Incorrigibles and Innocents: Constructing Childhood and Citizenship in Progressive Era Comics

Incorrigibles and Innocents

Incorrigibles and Innocents

Constructing Childhood and Citizenship in Progressive Era Comics

Lara Saguisag

RUTGERS UNIVERSITY PRESS

NEW BRUNSWICK, CAMDEN, AND NEWARK, NEW JERSEY, AND LONDON

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Saguisag, Lara, author.

Title: Incorrigibles and innocents : constructing childhood and citizenship in progressive era comics / Lara Saguisag.

Description: New Brunswick : Rutgers University Press, 2018. | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2018003851| ISBN 9780813591773 (hardback) | ISBN 9780813591766 (paperback)

Subjects: LCSH: Comic books, strips, etc.—United States—History and criticism. | Children in literature. | Citizenship in literature. | Literature and society—United States—History. | BISAC: SOCIAL SCIENCE / Popular Culture. | LITERARY CRITICISM / Comics & Graphic Novels. | HISTORY / Social History. | PERFORMING ARTS / Film & Video / History & Criticism. | HISTORY / United States / 20th Century. | SOCIAL SCIENCE / Children’s Studies. | SOCIAL SCIENCE / Gender Studies.

Classification: LCC PN6725 .S35 2018 | DDC 741.5/973—dc23 LC record available at https://​lccn.loc.gov/​2018003851

A British Cataloging-in-Publication record for this book is available from the British Library.

Copyright © 2019 by Lara Saguisag

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. Please contact Rutgers University Press, 106 Somerset Street, New Brunswick, N.J. 08901. The only exception to this prohibition is fair use as defined by U.S. copyright law.

www.rutgersuniversitypress.org

For my father, Rene, and in memory of my mother, Dulce

Contents

Introduction: Drawing the Lines

Chapter 1. Foreign yet Familiar

Chapter 2. Crossing the Color Line

Chapter 3. Family Amusements

Chapter 4. The Secret Tracts of the Child’s Mind

Chapter 5. What Would You Do with Girls like These?

Conclusion: Naughty Boys in a New Millennium

Acknowledgments

Notes

Bibliography

Index

About the Author

Introduction

Drawing the Lines

Richard F. Outcault made a living by drawing children. As a cartoonist and illustrator who witnessed and experienced the turbulences and dynamisms of New York City in the Progressive Era, he produced quite an assortment of images of childhood: immigrant and working-class boys and girls who played riotous games in back lots, alleys, and parks; white, middle-class youngsters who threw tantrums and sowed chaos in the parlor; and black children who were, troublingly, modeled after the popular pickaninny caricature. In his newspaper comics—which ran the gamut of single-panel cartoons, large cartoons divided into multiple sections, and multipanel sequential strips—he coaxed readers to sympathize with doleful waifs, admire the resourcefulness of bell boys and street urchins, and chuckle at the sight of city kids who found themselves out of sorts in the countryside.¹ Outcault’s persistent fascination with childhood obviously paid off: his work made him a fortune and turned him into a national celebrity. In his lifetime, critics hailed him as the father of the funnies. His contemporaries sought to replicate his success by launching their own child-centered comics series. Many comics historians and archivists regard Outcault as an innovative, astute artist who helped lay the foundations of the American comic strip.

The case of Outcault demonstrates that the theme of childhood was essential to the emergence and development of comics in the United States in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. But this book does more than just examine Progressive Era cartoonists’ exploration of and fixation with childhood. It also reveals that the two strands of comics and childhood were tightly braided with contemporary discourses of citizenship and nationhood. The Progressive Era was a period defined by conflicts—between industrial and agrarian economies, workers and the wealthy, emancipation and white supremacy movements, immigration and nativism, the New Woman and the Cult of True Womanhood—and cartoonists used images of children to explore, dissect, and sometimes defuse these sociopolitical tensions.

