and very significant group of mothers lived under constant threats that their children would be temporarily or permanently placed in foster care. The number of children living in foster care during the 1930s, at roughly 250,000, approximated the number receiving
292 293
pensions. The likelihood that single mothers would have to
turn their children over to the care of others, however,
had remained high. Despite the growth of mothers' pensions
since 1911, by 1933 approximately a third of the children
in foster care were children of single mothers.^
It is apparent, therefore, that despite the goals of
the mothers' pension movement, the spectre of
institutionalization and foster home care continued to
hang over female-headed families. The types of foster care
available expanded as the use of institutions slowly
declined and foster home care developed in the form of
both free and boarding home placements. In some
situations, women welcomed the availability of a variety
of forms of foster care, as it enabled them to place their
children out in times of emergency or when they needed to
get their feet on the ground financially. In such cases,
foster care provided a temporary respite after which the
mother could provide a more stable home for her children.
Oftentimes, however, foster care was the result of agency
pressure, court action, and other forms of coercion
designed to make what began as a temporary separation a
permanent one. In a few cases, this was obviously needed.
Some women had severe alcohol or mental problems, and
others welcomed men into their lives who turned their homes into cauldrons of violence and abuse. More often. 294
however, social agencies accused women of neglecting their
children in situations where poverty made it impossible
for them to provide decent homes.
The "family preservation" focus of the Progressive era
had influenced the range of agencies— the juvenile courts,
protective and humane societies, and child-placing
organizations— which had played key roles in breaking up
families. Although these organizations had adopted
casework methods designed to hold families together,
family break-up never disappeared as a policy. It was widely known that children needed legal protection against abusive and neglectful parents, and the laws by themselves meant little without active agencies enforcing them. The problem was that agencies continued to confuse neglect with poverty, and this fell most heavily, as it always 2 had, on single mothers.
In order to explore the ways that single mothers were affected by changes in child-caring methods, it is necessary first to take a closer look at the historical evolution of those methods, especially the transition from institutions to free foster homes and later boarding homes. Paid homes constituted an important development because they were by definition temporary. As such, they provided parents who needed foster care for their children with an alternative to institutions and free homes which 295
often entailed the likelihood of adoption. Single mothers, who were among those parents most likely to lose their children permanently, would benefit by the opportunity to temporarily place their children in boarding homes at public, private, or, if possible, their own expense. On the other hand, boarding care could also be used as a way for the state or private sector virtually to force certain mothers— those who had violated the family ethic— to support children with whom they were not permitted to live.
This chapter therefore focuses on boarding care developments, the growth of public responsibility for children, and the possible meaning of these changes for single mothers, particularly in Minnesota. Section A begins by tracing at the national level the late 19th and early 20th century transitions from institutional to foster home care and boarding care. In conjunction with the discussion of mothers' pensions, chapter 2 has already dealt with some of the late 19th century developments in the public sphere that led to an emphasis on either free or paid foster home care. The first part of this chapter will refer to those developments while focusing on corresponding transitions in the large private agencies which were most pivotal in promoting the transition to boarding care. This section will show that the states 296
most likely to have advanced in the needed area of paid,
temporary care for children were those which had developed
public boarding systems, substantial Children's Aid
Societies, or a few other private organizations and
religious societies which aimed to keep children with
people of their own faith.
Minnesota, whose largest city has provided the
information for a good part of the present study, was
considered by many Progressives and leaders in the social
welfare field to be among the most advanced states in the
field of child welfare. Section B will trace child care
developments in Minnesota which paralleled those of the
nation and will challenge the Progressives' image of the
Minnesota system. I argue that because foster care in
Minnesota became dominated by certain genres of public and
private agencies which either resisted or were slow to
adopt boarding practices, the state remained limited by
the free home system longer than did the nation as a whole. The endurance of the State School's "free-home
tradition", in conjunction with strong legal strictures against tax-based support for private children's agencies, meant that public money did not reach children in either public or private boarding homes. Section B provides some statistics which reveal the distance between paid care for children in the U.S. and Minnesota during the 1920s. 297
Progressives nevertheless perceived Minnesota as a good place for children, in part because the state had paid a great deal of attention to children's issues.
During the early 20th century, Minnesota had revamped its children's laws, reorganized its public child welfare administration, brought private agencies under greater public control, developed a relatively strong mothers' pension program, and created a special state system designed to deal with the growing problem of illegitimacy.
Section B argues, however, that such developments did not necessarily ensure either children or their mothers of any meaningful kind of help. Although the Minnesota system was admittedly well-organized and economical, these very advances in creating a streamlined organization had been made at the expense of children. Funds did not accompany these advances; as the state made these gains its administrators KNEW more about Minnesota's poor children, but continued until the 1930s to leave their basic support up to localities and private organizations. This section therefore reveals that what social work leaders revered as a model system was not necessarily good for single mothers.
In the third section, I use census data to expand this particular argument in relation to developments of the 1930s. During this dscade the public sector in 298
Minnesota assumed greater responsibility for children and
boarding homes, virtually non-existent in the state a few years earlier, became as prevalent as in the nation as a whole. Not only did the proportion of boarded children greatly increase, but over half of the boarded children were clients of Minnesota's public agencies. 1 argue, however, that this advance was a very limited gain. Public agencies did not take as much responsibility for foster care in large cities where single mothers would continued to rely upon voluntaristic private agencies. The State
School did not alter its free home approach, and a great deal of care that was labeled "public" merely referred to public auspices rather than funding. Although Minnesota caught up with the national average in terms of the proportion of boarding homes, it did not even approximate the national average of publicly-funded boarding homes.
Most importantly, the growth of boarding practices in
Minnesota was closely related to the implementation of the state's strong law pertaining to the care of illegitimate children. This emphasis meant that paid homes were not developed to serve the needs of single mothers of all marital statuses, and this form of foster care could serve as either help or harassment to the unwed mother.
Since Minnesota was in many ways considered to be one of the best developed states in the children's field, this 299
examination of the Minnesota system suggests the limits on
the assistance which women could expect from private and
public welfare everywhere. It also shows that
"Progressivism" was not always kind to women and children,
and provides a good example of the impact of the universal
belief that child-caring can and should be inexpensive.
This chapter thus deals primarily with policies and
government developments. One conclusion reached herein is
that, in large urban areas, the Minnesota system relegated
most foster care responsibilities to private agencies. In
chapter 6, one such private urban agency will provide case
stories of mothers who had to care for their children within the boundaries of Minnesota's public and private child welfare system. Using both national and state census data on foster care during the 1930s, and qualitative data
from stories of single mothers, I will in chapter 6 expand on many of the themes presented in this chapter. Thus the case records will help to "flesh out" the human experience behinds raw statistics and abstract policies.
A. National Transitions in Foster Care Methods: From Institutions to Free Homes and Boarding Homes
The type of foster care that first dominated was institutional. The building of children's institutions escalated in the late 19th century when state laws barred 300
children from almshouses. Special institutional care for
children was not, however, new in those years. At least 6
institutions designed specifically for children had been
created, usually under private auspices, by 1800. These
early institutions usually developed in the wake of
emergencies such as wars, Indian massacres, or epidemics
of disease. As the 19th century progressed, individuals continued to create orphanages for these reasons, as well as to counter the practice of placing children in poorhouses or "juvenile offenders" in prisons with seasoned criminals. By 1850, the number of specialized children's institutions was approximately 100, and with the passage of state laws against poorhouse care, over 600 by the 1890s. In 1910, there were almost 1200 institutions housing over 100,000 children.^
Although a "step forward" atthe time, children's institutions had their critics even before the rush of orphanage-building during the 1880s and 1890s. The leaders of the earlier institutions had been inclined to integrate residential care with foster home and indenture plans, but this approach fell into disuse for a variety of reasons: the dearth of free homes, the difficulty of finding foster homes for poor Catholic children among Catholic immigrant families, and the support that governments increasingly gave to long-term institutionalization through the subsidy 301
system. In the 1850s, Charles Loring Brace made a
successful effort to revive this incipient phase of foster
home care and give it new life. The Children's Aid
Society's practice of placing New York City street
children in farm homes out west rapidly became a major
method of child care. Brace's program was pioneering not
merely because of the size of the CAS operation--it had
placed tens of thousands of children by 1879— but because
it was the first foster home society completely
independent of any institutional affiliation. This direct
method of foster home placement spread rapidly and made
foster homes an increasingly familiar form of foster 4 care.
Brace's system was, however, under criticism from its
early days for reasons which became typical of the
criticism of foster home care in general. One critic
called the CAS's western farm home arrangement the "wolf
of the old indenture philosophy in the sheepskin of a
so-called good Christian family home." The farm families, chosen without much examination and free of
follow-up supervision, tended to overwork children who did not even have the modest protection of an indenture contract. People in the western states, on the other hand, resented having potential "delinquents" plucked off city streets and dumped in their peaceful countrysides. And, of 302
course, some reformers objected to CAS methods once they
developed an ear for the laments of the city poor who did
not want their children spiritedaway. Despite these
initial and sometimes enduring limitations, the CAS system
survived into the 20th century and evolved in important
ways that influenced other foster home practices.^
Once the Children's Aid Societies had paved the way,
other agencies began to develop major foster home
placement organizations. Next to the CAS, the most
significant vehicle for the spread of foster home care was
the Children's Home Society movement. This operation began
in 1883, 30 years after Brace founded the CAS. The CHS's
were private organizations which were often referred to as
"state" agencies because their operations were statewide.
Unlike the Children's Aid Societies, which collected
groups of children in large urban centers and herded them
to western states to be virtually auctioned, the
Children's Home Societies dealt with children on an
individual basis and set up districts and local advisory boards within states in order to find homes for children; therefore they were sometimes referred to as
"home-finders." By 1892, 10 states, mostly in the west, had created such societies and 1500 local advisory boards.
At first these organizations received children directly from parents, but by the early 20th, juvenile courts and 303
other agencies solicited the CHS's to find homes for 6 committed children.
Whereas the Children's Aid Societies placed children on a very wide front, the Children's Home Societies tended to work through state districts, and many other smaller local agencies placed children near their original homes.
Although these private agencies would in some areas eventually receive public subsidies, they remained private organizations. Since several public state and county child placement systems had also been developed by the late 19th century, foster home care came into increasing use through a wide variety of public and private sources. The majority of the placements made by these agencies in the late 19th and early 20th centuries were free-home placements, which means that the agency did not pay for the children's upkeep in their new homes. Most commonly the children actually paid for their own maintenance, through formalized indenture plans of the state schools, or tacitly in the case of CAS. Although boarding care was developing, most agencies hoped that the placements would lead to legalized adoption. If they did not, the indenture system was still strong enough in America, and the age at which working-class children were expected to work was so young, that child placement administrators assumed foster parents would find ways to make children economic assets 304
7 to them.
This rigid system had limitations which became
increasingly apparent as the size of the dependent child population grew. Families who took in an older child expected that child to remain with them and work until of age, and those who took very young children into "free homes" oftentimes were interested in adoption. There was little room in the existing foster care system for the majority of children who still had at least one parent living who hoped to restore the home. While many of the children "rescued" by the Children's Aid or Children's
Home societies may have been truly homeless, and many of those at the state schools full-orphans or children who for good reasons had been permanently severed from their parents by court order, most children's cases were not so black and white. The CAS's and other children's protection societies of the 19th century often became calloused in their zeal to "save" children from parents whose major crime was truly only poverty. The leaders of these organizations believed that the poor lacked the capacity to love their children and used the courts to
"convince" mothers and fathers that their children would be better off in foster care. As a result, large numbers of children were permanently placed away from living parents.® 305
Agencies were obviously permanently disrupting
families that often needed temporary care--which might range from a few weeks to a few years— for their children.
The numbers and types of children whose parents were too destitute to provide decent care were growing at a rapid rate. Many parents lost their children due to illness, unemployment, or some other type of emergency which might drag on for long periods of time, making it impossible for them to care properly for their children.
Reformers and personnel of child caring agencies began to embrace the method of paid boarding homes as the only solution for many children: those whose parents were ill or for some other emergency reason unable to support them, or those whose parents were "questionable caretakers" in the eyes of agents. Some were reluctant to make money a part of the process, as the demand for payment appeared to suggest a lack of strong affection on the part of the foster parent. Yet it was well-known that many of the farm families had in fact not treated CAS wards very well;
"free home" care did not guarantee emotional bonding.
There were simply not enough good free homes, and parents who took in children on a temporary basis were obviously performing a service for children who would never be legally their own. The best protection for many children was payment to foster parents who would thereby be 306
responsible to the supervising agency.^
Despite the many arguments in its favor, boarding care took hold slowly, as do most innovations which require funds for a formerly-free service. The child-placing agency of the Massachusetts government was the first to adopt the practice, at first on a small scale but by the 1930s almost exclusively. A few other states had followed by the late 19th century, and the dominant private organizations began to place some children at board by the early 20th century. The original New York
Children's Aid Society was very slow to alter its western migration tactics, but other CAS’s, perhaps influenced by the Massachusetts system, were the earliest of the private organizations to adopt the new practice. Between 1887 and
1899, the Boston and Baltimore CAS's acquired some funds for boarding payments to supplement their free home placements, and Pennsylvania developed an arrangement whereby public agencies could pay private CAS's to board children. By the early 1920s, these practices were widely used in Boston, Philadelphia, and Chicago, and even the
New York society had established a boarding home department and soon was placing almost as many children at board as in free homes. The 1923 census of foster care indicated that nationwide, CAS's were responsible for substantial proportions of boarding care in the United 307
States.
A similar process is discernible in the history of the
Children's Home Societies. The transition to boarding care
was, however, much slower because the CHS's had never been
very successful in soliciting sizeable funds for any of
their operations, least of all for paid homes. By the
early 1920s, of 12,379 children placed by CHS's, less than
700 were in boarding homes, with most of these under the
care of the Michigan CHS. More important in terms of
hastening the trend toward paid care were many private
religious placement societies, in particular those under
Catholic, Jewish, and Lutheran auspices. Catholic
institutions had been legion in number and large in size,
in good part because Catholic agencies had not been able
to find enough Catholic families among poor city
immigrants who could afford to take additional children
under their roof. The obvious solution to this was to
begin to pay Catholic families, thus obviating the great
need for institutional care as protection against CAS
placement of Catholic children in Protestant farm
homes.
Boarding was thus most likely to have developed in
states where the public sector favored it or where these
large and expansive private and religious agencies were vital. Although boarding care was developing in both the 308
private and public sectors and represented the cutting edge of change, institutions and free homes remained the dominant forms of foster care until the 1930s. The first accurate count of the relative forms of care did not appear until the 1923 census. In that year, 64.2% of children in foster care were in institutions, 23.4% in 12 free homes, and 10.2% at board.
B. The Minnesota Foster Care System: The Limitations of A "Model" Program
These, then, were the general national trends in child caring and the major agencies responsible for implementing change. In Minnesota, some trends mirrored the national trends while others did not. The early waves of institutional development did not touch Minnesota, which was still only a sparsely populated area in the early
1850s. Within a few years, however, waves of Scandinavian immigration rapidly increased the population to 150,000, making Minnesota ready for statehood in 1858. By the end of the 19th century, subsequent immigration raised the population to nearly one million. In 1880, Minnesota had 5 specialized children's institutions housing 126 children; by 1390, 897 children resided in 10 institutions. In 1910, however, only 16 of the 1151 children's institutions tabulated by the U.S. Bureau of the Census were located in 309
Minnesota. Except for the Minnesota State Public School and a few other institutions for special needs children, most of these institutions were private, non-subsidizied organizations. While the state school played a major role in arranging foster home care, institutions were not at the center of child care methods in Minnesota as they were 13 in many states.
Minnesota did have several foster home placement agencies. The major one was the state school, established in 1385 to maintain children until state agents located free, indentured homes for them. Although the Children's
Aid Society never became a vital force in Minnesota, the state was the third wherein a large Children's Home
Society developed in the 1880s. The Minnesota CHS worked in conjunction with courts which reimbursed the CHS for its services in placing committed children. Neither the state school nor the CHS, however, developed any significant boarding home plan. Although the Illinois,
Michigan, and Wisconsin counterparts to these organizations had initiated the practice of paying for home care by the 1930s, the Minnesota agencies remained confined in the old free home system throughout their entire history. When boarding home care began to develop in Minnesota in the early 1920s, it was largely private
Catholic organizations rather than public agencies or the 310
state's private home finding movement which were
responsible for catalyzing this transition.
Despite the relatively early development of foster
home care, Minnesota was a state that offered only very
limited provisions for mothers needing help with child
care. This is a statement that needs some explanation, as
Minnesota was widely admired by social workers as a model
of progressive advance in child caring methods. Along with
Michigan, Wisconsin, and a few other states, Minnesota in
the 1880s had created the economical state school system, applauded by reformers for caring for those children who
"truly needed" special attention, while completely leaving other children to the responsibility of their parents.
Influenced by criticisms of the subsidy system, states such as Minnesota and Michigan set up their streamlined public school operations both to discourage
"opportunistic" dependency and to pre-empt the further building of private institutions asking for public money i C in order to discharge the duty of child caring.
Like many states, Minnesota had ensured that the state would undertake child care economically by passing laws defining the extent to which public money could be used for any private ventures. By the late 1920s, Minnesota was one of 26 states which had outlawed state subsidies to private institutions in whole or in part, and along with 9 311
other states it had prohibited funds to religious
organizations. That Minnesota rarely granted state funds
to any other types of private institutions is apparent
from the fact that in 1929, when states collectively gave
seven million dollars to private foundations, Minnesota
gave less than seven thousand to one private children's
organization. Constitutional restrictions on state aid, of
course, did not necessarily entail that localities were
likewise prohibited; of the 26 states with some degree of restriction placed on state aid, 21 allowed local funds to reach private agencies, usually hospitals or child caring organizations. Minnesota was one of 19 states which permitted local subsidies to hospitals, and was also among four states which authorized public payments to special institutions for sick or crippled children. Minnesota was not, however, among the 12 states which by the 1930s either permitted or required cities or counties to make payments to private child caring agencies upon court order, not was it among the 6 states which had general local subsidy arrangements with children's institutions.^^
Thus at no level of Minnesota's government did public taxes support many institutionalized children, and no children in the care of private child placement agencies received public aid. This meant that mothers who might need to employ foster care were totally at the mercy of 312
voluntaristic operations or the streamlined state school
system. The limited funds available to the private sector
and the refusal of the state to donate money for this
purpose increased the chances that mothers might have to
release their children for adoption. By Minnesota law,
families intent upon adopting could not receive payment
during a 6-month trial period, and public funds for
boarding homes therefore would have provided assistance to
a mother without provoking anxiety.
Nevertheless, Progressive social welfare leaders,
vocal in the publications of the National Conference of
Charities and Corrections during the 19th and early 20th
centuries, perceived these financial restrictions in a
positive light. More importantly, critics admired the
organizational achievements of the Minnesota system. Like
most American creations, child caring methods throughout
the U.S. had developed without any central plan,
coordination, or supervision. The resulting administrative
confusion, as well as a number of ethical issues, had
inspired 19th-century social work leaders to call for the
creation of "state boards of charities," central agencies
which imposed various degrees of administration and
supervision on public and private institutions. The
Minnesota state school was originally administered by such a central agency, the Minnesota State Board of Charities 313
and Corrections, which in 1901 was revamped as the State
Board of Control. At first this organization, like most similar types of the era, dealt primarily with correctional institutions, the state school, and special state institutions for physically and mentally incapacitated children and adults. It had no general responsibility for socially and economically handicapped children other than the group which passed through the state school.
By 1917, however, the State Board of Control began to assume major responsibilities for all dependent children.
Progressive social welfare leaders, looking critically at the plethora of unsupervised and uncoordinated private and public agencies, had for some time been urging states to take full responsibility for needy children and to carry out this work through smaller local units. The Minnesota
Board of Control developed as such a central administration. The Board was guardian of all children in state institutions and all those committed to its care by the courts, and children under the care of private organizations were protected by the Board's supervisory powers. Its central job was to enforce all laws relating to the protection of dependent, neglected, illegitimate, delinquent, and mentally or physically handicapped children. These laws themselves had in 1917 undergone 314
major revisions which gave the State Board more power. In
that year, a special Minnesota commission had implemented
another Progressive recommendation by unifying, amending,
and augmenting the state's laws on children. These new
laws authorized the State Board of Control to create
within itself a Children's Bureau which would administer
the laws through newly-created county boards of child
welfare. Private child caring agencies, hitherto left to
their own devices, came under direct supervision of the
central state agency, which would henceforth inspect and
license such agencies and foster homes and approve
adoptions. The crowning achievement of the 1917 laws was
concentration in the state of responsibility for the
protection and support of all illegitimate children.
Through the strengthening of the State Board and revamping
of the laws, Minnesota aimed to enable the state to know where every child lived and how and by whom each child 18 was supported.
These Minnesota developments were exactly what
Progressive leaders and social workers had called for, and
they perceived the Minnesota system as a landmark in child-caring administration. As an "outstanding experiment of State responsibility administered largely through county units," it became a model for other states to follow. Many state leaders took their cue from the 315
Minnesota system as they developed state-county
arrangements, revised their laws through "Children's Code
Commissions," and dealt with the universal yet neglected problem of illegitimacy.The Minnesota system was well-received among the Progressives because it was both economical and well-organized; as such it stood out against the economic wastefulness of the subsidy system and the sloppy organizational arrangements prevailing in many areas at that time. As a midwestern and relatively new state, Minnesota was unhampered by those earlier developments which had rendered eastern child caring methods more complicated and problematical. With less of a previous heritage to cramp their style, Minnesota leaders had been free to organize their child caring system from the top down, beginning with the state school and ending with the state board and an integrated county-state organization for children. Minnesota was a shining example to Progressives of what a well-organized, streamlined, economical agency concentrated in the state could accomplish.
The contributions of Minnesota's influential system were therefore primarily structural, organizational, and bureaucratic. It was not until the early 1920s that commentators began to point out some major and obvious defects in the system. The heart of the problem in 316
Minnesota was the same limitation that had affected child care everywhere— the universal belief that providing for children's needs could be inexpensive. Too many needy children and families were simply excluded from any type of aid by the state's streamlined child caring apparatus.
Despite its praise as a progressive system, Minnesota was in fact very conservative in the matter of child care.
Its primary form of public child care since 1885 had been the state school, which took responsibility temporarily to house children and later place them in indentured or adoptive foster homes. This method made sense only for full-orphans or children who for some reason needed to be permanently removed from their living parents. Special state institutions took care of physically and mentally disabled children, and some received support through mothers' aid. There were, however, truly no provisions available through Minnesota law or administration for children— the majority— who belonged neither to these categories nor to the "elite" mothers' aid group. Unlike
Massachusetts and other states and localities which had developed boarding plans, Minnesota made no funds available for children who obviously needed some kind of aid at home or in a foster home if for some reason the state did not want to fund the child's parent. As a result, children whose mothers often needed temporary 317
foster assistance or could not obtain mothers aid were 20 often sent away permanently to the state school.
It was not that Minnesota lawmakers were unaware of the serious omission in their child-caring provisions.
Minnesota laws vaguely referred to methods of dealing with children "unsuitable for adoption," by which they meant those who needed care but should not go to the state school. This provision sometimes referred to categories of children which the state school routinely rejected: products of incest, "morons," and other types of
"defectives." But it also referred to children who were unsuitable for adoption because their parents, although they could not support them, did not want and should not have to give up their children. The laws stated that when such a child became chargeable to any county, that county must either send the child to the school or "provide a home for him with some respectable householder, if one can be found who will take him." This meant that the only option available if the county refused to support the children in their own homes was to place them in free homes. Technically, of course, counties and towns were authorized to support poor children just as they would any other destitute person under the poor laws. The long-standing tradition of supporting children only as part of their family unit, however, made the practice of 318
supporting children in boarding homes, as separate 91 individuals, unthinkable to local overseers of the poor.
In fact, the law had designated the state the
governmental unit responsible for these children. The
state board was to see to it that all children received
support and protection,and courts had a right to commit
children to the guardianship of the state board when no
other means of support was available. This, however, meant
nothing in terms of economic support for the children,
since the law allotted no funds to support them outside
of the state school. A child "unsuitable for adoption"
became a state ward, a public dependent who could in fact
secure support from neither county nor state. All that
the state board could do was recommend that the county devote funds to the child's support. The county or town commissioners rather than the relatively new county boards of child welfare controlled the disbursement of poor relief funds. If this aid was not forthcoming, the county welfareagent of the State Board's Children's Bureau might "look into the situation," scout around for private aid, and so forth. Private agencies complained that they came by large numbers of "publicly-defined" dependent children for whom no public funds had been provided, and juvenile court personnel admitted that they often asked private agencies for help with committed children because 319
they did not know what else to do with them. Committing an unadaptable child to the guardianship of the state board 2 2 was, from an economic perspective, a nonsensical action.
In Minnesota, then, there were really only three public methods of dealing with destitute children: by commitment to the state school, through awarding a mothers' pension, or "commitment to the state board," the last of which meant little more than that the state had been alerted to the child's problems. In this kind of situation, poor children not forcibly removed from their mothers' home remained there. Public outdoor relief had never been large in Minnesota, and most poor children had to rely on private aid, go to the state school, or simply be hungry. Mothers who could not secure mothers' aid had few options. There was a huge gap in the system. Courts routinely declared children "dependent and neglected" and placed them in the care of the state which then seriously neglected them. Although state wards were by definition a state responsibility, the hidden agenda was the hope of state lawmakers that county or city governments would either find free homes or begin to pick up the boarding bill required to support those children who did not receive mothers' aid and should not go to the state school. 320
When neither of these hopes materialized, the
Minnesota legislature in 1925 made a somewhat vaguely
worded revision in the law which authorized the state to
provide matching funds to counties on a fifty-fifty basis
for dependent children placed away from their original
homes. By the late 1920s, however, the state had made no
funds available for this purpose, and certain stipulations
repeated in the laws made it clear that the search for
free homes would be continued at all levels of government.
Thus the legacy of the State School, the "free home"
focus, remained at the heart of the Minnesota system
despite criticisms, obvious defects in the laws, and the 23 anachronistic nature of the free home system.
The grand organizational and structural achievements
of the Minnesota system therefore did nothing to improve
the situations of single mothers who might need to use
foster care. The availability of boarding care, particularly in the form of publicly-subsidized homes which recognized the right of poor mothers to state assistance in this matter, was strangely lacking in this
"progressive" system. In this regard, many other states whose achievements received no special notice from social work leaders were in fact more advanced than Minnesota.
That Minnesota remained enmeshed in the free home system longer than the U.S. as a whole can be illustrated by 321
census data. Throughout the late 19th and early 20th
centuries, the U.S. Bureau of the Census periodically
issued specialized census reports dealing with children's
institutions. The 1910 report, called Benevolent
Institutions. was the earliest to deal with both
institutions and foster homes. Although the statistics
provided by this report were very rough, they suggest that
approximately 65-75% of foster care children in the U.S.
lived inside institution walls, and 25-35% in foster
homes. Records of placements made throughout the year in
Minnesota suggest similar proportions of each type of
foster care. Most of Minnesota's foster home placements were made by the State School, the Minnesota Children's
Home Society, and the Lutheran Children's Friends' Society
(a home-finder similar to the CHS). Nearly all of
Minnesota's foster homes were free homes, as would be expected with the state school and the Children's Home
Society placing most of the children. With only one agency reporting a few boarding homes, paid foster homes were insignificant in Minnesota in 1910. In this respect, the state was behind several other states, but boarding home care had only been developed in a few places by 1910.^*
The census of 1923 indicated sharper differences between policies in Minnesota and in the nation as a whole. This report was the first to give relatively 322
detailed, somewhat complete and systematic statistics
regarding foster care. In February of that year, the 25 breakdown for the nation and Minnesota was as follows:
TABLE 1 Children in foster care, 1923 by type of care
Type of care Numbers Per cent Numbers Per cent ______in care of total in care of total United States Minnesota Institutions 140,312 64.2 2242 58.8 Free homes 51,635 23.4 1492 39.2 Boarding homes 22,243 10.2 74 1.9 Elsewhere 4,933 2.3 2 .1 Total, All types 216,523 lAO.OO 3ÏÏTÜ TÜÏÏTÜO
Institutional care clearly continued to dominate, and the
national proportion of children in boarding homes was for
the first time precisely tabulated nationally at 10.2%.
The fact that the national figure was as high as 10% was
largely due to extensive usage in Massachusetts, New
Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania, California, Michigan, and
Maine, and due to the adoption of boarding homes among the 2 A Children's Aid Societies in various urban centers.
Minnesota's institutional population in 1923 was
fairly consistent with the national percentage, whereas
the percentage of free homes was considerably higher and
the percentage of boarding homes markedly lower than that of the nation as a whole. Of the 74 children who were at board on Feb 1, 1923, nearly all of them were under the 323
care of the Minneapolis Catholic Central Bureau, the
remainder having been placed by Catholic, Jewish, and
Lutheran child placing societies. National boarding statistics make clear some of the reasons for the difference between Minnesota and the nation as a whole. Of the 22,243 children in boarding homes nationwide in 1923, the majority were boarded in states that had either very active Children's Aid Societies, sizable public child-placement operations, or both. Minnesota lagged behind other states which had advanced boarding practices because the state lacked a vital Children's Aid Society and because the public sector, for philosophical reasons, had not assumed this responsibility. In Minnesota, only a few religious and private protective or humane societies, while retaining free home placements as their central 27 method, had by 1923 adopted paid home practices.
Minnesota's public sector, or the other hand, had continued to operate within the confines of the inexpensive state school heritage. Of the 1492 children who were in free homes in Minnesota, almost 1200 had been placed there by the state school, a little over 100 by the
Minnesota Children's Home Society and the remainder from a variety of private and religious child placing institutions and agencies. Therefore two relatively conservative societies dominated Minnesota's foster home 324
system well into the 1920s. The reluctance or inability of the state school and the Children's Home Society to fund homes meant that, despite the purported advancements in
Minnesota's child-caring system, there was no 28 middle-ground between institutionalization and adoption.
The Minnesota system may have been "progressive" by the standards and criteria used by contemporary reformers.
It was not, however, advanced in ways that would be liberating for women. The state had created a good structure while failing to provide funds to carry out the most needed child-caring functions. Women who fell upon hard times could count on very few agencies to help them place their children in boarding homes, wherein payment by definition implied temporary support. From this perspective, Minnesota, a state highly limited by the legacy of the state school-free home system, was not the best place for single mothers to be. As the next section will show, this remained the case even after the state began to take more responsibility and provide some funds.
C. Growth in Minnesota's Boarding Home System A Qualified Gain
The first study which indicated a substantial break in
Minnesota's virtually exclusive free-home pattern appeared in 1930, when Emma Lundberg of the U.S. Children's Bureau 325
published a special census of child-caring methods in 32 states. These states contained approximately two-thirds of the U.S. population and such a variety of areas that the results yield a fairly close estimate of national trends. The numbers and percentages of children in various 29 types of foster care was as follows:
TABLE 2 Children in foster care, 1930 31 states and B.C.
Type of care______Number_____ Per Cent Institutions 110,842 56% Boarding homes 33,156 20% Free homes 32,456 17% Work homes 5,006 2% Elsewhere 5,227 3% All types 161,687 îüü%
Seven years after the 1923 census, then, the number of boarding homes had increased substantially, caring for 20% rather rather than 10% of children in foster care. The on same trend is discernible in Minnesota statistics:
TABLE 3 Children in foster care, 1930 Minnesota
Type of care Number Percent Institutions 170Ô 32% Boarding homes 1113 21% Free homes 2141 40% Wage homes 338 6% Elsewhere______83______1% All types 5375 l00% 326
Not only did the trend toward boarding in Minnesota
mirror thenational trend; the gains were even more dramatic. The national percentage had doubled since 1923, while Minnesota's boarding home proportion had grown by a
factor of ten. Theproportion in institutions had undergone an equally marked drop, from almost 60% in 1923
to 32% in 1930. Free home care, however, more than doubled the national share of free home care and remained the most common type in Minnesota.
The sharp rise in the use of boarding care, occurring over a relatively short period of time, would suggest that the 1925 Minnesota law authorizing matching state funds to counties boarding dependent children had finally been implemented through state allotments for that purpose. By
1930, 20 of Minnesota's 57 counties had become important child-placing agencies and were responsible for 587, or
52.7%, of the children at board. Progressive reformers had argued that child-placing should become a public function, organized at the local level under state control, and in this respect Minnesota's system, long admired, received more applause when local governments actually began to take responsibility for boarding homes. Whereas the majority of child placing agencies throughout the nation were private in 1930, almost three-fifths were public in
Minnesota. Of the 31 states studied in Lundberg's report. 327
Minnesota was second only to New York in the number of
counties assuming responsibility for foster homes.
Increasingly, foster care in general became a public job
in Minnesota. Whereas nationwide, private agencies and
institutions did almost four-fifths of the job of child
caring, (often with public subsidies), in Minnesota child
caring was divided almost equally between the public and 31 private sector.
Thus it would appear that the situation for single mothers and their children had changed. The possibilities
of securing temporary foster home care, at public expense, had increased in a large number of counties. The positive
feature of this change was that mothers who could neither secure mothers' aid nor support their children might be publicly assisted in placing their children, rather than sending them away, until their situation had improved.
Additional analysis, however, indicates that the situation was more complicated than this superficial analysis suggests. To understand this, it is necessary to look at the broader picture of foster care in Minnesota to see exactly who was boarding children or providing for them in other ways. The breakdown of Minnesota's foster care system by agency or institution and type of care is 32 as follows: 328
TABLE 4 Children placed by different agencies and institutions, Minnesota, 1930
Placement Percent distribution of children in Agency or Institution______Institutions Free homes Boarding
State School 25.8% 42.4% 0 County agency 0 24.3% 52.7% Private Institutions: Non-sectarian 12.5% 0 0 Sectarian 56.5% 0 0 Private Child-placing agencies: Non-sectarian 0 8.8% 31% Sectarian 0 24.6% 16.3% Fraternal Orders_____5.2%______0______0 Total 1(5(5% ÎÜÜ% IÜÔ%
The 20 county agencies were responsible for roughly
half the children in boarding homes, and this job was
shared by the private child-placing and protective
agencies, such as the Children's Protective Society, the
Catholic Central Bureau, and other organizations which
collectively boarded 47.3% of the children. Thus boarding
had grown in Minnesota, with the public sector assuming a
little over half of the responsibility.
Further analysis, however, suggests at least four
limitations in regard to the extent to which mothers needing boarding help benefited by this change. First of all, over 80% of the children at board lived in three cities: Minneapolis, Du :th, and St. Paul. All of the children boarded by private agencies were in those cities. 329
Although county agencies boarded children in these urban areas as well, a substantial part of their foster home operations extended into rural areas that private organizations did not reach. Therefore, despite the growth of public care, the majority of mothers in large, purportedly "progressive" urban areas were likely to be still relying on private, voluntaristic help rather than public aid. Thus when hard times necessitated the disruption of a mother's family, they still generally had to rely on the good graces of voluntaristic organizations rather than benefit by a responsibility that the state had 33 assumed in recognition of a mother's right.
A second limitation of the trend toward public boarding care is that the State School, long the institution responsible for the largest number of children in Minnesota, did not participate in this transition. As
Tabla 4 shows, the school did not board a single child, yet it was responsible for over two-fifths of the free home placements, which in turn were the most common type of foster care in the state. This meant that children who went to the school would not be placed in the type of care from which mothers could most easilyreclaim them.
In this respect, the State School was like most such institutions throughout the U.S., with the exception of those in Michigan, which had begun to place about 5% of 330
state school wards at board, and Rhode Island, which had,
at 56%, made boarding placements the major form of foster
home care. It was the resilience of the State School,
Minnesota's primary institution, which retained free home
care as the dominant type of foster home in Minnesota. The
state school tradition also influenced Minnesota's private institutions which, unlike many institutions
throughout the nation, appear to have resisted the trend
toward placing children in any type of family home.^*
A third limitation concerns the meaning of "boarding care." First of all, the fact that a "boarding home" was supervised, arranged, or found by a private or public agency did not necessarily mean that that particular agency was actually paying all or part of the bill. By
1930, no one had gathered the type of financial statistics that could determine to what extent public or private responsibility entailed public or private costs. Although this was undoubtedly often the case, the label of "public or private boarding home" merely indicated that the home was in some way supervised by that particular agency. The
State Board of Control required that all placing agencies be licensed, and all legitimate placements had to be cleared through some type of licensed agency. People could not legally give their children to someone else without honoring these procedures. As will be shown in the 331
following chapter, Minnesota agencies extracted as much parental responsibility from mothers as they could, and in many cases mothers themselves paid all or part of the bill.35
The fourth and most serious limitation of boarding homes in Minnesota concerned some peculiar features of the system in that state. As has been said, the development of county boarding programs in the late 1920s at first sight appears to be the product of the progressive evolution of public welfare. Recognizing that there should be some kind of intermediary between starvation and adoption, Minnesota lawmakers had apparently allotted funds to counties on a matching basis in order to implement the 1925 law for boarding care. Although this hypothesis provides a rational explanation as to why counties would begin to board large numbers by 1930, this is not actually how it happened. The major reason for the growth of boarding home care was Minnesota's illegitimacy law. Passed in 1917 along with other children's legislation, Minnesota's law was considered to be the most advanced in the nation. As such, it constituted another reason why Progressives greatly admired Minnesota's child caring system. The
Children's Bureau enforced the law, the purpose of which was to locate every unwed mother, deal with her situation in one way or another, and force child support from the 332
father. Since the Children's Bureau worked through local
units, the county child welfare boards soon took on work
with illegitimate children, their mothers, and fathers, as
their major project.
As a result of this law, the proportion of foster care
children in Minnesota who were illegitimate was, by 1933,
significantly higher than the proportion in any other
state. County boarding thus served a specialized function.
The growth of county boarding care was not a response to general needs of single mothers, but rather an undertaking
targeted at a specific population. While this system could be beneficial, it was also limited in scope and posed
threats for women who were often pressured to give up their children or pay for their care in boarding homes supervised by the county boards. Thus the increase in the usage of boarding homes and the growth of public responsibility did not necessarily benefit single mothers in Minnesota. The 1933 national census showed a continuation of the trends discernible in Lundberg's 1930 study and also reveals some further limitations in the ways in which Minnesota's system could help mothers. The statistics for the number and percentage of children in various types of foster care for the the U.S. and for 37 Minnesota in 1933 are as follows: 333
TABLE 5 Children in foster care, 1933 United States and Minnesota
United States Minnesota Type of care______Number Percent Number Percent Institutions 140,552 37.1%. 1563 31.1% Free homes 31,538 13% 1752 34.9% Boarding homes 66,350 27.3% 1409 28.1% Work homes 4,689 1.9% 294 5.9%
Total 242,924 ”130% ■■ 50l8 100%
The following tabl e compares the 1930 and 1933 percentaj 38 for both the U.S. and Minnesota:
TABLE 6 Children in Foster Care, 1930 and 1933, United States and Minnesota
Percent , U.S Percent , Minnesol Type of Care 1930 1933 1930 1933 Institutions 58% 57.8% 52% 31.1% Free homes 17% 13% 40% 34.9% Boarding homes 20% 27.3% 21% 28.1% Work Homes 2% 1.9% 6% 5.9% ------=— ------A A a;--
The gap between the number of free and boarding homes continued to grow nationally; of the 242,929 children in institutions or foster homes, the percentage in institutions remained relatively constant, but free homes now accounted for only 13% of foster care, with the percentage in boarding care rising to 27.3%. The proportion in boarding homes had risen in part because, during the Depression, families, including those of relatives, were increasingly unable to care for children 334
without funding. The same trends are apparent in
Minnesota. As in 1930, the proportion in institutions remained at a little over 31%, while the boarding home element had risen from 21% to 28%, thus reflecting the national trend. Although the proportion of free homes declined somewhat, Minnesota continued to use them to a much greater extent than did the nation as a whole. The gap grows even larger when "working homes" are included.
Nearly 6% of Minnesota's foster care children— as opposed
CO 2% of children nationally— were in working homes, which 39 were in fact really only a type of free home.
Although the 1933 census was less clear than were the earlier studies in regard to which agencies used free or boarding homes, it did indicate that of Minnesota's 1409 boarding homes, 681 were subsidized in whole or part by public funds, with the remaining 728 boarding homes under the auspices of private organizations. It is clear from the 1933 census that a considerable proportion of the public boarding homes were in rural areas, since for the first time the census listed foster home figures for a category entitled the "State Children's Bureau and Rural
County Child Welfare Boards." It appears that the State was beginning to board children through these counties, thus implementing the function prescribed under the 1925 law. The Rural County Welfare Boards were responsible for 335
21% of the children in foster homes, whereas the county boards of the three largest counties had placed only 15%.
On the other hand, private organizations, virtually all of which were located in the three largest counties, claimed
42% of the children in foster homes. Thus despite the growth of boarding care, women in Minneapolis, St. Paul, and Duluth were still likely to rely on voluntaristic agencies unless they were unwed mothers.^®
The 1933 census represents the first attempt to determine the number of children in foster care who received support from public tax funds. The report therefore makes more explicit than did the 1930 census the limitations of boarding care for women. The census gave figures for the number of children who received tax support "in whole or in part," and the "in part" could mean many things. It could mean, and often did, that the public paid a portion remaining after parents' ability to pay had been assessed. It could also refer to rather frivolous costs involved in arranging a boarding home situation; for example, the cost of paying for a county supervisor to make periodic investigations, the costs of transporting a child to the new home, or other initial expenses accruing to the public purse. The authors of the
1933 census indicated that they did not completely trust the public-costs information which they received from 336
agencies responding to the census survey. Therefore it is
safeto assume that the fact that almost 30% of
Minnesota's foster cace children were now in boarding
homes, and almost half of these were public homes, did not mean that the children of single mothers were fully
subsidized in boarding homes.
A second point to be made is that Minnesota's public
support for boarding homes and for foster children in general lagged far behind the rest of the nation. This was true despite the fact that public agencies in Minnesota took credit for arranging or supervising almost half the foster care in the state, a much higher percentage than that of the nation as a whole. The following table indicates the extent of public support in both the U.S. and Minnesota for foster care:^^
TABLE 7 Support for foster care from public funds, 1933 United States and Minnesota
United States Minnesota Type of Total number Percent Total number Percent care______of children funded of children funded Institutions 140,352 45.7% 1563 36.3% Hoarding home 66,350 84.4% 1409 48.3% Free homes 31,538 17.6% 1752 Work homes 4,689 17.9% 294 T3tn 242329 ------5ÜTB------Z3T9%—
These figures reveal that whereas the U.S. as a whole funded 52% of the children in foster homes and 337
institutions, Minnesota supported only 26%. Only 12 states
supported a smaller proportion of children than did
Minnesota, and most of these were not too far behind
Minnesota. The limitations of the Minnesota system are
most apparent in relation to the boarding system.