As a fledgling cartoonist in mid-1890s New York, Outcault often represented the city’s tenements as neighborhoods of bedlam. He filled his frames with caricatures of rowdy immigrant and working-class children. In his cartoon Golf—The Great Society Sport as Played in Hogan’s Alley (fig. 1), published in Joseph Pulitzer’s the New York World on January 5, 1896, street children lay claim to a public space and play unruly rounds of golf.² Their clumsy attempts at the sport result in several injuries and presumably several broken windows. In this multicolored cartoon that took up half a broadsheet page, Outcault heightens the sense of disorder by forcing readers to take in numerous dynamic actions all at once. As such, Outcault recalls the work of eighteenth-century artist William Hogarth, whose engravings, as Thierry Smolderen puts it, invite a variable, zigzagging circulation of the reader’s gaze.³

Turn-of-the-century readers likely apprehended Golf as a visual shock as they confronted the cartoon’s size, mix of colors, and intricate network of actions. Of course, the themes and techniques of Golf were not at all atypical for its time. Like many of his contemporaries, Outcault used images of swarming immigrant and working-class youth as shorthand for the tumult and unpredictability of city life. In fact, in drawing Golf, Outcault walked a path that he had repeatedly tread, as made evident by his earlier work published in the humor magazine Truth and previous issues of the World. But whether readers found Golf to be unique or typical, they likely found themselves drawn to a particular character who stood in the middle of Outcault’s picture of urban pandemonium. In the foreground, just a little off center, stands a small bald boy wearing a stained yellow nightshirt. As Colton Waugh suggests, the bright hue of the character’s garment turns him into a vivid bull’s eye in the whole big page.⁴ In a cartoon that is primarily colored with shades of brown and muted blues and reds, the solid-yellow smock is, in Jens Balzer’s words, unusual: the color "[turns] the little boy in the nightshirt into a character that could be identified, setting the urchin apart from the masses around him and multiplying the readers’ interest in Hogan’s Alley."⁵

Figure 1. Cartoon by R. F. Outcault. Golf—the Great Society Sport as Played in Hogan’s Alley. In New York World Comic Supplement, January 5, 1896. SFS 58-1-1, San Francisco Academy of Comic Art Collection, the Ohio State University Billy Ireland Cartoon Library and Museum.

The yellow nightshirt, however, is not the only thing that makes the character distinct. What is more arresting is his interaction with his audience. Not only does he meet the reader’s gaze; he also uses his right hand to instruct her where to look. His expression of amusement also prompts the reader to delight in the various scenes of chaos that play out in Golf. While most of the figures in the panel remain anonymous, the boy in the yellow smock steps out of the realm of stock characters, emerging as a distinct, memorable individual. Outcault later recognized the commercial potential of his character and made the move to further signal this fictional child’s singularity by giving him a name. Outcault christened his creation Mickey Dugan. The public, however, took to calling him by another name: the Yellow Kid.

Comics historians note that this kid played a definitive role in the development of comics, consumer culture, and journalism at the turn of the century.⁶ After the Yellow Kid’s debut in Golf, Outcault turned him into a staple character in his Hogan’s Alley series. Then, in late 1896, Outcault left Pulitzer’s paper—with the Yellow Kid in tow—to work for the New York Journal, a rival newspaper published by William Randolph Hearst. In the Journal, the character appeared in three consecutive series: McFadden’s Row of Flats (October 18, 1896–January 10, 1897), Around the World with the Yellow Kid (January 17, 1897–May 30, 1897), and Ryan’s Arcade (September 28, 1897–January 23, 1898). In these various series, Outcault utilized elements that are now considered standard in the modern newspaper comic strip.⁷ The Yellow Kid proved the immense commercial value of a distinct, recurring character.⁸ Outcault also used the Yellow Kid series to revive the word balloon, a feature that had been commonly used in eighteenth- and nineteenth-century print visual culture but was on the verge of extinction by the time nineteenth-century British caricaturist George Cruikshank utilized it.⁹

The Yellow Kid series also played a vital role in the expansion of consumer culture at the turn of the century. The character’s success gave publishers confirmation that the comic supplement was crucial to boosting newspaper circulation. The Yellow Kid also inspired an unprecedented consumer craze in New York City. The character swelled from a two-dimensional figure to a commercial phenomenon as merchandisers used his image to sell a wide variety of licensed and unlicensed products, including postcards, alcohol, cigarettes, and an assortment of decorative items. The Yellow Kid also became intertwined with other forms of mass entertainments: he became a featured character in theater productions, vaudeville skits, and short films. The case of the Yellow Kid illustrates Ian Gordon’s description of the dual function of newspaper comics as products and advertisements: they are, on the one hand, goods that readers consume and, on the other hand, sites that promoted other products and normalized the act of consumption.¹⁰