Although Minnesota's use of boarding was as high as the
U.S. in general, it is clear that Minnesota lagged behind
the nation in terms of actually funding these homes. In
1933, almost 85% of boarded children nationwide were
suppported in part or completely by public taxes; in
Minnesota, only 48% of boarded children were supported
in part or whole by public funds. Thus it is apparent that
even though Minnesota had made substantial gains in the
use of paid homes, greater than that of many states, and
often at the prodding of the public sector, a majority of
mothers in need of foster care continued to rely on
voluntaristic organizations.*^
In fact, relying on the state for any type of foster
care did not necessarily entail receiving financial
assistance. The meaning of "public foster care" becomes
most apparent in the figures revealing the extent to which
public money was involved. Of Minnesota's 5018 foster care
children, 49% were sponsored by public agencies. 20% of
these children were living at the state school, 31% were children placed in foster homes by the state school, and 338
49% were in foster homes under the urban and rural
counties and the State Children's Bureau. Yet only 46.5%
of these so-called "public foster care children" received
any public funds for their care. Thus "public" foster care
did not necessarily entail tax expenditures, and therefore
growth in this sector did not automatically assist those
women who needed— or were forced--to make use of the 44 system.
It must be conceded that public involvement in child
caring and sponsorship of boarding homes increased
in Minnesota during the 1930s. Whereas public
"responsibility" was primarily organizational and
structural before 1930, by 1933 state funds began to
spread to hitherto neglected areas. Yet, as these pages
have shown, these changes represented only a "qualified gain" for single mothers. Analysis of census statistics reveals that even the increase in public responsibility was in many cases more show than substance, more indicative of public supervision than of financial support.
Minnesota's public child caring system was hailed as a model long before the implementation of the 1925 law and the growing public involvement of the 1930s. Despite all these "improvements" and expansions of the system. 339
Minnesota's program remained limited by the demand for
economy that is apparent in every sector of the foster
care system and in each progressive alteration of that
system. Despite the growth in public care, public funds
in the state shouldered a relatively small proportion of
the costs. The greatest responsibility was taken on by the
public sector in response to the problem of illegitimacy,
but the ultimate and dominant purpose of this program was
to save taxpayers' money through successful paternity
suits. Although it must be granted that Minnesota had a
better than average mothers' pension program, the majority
of beneficiaries were "worthy widows" and the funds
did not reach the average divorced, separated, or
never-married mother.
The fact that Minnesota's streamlined, centrally
organized, and highly economical system was widely admired
gives indication of what social workers and welfare
officials found commendable in child-caring developments.
For single mothers, the essential problem was lack of money. If they could not qualify for the mothers' pension,
they had few choices but to seek help from a government, whose most salient feature was stinginess. Thus even in
this most progressive of states, mothers who might need temporary foster home care for their children were seldom aided by the public sector. If they were mothers of 340
legitimate children and lived in urban areas, they were
likely to have to solicit the aid of private agencies.
These voluntaristic organizations were no more eager than
was the state to pay for children's care and, in some
respects, manifested a greater tendency to control women's
lives than did the state. The following chapter will
examine women's involvement with one such private agency
and further elucidate the ways in which an important child welfare system affected single mothers as they attempted
to maintain or rebuild homes with their children. NOTES
U.S. Department of Commerce, Bureau of the Census, Children Under Institutional Care and in Foster Homes. 1933(Washington, B.C.: GPO, 1955), p. 8; U.S. Committee on Economic Security, Social Security in America; The Factual Background of the Social Security Act as Summarized from Staff Reports (Washington. B.C.: GPÔ, 1937). p. 258.
- Helen Grace Tyson, "Care of Dependent Children," American Academy of Political and Social Science, Annals, 212 {November, 1940), 170; Linda Gordon, "Single Mothers and Child Neglect," American Quarterly, 37 (Summer 1985), 177-78; Susan Tiffing In Whose Best Interest: Child Welfare Reform in the Progressive Era (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1982), pp. 39, 44. 3 Emma O.Lundberg, Unto the Least of These: Social Services for Children (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1947), pp(! 52-59, 65; Susan Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, p. 64; Walter I. Trattner, From Poor Law to Welfare~State: A History of Social Welfare in America, 5rd Ë3. (New York: The Free Press, 1964), p. ll3; U.S. Bureau of tne Census, Benevolent Institutions (Washington. B.C.: GPO, 1913), p. 2T.
^ Lundberg, Unto the Least of These, pp. 58-59, 77-78; Robert Bremner, Children and Youth in America (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1971) II, 246, 291; Grace Abbott, The Child and the State (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 193Ô), II, 8; Frank Bruno, Trends in Social Work, 1874-1956: A History Based on the Proceedings of the National Conference Ol Social WorE (New York: Columbia University Press, 1957), p. 57. 5 Henry Thurston, The Dependent Child (New York: Arno Press, 1974), pp. lOO, l3è; Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, pp. 90-92; Lundberg, Unto the Least of These. ppT"T57"77-78. ------
^ Thurston, The Dependent Child, pp. 140-141, 149, 155; Bremner, Children and Youth, ll,"117-318; Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, pi 1^4; Lundberg, Unto the Least of These, p. Ô5.
341 342
Bruno, Trends in Social Work, pp. 60-61; Bremner, Children and Youth, II. 317.
Û Bremner, Children and Youth, II, 258; Thurston, The Dependent Child, pp. 38, lll-ll2, 134-137. 9 Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, pp. 97-98; Bruno, Trends in Social Work, pp. 64-65.
Homer Folks, The Care of Destitute, Neglected^ and Delinquent Children (New York: Johnson Reprint Corporation, 19701, 150-164; Lundberg, Unto the Least of These, pp. 81-83, 93-94; Thurston, The Dependent Child, pp. 138-139; U.S. Department of Commerce, Bureau of tïïe Census, Children Under Institutional Care, 1923 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1923), pp. 170-187. 11 Thurston, The Dependent Child, pp. 156, 159; Lundberg, Unto the Least of These, 84; Bremner, Children and Youth, ITJ 318; bureau "ûf the Census, Children Under Institutional Care, 1923, pp. 170-187. 12 Bureau of the Census, Children Under Institutional Care, 1923, p. 21. 13 Folks, The Care of Destitute, Neglected, and Delinquent Children, pi 196; Bremner, Children and Youth, :i, 284-285.
Thurston, The Dependent Child, pp. 149, 159; Bremner, Children and Youth in America, II, 318.
Folks, The Care of Destitute, Neglected, and Delinquent Children, pp. 94-99.
Arlien Johnson, Public Policy and Private Charities: A Study of Legislation in the United States and o T Administration in Illinois (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1931;, pp. 2, 4-5, 40, 43, 48-50.
Tiffin, In Whose Best Interest, p. 193; "Child Welfare Commissions," Social Work Year Book, 1933, p. 72; Meriam, Relief and Social Security, pp. 7-9; Bruno. Trends in Social Work, pp. 32-33; Lunaberg, Unto the Least of these, pp. 64-88; State Board of ControTI Compilation of Laws Relating to Children, 1927 (St.Paul: State Board of Control, 1 ^ 2 /), l3; H. Ida Curry, ^ Public Child-Caring Work in Certain Counties of Minnesota, ^ r t h Carolina, and New Vork, Children ' s Bureau Publication no. " Î7I (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1927), p. 8. 343
18 H.Ida Curry, "County Programs of Child Care: What Should a County Program Undertake?" Proceedings of the 52nd National Conference of Social Work, 1925, pp. 95-96; Curry, Public Child-Caring Work in Certain Counties of Minnesota. pp"I 2-3; "Child Welfare Commissions, " pp. 72-73; Mildred Dennett Mudgett, "Results of Minnesota's Laws for Protection of Children Born Out of Wedlock," Reprint from U.S. Children's Bureau Publication no. 128, Illegitimacy as a Child Welfare Problem (Washington, B.C.: GPO, 19^4), pp." m - ï ô i . ------19 Curry, Public Child-Caring Work in Certain Counties of Minnesota, p^ 31 "'Child Welfare Commissions," p. 73; Katz, In the Shadow of the Poorhouse, p. 123; Bruno, Trends in Social Work, pp. 37-38. 20 Curry, "County Programs of Child Care," p. 95; Curry, Public Child-Caring Work in Certain Counties of Minnesota, pp. I'l, 14-l5. 21 State Board of Control, Compilation of Laws Relating to Children, 1927, pp. 15, 174; Curry, "County Programs or child Care, p. 95; Curry, Public Child-Caring Work in Certain Counties of Minnesota, pp. 8, 25. 22 Curry, Public Child-Caring Work in Certain Counties of Minnesota, pp. 24-25. 23 State Board of Control, Compilation of Laws Relating to Children, 1927, pp. 15-16,88, 9Ô; Curry, Public Child-Caring in Certain Counties of Minnesota, pp. 9 n., l4.
United States Bureau of the Census, Benevolent Institutions, 1910 (Washington, B.C.: GPO, 1913), pp. 28. 30V 35, 66, lU-116, 162-163. 25 United States Department of Commerce, Bureau of the Census, Children Under Institutional Care, 1923 (Washington, B.C.: CPO, 1927), p. 18. The figures provided in Table 1 are extrapolated from p. 18, Table 2, of the 1923 census.
Ibid., pp. 13-19, 170-187.
Ibid., pp. 18, 85, 177-178, 170-137.
Ibid., pp. 84-85, 177-178. 25 Emma 0. Lundberg, Child Dependency in the United States; Methods of StatistTcal Reporting and Census of" 344
Dependent ChildrenLniiaren in Thirty-One ihirty-Une btateStates (New York: Child Welfare League of America, 1933), p. 56
Ibid., pp. 118— 119. The figures provided in Table 3 are extrapolated from Tables 7 and 8 of the Lundberg study.
Ibid., pp. Ill, 79, 126, 60, 62-63, 116-117.
Ibid., pp. 122, 125-126, 128-131. The figures in Table 6 are extrapolated from Table 9 and Tables 11-16 of the Lundberg study.
Ibid., pp. 138, 129, 131.
Ibid., pp. 75, 128, 130;Curry, Public Child-Caring Work in Certain Counties of Minnesota, pp. ), 10, 14. 35 Lundberg, Child Dependency in the United States, p. 62; State Board of Control, Compilation of Laws Relating to Children, 1927, pp. 22-27, 179-182.
Abbott, The Child and the State. II, 499-500, 552-557, 622; Tiffin, In Whose best Interest, pp. 179-181; Mudgett, Illegitimacy as a Child Welfare Problem, pp. 181-189, 195, 198; Lundberg, Child Dependency in the United States, p. 79; Curry, Public Child-Caring in Certain Counties of Minnesota, pp. 3, 12, 16-17. 24. 37 Bureau of the Census, Children Under Institutional Care and in Foster Homes, 1933, pp. 8. 56-57. 38 Bureau of the Census, Children Under Institutional Care and in Foster Homes, 1933, p! 51 Lundberg, Child Dependency in the United States, pp, 56, 119. 3Q Tyson, Care of Dependent Children," p. 173.
Bureau of the Census, "Children Under Institutional Care and in Foster Homes, 1933, pp. 6^,89-90, 125.
Ibid., p. 60.
Ibid., pp. 61-62.
Ibid., pp. 60-62.
Ibid., pp. 61-62, 89, 125. CHAPTER VI
SEPARATING MOTHERS AND CHILDREN: COERCION,
RESISTANCE, COOPERATION
As the last chapter has shown, the Minnesota child welfare system was characterized by a number of limitations which call into question the meaning of that state's "Progressive advancements." Whereas the preceding chapter focused on Minnesota as a case study of a state system, this chapter will narrow the focus primarily to one urban area, Minneapolis, and one private agency, the
Minneapolis Children's Protective Society, and its single-mother clients. As Minnesota's public system grew, it reached into neglected rural areas and gave special attention to children of unmarried mothers. At the same time, the state left a great deal of responsibility in the hands of private agencies, especially in urban areas where most single mothers would live.
The Children's Protective Society was, in this context, a very important private urban agency. Minnesota laws had made clear that the search for free homes would continue, and the CPS played an important role in carrying out this search while also arranging boarding homes. The
345 346
agency is an excellent vehicle for a study of single
mothers faced with the prospect of relinquishing their
children to foster care and compelled to deal with an
important agent of social control. Although a private
organization, the CPS worked very closely with the
Juvenile Court, the State Board of Control, and the
Hennepin County Child Welfare Department. In some respects
functioning as an "arm of the state," the protective
society's reach was very wide, linking mothers to several other public and private agencies which could decide their fates. In their contacts with the agency, single mothers were therefore affected not only by the moral prerogatives of middle-class caseworkers, but also by the gamut of state and local welfare legislation. The broad scope of
CPS operations provides an opportunity to examine some aspects of the workings and impact of Minnesota's child-caring system through the activities of a single organization.
The first section of this chapter will begin by illustrating the importance of private child welfare agencies, especially the Children’s Protective Society, in large urban areas of Minnesota. Although the previous chapters have drawn upon the case records of the CPS, little has been said about the particular functions of that organization and the division of labor upon which it 347
had agreed with the Family Welfare Association. Therefore
section A will briefly describe the activities of CPS in
order to reveal the resources the agency made available to
single mothers or, conversely, the problems it may have
created for them.
Section A closes with a discussion of the claim of the
CPS agents that they dealt witn "motherless families."
Since this chapter is based upon a CPS case-sample of approximately 100 single-mother families, this claim obviously requires qualification. It is apparent that CPS applied the "motherless" label not only to children whose mothers had died or were out of their lives, but also to those who for other, more complicated reasons, were not currently living with their mothers. In order to gain insight into the meaning of the "motherless" label, section B provides a broader statistical survey of the situations of mothers whose children would have been so-labeled "motherless" if the criteria were simply that these children were in foster care. There are no complete
Minnesota or CPS statistics available that clearly indicate how often and under what circumstances single mothers became separated, temporarily or permanently, from their children. Therefore section B will shift attention to national data from the 1933 foster care census. The purpose is to indicate the locations of single mothers 348
whose children were living in foster care. To designate
the "whereabouts" of the parents of foster children, the
census used four categories: "at home," "elsewhere," and
in penal or non-penal institutions. The locations of
mothers will be analyzed in reference to the whereabouts
of fathers in order both to discern the possible number of
children of single mothers and to suggest some hypotheses
regarding the relationship between these women and their
so-called "motherless" children.
In section C, I return to the case records of the
Children's Protective Society to test these hypotheses and
to suggest additional insights and qualifications
regarding the "motherless" label. This section will "flesh
out" the actual experiences of women similar to those
tabulated by the abstract census statistics. Using roughly
100 records, this section will elucidate the meaning of
"motherless" by ascertaining whether relationships still
existed between mothers--who were either "at home",
"elsewhere," in jail or another institution— and their placed-out children. The census categories designating parents' locations appeared in the case records in proportions roughly similar to those of the 1933 census;
thus these women were a representive group whose experience was similar to women nationwide. Most of these
Minnesota records derive from the early to late 1930s, 349
whereas no national foster care census appeared after 1933
until the 1960s. There is little reason to believe,
however, that the statistics of foster care varied greatly
from 1933 to the latter part of the decade. The overall
economic condition of the country did not change radically
until the Second World War, and foster care statistics
provided by the CPS in a 1938 agency study resemble those
entered by this agency in the 1933 national report. Thus
even though the particular women included in the cases
used here may not have been picked up by any national
census tabulation, they nevertheless illustrate
representative stories hidden by the abstract numbers
listed in census tables.^
The most significant finding of Section C is that the
majority of the mothers of these so-called "motherless"
children were still very much in their children's lives
and struggling to restore homes with them. Depending on a
variety of factors, the homes into which their children were placed were either free or boarding homes. Section D will show that in a significant proportion of boarding home cases, the mothers were paying the fee, and this practice played a role in determining whether their children would eventually be returned to them. Section D builds on and expands the argument presented in chapter 5 which claims that boarding homes devised under public or 350
private auspices were not necessarily financed by those
sponsors. CPS agents aimed, in the Minnesota tradition, to
find free homes; when this was impossible, they sought boarding payment--from public and other private sources, relatives, and in particular the children's mothers--for homes which were designated in CPS and national census records as "CPS boarding homes." In other words, mothers went to or were referred to the CPS when they could not, within the confines of Minnesota's limited system, receive public assistance, and when they arrived, they were often forced to board their children at their own expense.
Boarding was sometimes punitive, and payment was required as proof of future good parenting. On the other hand, CPS clearly did not want mothers making free decisions to place their children out at a fee in order to improve their lives. As section D will show, there was clearly a
"politics of boarding home financing."
Although all women were subject to coercive pressures to support their children in other people's homes, the most common targets of this CPS strategy were unmarried mothers. As explained in the last chapter, Minnesota's illegitimacy law was one of the factors behind the growth of boarding care in that state throughout the 1920s and
1930s. Matching funds to counties for boarding care, legislated in 1925 but virtually unavailable before 1930, 351
continued to focus upon illegitimate children. Section E
isolates this special group and examines the pressures
which led mothers to place their children at board and pay
for their care in what were known as "CPS boarding homes"
or paid homes which were under the auspices of the
Hennepin County Child Welfare department. Following the
format used in section B, section E will first analyze
national statistics from the 1)33 census, in order to show
that the types of placements for children of unmarried mothers, as well as the whereabouts of these mothers, varied significantly from those of legitimate cases.
Several CPS cases will then be examined to help verify hypothetical conclusions derived from the census analysis, as well as to glean the qualitative meanings behind abstract statistics. The prevalency of coerced boarding payments by mothers will be shown to further erode the value of subsidized boarding funds in a progressive state.
Thus even in this most advanced of child-caring areas, mothers financed their children from meager wages, under coercive and oppressive conditions.
A. The Minneapolis Children's Protective Society: The Functions of Minneapolis' Major Child Placement Agency
In large cities, most single mothers who placed their children in foster homes were clients of private agencies.
The extent to which foster home care in urban areas 352
remained the responsibility of private organizations is apparent from the foilfollowing breakdown of foster home care 2 by particular agencies:'
TABLE 8 Minnesota foster home care, 1933
Institution and Number of children Percent location placed in foster of all homes placements 1. STATE Minnesota State Children's. 723 20.9% Bureau and Rural County Child Welfare Boards, St. Paul State Public School, Owatonna 764 22 .1% 2. COUNTY: Child Welfare Boards Hennepin County, Minneapolis 171 4.9% Ramsey County, St. Paul 225 6.5% St. Louis County, Duluth 123 3.6% 3. RELIGIOUS Minneapolis ; Catholic Central Bureau 212 6 .1% Lutheran Welfare Society 153 4.4% Lutheran Children's Friends 87 2.5% Society Jewish Family Welfare 19 .5% Association St. Paul: Bureau of Catholic Charities 153 4.4% Bureau of Christian Service 69 2 .0% Jewish Welfare Association 5 Duluth: Bureau of Catholic Charities 35 1 .0% St. Cloud: St. Cloud Orphan Home 74 2 .1% Wabasha: St. Joseph's Orphanage 4 4.OTHER PRIVATE Minneapolis: Children s Protective Society 221 6.4% Washburn Orphan Home 60 1.7% Big Brothers, Inc. 30 .9% Marshall Stacy Nursery 8 St. Paul: United Charities 175 5.1% Children's Home Society 144 4.2% TOTAL 11)0 .0% 353
This chart indicates that of Minnesota's 3455 foster
home children, 38.7% were sponsored by religious and other
private agencies serving primarily the Twin Cities area
of St. Paul and Minneapolis. The Hennepin and Ramsey
County Child Welfare Boards, which included the Twin
Cities, sponsored only 11.4% of the foster homes. These
county agencies reached into some rural areas, but for the
most part children living in less populous areas relied
upon the State Children's Bureau working through the rural
county child welfare boards. In Minneapolis, Minnesota's
largest city, sectarian and non-sectarian agencies placed
22.9% of the state's foster home children, whereas
the Hennepin County Child Welfare Department placed only
4.9%, not all of whom would have been Minneapolis residents. Over four-fifths of the children in foster homes in the Hennepin County area were placed by private agencies. Therefore it is apparent that foster home care remained primarily a private function in the case of children who were not sent to the state school or did not live in rural areas. A single mother living in Minneapolis would be much more likely, unless her child were illegitimate, to have foster home care arranged by a private agency than by a public one.
The Minneapolis agency which placed the largest number of children in foster homes was the Children's Protective
Society, which was also responsible for more children than 354
was any other single agency in Minnesota. In 1933, a year
in which the State School housed or placed a total of 1237
children, CPS supervised 1753, either in their own homes
or in foster homes. Other private agencies, such as the
Catholic Central Bureau and the St. Paul Bureau of
Catholic Charities, also supervised substantial numbers
children outside of foster homes, but no agency
approximated the scope of CPS activities.
Although the CPS provided a relatively large number of
foster homes, foster care was not actually its central
activity. The agency belonged to a group of specialized
organizations known in many areas as "Societies for the
Prevention of Cruelty to Children." These societies
originated during the late 19th century when reformers recognized that state laws designed to protect children
from parental cruelty or neglect were left unenforced because people were reluctant to interfere with private
families. To remedy this situation, reformers created the
New York SPCC in 1875, and legislation gave its agents police powers and authority to arrest parents and remove children from bad homes. Other cities soon followed suit; by 1900, 161 such organizations modelled themselves on the
New York society, with their agents wearing police badges and bringing cases to court. All of these early agencies adopted a narrow, legalistic focus which emphasized 355
rescuing children and punishing offending parents through
the use of police methods. The leaders of the SPCCs did
not consider it their job to work with troubled families
or find new homes for children. Rather than seek solutions
within the family or cooperate with child-placing agencies
in finding foster homes, the protective organizations
simply "rescued the children and sent them promptly to an
institution."*
The "rescue" and "punish" focus gave the organizations
formidable powers, which made people afraid of them. It was portentous for the future that the early New York organization acquired powers that it in fact did not
legally possess. Although the managers of New York's institutions were by law the only people who had the right
to discharge children, they routinely deferred to the
NYSPCC which in many cases had sent the children to the institutions. Much of the power of these societies in later years derived from an overestimation of their actual powers on the part of their clients.^
By the early 1900s, some critics, finding the dominant approach overly rigid as well as inhumane, began to alter the SPCC methods. The Massachusetts SPCC, its leaders professing that they had "no ambition to make an extended prison record of parents," was the first to discard the police badges and begin to focus on restoring the 356
original home. In keeping with the family preservation
focus of the Progressive era, the Massachusetts SPCC
adopted the casework approach and aimed to use the courts
as a place of last resort. At first only a few states'
SPCCs followed this example, but by 1917, the casework
approach and the goal of family preservation had become
dominant in all social work fields. Therefore the
Minneapolis Children's Protective Society, which was
founded in that year, adopted practices and a philosophy more akin to that of the Massachusetts than to the older
New York organization. The CPS was the result of a merger of two earlier agencies, the Minneapolis Humane Society and the Juvenile Protection League. These two parent agencies had earlier played important roles in the creation of Juvenile Courts, salaried probation officers, and the "Police Street Mothers," an important female patrol unit watching over urban children. They had also established services for unmarried mothers and other women seeking child support payments from ex-husbands. The merger of these earlier organizations brought their various functions under the same roof in a larger and more sophisticated operation.^
As the largest children's agency in Minnesota, the
Children's Protective Society engaged in a wide variety of activities which brought it into contact with many other 357
public and private social agencies. The society received
hundreds of cases for investigation each year on referral
from several sources. In 1937, 67% of these referrals came
from public agencies, the largest proportion from the
local relief department, the Board of Education, the
Minneapolis Health Department, and the courts. This meant
that the agencies involved, such as "Visiting Teachers" or social service units of hospitals, had detected problems among children that they thought resulted from neglect or poor home conditions and could be best solved by the CPS.
Encountering requests for boarding among their clients, agents of the Division of Public Relief routinely referred the cases to CPS. The courts and the police department usually asked for assistance in cases where they had determined children to be delinquents. Finding children in the streets, parks, and inappropriate public places, the Police Street Mothers generally alerted CPS and asked the agency to investigate the homes from which these children came.^
Most referrals came from these sources. The next most common source included a variety of individuals— landlords, neighbors, relatives, employers, and the parents themselves— who referred over 25% of the cases in 1937. This could sometimes mean an ex-spouse complaining about a mother's child care arrangements, but 358
in a small number of instances, parents asked for help in
finding foster homes. Neighbors and landlords usually
brought the agency's attention to indications of violence
in the home, children left unattended or abused,
drunkenness, and— most significantly in the case of single
mothers— indications that a man lived in or frequented the
home. Private agencies referred only about 10% of the
cases, and most of these came from the Family Welfare
Association which generally referred its clients to CPS Q should the need for foster care arose.
The Children's Protective Society was therefore the agency that dealt with those problems in the home which adversely and primarily affected children. Generally, when the evidence suggested that parents were neglecting the children, the CPS became the major agency with which the family had to deal regardless of other agencies also concerned with the case.Although a private agency, the
CPS worked so closely with the courts that it appeared to have a quasi-public character; Judge Edward Waite of the
Hennepin County Juvenile Court admitted that he thought of the agency as a part of the court system. The CPS in fact undertook not only the court work pertaining to its own clients, but also prepared cases for all other agencies concerned with children except the Family Welfare
Association. It also examined home conditions in cases 359
where the major Catholic, Lutheran, and Jewish agencies in
Minneapolis were attempting to acquire guardianship of
children in questionable homes or in new foster homes. If
children were of other faiths, the CPS arranged their
commitment to the permanent guardianship of the State
Board of Control, and in some instances the agency itself
became the child's guardian.^
The census statistics and agency records reveal that
the majority of children with whom the MCPS dealt in a year's time did not enter foster care, but remained in
their original family homes subject to investigation and
subsequent supervision by the agency. The census of 1923 was the first to record partial statistics for CPS operations, and the available information reveals that the organization was more a casework than a police agency.
Over a three-month period during that year, the CPS dealt with 416 children whose problems had been brought to the attention of the agency. Of these, 282 cases were dismissed as the agency found no grounds for a neglect charge. In 78 cases, the children adjusted without removal from the family, and 36 others were placed in free or boarding homes. This supervision might last for weeks or years. The home conditions of many of the children were deemed severe enough to warrant court hearings which generally resulted in further CPS control through mandated 360
"temporary custody" of the child. This did not mean,
however, that the child was automatically removed from the
original home, but rather that the CPS could continue
supervision and seek improvements within the home, or the
agency could make decisions to place the child elsewhere.
Under court order, CPS visits to the home were frequent, and parents were legally required to admit the agents and respect their decisions.^®
Thus foster home care was but one method among several used by the agency; this was not its primary function as was the case with the Children's Home Societies,
Children's Aid Societies, and some other public and private organizations. Most of the children whose cases were examined by CPS agents never left their original homes. Nevertheless, it placed more children in foster homes than did any other private agency in Minnesota, and people tended to perceive it as a boarding agency— and often an unwelcome one. Despite the emphasis on casework, the CPS continued to break up families and assumed formidable powers over the lives of poor women, who were more likely to be perceived as neglecting their children.
Although it did not always place children away from their homes, it derived some of its coercive power from the fact that the threat always hung over families to whom CPS had been alerted. 361
The CPS claimed that there was "an understanding
between the Children's Protective Society and the Family
Welfare Association" that "the latter works with the
fatherless family and the Children's Protective Society
with the motherless family." This is a statement that
stands in need of serious qualification, considering that
the agency's records are an important source for
single-mother families. It is true that a large portion of
the FWA clientele consisted of divorced, deserted, and
widowed mothers, and CPS often dealt with fathers whose
wives had died, were being temporarily hospitalized, or
were permanently incarcerated in an institution. Yet
"motherless" children in the CPS files were often those
who had been either forcibly or due to the mother's
unfortunate circumstances placed away from their mothers.
These women were still very much a part of their
children's lives and were attempting to remake a home with
them. In other cases, "motherless" appears to have
referred to home situations in which the mother and
children were in fact together, but the CPS thought the
children would be better off in the care of someone other
than their mothers and the agency was at work to achieve a
separation. The term "motherless family" had a very broad meaning and one that was often laden with value judgments.
Although the agency did not provide statistics on the 362
family composition of the thousands of families from which
their client children came, examination of case files makes it apparent that single mother situations were very 11 common in the MCPS caseload.
As Section C will show, many of these so-called
"motherless" children had living mothers who were simply not in any position to provide a home for them. Among them were live-in domestic servants or waitresses and women who lived with relatives or friends who could not accommodate additional children in their homes. In order to illustrate how widespread this phenomenon was, it is necessary to explore statistics which reveal both the approximate number and whereabouts of single mothers whose children were living in foster care during the 1930s. National data from the 1933 census will form the background for analysis of the CPS sample. The following section will help to reveal the representativeness of that sample, and to help formulate ideas regarding the possible life-situations behind the raw national statistics.
B. The "Horae Situations" of Single Mothers of Children in the National Foster Care Caseload, 1933
The 1933 census was the first report to indicate the status of foster care children in regard both to their legitimacy and the whereabouts of their parents. The 363
categories used do not reveal marital status of parents
except in the case of widows, widowers, unwed mothers, and
those who were separated from the family by virtue of
incarceration in jails or other institutions. The very
important category of divorced or separated single mothers
cannot be determined precisely from the statistics
provided by the report. Nevertheless the approximate
number of placed-out children of single mothers, and, more
importantly, the locations of their mothers, c.in be
inferred from the report.
In order to present a picture of the living situations
of these women, it is necessary first to delineate the pool of foster care children who may have been children of single mothers. It can be argued that, strictly speaking, none of these children had single mothers, as "foster care children" by definition refers to children who have become
the responsibility of people other than their own parents.
The hypothesis on which the present analysis is based, however, posits that many mothers were still emotionally and financially connected to the children they had placed in other homes; therefore, the term "single mothers" refers to those who were the only available parents and about whom it may be hypothesized that their separation from their children was not necessarily permanent. 364
In 1933, there were 242,929 children in foster homes
and institutions; certain large groups of them may be
eliminated from the pool of children who may have had
single mothers. The mothers of 119,860 children were
either dead or "unknown," the latter meaning that the
reporting agencies had no information about the women and
did not know if they were even alive. It is reasonable to
assume that if the agencies had lost track of these
mothers, they were not involved with their children and do not fit the criteria for single mothers herein used. Of
the 123,069 remaining children, an additional 25,953 may also be eliminated. The fathers of these children were still present in the homes (in most cases, still married to the children's mothers) to which the children might return; these were either two-parent families or single 12 father situations.
Thus there were 97,116 children who may have been children of single mothers because their mothers were living and their fathers were not in the home. The 1 1 breakdown of this group is as follows; 365
TABLE 9 Percentage distribution of children in foster care with mothers living and no fathers in the home, by whereabouts of mothers and fathers, 1933, United States
Percent distribution by father's location
Mother's Number of Per Unwed, Institution > location children cent Unknown Jail Elsewhere Horae 4Ü847 i5b% .. 56% 4.6% 4.5% Elsewhere 35483 100 63.8 4.4 31.8 Institution1 13129 100 69.5 8.9 21.6 Jail 1658 100 72.3 15.7 12.0 Total 9/117 iôô ?5.3 5.3 19.3
In interpreting this data, a conservative analyst might estimate the number of children of single mothers at
46,847, or 19% of the total number of children in foster care. Mothers who maintained their own homes were the only ones in the above group who were in a position to remake homes with their children. The statistics also indicate that the mothers in this "at home" category were usually the only parent available to the children, 86% of whose fathers were either dead, unknown, or had never acknowledged their illegitimate offspring. For the great majority of these children it is clear that the fathers were completely out of the picture and only the mother could provide a home.
If the criteria for single mothers hoping to be rejoined with their children is narrowed to include only those children whose mothers had homes and whose fathers 366
were unavailable, this low estimate would be appropriate.
The question is, should the other mothers, those in jails, institutions, or "elsewhere," be written off? Does the fact that they were not in a position to care for their children at the time the census was taken mean that they do not fit the "single mother" category? Although mothers' hopes and intentions cannot be determined by any of the census data, information concerning the father's status relative to the mother's in these categories can help suggest possible relationships between mothers and children. Table 9 indicates that, as was the case with children whose mothers had homes, the majority of children whose mothers were institutionalized, imprisoned, or "elsewhere" had no known or living fathers. The census did not indicate whether these incarcerations were long or short-term, but it may be surmised that many of the women in these categories hoped to restore homes with children for whom they were the only available parent. The following table details the actual number of children according to the relative status of both parents and will help to further hypothesize the relationship between mothers and their children. 367
TABLE 10 Children in foster care with mothers living and no fathers in the home, by whereabouts of mothers and fathers, 1933, United States
Total Whereabouts of mother father's number of location children Jail Institution Elsewhere Home Dead, Unknown, or Unwed 73169 1198 9121 22636 40214 Jail or Institution 5157 260 1162 1570 2165 Elsewhere 10791 2ÔÔ 2Ô46 11277 4468 Alii? 1 90 /.Afi/. 7
Assuming that a substantial number of children whose
fathers were dead, unknown, oc detached from an unacknowledged offspring qualify as children of single mothers, the above chart suggests a more liberal number— 73,169--as a meaningful estimate of the number of children in this category. To them may be added the 6633 children whose mothers maintained homes while fathers lived "elsewhere" or were in jail or institutions. It may be hypothesized that in these latter cases, the husband's institutionalization or departure from the home was the catalyst behind the establishment of foster care and that the mothers intended to bring the children home.
There is, however, another substantial group--the
12,847 children whose mothers were elsewhere and fathers either in jails,institutions, or elsewhere--which may be 368
added to reach a higher maximum estimate. The particular
nature of the "elsewhere" category renders it a crucial
position in this analysis. Miscellaneous locations of
those designated as "elsewhere" were known to the
designers of the census but did not fit any standard
classifications. Examples of such locations would be homes
of relatives, domicile of a remarried, non-custodial
parent, single-rooms unsuitable for children, and, in
the case of women in particular, live-in housework and
other service jobs. Tne most probable explanation for the
large number of children with mothers living "elsewhere"
is that the mothers had to break up their homes after a divorce or husband's incarceration or commitment. In many cases, they may have been supporting their children while engaging in live-in housework or living in other types of arrangements that made it impossible to have the children with them. In her analysis of the 1933 census returns,
Agnes Hannah suggested that many of the mothers included in the "elsewhere" category were single mothers endeavoring to re-establish their homes. On the other hand, it is less likely that fathers in "elsewhere" situations were in these predicaments; most were probably divorced fathers who had remarried and had lost custody and had no intention of trying to provide homes for the children. 369
Taken together, these various categories of children
with single mothers amount to 92,649, or 38% of the total
number of children in foster care in 1933. In summary, the
foregoing analysis suggests the following conclusions
regarding the the most liberal estimate of the number of children with single mothers and their mothers' locations:
TABLE 11 Foster care children of single mothers by whereabouts of mothers, 1933, United States
Whereabouts of Percent of Number of mother children children Home 50.5% 40847 Elsewhere 38.3 35483 Institution 9.9 9121 Jail______r j ______1198 Total ÏÏÏÜ 5 5 S I 9
The above chart represents a liberal estimate only. It is impossible to discern exactly either the number of children whose mothers were aiming to restore homes with their children, or the relative proportions of children according to the locations of their mothers. The most that may be said is that roughly one-third of the children in foster care in 1933 were children of single mothers. Most of the children's mothers probably had homes, a large but smaller number most likely lived in "elsewhere" situations, and a smaller yet sizable proportion were inmates of jails ur institutions at the time of the 370
census.
It is also fair to hypothesize that many of the mothers
with homes would again live with their children. Many of
the tens of thousands of mothers who were the sole parent
yet "living elsewhere" were probably supporting their
children from a distance, just as were similarly-situated
mothers whose husbands were still alive. The mothers in
jail who were the only parents available could have been
serving a brief stint at the time the census was taken and
would soon remake homes with their children. On the other
hand, these women may have been serving terms so long that
they would be unlikely ever to re-establish a home.
Likewise, the "institutionalization" of 9121 mothers who
were the sole parents could refer to anything from a
brief stay in a hospital to permanent residency in a
specialized institution.. Yet in both of the latter
categories, at least some women would probably resume care
of their children.
These women constituted a group whose reasons for needing or being forced to place their children away
included a wide variety of factors. The census statistics were gleaned from schedules tabulating the disposition of children and their parents at a single point in time in
February of 1933. Officials from various foster home agencies and institutions simply recorded the locations of 371
children and parents on the date of the survey and gave no
indication as to whether the foster home situations were of temporary or permanent duration. Just as the C?S label of children as "motherless" (if their mothers were in jail, hospitals, or "elsewhere") distorts the reality of
these women's active involvement with their children, so do the census tables make ghosts of mothers who most likely remained emotionally and financially tied to their children. The next section will deal with a representative sample of cases of mothers whose children were in foster care and will test the hypotheses presented here.
C. Behind the Raw Statistics: Why Children Were Away From Homes and Mothers
This section analyzes the composition of CPS foster care cases according to the the location of the children's mothers and, where necessary, the type of care into which the children were placed. Using the location categories from the 1933 census, cases concerning known single mother situations will be analyzed to determine whether relationships endured between parent and child despite the need for foster care. The majority of records derive from a 100-case sample of CPS records, while a dozen cases from the Family Welfare Association have been cited to enrich the analysis. Not all of the cases included an actual 372
foster hocie situation, but even those that d'.d not generally revealed some pertinent information.
Of 100 MCPS cases involving single mothers, 55 cases included 118 children who were placed, usually temporarily, in foster care. The breakdown of this group, as compared to the census group, is as follows
TABLE 12 Foster care children of single mothers by whereabouts of mother: Children's Protective Society case sample and 1933 Census, United States
Whereabouts of Percent of children, mother______CPS sample_____ 1933 Census Horae 45.1 50.5 Elsewhere 32.2 33.3 Institution 18.5 9.9 Jail 4.2 1.3 ------IÜÏÏ7Ü------HïïTïï
Assuming that the percentages from the 1933 census reflect real single mother situations and therefore bear some resemblance to reality, it m>iy be said that the proportions of the two groups are very roughly consistent.
It must be remembered that the 1933 census figures are hypothetical maximum approximations, whereas the CPS figures are b^sed on a sample wherein the concrete relations between mothers, fathers, and children are clear and single-mother situations apparent. The most noticeable variation occurs in the institutional category. This may be partially explained by the fact that many of the 373
institutionalized women in the CPS sample were briefly
hospitalized while maintaining homes and temporarily
placing their children in CPS foster homes; such a
situation may have been recorded as "at home" by a typical
foster care agent reporting census information in 1933.
The proportions of children of CPS mothers at home and in
institutions are thus likely to be closer to the 1933
figures than Table 12 indicates. The relative proportions of mothers' locations in each group are, however, similar enough to warrant the claim that the CPS sample of single mothers of children placed in foster care Is a representative sample.
Given that the CPS sample is generally representative, the next question concerns whether or not the separations of children from mothers were permanent. Were these children actually "motherless," as suggested by the protective society's standard classification of its clientele? The following analysis will examine the CPS sample according to each "whereabouts" category to discern how often and in what ways mothers retained connections to their children despite the need for foster care.
As stated above, 45.1% of the foster children in the
CPS sample had mothers at home throughout the foster care period. Roughly one-third of this group of children had not returned to their mothers' homes by the time CPS 374
clossd the cases; although some of these children appear
to have entered permanent foster care situations, the case
material suggests that many others most likely returned
home after CPS involvement ended. The remaining two-thirds
of this group, however, had returned to their mothers'
homes by the time CPS closed the case. This finding bears
out the hypothesis, suggested in section B, that most
foster children whose mothers were home returned to their
homes.
Why did some children whose mothers had homes return while others did not? The case records suggest a
relationship between the reason for placement and the
final disposition of the case; thus some children returned home when the reasons for their placement called for
temporary foster care. Several such cases involved incest
issues. In one family, children abused by the father were placed out until the mother secured a divorce and resettled. Another case involved a father who had abused the daughter for whom he had secured custody following a divorce; the child had to stay in a boarding home prior to custodial changes and her subsequent move to the mother's home. In cases where a father's abuse (or that of another adult) was suspected rather than proven, pressure from caseworkers (and mothers) led to temporary placements.
Suspicions that fathers would molest their children 375
sometimes led mothersto refuse to allow social workers to
call upondivorced husbands in times of trouble. A mother
whose daughter had been arrested accepted the CPS verdict
that the child must live in other surroundings for a
while, but she argued that she would "rather see ______
in an institution than with her father....he would not
think any more of using his daughter sexually than he
would any other girl." Thus some temporary foster care
situations in which children were removed from their mothers' homes resulted from the dangers posed by sexually abusive fathers and the mothers' need to rearrange their 1 7 lives and begin anew with their children.
CPS agents generally did not blame mothers for abusive behavior of spouses. This was less true of the many temporary placements away from the mothers' home that were brought on by childrens' "delinquent" behavior, which was the most common reason for foster care situations in the entire CPS sample. By the 1930s, foster homes were increasingly being used to rehabilitate children with behavioral problems; thus the children were placed in free, working or boarding homes as well as in the more traditional local reformatory institutions. Such placements were generally for a few months; when the authorities (the juvenile court and CPS) agreed that the 376
child had matured or made an adjustment, he or she would 18 be returned to the original home.
Such easy returns, however, were not guaranteed. The
very rationale for using foster homes in juvenile court
cases was the standard belief that the original home
situation had failed to keep the child out of trouble.
From this viewpoint, both the child and the home needed
reform. The CPS agent's opinion of the mother, as well as
the mother's actions before, during, and after placement
played an important role in determining whether the child would return to the mother's home and remain there. In most such situations, CPS agents believed that the mother was partly to blame for the onset of "delinquency.** In
fact, when Judge Waite of the juvenile court decided whether to parole or place a child, CPS knowledge about the mother was a crucial factor in the judge's decision.
Therefore mothers in these situations had to struggle, not simply wait, for their children's return.
The courts and CPS were especially demanding if the mother was receiving Aid to Dependent Children funds, as they expected more of women who were being paid specifically to care for their children. When a young boy was caught stealing, CPS and the ADC office drew a relationship between this violation and rumors that the boy's ADC mother was "friendly" with a man. Mothers in 377
this type of situation had to express strong desires to
have their children back and to defend themselves
vigorously against accusations of bad mothering while
living exemplary lives under CPS watch. Some women
protested and tried to stop the court's action; one mother
angrily told CPS that she was "resentful of the attitude
of ADC...they had threatened that unless she changed her
ways, they would have CPS take the children away." After
the boy was removed, however, the mother's cooperation led
the investigating CPS agent to conclude that her son was a
"problem child" rather than a product of an immoral home
environment. Another mother implored Judge Waite to grant
her son a second chance, but after he was placed in a home
she visited him often, an important factor as CPS always
kept tabs on how often mothers visited the foster homes
and their behavior towards their children while there.