Because of his extraordinary lucrativeness, the Yellow Kid became a pawn in the well-documented newspaper feud between Pulitzer and Hearst. When Outcault left to work for Hearst’s Journal, Pulitzer hired the artist George Luks to continue drawing Hogan’s Alley—and the Yellow Kid—for the World. Consequently, for a brief period, two competing series featuring the Yellow Kid appeared simultaneously in two papers, with each publication insisting they owned the rights to Outcault’s character.¹¹ Other enterprising cartoonists and illustrators were also freely borrowing the Yellow Kid’s image in their editorial cartoons and advertisements.¹² The dispute over who owned the rights to the Yellow Kid was entangled with Pulitzer’s and Hearst’s aggressive efforts to outsell one another. To expand their readerships, both the World and the Journal resorted to sensational headlines, stories of crime and scandal, often superfluous use of photographic and drawn illustrations, and heightened slapstick and ethnic humor in the comic supplements. In 1897, New York Press editor Ervin Wardman wryly observed that the Pulitzer-Hearst rivalry gave rise to a new form of journalism. Ward called their practices yellow-kid journalism, a term that was eventually abridged to yellow journalism.¹³

There is, however, a curious omission in the rich body of histories and criticism that consider and debate the significance and impact of the Yellow Kid. Very few scholars have expressed interest in investigating why Progressive Era readers and consumers so avidly embraced a fictional child and why, in the wake of the Yellow Kid’s success, child characters proliferated in newspaper comic supplements. Just as the Yellow Kid appeared in the foreground of Golf, child characters stood front and center in many turn-of-the-century newspaper supplements. Cartoonists such as Outcault, Rudolph Dirks, James Swinnerton, Winsor McCay, and Grace Wiederseim, among many others, built their careers on series headlined by children. Fictional children such as Buster Brown, Hans and Fritz Katzenjammer, Little Jimmy, Dear Katy, Little Nemo, and Dolly Dimple entertained and captivated many Progressive Era readers. Yet comics scholarship—with a few exceptions—continues to overlook the importance of childhood and child characters to the development of newspaper comics in the United States and, more broadly, of comics in their various iterations around the world.¹⁴

Incorrigibles and Innocents advances existing studies of Progressive Era comics by exploring and emphasizing the cultural form’s links to Progressive Era childhoods. In doing so, this book offers new perspectives in histories of childhood and comics. It shows that late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century cartoons and comic strips reinforced as well as interrogated white, middle-class notions of childhood, often upholding the ideal of innocent childhood while also revealing how this ideal was incongruous with children’s apparent proclivity for misbehavior. This book also illustrates how the subject of citizenship was interwoven with Progressive Era concerns about childhood; newspaper comics became spaces in which children’s citizenship was defined and debated and in which notions of race, ethnicity, gender, and class were used to sort and re-sort children into categories of future citizen and noncitizen. Incorrigibles and Innocents demonstrates that American comics at the turn of the century not only theorized childhood but also used child characters to reiterate—and complicate—existing beliefs about who could claim membership in a modernizing, expanding nation. In other words, this book insists that Progressive Era comics are significant cultural artifacts that elucidate how discourses of childhood are inextricably linked with discourses of race, ethnicity, class, gender, nationhood, and citizenship.

In this book, I pay special attention to the ways cartoonists deployed the figure of the child to sustain and/or question stereotypes. In newspaper cartoons and comic strips, images of childhood simultaneously functioned to ridicule and redeem those who were viewed as outsiders or threats. The comics appropriated tropes from late nineteenth-century humor magazines, which often used caricatures to express, perpetuate, and allay anxieties about industrialization, modernization, and the increasing visibility of African Americans, immigrants, and women in social, political, and economic venues.¹⁵ In many late nineteenth-century magazine cartoons, members of minority groups were often depicted as naïve or mischief-making children. Such representations meant to infantilize, diminish, and thus contain those who were deemed dangerous and other. Comics published in Progressive Era newspapers continued this tradition established in magazine cartoons.

Yet many of these newspaper comics series also encouraged readers to view mischief-making children as creative rather than destructive forces. Some texts suggested that young African Americans and immigrant children were potential citizens; they offered pictures of minority children who possessed energy, resourcefulness, and autonomy—qualities that individuals needed to exhibit in order to be welcomed and thrive in a capitalist-democratic society. Moreover, as childhood was increasingly understood as a state of innocence and malleability, associating minority groups with childhood sometimes allowed stereotypes to emerge as sympathetic characters. At the very least, the emphasis on the youthfulness of minority children bolstered the argument that they were pliable enough to be molded into productive members of American society.