This woman repeatedly demonstrated her eagerness to have him return, and most importantly argued that her home was a good one in which the other children showed no behavioral problems. In these cases, it was only because
the mothers struggled to prove their competence and moral worth that the children returned. "Delinquent" children who had left the home would return only after their mothers had convinced tie authorities of their capacity--and right— to mother. 378
Although most women went about this task with a
considerable amount of irritation, others acquiesced to
the court's and agency's suggestion that children be
placed in other settings which might help resolve
disciplinary problems. These women knew that they had not
been able to improve their children's behavior. One mother
whose teenage daughter ran away with men agreed to her
placement in a local institution; at another extreme, one
mother even seemed to collude with law enforcement
authorities by locking her truant children out of the home
until they were picked up by the Police Street Mothers for
violating curfew ordinances. Yet even in these cases, the
mothers had no intention of giving their children up, as
they agreed only to short-term placements, and their
cooperation with CPS was instrumental in expediting their 20 children's return.
In the cases of delinquency, the attention of law
enforcement officials to the errant children was generally
the reason CPS officials learned about the mothers'
character and behavior. In a smaller number of cases where
children were removed from mothers' homes but later returned, the agents were suspicious of the mothers before
they knew anything about the children. In these cases, agency pressure or force was the reason that children were removed, generally because the mother seemed 379
irresponsible, or had been caught neglecting the children
in major ways. Usually bad reports led the Police Street
Mothers or CPS agents to watch the home, and it was only a matter of time before some incident— a drunken brawl, physically violent argument, or children found left on the streets— would call for immediate foster care placements.
CPS did not, however, always require very dramatic incidents; mere suspicions that the mother kept "male company" or did not sufficiently supervise (by CPS standards) the children led to "midnight raids" or routine patrolling by P3M that would at some point provide the rationale for child removal. On one such midnight visit to a home they had been watching, the PSM found two young children up very late while their two teenage babysitters made fudge; the children were taken to a boarding home the next day. Other incidents were more serious; PSM took a girl from her home when young neighborhood boys were found with her engaging in "sex play" while her mother cooked at a friend's home, and another child was taken into CPS custody when she and her intoxicated mother were picked up 21 on the street.
Some of these cases do appear to have called for placement; there is no doubt that alcoholism, violence, and leaving children alone did open the children to dangerous situations. Yet the children in these cases 380
returned to their mothers' homes, generally within a few weeks or months. The methods of securing their return varied; some women had a major battle before them, especially if CPS and PSM had ruled against restoration.
Judge Waite told the mother, distraught at the removal of her children following the "fudge" incident, that she must
"prove her ability to take care of the children." Her own determination, in combination with the financial aid and moral support of a "union man" ( a member of the Workers'
Alliance) who helped clear her character, enabled this mother to regain control of her children. A mother who had actually been trying for some time to prove her fitness became "very angry and began to cry" when CPS removed her children, but she admitted that permanent removal was "a very reasonable conclusion" considering the bad neighborhood and constant presence of her man friend.
Agreeing to move and make him leave, the woman gradually convinced the agent that she was "most eager to have the children with her and provide closer supervision." Within a month, the children returned. In these and other similar cases, the mothers had little choice but to cooperate or call upon third parties who would convince the agents when 22 the mothers themselves could not or would not.
Some women with homes whose children later returned from foster homes had actually arranged the placements on 381
their own. Like delinquency, a common reason for foster care among all cases in the CPS sample was the mothers' use of "independent boarding home" selected and sometimes subsidized by the mothers. Such homes were actually illegal and their discovery was often what led CPS to approach the mothers. By Minnesota law, all non-parental homes were to be licensed through the state or an authoritative agency such as CPS. While the CPS never made it a policy to promote prosecution of such cases, they did make clients of these women in order to determine whether the child should be sent home or to approve or disapprove 23 of the foster home.
Most of the placements made independently by the mothers with homes were either work-related or necessitated by the financial complications of a divorce or separation. Single mothers sometimes placed their children in order to become established in jobs that would eventually enable them to bring the children home. If the work plans foundered, however, CPS would by one route or another learn of the placement. The ultimate need for relief when the job search failed or wages proved inadequate was a common avenue along which CPS became alerted to the situation, as the Division of Public Relief routinely informed CPS or the juvenile court of relief requests based on independent boarding homes. One mother 382
left her county of residence to establish a new home in
Minneapolis, leaving two of her children behind in a
foster home. Her hope was that the city would provide greater work opportunities and expedite the return of the children to her city apartment. When viable work failed to materialize and the woman requested relief, the juvenile court alerted CPS and instructed the woman to return to her place of residence, apply for relief there, and reunite with her children. Another mother who had boarded her child in order to do waitress work sought assistance from the relief department and CPS advised that she must bring her child home in order to qualify. Although these women did want to live with their children, it was clearly a failing strategy, relief practices, and agency pressure, rather than resolution of the crisis, which restored the children to these homes.
Although most independent placements ware work- related, they also commonly stemmed from mothers' problems of adjustment when they first assumed complete responsibility for their children. Following a divorce or separation, some mothers found they had little choice but to seek foster care as they suddenly began a new life situation as the sole supporters of their children. In many situations, the need for foster care was short term. A suddenly deserted mother placed all her children 383
out, but was soon able to find a way to care for at least
one. After she ordered her husband out of the house, a
mother of four had to find homes for all the children, but
they returned when she found work and relief by which to
support them. In other relatively large families, mothers
found ways to support, and thus to bring home, some, but
not all, of the children they had placed. In situations of
this type, mothers used foster home arrangements to help
them to get past a crisis and over a hurdle at a key 25 juncture in their lives.
In many cases, however, these independent foster
placements, begun during an emergency, lasted for years
before the children returned to the mothers' homes. One mother, after placing her husband in a detoxification
unit, began divorce proceedings and placed her two children in working and boarding homes. When CPS discovered the placements, the agent observed that the mother would "never give boys up permanently but might agree to temporary arrangements" until her debts were paid and she could assume full financial responsibility. Such financial considerations, however, often led to long-term placements. In this case, the son who was boarded returned to the mothers' home after about 10 months, but another son was away for several years in a working home where he paid his own way. He returned home only when the wage home 384
could no longer provide any work for him, and although the
mother wanted him, the working-home arrangement had been
functional for years; his return created financial burdens
for his real family.
Tne above case shows that children who had left their
own homes and stayed away for years sometimes returned
under what were not the best of circumstances. Sometimes
mothers solicited these reunions, even though they knew
they were not ideally equipped to provide for their
children. One mother placed a son out when the husband
she was divorcing was physically abusive toward the
family, and this son remained in a home for a decade. Over
the years, the mother saw him regularly while working to
support him and another child who lived home. When the boy
developed health problems, this mother responded to a caseworker's criticisms of herlifestyle with her claim
that she "could not get him out of her thoughts" and asked
that the agency stop criticizing her and help her get her son back. This woman's self-defense and resolve eventually accomplished her son's return to her home. Yet it is important to emphasize that when these long-term foster care situations--involving children whose mothers had homes--came to a close, it was not really because it had become any easier for mothers to care for them at home.
Rather, it was because a long-term working or foster care 335
home no longer met the needs of the child. In these
situations and others like them, it is probably fair to
surmise that the mothers would have preferred that the 27 foster home of long duration had endured longer.
Whether short or long-term, the independent boarding
home was a device set up by women as they endeavored to
see their way through a difficult transition. Most had
originally hoped the need for foster care would not last
long. Perhaps the women's own reluctance to seek agency
help until it was forced upon them is one reason for the
longevity of someof these situations, but their
legitimate fears validated their secrecy. If they did not
seek the assistance of foster home agencies, it was both because of the traumatic nature of the situations and of understandable fears that they might lose custody of or contact with their children. Stories about CPS and other agencies who "came and visit people, pretended to be friends, and appeared very nice and then suddenly took their kids away" were well-circulated among the poor.
When CPS informed mothers that they must send their children to foster homes, it was common for women to pressure CPS to place the children with relatives rather than strangers through whom they would be more likely to lose control of their children. Whenever woman fell afoul of the law, even in very minor ways, they came to CPS 386
frantic and crying, expressing great fear that the children would bs taken away. Sometimes mothers resisted agency attempts to send children for medical exams because they believed that CPS was looking for— and thus would find— some excuse to remove the children. Women feared CPS motives and plans even against agency reassurances that many of their activities were routine formalities unrelated to foster care arrangements. It was not uncommon for women to raise a commotion before Judge Waite, interrupting him every minute with pleas to the ring of
"My God, please don't take my children." Thus women tried to set up foster homes without agency assistance or knowledge for these reasons, and whether the foster care situation worked out often depended on whether the mothers could sustain the foster situation without public or private assistance.^®
In the above cases of children with homes who returned to them, then, certain dynamics are clear: the foster home situation was designed to be temporary, women struggled to improve finances or home environment, social agencies demanded restoration of the home as a condition of relief, or the foster home situation turned out to be worse for the child than the mother's own hard-pressed home situation. A substantial minority— roughly one-third— of the placed out children whose mothers had homes had not 387
returned to the homes when CPS closed the case. Although
doubtless many of these children returned later when CPS
was no longer involved, other children appeared to be
indefinitely removed and it is worthwhile to examine the
reasons. The mothers of a few of these children appear to
have virtually abandoned them, but abandonment or neglect
was a rare factor behind the failure to return. The
children had generally been placed for the same reasons
that those who did return home were placed— hard times
following a divorce, the mothers' search for work,
juvenile delinquency, sexual abuse, and agency pressures
relating to the moral issues. One difference between the
two categories was that the children who did not return
home were sometimes older. In a few cases, mothers (or
the agency) had, for financial or disciplinary reasons,
placed their children in working homes while they were
teenagers and they reached early adulthood away from their
original homes. Hard times following a separation had
forced one mother to send her son to a farm, but he
adjusted and remained there while maintaining contact with
his mother. Another mother also placed her three children
on a farm where the two oldest grew up; only one child
returned, and CPS moral suspicions regarding the mother-
a common theme among all categories of children who never returned to their mothers— meant that they would not help 388
her achieve the economic means of bringing the other two
back as well. The threat of sexual abuse of a daughter by
a stepfather led one mother to place her daughter in a
wage home where she remained and reached maturity even
after her mother divorced the stepfather and sent him to 29 prison.
Thus foster home situations in which children seemed
to thrive often endured. The older the children, the less
likely they were to return should the work home prove
functional for them. As the previous section has shown, it
was often only when wage or boarding homes broke down that
children went home. Yet the reason behind these long-
lasting foster home situations in which the mothers had a
home was poverty, not the forswearing of a mother role.
Although these women had homes, they were generally small
domiciles or apartments, often in poorer sections of the
city. Most had given up trying to collect child support
payments years ago, and they simply could not earn enough
to rent lodgings large enough for all their children,
least of all support them. The wage home thus often became
a supplement to the family economy, but in all cases the
mothers sustained meaningful connections with their
children.
Other women with homes whose children did not return had, for a variety of reasons, placed their children in 389
independent homes or sought agency assistance in finding
homes. The reasons, as in the case of children who did
return to their mothers' homes, were generally work-related. Their was, however, one notable difference between the two groups of women: mothers with homes whose children did not return had tried for many years to work and arrange child care and had ceased to invest in the unreliable, ad hoc arrangements that had made their work and home lives unstable. One mother who had spent years working at different jobs and supporting her child finally concluded that "as long as she worked outside the home, she could not have ______with her." Another woman who mistakenly thought there were some "free boarding homes" in Minneapolis argued that she needed to place her child because she "found it difficult to look for work and take care for him at the same time, and also found it hard to earn enough to pay both their expenses." Some women found job opportunities that greatly improved on previous economic circumstances, such as a mother who placed her teen-age daughter in a foster home in order to work in a defense plant in the 1940s. But this woman, like most of the others in this category, had earlier resisted agency pressure to place her child and only took such action when there seemed no other or no better way. Most of these women had also been denied relief assistance that might 390
30 have allowed them to support their children at home.
One reason that these placements lasted, then, was
that the mothers intended them to. When they placed their
children, they were looking for long-term, although
perhaps not permanent, placements rather than stopgap
measures designed to simply help them get over a financial
or emotional hurdle. The mothers remained strongly
connected to these children, paying at least part of their
support and making plans for a future restoration of the
home. Undoubtedly many of these children probably returned
to their homes after CPS discontinued the case.
If the above women decided to place their children
after a long economic struggle, more women with homes
whose children did not return agreed to establish and
maintain foster care arrangements only in response to
agency pressure. Either the involved agencies, for reasons
relating to the mothers' morals or competence, had
demanded the placement, or they indirectly maintained the
situation by consistently refusing to provide needed
financial supports or recommendations that would help mothers bring the children home. Agency pressures of these
types were the most common reasons that foster children whose mothers had homes did not return. Women with questionable pasts and current habits that did not square with CPS moral requirements encountered great difficulty 391
in bringing home children whom they had had little choice
but to place during hard times.
The mothers of children in this category manifested a
variety of problems. One was charged with "moral neglect"
largely based on unproven charges thit she was a
bootlegger (a sometimes-occupation auong a minority of
single mothers in the 1930s). While insisting that she did
not neglect any of her children, this woman acquiesced to
allowing her disconsolate youngest child to stay where he
was until he was "willing to come home." The decision,
however, was not really her or his; suspicions lingered,
and the child had not returned by the time CPS closed the case. Upon leaving her husband, a mother of several
children had placed her illegitimate child only to find
her conduct "watched" by CPS, a common tactic in cases
involving former unwed mothers. Although CPS admitted the mother had "improved," unwed-mother status was hard to shake and the child was still at board when the case closed. Another mother with a very complex past and several children struggled against the break-up of her family in her early years as a CPS client, insisting that she intended to keep "the children with her as long as she was able to support them." Forced from dire economic necessity to place two of her five children, this woman found over the years that CPS questions regarding her 392
morals would ensure that her own efforts in securing the
children's return were to no avail. Tius having a home, in cases such as these, did not guarantee that the children 31 would one day return.
In other situations, morals were less relevant; CPS simply labeled certain mothers as too incompetent or unstable to care for their children. While in some instances this practice may have been justified, it was also inconsistent with the fact that the mothers had cared for their children in the past, maintained homes and jobs, and contributed regularly to the support of the children. After several attempts to establish a life through jobs in the private sector, work on the WPA, or remarriage, one mother boarded her child and tried to secure relief assistance that would enable her to raise the child at home. CPS decided, however, that she was
"psycho-neurotic" due to a mild nervous breakdown following beatings by her ex-husband. And her frequent habit of asking her parents to babysit did not ingratiate this woman to the CPS. At one point, a CPS agent recommended that she leave the child at board and "'get herself in line'" through a permanent, full-time job even though it meant going away. Mrs.______retorted that she
"wished to be in her own home with ______" (her child). Like others, this woman supported her daughter 393
from a distance and saw her faily frequently, but there
was no indication by the end of the case that the family 32 would be re-established.
Women with relatively large numbers of children had a
particularly difficult time re-establishing homes with all
of them. One case illustrates not only this problem, but many of the themes typical of foster care situations
involving single mothers. Following her husband's desertion, a mother of five placed all her children and
then sought the help of social agencies in securing their eventual return. Like many mothers, she feared losing them and when it became clear that she could not support them all at the present, she nervously told her CPS agent that she "had heard about an orphanage...where the children could be kept...without being adopted out" but added that she "hated to do this." After a number of shifting living, job, and foster care situations, this woman had half of her children with her and half in foster homes, with plans to eventually bring all the children home. But her worst fears began to be realized when, four years later, the family boarding two of the children wanted to adopt them— always a potential hazard of free home situations.
The mother became "upset about this and said she would have nothing like that occur as she hoped someday to have both of the girls back with her." A few years later, with 394
the two girls still in foster homes, their long-absent and
non-supporting father wrote and said that he was now
well-established and could take the girls, a common
strategy among bitter fathers and husbands who saw that
their former wives were desperate. Upon receiving this
information from CPS, the mother "became furious and said
that she would fight to the last ditch before she would
allow him to have the girls" and added that the father
"had never done anything for the children and if it hadn't been for herself the children would have been gone long ago." After this, she pushed for, and received, legal custody, but the children remained in foster homes.
Although the mother retained legal control, the longevity of this situation made that control precarious, as people who were better set up to care for the children could 33 always pose a threat.
The agency agreed with the woman's assessment of her husband's role and, in the end, admitted that she was a
"good mother." But the problem in this case, as in others like it, was that the CPS had decided early that she was in some way not quite fit to parent five children. Women who had ever acquired syphilis (usually from their husbands, as was the most likely source in this case) always warranted suspicion in the minds of CPS agents, epecially if other features of their lives made them 395
morally questionable. Mrs.______had a man friend who
was thought to inhabit her home; CPS watched the home and
found that on some evenings, she had sent the children to
neighbors, which always suggested prostitution to CPS, at
least in the case of single mothers. The biggest demerit
for this woman, however, was that her second husband may
have molested the children; Mrs.______herself made the
accusation, threw him out, aid divorced him. When
confronted with the list, Mrs.______responded that
"perhaps she had not always done the right thing, but...it
was difficult getting along when she had never had anyone
help her care for the children." Unable to really prove
her unfitness, the courts under CPS advice delayed even as
her financial situation improved, arguing that her place
was too crowded, her earnings still not enough and it
would be "wise to delay the matter of taking the girls
back into the home for another year." All tolled, the
various problems of this household determined that she
would never have all her children back, although she
struggled for years to achieve this, paid for their
support when she could, went to court several times hoping
for a different decision, and remained in regular contact with her children. After ten years of this situation had passed, the mother appeared to have accepted the fact that her life with her daughters would consist of weekend 396
visits, known to and conducted under the guidance and
supervision of CPS agents.
While the above case may be extreme in some respects,
it is also typical of the many women who found it
difficult to get children back if there were moral
questions, even if they had homes. The same was true of
women who had run afoul of the law. The foster home
situations brought on by the mother's imprisonment was, as
in the national caseload of 1933, a much smaller category
involving only 4 women. Most of these were brief stays of
less than a month, most commonly for disorderly conduct due to drinking, although one involved bootlegging and
implication in a robbery. In one case, two sons were sent
to local institutions, but CPS generally placed them in boarding homes. The problem for women in these cases was
that, although the sentences generally consisted of brief confinement to a workhouse or local women's detention center, there was no guarantee that the children would be returned very quickly. CPS tended to make these arrangements and watch the mothers very closely, using the courts to delay the children's return until the mother had
"proved" herself while supporting the children from a distance. Yet all the children in this category were living with their mothers by the time the CPS record 35 closed. 397
In contrast to the above groups, moral considerations
seldom came up in cases of foster children whose mothers were classified as "institutionalized." These children constituted IS.5% of the CPS sample, and 93% of these children were reunited with their mothers. Analysis of
this group sheds light on this census designation, which referred to any kind of non-penal institution. Over half of the children in this category were living in their mothers' homes when the need for institutionalization arose. These homes remained intact, if not inhabited, during the foster care period. The mothers of 42% of the children returned to these homes after brief stays in the hospital, usually for minor operations, and their children came home. One-third of the children had mothers whose illnesses required longer stays, ranging from weeks to months, in local hospitals for accidents or major illnesses. During these time periods, the mothers had to give up their original place of residence and no home unit existed during the duration of the foster home situation.
Eventually, however, all but one of the children whose homes had been disrupted returned to a home newly established by their mothers. The mothers of 21% of the children were in specialized sanitariums, for tubercular or mentally ill patients, and in most cases the women had to abandon the original home. The re-establishment of a 398
home was usually more difficult in these cases, sometimes
requiring "trial periods" or gradual return of the
children, one at a time, to the mother. Nearly all the
children placed out due to institutionalization returned,
thus suggesting that this census category in general
points to temporary separations between mothers and
children. The children whose mothers were being
hospitalized, even for long periods of time, were not
"motherless." Unhampered by the moralistic attitudes of
CPS, these reunions were a matter of health and money 36 rather than reform.
The fates of the group of children whose mothers were
"elsewhere" during the foster care period show the
sharpest divergence from the group of placed-out children of single mothers in the CPS sample. These children represented about a third of the group, consistent with
the national caseload. Only 20% of the elsewhere group, however, were living with their mothers again by the time the case closed. The prospects for return to the mothers' homes appeared very unlikely for two-fifths of the children; the mothers in these cases seemed to have virtually rejected any meaningful future involvement with them. For the remaining 40% of the children, most of the mothers had struggled for their children's return and a 399
few may have come home after CPS closed the case, but it 37 appeared that for most women, it was a losing battle.
The reasons mothers did not have children with them
were more obvious in these cases than ii the home
categories; most elsewhere situations barred the presence
of children. Almost three-fifths of the children had
mothers who lived where they worked, and the mothers of
roughly 10% of the children were living with relatives who
could not take in the whole family. The mothers of the
remaining third of the children were in miscellaneous
locations such as jobs in other cities, roommate
situations which could not accommodate children, working
girls clubs or settlement lodgings, facilities on the site
of defense plants, or, in one case, a "disreputable
hotel." Most of these "elsewhere" situations were not open
to children, yet it was difficult for the mothers to leave
these settings. They had taken jobs as live-in domestics
or moved away to take a job because at the time, these were the most practical or perhaps only options open to
them. Once established, it was difficult to leave these
locations and re-establish a home.
Despite these obstacles, some of the mothers rejoined the children as CPS watched the case. Oftentimes this meant living again with some, rather than all, of the children. A few cases illustrate the dynamics of these 400
frustrating situations. One mother whose lawyer refused to
support her in divorce proceedings could not collect Aid
to Dependent Children funds because her husband received a veteran pension. Leaving her four children with him while she searched for work, she took various live-in positions and hoped for increased earnings in order to restore a home with one child whose difficulties with the father had necessitated foster care. Confiding to her caseworker that she wanted to have all the children with her, this woman regreted that she "had been there for 3 years trying to do this and was no nearer her goal" than when she started.
After several foster care situations, she eventually achieved enough earning power to live with her son; years later, another child joined her. After separating from her husband, another mother placed her five children in a variety of homes and took live-in housework jobs; when she was able to re-establish a home, she could take full responsibility, despite years of struggle, for only two of them. Some women lived with their children again without actually re-establishing their own homes. A woman who had placed two of her three children and secured a live-in housekeeper job brought one child with her and eventually convinced her employer to allow a second one. This was, however, rare, and she did not have control of the situation as the employer never permitted the third child 401
38 to join the rest of the family.
Thus it was difficult for women with large numbers of
children to make the transition from an "elsewhere"
situation to a newly established home. It is significant
that most of the mothers who had placed their children out
in order to work at live-in jobs and later remade homes
never had all of their children living with them again.
The only women in this category who recreated complete homes were those who had only one child. Women who had
lived elsewhere tended to be the most unskilled of single mothers, and their very low earning power made it unlikely
that they could support more than one or two children.
Like all mothers in the CPS sample, they received no or little child support and had also been unable to secure
Aid to Dependent Children funds or any other substantial type of relief. Although the reasons for denial of assistance were sometimes moralistic, more often legal considerations--the fact that ex-husbands received prison wages, veteran's pensions, or were supposed to be paying child support--or simply the bureaucratic snags that slowed down the application process, impeded women in 39 their efforts to procure aid.
To some extent, non-supporting fathers could retain some control over their former wives' living situation. It was not uncommon for these men to report independent 402
boarding home situations to CPS. One mother who had
established an independent home so that she could take a
live-in chambermaid job found an apartment with her child
after her non-supporting ex-husband complained about the
foster home; although this mother had intended to live
with her child as soon as possible, pressure from spouses
not involved in child care could interfere with an
economically sensible arrangement. Reasonably angry at her
former husband, this woman seized control of the situation
in order to forestall any threats to her custody. In other cases, men found sneakier ways to interfere. When one
former husband finally accepted the fact that he must pay court-ordered child support, he would only pay it through
CPS--a tactic obviously designed to embarrass the mother and keep her funds, as well as her moral life, under CPS supervision. As insufficient as these funds were, the method of delivery added to CPS's belief that the mother could not be trusted to support her child. Working and living at a cafe, this woman struggled to prove herself a
"fit mother" and convince the courts to help her re-establish her home. At hearings she pleaded that she would "make every effort to...work so she could have" her child with her; when the court claimed that any future reunion was unlikely, she became furious and said that CPS was "doing her a great injustice to take her kids away 403
when she loved them so much" and threatened to "live
recklessly if they were taken away because she would have
nothing to live for." Inclined to panic but also to
cooperate, this same woman later told her agent that "if
she could believe______would be returned to her, she
would do anything agent asked in order to get her back"
and eventually the mother brought the child to her new
home. Thus some women in elsewhere locations, already
chafing under lack of child support or minimal,
oppressively delivered payments, nevertheless found ways
to re-establish places to live with and support their
children.*^
On the other hand, 40% of the children whose mothers were elsewhere appear to have been permanently yielded to
the care of others by their mothers. This category actually involved only a few families where the number of children was relatively large. One mother who had been deserted brought her ex-husband to court for non-support charges, later asked for boarding help for her three children, and then simply disappeared. A mother of seven who had been deserted tried to have the children placed in boarding homes by CPS, whom she hoped would force payments by the father. A reconciliation postponed this development, but a few years later they again separated and the mother eventually gave up, secured a job as a 404
live-in maid, and "gave several children away" to friends
and to CPS foster families. Finally all but one child,
who was shuffled from one home to the other, went to the
State School; whether she maintained any contact with them
is not indicated in the record. Both parents in another
family had a record of alcohol problems known to CPS, but when they separated the mother told CPS that she "blamed
father for whole situation" and procured a live-in waitress job in a hotel known for prostitution. The four children eventually went to CPS boarding homes or state institutions; only when the court was about to commit the youngest child did the mother demand that this child be placed in a home for which she could afford to pay board.
While this eleventh-hour plea suggests that the mother had not completely abandoned her children, there was little indication of any desire or attempt to re-establish a home. To what extent severe financial hardship accounts for the apparent abandonment of these children is unclear from the cases, but it is clear that a few women who went to live and work in non-familial settings ceased to mother their children in any meaningful way.^^
One obvious reason mothers in elsewhere situations might give up was the lack of control they had over their own living space. Women who inhabited these miscellaneous domiciles and could nut find a way out of them sometimes 405
felt they had no life to offer a child. A few of the
mothers who gave their children up were unwed mothers without homes. One unmarried mother who was originally
"anxious to keep (the) baby" and had explicitly stated
that she would not give the child up gradually changed her mind when the sister with whom she lived would not allow
the baby in the home. Having lost her job over the pregnancy and later arrested for intoxication, this woman had reached a low point in her life, one that wore away at her interest in a baby that had spent its earliest months away from her. Years later, in better circumstances, this woman had another child— significantly named after the child she had released for adoption.
The children given up for adoption were not always infants. however. Lack of control over her living situation led one mother, after a long ordeal, to allow the foster parents to begin adoption proceedings for her teen-age son. This woman had gone to live on a farm as a live-in housekeeper for an employer would not take the boy in as the farm a was very poor. Her husband's state prison wages were insufficient to pay for the son's board, and when relatives could no longer afford to keep him, the son went to another free home. After several anxious months, this mother described her frustration concerning her lack of control over an adamant employer who had even ceased to 406
pay her any wages. Her comments to her caseworker
underscored her no-win situation and the difficulty of
establishing an independent home: although her hope was to
"establish a home and have the three children with her,"
she "simply did not know what to do...was anxious to get
away but she did not know to where." Women in her
situation sometimes devised desperate, irrational
strategies, as when she confided to her caseworker that
she "had thought of various ways and means of getting out
of her present situation, but the only thing she could
think of was to marry father again"--a man who had deserted the family several times— when he got out of prison. This case illustrates, as have others, the dangers of free foster homes--the longer such a home endured, the more likely the foster parents were to grow attached to
the child and explore the mother's situation to see if adoption was a possibility. When unskilled, dependent women's hands ware tied, they sometimes gave up as they could give no proof they were supporting or raising the child. After an unsuccessful attempt to procure an AOC grant, this woman finally and reluctantly agreed to allow the foster family to adopt her by-now distant son.^^
Thus a relatively large portion of the children whose mothers were elsewhere never lived with them again, their mothers having either willingly or reluctantly released 407
them to the permanent care of other institutions or
families. The final group of children whose mothers were
elsewhere occupied a position midway between those who
returned and those who apparently never would. This group
included 40% of the children, and although they had not
been reunited with their mothers by the time the CPS case
closed, neither had their mothers turned their care over
permanently or even willingly to others. A variety of
factors affected these cases, but all were characterized
by the hope--however tenuous--that mothers and children
would live together again. In some cases, the tie appeared
very tenuous. For example, one mother who had let 3
children go was trying to forestall her youngest child's
commitment to an institution. A young unwed mother, still
dependent on her parents who did not feel up to the task
of helping her to raise a newborn, agreed to allow the
commitment of her baby to the State School, but with the
important reservation that the child be slated as one
"unsuitable for adoption"— a State School categorization
that left the door open for later reclaiming of the
infant. These women, and others like them, did not want to
lose children for whom they could not provide care at the 44 present time.
Most ties, however, were stronger than this. One mother who had placed her children in homes in order to 408
take a live-in job struggled for many years--in fact until
they were older teen-agers--to bring them all home, but three remained in foster care due to the difficulty of taking financial responsibility for large numbers of children. It was clear in other cases that the children would never return despite similarly close ties. One mother who suffered a mild nervous condition was separated from her teen-age son after both were picked up by the
Police Street Mothers for vagrancy and she was sent to a specialized institution for mental testing. Released from the hospital, this woman expected to live with her son, but doctors recommended that he remain in the foster home until her condition inspired confidence. Working in a series of live-in housework jobs, the mother consistently challenged the court's decisions. As Judge Waite continued to rule that the separation continue, she became frustrated, threatening thst she was "going to do something drastic if she doesn't get him." The judge was sympathetic, telling her "maybe later," but in the end, the court accepted CPS's assessment that Mrs. ______showed a "good deal of interest in ______but was not able to take care of him" although she was able to hold down full-time jobs. Since CPS never recommended relief, her relationship with her son, as in other cases, became one of visits and some financial support, but it was clear 409
that he would remain in foster care until he ran away from
a home years later.
Other mothers who remain emotionally bonded and in
touch with their children lived apart from them for
financial and practical, rather than psychological reasons. As has been illustrated, the search for work sometimes sent mothers to other cities, their children
left behind, hopefully temporarily, in foster homes.
Following separation from her husband, one mother moved to a large metropolitan area and roomed with a relative in order to cut down expenses and work in her field. When CPS later asked why she had placed her child, the mother replied that she "could not establish the kind of home that______needed," as she made too little money and her shared apartment was much too small. Her goal was, however, to increase her earning power and re-establish a home, but as each 6-month court hearing transpired, the court extended the case to allow the mother to increase her wages and pay off some debts. This situation dragged on for 30 many years that the daughter reached early adulthood and was no longer subject to court decisions, but the mother and daughter had clearly carried on a relationship despite the distance between them.*^
A final group of mothers who lived apart from their children while aiming for reunion were unwed mothers. 410
These women, as will be shown in section E, were subject
CO greater control by social agencies and the timing of
return of the children— if it ever occurred'-was not
always up to the mothers.
As this analysis of the CPS sample has illustrated,
most mothers, despite the need for foster care or
unwelcome pressures to use such homes, wished to live
under the same roof with their children. Taking the four
categories (home, elsewhere, institution, and jail)
together, nearly 60% of the children in the entire CPS
sample had returned to their mother's homes by the time
the case was closed. The interest and efforts shown by mothers whose children were away throughout the case period suggests that approximately another 20 to 25% may well have returned at some later date. Only a minority of about 15% of the children appear to have permanently left their mothers' homes, and in most cases this was because their mothers no longer had any homes or any hope that they would ever be able to provide one. In most cases, child support from fathers or aid from the state was conspicuously absent.
The "motherless" label, then, was clearly an inappropriate way to describe the status of these children, as well as an insult to their living, struggling mothers. Of the 65 mothers in this CPS sample who placed All
their children in foster care, then, all but a few remade
their homes; those who had not been able to were in
regular contact with their children and expected to live
with them again. Re-establishing a home could be a long
and grueling process taking anywhere from weeks to years.
One factor that played an important role in determining a mother's control over her children's future concerned her
financial contribution to their care while they were away.
The next section will explore the means of support for
foster care children and several issues arising from the financial aspects of these child-caring arrangements.
D. The Politics of Boarding Home Financing
As the preceding chapter has shown, during the 1930s public agencies throughout the nation increasingly took responsibility for paid boarding homes. Almost 85% of children in boarding homes throughout the U.S. were at least partially subsidized by public funds in 1933, and
27.3% of foster care children were boarded. Most children nationwide were, however, still in institutions, and a little less than half of all institutionalized children also received some public support. Only 13% of these children were in free homes in 1933. Of all foster care children, 52% were to some extent supported by public funds. The situation in Minnesota was quite different; 412
although 28% of the children were placed at board, less
than half of these received any public funds, and over 40%
were in either free or work homes. These facts meant that
there was a good chance that a single mother would have to
use free, potentially adoptive homes, pay boarding fees,
or send her children to the state institution.
The C?S was a private agency which played several
important roles in implementing the purpose of general
state laws regarding children. Despite the state's
willingness to pay one-half the boarding fee for children who needed temporary care, free home care remained common
in Minnesota because key agencies like the State School,
the Children's Home Society, and CPS sought homes that would keep both private and public costs to a minimum. In
March of 1938, CPS recorded some statistics which suggest
the degree of expenses incurred by its foster home practices. In that month, CPS supervised 1153 of children in their own homes. The agency also had 328 children in foster homes under its supervision. Of these, 119 were in free homes with relatives, and 53 were either free or work homes with non-relatives. The remaining 156 foster homes were paid boarding homes.
As for the 156 boarding homes, CPS was not clear about exactly who paid the bill. The case records are full of 413
references to "CPS boarding homes," which would suggest that CPS subsidized the homes under the agency's supervision. Agency reports indicated that the county subsidized only a very few CPS homes, a practice in keeping with the Minnesota legal tradition barring public funds from reaching private child-placing agencies. Thus it would appear that CPS was technically and in actuality on its own in taking care of boarding-care costs.
Agency records reveal, however, that this was not the case. Although a private agency, CPS occupied a special position; it was not truly a traditional "child-placing" agency, despite its frequent involvement in that activity, and its connections with the courts and public sector in general meant that public money found its way to "CPS boarding homes." CPS often arranged foster homes for children of single mothers, and when the foster parents complained that they could not support the children without financial help, CPS sometimes solicited the contribution of other agencies. Of 40 homes which were designated as boarding homes in the CPS sample used in section C, 8 were homes for which the CPS had secured funds from the Division of Public Relief, the Minnesota
Transient Bureau, the Hennepin County Child Welfare
Department, or the Soldiers' Welfare Fund (a veterans' organization). CPS often appealed to DPR in particular, 414
the idea being that the relief department could simply
channel money into foster homes needing aid, yet this was
in effect a type of boarding payment. In some situations,
the DPR funds and county funds were available for a short
time until the mother herself assumed financial
responsibility for the boarding. More often, however,
public involvement was the result of CPS efforts to find
free homes among friends and relatives whom the
organization hoped would take the children in as a favor.
When these foster families found it too hard to support
the children, they appealed for payment and CPS then
requested aid from the local relief agency while referring
to the foster homes as "CPS boarding homes." While most
third party payments came from such public sources, some
CPS homes for the children of single mothers were actually
supported by children's fathers, older brothers, or, rarely, another private agency.
Calling upon another agency or relative was not the preferred method of CPS. Ideally, the mothers themselves would pay. Like other parts of the country, Minnesota adhered to a long-standing tradition of parental responsibility for children for whom parents could not care within the home. From colonial times, the majority of children in "orphanages" actually had at least one living parent, and these institutions generally expected parents 415
to pay what they could until the children were indentured.
Several institutions, such as the Chicago Nursery and
Half-Orphans Asylum and the New York Sheltering Arms
organization, had been created specifically with the
problems of single mothers in mind. Enabling mothers to
work full-time while supporting their children in nearby
institutions, the founders consciously created a middle
ground between permanent adoption and poverty. Should the
mothers' financial circumstances improve, they might
eventually be able to reclaim their children from these 49 non-adoptive institutions.
When boarding replaced institionalization as the preferred method of temporary foster care, the tradition of parental responsibility endured. In 19 of 40 CPS boarding homes for children of single mothers, the mothers actually were footing all or a good part of the bill. Some of these were independent boarding placements which the women had set up earlier and which had later come to the attention of CPS. These women had generally made these arrangements following a divorce or during an illness or some other crisis which had made it impossible to maintain the home. Although several of the foster boarding families were relatives and friends, the mothers nevertheless paid them, partly because the foster parents could not support the children otherwise, but also in order to maintain the 416
control thnt support implied. They set up these
arrangements informally rather than go through agencies
because they did not want to attract the attention of
social workers or the government.^®
Most such placements were made before the women were
approached by CPS. Despite the women's hopes to do this on
their own, something would go wrong; former husbands, most
of whom were paying no child support, would complain to
the agency about the home in which the child was living,
or the foster parents would ask for assistance from public
funds or complain to an agency that they no longer could
keep them. All such complaints would by one channel or
another eventually reach CPS. Independent placements could
in fact lead to bad boarding situations, since many of the
people known to these women were no better off than they
were. Although CPS would often approve the home, they were
equally as likely to demand a new placement which the
agency would authorize. This meant prolonged supervision
and usually temporary custody of the children.
Some mothers placed their children in paid homes on
their own even while CPS was watching them. This was, of course, followed by a prompt CPS investigation which determined whether or not the home was good enough for
licensing. Women's motivations for taking such actions had to do both with the need for control and also economics; 417
figures in the case records suggest that it was cheaper
for women to make their own arrangements than to have CPS
select a home. The well-selectad CPS homes were costlier, and the agency expected the mothers to pay for them. Some mothers actually went to the agency for placement after their own arrangements had repeatedly failed, and the selection process could help. CPS was only willing to do this, however, if they were convinced that the placement was called for by either the mother's bad character or extreme difficulty in making a home. One mother, who had paid for her son's care in a variety of homes while she worked at live-in jobs, finally asked CPS to find a stable home for him, and the agency complied on the condition that she have a job and pay for his board two weeks in advance. This mother and others like her knew that it was only a matter of time before her son's case reached the agency, and her approach was a way of pre-empting the agency from seizing control of the situation.
All throughout her encounters with CPS, this woman asserted that she was aiming for the day when she could make her home with her son again. This points to a common theme. It is clear that women worried about losing their rights to their children, even in situations where they were supporting them. One mother who had boarded her child in order to work in another city in a crowded living 418
situation paid for her child's care for years. As time
passed and her earnings did not increase enough to allow
her to establish a home with the child, this mother told
CPS after one of many court hearings that she "wondered if
she would lose control of ______entirely or if she
would be allowed to have her with her again." Although
boarding homes were by definition non-adoptive, the
necessity of continuously dealing with CPS and the 52 juvenile courts clearly put fear into mothers.
Sometimes CPS did not want the mothers to be boarding
their children at all. Whenever the agents discovered
independent boarding homes, one judgment to make was whether or not foster care was called for. Routine
objections to work in beer parlors often led to demands
that mothers who had placed their children cease such work, apply for relief, and bring the children home. If
CPS did decide to comply to a request for boarding which
CPS had not initiated, they generally insisted that mothers pay the full cost even in situations where the need for aid was obvious. Some mothers did not expect this; many actually liked their agents and had come to view them as caring friends who would help them in time of need. This could lead to later requests for boarding help which were obviously based on the women's misunderstanding of the agency's functions. CPS was not really a "boarding 419
agency” providing a needed service; it was an arm of the
law that arranged foster care only in problematic
situations, which often meant that the children were in 53 some kind of danger if CPS did not intercede.
Having been monitored by CPS for years, however, a few
women thought that they could get foster care help in
order to improve their financial situation. One woman
whose child had been certified earlier in an independent
boarding home asked the agency to find a home for her
child while she took a sales job on the road, but the
agency turned her down as there was no disciplinary
problem that would put CPS on the case. Another mother who
had an opportunity for a job that required travel also
thought that Minnesota had some "free boarding homes" as
though this were a service provided. One mother who had
been unable to arrange reliable child carewas referred to
CPS on the belief that CPS would arrange board. After they
turned her down, she explained that "when a mother is left with three small children and no visible means of support
she would do most anything rather than see them starve."
Some women took this strategy to an extreme: one mother, having been a client for years, simply announced that she was "giving this agency her _____ to take care of" as she was moving to another city for work. Those who had been with the agency longest realized the true nature of CPS 420
assistance. In the early 1940s, a mother whose contact
with CPS spanned a decade, three marriages, and at least
five foster home situations asked the agency for help with
boarding care. Having finally found some stability and a
decent job, this woman wanted some assistance with child
care in order to render her situation more secure.
Claiming that CPS was doing less of this type of work, the
agency refused and to this the mother wryly replied, "and
for three years you people tried to take my children away
from me.
In most such cases, CPS would not arrange what they saw as "boarding of convenience," which meant boarding children so that mothers could work to support them without constantly arranging and rearranging child care.
In a few rare instances where related agencies agreed to accept the child for boarding, they were adamant that the mother, and not relatives or other individuals, must pay the fee. When CPS refused to arrange a home, a mother tried for months to work out child care until she appealed to a small nearby institution. While this institution agreed to take the children, they protested when she informed them that relatives would pay at least the initial fees. The pressure upon women to foot these entire bills became most pronounced in cases where the child had been removed due to the behavior of the mother. One mother 421
who had been placed on probation after being arrested for
intoxication had to spend many months proving that she was a "fit" mother. Unable to secure ADC, a WPA job, or
any other type of decent employment, this woman was
refused general relief and had no way to support the child who had been taken from her. Yet at court hearings, the argument that she had paid no board for her child's care was used against her as evidence that the child should be permanently separated from her. In some situations, CPS threatened action to commit the children to the State
School unless the mothers found a means of payment. When new cases came to their attention or when the prospect of foster care came up, CPS agents always inquired if mothers were paying or intended to pay in the future. It was clear that women must find some way to pay if they expected assurance that their children would be returned.