But as child characters gained footholds in newspaper comic supplements, many of these figures came to endorse prevailing cultural norms. Comics series gradually upheld the Anglo-Saxon, middle-class, male child as the figure who embodied both exuberance and innocence and was best positioned to be the rightful inheritor of a racial and patriarchal legacy. Cartoonists, perceiving that the white, middle-class boy had universal appeal, framed him as a character who could attract and maintain a wide, diverse readership. With the ascendance of this particular image, fictional children who were raced, ethnic, lower class, and female were pushed to the margins of the comic supplements. Overall, Incorrigibles and Innocents reveals the ambivalent nature of child characters in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century newspaper comics: they simultaneously reinforced and undermined boundaries of race, ethnicity, class, and gender. Through the use of images of children, Progressive Era comics became sites of cultural negotiation in which dominant beliefs about childhood and citizenship were at once shored up and interrogated.

Progressivism: Its Visions and Paradoxes

Progressive Era comics featured a varied cast of child characters—well-heeled youngsters who made mischief in the parlor, street urchins who loitered in the streets, and boys and girls who were of Anglo-Saxon, Irish, African, and Chinese descent. It appears that in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, newspaper cartoonists and their readers were fascinated and preoccupied with the experiences of different kinds of children. Such engrossment in childhood, however, did not emerge in a vacuum; rather, this absorption was deeply tied to ongoing discourses of the state of the nation. At the turn of the century, the United States was caught in the fervor of industrialization, urbanization, and expansion. The nation also grappled with shifting ideas about race, ethnicity, class, and gender. The country’s rapid economic development and rising global influence inspired optimism and excitement. But the exhilaration over seemingly boundless opportunities was accompanied by much unease and conflict. Even as Americans marveled at and delighted in the technological advancements and profusion of consumer products enabled by laissez-faire capitalism, many were disquieted about the rise of monopolistic corporations.¹⁶ Some expressed dismay over the unprecedented expansion of consumer culture: they worried that as people from all walks of life partook in new pleasures and leisure activities, the values of self-discipline and self-denial would fall to the wayside. Many Americans also observed, with much apprehension, how corporate capitalism hardened, rather than erased, social and economic disparities. Wage workers, laborers, and farmers found their individual rights curtailed by policies enforced by the wealthy, the very ones who preached the creed of individualism.¹⁷ African Americans fleeing the South came face-to-face with deep-seated racism in the North, and immigrants who arrived en masse to fulfill industrialization’s voracious appetite for labor found themselves repelled by xenophobic nativist movements. While cities became thriving hubs of industrialization, racial and ethnic minorities, the working class, and the poor often had no choice but to live in squalid conditions.

A remarkable number of Americans mobilized in response to these troubling socioeconomic developments. While many of these progressives or progressive reformers were white and middle class, they were far from being a monolithic group. Maureen A. Flanagan reminds us that a number of African Americans, ethnic minorities, and members of the working class fervently pressed for the effectuation of progressive reform initiatives.¹⁸ Progressivism was a movement that included a variety of actors and organizations that pursued disparate, though often intersecting, interests and agendas. Reformers championed numerous causes, including the regulation of mass entertainments, temperance, women’s suffrage, and rights to adequate housing, health services, and fair working conditions for immigrants and members of the lower classes. Economic progressives vigorously campaigned for workers’ rights and increased government regulation of corporate industries. As Michael McGerr puts it, Progressivism was an explosion, a burst of energy that fired in many directions across America.¹⁹ What united progressives was their vision of a utopic United States and the belief that this vision could be realized through comprehensive reform and active civic engagement.