CPS expected mothers to pay even in situations where the women had boarded their children only under agency pressure. Cases of this type included those where mothers' competence was questionable or, more commonly, in cases of unwed mothers. These were cases wherein the women had not really wanted to board their children, but agency policies left them with few alternatives. One mother whose several children had been placed in various homes through hard times was supporting the youngest one in a local 422
institution when C?S decided that the child had been there long enough and must return home or be adopted. When CPS was dissatisfied with the child care arrangements this woman made while she worked, the agency moved the child into a boarding home and required the mother to pay $20 a month. The mother was unhappy with this arrangement, complaining that she "tolerated this only at the insistence of Miss and believed she could do much more for " in her own home. In this situation, the » agency did not believe the woman was a capable mother, yet she had the ability to work steadily and therefore was compelled to support the child elsewhere.
The morecommon occurrence for compulsory boarding of this nature, however, concerned unmarried mothers. These women often were already clients of social agencies at the time they became pregnant, and in other instances they were women who had returned from other states where the child had been born and where local welfare agencies would not support non-residents. Since these women belong to a separate category, their situation and its impact upon boarding payment will be discussed in the next section. 423
E. Pre-empting Women's Decisions: The Role of Social Agencies in Separating Single Mothers from Their Children
The 1933 census was the first ti provide useful
statistics on foster care children whose parents did not
marry. Of the 242,929 children in foster care in December
of 1933, 211,153, or 86.9% were legitimate, and 31,776, or
13.1%, were illegitimate. As the following table shows,
the status or whereabouts of the mothers varied according
to the birth status of the children:
TABLE 13 Percentage distribution of legitimate and illegitimate children in foster care according to whereabouts of mothers, 1933, United States
Percent of children in foster Care Whereabouts of mothers Legitimate Illegitimate — Diia------fm— Jail .6% 2.1% Institution 7.1% 9.4% At Home 25.6% 35% Elsewhere 15.3% 18.5% Unknown 16.5% 29.4 Total iÜÔ.0% lôb.0%
Cable 13 indicates that the mothers of illegitimate children were much more likely to be alive than were those of legitimate children. Although detention in a penal institution was not a common reason for foster care, imprisonment was more likely to be the occasion among unwed mothers. The whereabouts of the mothers of 424
illegitimate children were almost twice as likely to be
unknown as were the whereabouts of mothers of legitimate
children. The explanation for this is, of course, the fact
that unmarried mothers were more likely to have had to
relinquish all claims to their children through various
foster care channels. The mothers of illegitimate children
were somewhat more likely than formerly married woman to
be in institutions or in "elsewhere" situations, but these
differences were not large. On the other hand, unmarried
mothers were significantly more likely to be at home than
were mothers of legitimate children. Another way to say
this is that the reason for foster care among unmarried women was less likely to be the lack of a home than was
the case among mothers of legitimate children.
Other differences are apparent in a comparison of the
types of foster care into which illegitimate and legitimate children were placed. The following table indicates the percentage distribution of legitimate and
CO illegitimate children by type of care: 425
TABLE 14 Percent distribution of legitimate and illegitimate children, by type of foster care,"December 1933, United States
Percent of Type of Legitimate Illegitimate care ______children______children Institution 62% 2Ô.6% Free Home 10.7% 28%7% Boarding Home 25.1% 42% Work Home 2.1% 1% Total 100.0% TM70%
The young ages of illegitimate children accounts in
part for the reasons that legitimate children were more
than twice as likely to go to institutions. More
significant is the fact that illegitimate children were almost twice as likely to be in foster homes as were
legitimate children. Those illegitimate children who were
in free homes were in many cases probably potentially adoptive children. The larger proportion (42%), however, were placed at board, and the mothers were probably supporting them in paid homes until such time as they could care for them in their own homes.
The investigators who analyzed the census results in
1933 knew that unwed mothers supported their children in foster homes. The case records of CPS helped to illustrate how this situation came to be. When a mother's pregnancy was discovered by an agent, the first step was to arrange for her confinement and place any other children she might 426
have in foster homes. CPS had a way of seizing control and
pre-empting any initiative on the women's part, and often
these women were so desperate and alone that they had
little choice but to abide by the agency's "suggestions."
Any woman who had a child outside of marriage was a prime
target for charges of "unfitness", and agents appeared to assume this unless the woman proved otherwise. This, however, was very hard to do when not given an opportunity
to live with the children. The period of confinement was an opportunity to board other children, often for long durations, aid most often the new baby would also be placed out since these mothers seldom secured local relief or ADC and had to work to support both themselves and the child.
The most noticeable points about these cases are the speed with which CPS took control of women's lives and the large number of agencies which appeared almost to collude to ensure that the children would not live with their mothers. Minnesota's illegitimacy law had all but made it a crime to bear a child out of wedlock. The purpose of the law was to make sure that all children had someone who was responsible for them, but the enforcement procedures were oppressive to women. Minnesota law made it mandatory that all out-of-wedlock pregnancies be reported to appropriate agencies as soon as they were discovered, and the 427
pregnancies of unmarried women thus became a public matter.
Perhaps because they had already defied standard social norms in a significant way, unwed mothers were the most resistant in the face of the social controls exerted by CPS. One mother who had refused to abide by the agency's advice throughout her long contact with CPS frustrated her caseworker by managing to conceal the pregnancy and make her own confinement and future plans even after her condition was discovered. Deciding how to have a baby delivered and the means of the child's care once-born were in fact the mothers' prerogatives, yet agents approached them with the assumption that the disposition of an out-of-wedlock pregnancy was a matter for "authorities." Other women who resisted were less successful because they lacked resources. One mother tried to place her baby and older son with her mother rather than in a CPS boarding home, the consequences of which placement she feared. The CPS, Division of Public Relief, and Work Projects Administration colluded to refuse this woman any support that might enable her to make a home with her children. When the courts were about to decide the future living situation of her older son, the mother spirited him away to a relative in another state to ensure that she would retain at least some control. Although 428
women could sometimes win in these situations, it took a
great deal of ingenuity and perseverance.^^
The fate of the latter mother's second child typifies
the outcome of many illegitimacy cases. Without a job,
home, or income, she had little choice but to accept a
boarding plan for her newborn son. After a struggle, the
woman managed to secure a WPA job and began to pay for his
care, which was supposed to be temporary. Boarding
situations, however, had a way of lasting so long
(especially in cases concerning unwed mothers) that they
became all but permanent; the courts and agencies tended
to reiterate their claims that the mother was not situated well enough to assume full responsibility. In time, the
foster parents became attached to the child and asked that boarding payments stop so that the 6-month free trial period for potentially adoptive parents could begin. Like many, this mother, worn down by time and denied the opportunity to form a strong attachment to the child, was tempted to acquiesce. Other mothers paid over long periods of time, always waiting for the day when they could make homes with their children. A Minnesota woman who had had her child out of state came to CPS's attention when the
Transient Bureau and Traveler's Aid expedited her return to her place of residency for relief. The disposition reached in this case was that the new baby and an older 429
child would be boarded by CPS, the mother would work to
pay for the foster homes, and the Division of Public
Relief would subsidize the homes for two weeks during
which the mother would seek and find a job. The mother
cooperated, financing the children's board with jobs that
would never enable her to establish her own home. Each
agency board meeting concluded that the mother was not yet
ready to make a home for the children, and by the time
this case closed, she had paid board for well over a year
with no change in sight.
The pace at which events proceeded in single mother
cases was generally very slow, and therefore the speed of
transition is particularly notable in cases of
illegitimacy. Caseworkers seized the moment as soon as
they became aware of pregnancy and announced plans to
flabbergasted women who sometimes did not realize that
they had any choices. Typical was a woman who begged her agent not to report her pregnancy to any higher welfare authorities, but the caseworker informed the woman that if she did not report it, someone else would have to. In a single short interview, the agent presented plans for this
35-year old woman to board her other children and enter a maternity home. When asked why she did not inform her agent earlier of her condition, the woman responded, "Why should I?" It was not apparent to these women that their 430
pregnancies were anyone elses' business. Although
caseworkers could argue that they were thinking of the
welfare of the unborn child and the women's meager
resources, these women had borne ALL of their children
without adequate means of support and had never been able
to afford decent pre-natal care. From the women's point of
view, the new baby was not so different. Although
Minnesota's illegitimacy law had been aimed primarily at
young girls, the women who were CPS clients tended to be
older. Most of the illegitimacy cases concerned women in
their late 20s and 30s who had previous children; although
they knew it would be hard, they felt they would care for
the new child as they had for the rest. The determination on the part of CPS agents to control older women who had violated social norms suggests that the law was concerned not only with child welfare, but with the social control 61 of women who dared to defy those social norms.
The above analysis has aimed to show the extent to which mothers endeavored actively to remain mothers despite the obvious pressures from a quasi-public yet private agency which carried out state policy. Even from a distance, and against great odds, women remained involved 431
with children who had been all but permanently removed from them. The foster care system clearly served as a branch of the welfare system in several ways: free and working homes provided mothers who could not support all their children under one roof with an alternative, but this option was all too often infused with value judgments as to which women were or were not worthy of assistance within their own homes. The foster care system played a role in the welfare state in more subtle ways; oftentimes women paid to have their children live elsewhere. Since welfare policy is revealed not only by aid provided by the state, but also by aid that the state withholds, the practice of forcing poor women to pay fees from their small earnings for the "privilege" of sustaining contact with their own children stands out as one of the crueler aspects of social welfare policy. Sometimes, of course, women set these homes up independently of any state pressures, but once an arm of the state knew about such a development, control over the children's whereabouts was taken from the mothers. The pressures placed on mothers by the state and its agents to take full responsibility for their children or else lose them appears all the more ironical when measured against the almost non-existent child support funds arriving from absent fathers. NOTES
"Agency Study, 1938," Minneapolis Family and Children's Service, Social Welfare History Archives, University of Minnesota, Administrative Files, Box .14, Folder 4, pp. 14-15. 2 Bureau of the Census, Children Under Institutional Care and in Foster Homes, 1933,( GPO: Washington, d Tc . , 1935) pp. 89-90. Table 8 is an extrapolation from Table 44 of the 1933 census.
^ Ibid., p. 90.
^ Homer Folks, The Care of Destitute, Neglected, and Delinquent Children (New York: Johnson Reprint Corporation, 1970), pp. 168, 173, 175-76; Robert Bremner, ed.,Children and Youth in America(Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1971) II, pp. 94, 116; Social Work Year Book, 1933, p. 631.
^ Children in a Depression Decade, p. 154; Folks, Care of Destitute, Neglected, and Delinquent Children, p. 175.
^ Bremner, Children and Youth , pp. 207-208; Social Work Year Book, T53TJ pT 681 ; Êinma Lundberg, Unto the Least of These: Social Services for Children (New York: D. Appleton-Century Crofts, 1947), ^ 105; "100 Years of Services to Families and Children," Archive miraeo. Social Welfare History Archives, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis.
^ "Agency Study, 1938," pp. 11-13
^ Ibid.
^ Ibid., pp. 15, 20-21.
1923 Census, p. 204.
"Agency Study, 1938," p. 17.
432 433 12 Children Under Institutional Care and in Foster Homes, 1^33 p. 39. Table is extrapolated from Table 24 of the 1933 census.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Agnes Hannah, "Dependent Children Under care of Children's Agencies: A Review of the Census Findings," Social Service Review, 10, 1936, p. 293
Table 12 is derived from Table 11 and from quantification of the CPS sample. Most of the cases from that sample are cited in the following footnotes.
All cases are derived from the case record source previously cited and will be referred to by Reel number and case number only. Reel 351, #11835; Reel 378, #13180; Reel 355, #12046; Reel 373, #12927. 1 8 Raymond St. Edward Jones, "Foster Home Care of Delinquent Children," Social Service Review, 10, po. 450- 663.
Reel 364, #12505; Reel 333, #13440.
Reel 373, #12927; Reel 383, #13443.
Reel 331, #13352; Reel 3?3, #12938.
Reel 381, #13352; Reel 373, #12938; Reel 351, #11855. 23 Minnesota State Board of Control, Compilation of the Laws ofMinnesota Relating to Children (St.Paul: State Board of Control, 1923). 24 Reel 355, #12021; Re;;1 375 , #13053. 25 Reel 355, #12041; Reel 364, #12501; Reel 350, #11821. 26 Reel 331, #13373. 27 Reel 379, #13245. 28 Reel 372, #12888; Reel 381, #13335; Reel 364, #12514; Reel 351, #11855; Reel 372, #12888; Reel 373, #12946. 434
Real 381 , #13373; Reel 355, #12041; Real 378, #13189. 30 Reel 383 , #13452; Reel 379, #13260, Reel 375, #13005. 31 Reel 350 , #11732; Reel 351, #11870; Reel 350, #11821. 32 Reel 333, #13452; Reel 370 , #12795. 33 Reel 350, #11821. 34 Ibid. 35 Reel 351 , 11855; Reel 370, #12789; Reel 364, #12514. 36 For the case numbers of the large number of institutional cases, interested readers should consult the author.
Reel 350, #11821; Reel 351, #11841, #11855; Reel 378, #13180; Reel 351, #11840, #11841; Reel 370, 12808; Reel 378, #13197; Reel 354, #12505; Reel 378, #13187; Reel 379, #13237; Reel 350, #11821; Reel 370, #12792, #12808; Reel 355, #12032; Reel 370, #12785; Reel 351, #11858; Reel 365, #12559; Reel 383, #13441; Reel 383, #13452; Reel 379, #13248.
Reel 350, #11797, 11821; Reel 351, #11841.
Real 351, #11841; Reel 350, #11797; Real 3?8, #13180.
Reel 331, #13341; Reel 351, #11855.
Real 351, #11840; Reel 355, #12050; Reel 370, #12808.
Reel 378, #13197.
Reel 351, #11841.
Reel 3?0, #12808; Reel 365, #12559.
Reel 350, #11821; Reel 379, #13237.
Reel 378, #13187.
"Agency Study, 1938," p. 12. 435
Ibid., pp. 12-13. 49 Emma Lundberg, Unto the Least of These, pp. 37, 78.
Many of the relevant cases are discussed in the text. For a complete list, interested readers should consult the author.
Reel 350, #11797; Reel 3?5, #13053; Reel 383, #13441; Reel 378, #13187; Reel 351, #11855.
Reel 378, #13187; Reel 350, #11797.
Reel 375, #13053; Reel 383, #13449.
Reel 383, #13441; Reel 3?9, #13260; Reel 351, #11855.
Reel 373, #12915; Reel 370, #12808; Reel 331, #13373; Reel 383, #13402.
Reel 370, #12795. 57 Children Under Institutional Care and in Foster Homes. 1933, po. 39. 42.
Ibid., p. 40.
Reel 334, #13495; Reel 381, #13335.
Reel 370, #12792.
Reel 381, #13329. CHAPTER VII
CONCLUSION: TOWARDS WORKFARE
The previous chapters have dealt largely with the 1920s and 1930s; it remains to be seen what happened after the
Depression ended and a new period of thinking on social welfare issues slowly evolved. Foster care, which remained a pivotal possibility for single mothers throughout the
1930s, became less relevant a variable after the expansion of Aid to Dependent Children following the Second World
War. Although any poor single mother would continue to face the prospect that the state might find a reason to remove her children, she was less and less likely to lose them simply because of poverty. "Single motherhood," of course, had always been considered to be an undesirable aberration, and as this status became more common and even deliberately chosen by women, some moralistic sectors of society would have liked to transport the children of unmarried women to whole families. With the expansion and liberalization of welfare in the 50s and 60s, however, this strategy became more difficult to implement.
436 437
The most notable feature of the post 30s era, and the topic of this closing chapter, is the gradually accelerating state aid later federal drive to encourage and even force welfare mothers to become self-supporting.
This transition began so soon after the passage of the
Social Security Act that it is superfluous to claim, as most have, that the purpose of ADC was to allow women to remain home with their children. That statement of purpose was an anomaly called for by Depression circumstances; once the crisis had passed and a tight, wartime labor market emerged, the social agents who made the real rules returned to their earlier philosophy of self-reliance. Tne rationales according to which they demanded work changed from time to time; during the war, the availability of jobs and limited relief funds necessitated work; after the war, the growth in the rolls and the changing clientele, from widows to broken families, provided a moral basis for streamlining the rolls and demanding self-support; and by the 1960s, these reasons and the fact that "other women" worked called the "slothfulness" of welfare mothers into question. The reasons varied, but the goal remained the same. The drive to make single mothers work, however, was never accompanied by a method that would enable them to do so with any assurance of economic success. 438
The effort to expedite the involvement of welfare
mothers in the labor market was accompanied by a number of
state and federal work programs, most of which have had
very limited success. Since the Work Projects
Administration was actually the first major work program
from which single mothers benefited, this chapter will
begin with a completion of the story of the WPA during the war years, and end with a brief discussion of the movement of AOC mothers into the labor force during and after the
Second World War. Ironically the WPA, a work program from which federal administrators attempted to eliminate single mothers, is probably the only one that ever did these women much good. Had the federal government adopted a permanent public works program which catered to the needy, more single mothers might have had an employment base on which to build in the years to follow.
ft. The WPA: The Closing Years and Single Mothers' Reluctant Return to the Private Sector
The WPA, which some had hoped would endure as a permanent public work program, was one of the major casualties of the revived war economy. Slowly expiring in the early 1940s, the WPA remains to this day the only public work program that ever employed substantial proportions of single mothers. Perhaps because it was a 439
relatively simple program, and one not originating in a desire to eradicate women's dependency and the "welfare mess," the WPA had a better record than any of the many work programs to follow in the years to come.
In the early 1940s, the burgeoning war economy gradually diminished the size of WPA and ultimately rendered it obsolete. Towards its final years, the remaining workers tended to be older, black, and female.
If layoffs threatened women earlier, by the early 1940s the specter of closings of entire projects loomed ominously. Although not officially terminated until
January of 1943, many areas had been phasing out their programs long before then. Events in Pennsylvania were typical. In February 1940, Pennsylvania employed almost
20,000 women on the sewing projects, the largest number of women in any state. By June, the state was beginning to close certain shifts in large cities, a way to lay off substantial numbers of women without attacking the projects as a whole. Letters between WPA officials indicated that women's jobs were hard-hit. One irate
Congressman writing to WPA expressed concern over the
"indiscriminate firing of 800 women" from a sewing project in Pittsburgh, and asked if "such curtailment might be effected in other branches than the Sewing Project which supports women, most of them with children and other 440
dependents, who have no place else to turn in these dark
days." Other legislators corroborated this concern,
writing to administrators about the prospect of closing
the rooms which would "result in an unusual hardship upon
thousands of women who are the sole support of large
families
The phasing-out of WPA also stirred a spate of letters from women who, by December 1941, had been informed that
the projects would close. Many of those writing were single mothers. A large group of women asked the governor of Pennsylvania if he would be "willing to see hundreds of children made to suffer by the consequences of this rash act" of closing the rooms. Most of the letters reflected a group consciousness, individual women speaking of a common apprehension. One mother wrote to President
Roosevelt inquiring if "us poor widow womens that has little children and sick children will be stopped work at the sewing project...We all got letters telling us we would be. What will us poor people do... ." Some thought that Mrs. Roosevelt could help; a mother who had recently seen her on a local visit wrote "as on(e) woman to another, one Mother to another, as the sole support of my five (5) children...! appeal to you...to effect the continuation of our sewing project." Desperation aid a sense that there were no viable alternatives pervaded 441
these letters; women asked the W?A director "What will we do, to keep food and shelter for our children and enable
them to continue in school" and, in a more hopeless tone,
simply announced that they were "taking care of my children by myself and if the project will close I will not be able to take care of them."
It is clear from these letters that these women perceived a public program as their safest prospect for work; they were extremely apprehensive about being turned over to the private market. Many women feared that their age would make them unemployable in the private economy; one woman typically argued that "over sixty of us are past forty and you know that is past the age limit in factorys." Mrs. ______reiterated that of the 12,000 women remaining in the Pennsylvania rooms prior to its closing, most were "past the age for private employment."
Without much hope for the latter, these women warned that they would need relief and argued that "it is only fair to the unemployed and taxpayers of Penns' that we be allowed to make a living for our family." With four children to support, she found it "impossible to find employment in factories or mills on account of age and marriage" to a disabled husband. This was also a common theme--that they should be allowed to work and stay off the relief that was inevitable without private employment. One mother 442
protested "Most of us are mothers with dependents and
would rather work than take relief" yet "Private industry O has no place for women at this time."
These women were, of course, looking backward to the
Depression that was receding with the war, rather than
forward to the economy that would have plenty of room for
them. But the war would not last, and what these women
were really saying was that government-created jobs had
been the one source of income for them in these years.
Their apprehensions regarding relief were echoed by those
in government positions. To forestall the prospect of
returning these women to public assistance, one member of
the House of Representatives hadtried to convert the
sewing rooms for use in the war economy. Although this was
highly unlikely under modern war technology,especially
in sewing rooms which had been repeatedly criticized for
their lack of economy, people from several quarters toyed
with the idea for a while and attempted to extend the life
of WPA. One Alabama judge wrote to her U.S. Senator
asking if, when WPA was gone, "any other agency taken over by the govt." would "take care of the down andout people of our state and counties." There were some discussions among agency bureaucrats as to whether sewing projects would be usedin national defense to manufacture war clothing materials, and WPA administrators engaged in 643
what appear to be pleas for survival as they planned
certain "welfare projects in national defense" that might
build on existing WPA programs.^
All these ideas, however, were eventually rejected.