Their efforts to establish a perfect United States, however, were replete with frustrations and contradictions. Suffragettes and women who took part in reform efforts were often chastised for being unladylike and blamed for the alleged breakdown of the (white, middle-class) family. While progressivism pushed for egalitarianism and rejected the competitive, individualistic creed of capitalism, the movement’s proponents sought to restrain rather than dismantle liberal capitalism altogether.²⁰ Racism, sexism, and the pseudoscience of eugenics shaped the views of many economic reformers, who consequently acted to restrict or prohibit the participation of African Americans, immigrants, women, and persons with disabilities in the labor force.²¹ As cities became marked by racial, ethnic, and economic ghettoization, reformers generally accepted that segregation could never be entirely eradicated and was perhaps even necessary.²² Moreover, progressives often approached those they sought to uplift with condescension as much as empathy. McGerr argues that progressivism’s mission of transforming the nation was, at heart, an effort to transform others. More specifically, reformers desired to mold immigrants, rural workers, laborers, the poor, and children—in short, those they deemed to be different—in their middle-class image:

To reshape adult behavior, middle-class reformers fought to ban liquor, eradicate prostitution, and limit divorce. To change other classes, the reformers attacked the life-style and fortunes of [the wealthy], tried to improve the living conditions of workers, and attempted to modernize the agrarian way of life. To ensure a better future, progressives sought to reconstruct childhood. Together, these campaigns added up to a bold effort to remake Americans, to create new people living by new codes of conduct. Just as the middle class itself had been remade, now other classes would be remade as well.²³

Put another way, the movement’s project of reshaping peoples was primarily a project of universalizing middle-class (and white) conceptualizations of citizenship.

Progressive reformers’ fixation with making good citizens was especially evident in their work with children. Historian Paula S. Fass sums up the questions that preoccupied these child-savers: What kinds of citizens, workers, and family members would [children] grow up to become? How could their futures be directed toward social ends as well as stable, productive adulthoods?²⁴ Progressives were not the first to pay attention to children’s lives and needs; they built on the work of nineteenth-century child welfare reformers such as Charles Loring Brace. But Progressive Era child-savers differed from their forerunners in urging for the implementation of changes on a national rather than a local level; they also emphatically asserted that government involvement was crucial to solving the social conundrum of how to raise healthy future citizens. Their advocacy resulted in sweeping reforms and initiatives, including the institution of mandatory school and child labor laws; the restructuring of juvenile justice systems; the improvement of public health, housing, and sanitation policies; and the establishment of kindergartens and playgrounds across the country, all of which substantially changed the lives of millions of children in the United States.

Ironically, progressives’ concerns about ensuring the future productivity of children rendered some young people unproductive. Viviana A. Zelizer documents how, in the Progressive Era, the image of the economically useful child was gradually replaced by the image of the emotionally priceless child.²⁵ As more white, middle-class, urban parents embraced the ideal of childhood as a period of innocence, the model of the patriarchal-hierarchical family gave way to the model of the democratic and demonstrative family. With this new family dynamic, the focus shifted from productivity to playfulness, from discipline to indulgence. Moreover, the notion of adolescence as a natural transitional period between childhood and adulthood gained traction among members of the white middle class. This concept of adolescence, avidly advanced by psychologist and educator G. Stanley Hall, dramatically altered young people’s lives: it lengthened childhood, delaying children’s entry into the workforce and other adult spheres. Education, play, and recreation, rather than labor, became the central defining markers of childhood, especially for white, middle-class, urban children.

Thus many young people growing up in the Progressive Era enjoyed an extended period of schooling and leisure and found opportunities to form communities with their peers. But these children paid a price for their new pleasures. The experience of an emotionally priceless childhood came with heightened constraint, scrutiny, and regimentation. Child-savers, subscribing to the notion that children were vulnerable and impressionable, attempted to restrict young people’s access to purportedly harmful and corrupting cultural spaces, such as nickelodeons, dance halls, and comic supplements. Many progressives were proponents of child study, a movement spearheaded by Hall that espoused scientific approaches to studying childhood and raising children. Child study, as Steven Mintz points out, carried profound consequences for the experiences of childhood: [Child study] identified a series of sharply differentiated developmental stages, each with its own distinctive characteristics and psychology. It isolated certain norms—including norms about weight, size, and cognitive development—that could be applied to children of particular ages. Its standardized norms also altered the way young people were reared by inspiring new kinds of childrearing manuals, written by physicians and psychologists rather than by ministers and moralists, and espousing rational rather than spiritual advice.²⁶ Many adults also feared that urbanization and growing maternal influence in the family were softening and feminizing boys. Consequently, male children were often pressured to participate in vigorous activities, such as organized sports and camping, so they could exercise and preserve their so-called natural masculinity. Girls, on the other hand, gained opportunities that were not available to their mothers, especially in terms of education, leisure, and participation in consumer culture. But many of these cultural spaces remained highly gendered: sports for girls, for example, emphasized the development of poise rather than strength; popular girls’ books, such as Kate Douglas Wiggin’s Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm (1903) and L. M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables (1908), celebrated the image of the spirited girl who eventually chooses family over career and independence.²⁷