Women nevertheless heard about them, and became hopeful
that their sewing rooms might be converted or revised
projects established on which they could work. One source
of confusion in this regard was the call of Florence Kerr
and Eleanor Roosevelt in the early 1940s for the
"mobilization of women for home defense," a voluntary
program involving women in local activities designed to mitigate the dislocations wrought by war. As is often the case among those who are hungry for work, many WPA women assumed this was an employment program. From Kentucky, a
local advocate wrote to Eleanor Roosevelt informing her
that her "talk on the coffe(e) hour about work in local communities has encouraged the women folks of the hills to beleive they will be given the opportunity to assist in national defense." One woman wrote to Florence Kerr in
1941 and asked about the "new project that is to be organized soon for national defense what kind of work would they be required to do" and "Can the women that is on the WPA now be transferred to that project.. .and what will their salary be?" Another women who had read about the home defense programs told Kerr that this idea was 444
"partially what the women on WPA have been wanting but not
quite all. Naturally most of us are more than anxious to
help with home defense but we are also anxious to be
taught something that will enable us to make a living for
our families without having to appeal to the government
for aid." As the mother of a dependent child, she wanted
to know the "quickest way to get into this new movement"
because it was not yet providing the employment that she
anticipated in her rural Mississippi area.^
The women wanted to see the projects continue and they had many advocates. One supporter,arguing that the sewing
rooms should be converted for war work, claimed that
"these women are poor, many widows with families of children, they are loyal 100%, will not cause any delay through strikes or union trouble." The sewing projects were, however, a thing of the past. Not only were they archaic, but the government had truly never wanted to adopt a permanent public works program to ensure the livelihood of marginal or low-wage workers. By early 1943, most WPA projects had been dismantled, and government was able to return to its favored policy of reliance upon the private sector to provide most jobs. During the war years, single mothers would rely either upon ADC, jobs in the private sector, or a combination of the two.^ 445
B. Towards "Workfare": ADC and Work during the 1940s and 1950s
After Congress enacted the Social Security Act in 1935,
the states gradually revised their old pension laws or
wrote new ones to correspond to the new federal
stipulations. At first covering less than 26,000 families,
the program grew steadily until by 1940, roughly 890,000
children in 370,000 families received grants. Throughout
the late 1930s, most studies were concerned primarily with
the development of the programs and changing
characteristics of recipients. Much of the rapid growth in
these early years was attributable to additions of new
states as they developed plans. Since most of the new
states were from the Southeast, the proportion of black
women grew; in 1931, black women accounted for less than
4% of the mothers' pensions recipients, but between 1937
and 1940 their proportion was between 14 and l l t P
Data collected during the late 1930s paid little
attention to work patterns among welfare mothers, as would
be expected given the stated purpose of the program. Signs
that ADC would not for long remain a program enabling
mothers to remain home were, however, apparent before the
Second World War. Although no regional or national studies appeared until the 1940s, a few statereports, such as
those in the northern states of Indiana and Pennsylvania, 446
indicated that the program had failed to live up to its
promise from the beginning. Since work pressures and low
grants in the post-1930s era have always been more
associated with the southern than with the northern
states, it is significant that the earliest reports
regarding grant inadequacy and subsequent work pressures g came from the North.
The first substantial study which touched upon women's
employment appeared in late 1941, before the U.S. entered
World War IT. The Bureau of Public Assistance, the branch
of the Social Security Board responsible for ADC,
conducted a survey of li units in 6 states in order to
learn about the impact of the program. Except for Florida, all of the other states--Arizona, Washington, Indiana,
Minnesota, and New York--were in the West or North. In the families studied which were currently receiving ADC, the
Bureau found that 15% of the mothers were actually at work, and most of the others were seeking jobs. More importantly, the report noted great variation among the agencies in the matter of "counting" the income of the mother against the budget. Half of the 18 agencies disregarded irregular earnings in determining grant size, and the amount they were willing to ignore was in some cases as high as $50 a month. In other words, as a "work incentive," these agencies often permitted women to keep 447
the kinds of earnings they typically made in the irregular labor market. The agencies themselves admitted that this was often the only way that children's clothing could be budgeted. On the other hand, some agencies assumed that mothers should be earning some money and included assumed earnings in the budgets whether the women actually did work or not. Those old practices continued under the new 9 program.
The 1941 report included only 6 states and therefore did not present a broad picture of the impact of the federal program. A 1942 report covered 18 states and gave more direct attention to the issue of working mothers, a wartime development about which policymakers were ambivalent whether it concerned welfare or non-relief mothers. Although the ADC rolls had grown rapidly from
1936 to 1940, they dropped from 370,000 families in late
1940 to roughly 300,000 in mid-1943, and to a little over
250,000 by 1944. As will be shown, mothers' employment was responsible for much of this although there were other factors involved which should be noted. In 1939, Congress legislated the Old Age Survivor's Insurance (OASI), which transferred eligible widows and children to a separate program. The number of children covered under this new program grew rapidly, from 54,648 children in 1940 to almost 700,000 by 1950, and the proportion of widows' 448
families supported by ADC decreased from 40% in 1940 to
less than a fourth by 1948. Thus the ADC rolls
increasingly consisted of "less deserving" women who would
be prone to work pressures.
Another important source of funds which played a roll
in reducing the ADC rolls during the war years were
servicemen's allotments. Although divorced and legally
separated women were "class A" dependents entitled to
allotments, they received considerably less than did currently married women and seldom received these funds at all. It was perhaps for this reason that some women in
Minneapolis decided against carrying through divorce proceedings against enlisted husbands from whom they were actually separated. It was much more common for ADC mothers to receive allotments from older sons. Reports from Alabama, North Carolina, and Ohio indicated that these allowances were a common reason to leave the ADC rolls. This could, however, raise as many problems as it solved. Before 1943, soldiers were not required to provide funds to any relatives except wives and children, yet some public assistance agencies abided by older laws concerning
"relative's responsibility" and approached families as chough they were or should be supported by their sons.
Different agencies did not treat the allotments the same way; some would automatically withdraw the mother's ADC 449
grant, while others would permit the mother to keep both since even when added together the funds fell short of budgeted need. The Bureau of Public Assistance reported that in most cases, the fnct that the allotment was usually larger than the AiJC grait led to grant cancellation.
Although these factors were instrumental in reducing
ADC rolls during the war years, the most important factor cited in state and federal studies was employment of the mothers. This involved three developments: a greater proportion of mothers worked while actually receiving the grants; other mothers relinquished the pensions for jobs; and fewer new applicants requested ADC. In the past, women had endured lengthy waiting periods to receive aid, but during the war they were more likely to take immediately available employment. In late 1942, 23% of ADC mothers in
18 states surveyed by the Bureau of Public Assistance were at work or seeking jobs; in some states, such as
Arkansas and North Carolina, the percentages were as high as 40 and 47%.
Authorities in the Bureau of Public Assistance and the
Social Security Board viewed this development with considerable ambivalence. Jane Hoey, director of the BPA, admitted that although the 71% decrease in the size of the general assistance rolls was b:th predicted and 450
welcomed in a war economy, the work-related decrease in
ADC costs was neither expected nor embraced as a positive good. Hoey and others voicad the suspicion that individual agencies, far from the eye of the BPA or SSB, were taking advantage of the war situation to pressure mothers to work while presenting the new work statistics as mothers'
"choices" between inadequate grants aid slightly better- paying jobs. In a few short years, the employment picture had changed dramatically, from no jobs to an abundance of them. The new economic climate made it easier for hard-pressed agencies to re-emphasice the "pre-eminent values of economic independence" which had really receded 13 to the background during the Depression years.
The authors of a special B?A study of typical highly industrialized and defense areas in Ohio and North
Carolina during 1943 expressed concerns similar to those of Hoey. The most notable impact of the war on public assistance in these areas was reductions of from 20 to 27% in the ADC rolls during 1942. The BPA cited cases where relinquishing the grant made considerable sense, for example, a mother who swapped a $34 a month grant for a
$195 a month salary in a defense industry. More typical, however, was another mother who began work at $48 a month and had to forfeit her $35 grant as a result. H.ird- pressed mothers were desperate for the small increase, and 451
the BPA was concerned that agencies were taking advantage
of the war situation in order to save money at the expense
of child care and stable family life, the purposes of the
ADC program. Investigations of case records of ADC
agencies in both states yielded considerable evidence that
caseworkers were emphasizing self-support values and
exerting a great deal of control over women's decisions
about many things besides money. Caseworkers conveyed to
their clients that self-reliance was superior to
dependence on aid and truly pressured them to work without
giving due consideration to the means of child care or
adequacy of earnings. Once a mother had followed this
advice, the agency promptly closed the case and the BPA
was unable to acquire follow-up information. If a mother
should receive a servicemen's allotment, agencies would
often cancel her grant and encourage work as the new means
of balancing the budget deficit. Thus, a few short years
after the launching of ADC, the BPA had to admit that
"Because of widespread opportunities for employment, the
basic concept of the program...is everywhere being put to
a real test."^^
In its criticism of these trends, the BPA was careful
to point out that most women who worked while on ADC or
left the rolls to take a full-time job did so only from urgent economic necessity. The investigators found "no 452
evidence that in seeking employment, mothers of dependent
families were primarily motivated by a desire for a
patriotic part in the war effort, greater opportunity for
self-expression, escape from the routine of housework, or
means to supply luxury items in the family budget--
considerations which might induce housewives in the higher
income groups to take jobs in wartime.It is actually difficult, however, to determine what motivated these women as the B?A interviewed only agency officials. All statistics which quantify the labor force participation of
ADC mothers during the 1940s, and generally later periods as well, were based on caseworkers' assessments of whether the mothers were or could be working. Government agents did not generally ask the women themselves how they felt about working or if they were seeking jobs.^^
A few studies from the 1940s offer some information about the consciousness of ADC mothers. In 1945, the Cook
County Welfare Bureau in Illinois studied the work-welfare arrangements made by women on the welfare rolls in
Chicago. These arrangements were made by the women themselves, with no evidence of prodding on the part of caseworkers. Prior to earning part of their income, these
ADC mothers had often had to supplement their low grants with additional aid from local general relief agencies, a strategy "that they so disliked that (the agents) did not 453
feel free to press it upon them." In working, these women
claimed to enjoy their freedom from "relief...a stigma
that they did not asociate with their A.B.C. grant, which
was looked upon as their 'right.'" Although these women
undoubtedly worked from a need for greater income, it is
also clear that they recognized their entitlement ti
special grants as well as the right to work if those
allotments were inadequate.
In other places where agencies were less liberal in regard to earnings exemptions, women expressed their right
to dispense witn the grants and work for higher wages.
Shortly after the war, the Women's Bureau conducted a
"nightwork" study in Hartford, Connecticut, in which the bureau interviewed various social agencies in an effort to discern the impact of women's night employment on children. Much of the subject matter that emerged in these interviews centered on ADC and child care issues. Social workers collectively testified to the desire of these women to work, their extreme dissatisfaction with ADC, and their strong resistance to the closing of day care centers with the expiration of Lanham Act funds. Some agents testified to problems with children whose "mother refuses
ADC, as many do" because the grants were not high enough.
Connecticut was actually one of the most generous states, but this meant that it also tended to practice the "100% 454
tax rate" policy typical of high-grant states and for this
reason, many women preferred to dispense with ADC 18 altogether.
One social agent, apparently sympathetic to the women's
right to seek jobs over ADC, complained that the Catholic
agencies wanted to see the day care centers close so that
these women would be forced to leave their jobs and accept
ADC. Conservative apprehensions about working mothers were
strong during the war and militated against the desire of
public agencies to reduce welfare costs and encourage
self-support. The official policy on working mothers was
ambivalent. The War Manpower Commission had stated that,
despite the shortage of workers during the war, mothers of
young children should work only if good child care
arrangements were available and preferably most would not
work at all. The BPA and the Social Security Board had warned against the dangers of pushing ADC mothers into the
labor force without adequate attention to child care and
follow-up treatment. Yet these very same agencies had
stressed, as early as 1941, the importance of knowing about all sources of support for ADC mothers and had in fact emphasized the "supplementary" nature of public assistance. In its 1946 Handbook, the SSB had professed a liberal attitude about work in its recognition that mothers should be able to choose work over or in addition 455
to welfare. These positions left the door open for the
development of work pressures in future years. Since the
federal administration left virtually all work regulations
up to states, and states in turn allowed considerable
local leverage, an open-ended policy from the upper
echelons meant that women's experiences in this regard would very much depend on where they happened to live.^^
By the late 1940s, the labor force participation rate
of ADC mothers had returned to its estimated pre-war level of 15%. By this time, a growing gap between the proportions of employed welfare and non-welfare single mothers had been noted; over half of single mothers with children under 18 were in the labor force by the late
1940s. The Women's Bureau pointed out that questions were being raised this early as to whether AOC mothers should be expected or required to share the burden with their non welfare sisters. The BPA, cognizant of the fact that ADC mothers had a number of employment problems that were greater than those of the average worker, explicitly rejected "the policy of withdrawing or denying aid as a method of pressuring women with young children to accept work." This made little difference as long as the central agency left all work regulations up to the states. By the early 1950s, at least 10 states had adopted "suitable employment" policies, which entailed that ADC mothers 456
20 could not refuse available work.
One striking feature of the post-war years was the manifestation of the expedient nature of the officially- defined "employability" of welfare mothers. As has been
stated, official labor force participation rates of ADC clients are based on caseworker's assessments, not women's opinions about their desire or capacity to work. The participation rate had been relatively high during World
War II, but once it dropped the Women's Bureau stated that
"Except for abnormally tight labor markets many of these women would never have been considered available for work." (emphasis added.) The condition of labor markets made a great deal of difference in regard to welfare mothers. A Wisconsin assessment testifies to the dramatic change the economic situation could effect. During World
War It, Wisconsin caseworkers claimed that 43% of mothers were unable to work because they were needed at home; by
1948, this figure had risen to over 70%. In 1942, 31% were regarded as part of the labor force; by 1948, only 11.4%.
It is unlikely that the other variables relevant to these 21 women's capacity for employment had changed.
During the 1950s, as the welfare clientele became increasingly non-widow and non-white, the employment stipulations became more common. "Work programs" that for the most pact consisted of efforts to place women in low 457
wage jobs as quickly as possible were ineffective and the work rate of ADC mothers remained at approximately 16% in
every study from 1948 to the 1980s. The major problem with
these studies, as analysts have pointed out, is that they do not take into account the sporadic nature of work among
employees with low skills and paralyzing child care problems. The AFDC studies, taken every few years by national agencies, assess the number of working welfare mothers at a single point in time during the year— which leads to serious underestimations of their involvement in the labor force throughout the year.
From the 1950s on, then, the major transition in social welfare thinking was the idea that that work is not incompatible with the original goals of the ADC program, and that self-reliance should be promoted. This, in fact, was always the goal of social welfare policies, and the recent "workfare" focus is simply the logical outcome of policies which are based on the idea that child caring can be inexpensive. While it is true, as analysts such as
Barbara Nelson and Mimi Abramovitz have argued, that welfare policies in the U.S. have traditionally treated 458
recipients as workers and women as mothers. This
dissertation has attempted to show, however, that a broad
look at the less obvious manifestations of the welfare
state--foster care policies and work programs as well as
the traditional ADC programs--suggest that while gender
makes a great difference, women as a group were seldom
immune to work pressures once they needed assistance.
Single mothers, subject to strong state pressures due to
their deviant status, were always a part of the "working poor." NOTES
Marion F. McKee to Miss A.S. Cronin, Feb. 16, 1940, Box 2450, File 651.321, Pennsylvania folder. Records of the Work Projects Administration, RG 69, National Archives. Henceforth referred to as RG 69, NA; Joseph McArdle to F.C. Harrington, June 13, 1940, Box 2450, File 651.321, Pennsylvania folder, RG 69, NA; Samuel Weise to Howard 0. Hunter, Jan. 13, 1941, Box 2451, File 651.321, Special Folder re Closing Sewing Projects, RG 69, NA.
^Mrs. D.M. to Howard 0. Hunter, Jan. 2, 1941, Box 2451, Pennsylvania folder, Ca-Cg, RG 69, NA; Mrs. CF to FDR, Dec. 27, 1940, Box 2451, Special Folders re Closing Sewing Projects, A-J, RG 69, NA; B.C. to Mrs. Roosevelt, Dec. 19, 1940, Box 2451, Special folders re Closing Sewing Projects, Ca-Cg, RG 69, NA; F.D. to Howard Hunter, Jan. 3, 1941, Box 2451, RG 69, NA; L.D. to Sir, Jan. 3, 1941, Box 2451, Rg 69, NA.
^Mrs. M.B. to Mr. Hunter, Jan. 14, 1941, Box 2451, Special folders re Closing Sewing projects, Ba-Bd, RG 69, NA;
^George Grant to Colonel F.G. Harrington, July 11, 1940, Box 0813, Alabama folder, RG 69, NA; Mrs. F.C. Turner to Frank W. Boyhin, Jan. 6, 1943, Box 0813, Alabama folder, RG 69, NA: "Welfare Projects in National Defense," Feb. 20, 1942, Box 485, Folder 212, RG 69, NA. 5 Melville R. Cole to Eleanor Roosevelt, Jan. 1, 1942, Box 0360, Folder 210.31, RG 69, NA; Miss A.C. to Florence Kerr, Jan. 20, 1941, Box 0361, Folder 210.311, C-G, RG 59, NA; A.F. to Kerr, Jan. 7, 1940, Box 0361, Folder 210.311, C-G, RG 69, NA.
^Melville Cole to Mr. Goodman, Kentucky State Director WPA, Dec. 22, 1941, Box 0360, Folder 210.31, RG 69, NA.
^Margaret Greenfield, Self-Support in Aid to Dependent Children: The California Experience (University oT California, Berkeley: Bureau o? Public Administration, February 1956), pp. 10-11; Winifred Bell, Aid to Dependent Children (New York: Columbia University Press, 1965), 34.
459 460 g Ralph Carr Fletcher and Katherine A. Biehl, "Source of Income of 2,647 Mothers' Assistance Fund Families," The Federator, Oct. 1937, pp. 207-213; Arthur Potts, "Mothers who Must Work but Need Aid," Indiana Welfare News. August 1937, pp. 8-9. Q Federal Security Agency, Social Security Board, Bureau of Public Assistance, Aid to Dependent Children; A Study in Six States, October 1940, Public Assistance Report No. 2 (Washington, November 1940), pp. 47, 9, 32-35.
^^Greenfield, Self-Support in Aid to Dependent Children, pp. 11, l5-l6
^^Major Henry Grossman and Robert H. Cole, "Distribution of Family Allowance Benefits," Social Service Review, September 1945, pp. 359-360; Reel 3?9, #13256, Minneapolis Children's and Family Services Microfilm Collection, Social Welfare History Archives, University of Minnesota; Ruth Lindquist and Margaret Woodson, Families Receiving ADC in North Carolina, Information Bulletin No. 14 (North Carolina State Board of Public Welfare, August 1949), pp. 17, 33; Federal Security Agency, Social Security Board, Bureau of Public Assistance, "Some Problems of Dependent Families in Wartime," unpublished typescript. Health and Human Services Library, Washington, D.C., June 1943, pp. 23- 25; Federal Security Agency, Social Security Board, Bureau of Public Assistance, Families Receiving Aid to Dependent Children, October 1942. Part II: Family Income,Public Assistance Report No. 7 (Washington, 1942), pp. 23-24. 12 Federal Security Agency, Social Security Board, Bureau of Public Assistance, Families Receiving Aid to Dependent Children, October 1942. Part I: Race, Size, and Composition of Families and Reasons for Dependency, Public Assistance Report No. ) (Washington, 1^42), p. 38. 13 ■ Jane Hoey, "The Impact of the War on the Public Assistance Programs," Social Service Review, December 1943, pp. 473-475; Lucille K. Corbett, "The Impact of the War on the Integrity of Dependent Families," unpublished typescript. May 1943, health and Human Services Library, Washington, D.C.
^^FSA, SSB, BPA, "Some Problems of Dependent Families During Wartime," pp. 2,6,8, 9, 23.
l^ibid., p. 3 461
^^‘•Planning Services for Children of Employed Mothers," typescript, Box 700, Records of the Women's Bureau, Record Group 36, National Archives.
‘^Kasman, Ruth A. "Employed Mothers of Children in the A.D.C. Program, Cook County Bureau of Public Welfare," Social Service Review, 19, March 1945, pp. 97-98. IQ "Mohr's Interview With Social Agencies," Typescript, pp. 7, 30, passim. Box 676, Records of the Women's Bureau, Record Group 86, National Archives.
^^"Mohr's Interviews", p. 19; PSA, SSB, BPA, Families Receiving Aid to Dependent Children, Oct. 1942: Part I, P.A.R. no. T, pi Mildred Rciin, Work or Welfare; Factors in the Choice of AFDC Mothers (New York: Praeger, 19)4), p. 7, 8. 20 * Federal Security Agency, Social Security Board, Bureau of Public Assistance, Aid to Dependent Children in a Postwar Year; Characteristics of Families Receiving Aid to Dependent Children, June 1948, Public Assistance Report No. 1' (Washington, D.C.: 1^50), o. 1%; "Planning Services for Children of Employed Mothers,^' Box 700, RG 86, NA, pp. 39, 54, 63; Rain, Work or Welfare, p. 8; "Preliminary Report: Census of Characteristics of ADC Cases, April 1948," Box 34, Folder 8, ADC Studies, Wisconsin, Records of the American Public Welfare Association, SW54, Social Welfare History Archives, University of Minnesota. BIBLIOGRAPHY
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