While the childhoods of white, middle-class boys and girls were marked by contradictions, the more troubling paradox lay in the disparity between white, middle-class ideals and the lived experiences of African American children, immigrant youth, and children who worked in factories and farms. While progressivism, at the outset, was an effort to combat and eradicate social and economic inequalities that were created or exacerbated by industrialization and modernization, the work of child-saving progressives sometimes inadvertently hardened the lines of socioeconomic stratification. For example, eugenics infused white, middle-class child-rearing practices: anxieties about raising normal children were tied to the intense desire to preserve a pure Anglo-Saxon line and prevent it from being sullied by the inferior stock and vulgar cultures of African Americans and immigrants. While reformers declared that universal, mandatory schooling was an equalizing force that would provide education and citizenship training to children from different backgrounds, Clif Stratton chronicles the following reality:

Textbooks, segregated schools, Americanization campaigns of varying degrees of coerciveness, and policies and narratives of colonialism forged a variegated schooling experience in which certain common threads emerged, especially preparation for different and unequal forms of citizenship.

Ultimately, the paths of citizenship available to many students, particularly foreign-born and nonwhite, were incongruent with the promises of public education as the institutional mechanism of equal social opportunity and as the vehicle of economic mobility heralded by many school reformers at the turn of the twentieth century and beyond.²⁸

Some children were also simply written out of narratives of citizenship. Robin Bernstein notes that as the ideal of childhood innocence became exclusively associated with white childhood, the innocent black child became an incongruous, impossible figure. The black child was deemed too savage for redemption, too corrupt to be accorded (future) citizenship.²⁹ While some progressives were invested in the uplift of black children, by and large, reformers ignored or failed to prioritize the needs of African Americans, children and adults alike.³⁰

Child-savers were more optimistic about the potential of young immigrants. Many reformers pushed back against nativism and xenophobia, arguing that immigrant children were malleable enough to be molded into productive Americans. Lillian D. Wald, writing in 1915, countered the pervasive feelings of distrust and loathing of immigrants by describing young new arrivals as just little children, forever appealing.³¹ Wald argued that the nation had much to learn from immigrant children, stating, As a nation we must rise or fall as we serve or fail these future citizens. . . . Their appeal suggests that social exclusions and prejudices separate far more effectively than distance and differing language. They bring a hope that a better relationship—even the great brotherhood—is not impossible, and that through love and understanding we shall come to know the shame of prejudice.³²

Yet the reformers also measured young immigrants against Anglo-Saxon, middle-class ideals, ideals that were often incommensurate with the needs and desires of immigrant children and their families.³³ More specifically, reformers’ campaigns to unshackle immigrant children—and, for that matter, working-class and rural children—from the chains of labor were often resisted by the objects of these efforts. For working children, the ideal of a labor-free childhood was one they could not afford—or did not desire—to perform. While industries certainly exploited children, many young people found some pleasure in work. Some took pride in making a contribution to their families, others felt that work gave them a sense of autonomy, and many were especially thrilled by how their income enabled them to purchase goods and partake in amusements.³⁴ In short, the middle-class dream of an emotionally priceless childhood was not necessarily congruent with the experiences and sentiments of working children.

Comics and Contradictions

Newspaper comics proved to be an especially suitable medium for capturing the paradoxes that shaped Progressive Era childhoods. Charles Hatfield’s description of comics as an art of tensions is particularly relevant here, as he suggests that a push-and-pull dynamic is embedded in the formal and material properties of comics. As Hatfield observes, readers encounter four tensions when they read comics: they examine the ways verbal and visual codes complement, contradict, and complicate one another; they interpret an image in isolation while also apprehending the image as part of a series; they perform both linear and nonlinear readings, making sense of a panel’s part in a sequence and in the larger page layout; and they experience comics as at once a narrative text and as a material (and commercial) object.³⁵ For Hatfield, these multiple tensions open up various ways of reading [comics]—various interpretive options and potentialities—[which] must be played against each other.³⁶

Progressive Era comics were certainly marked by these tensions. But they also fostered multiple and sometimes oppositional readings in other ways: they utilized the unstable form of the caricature and further destabilized it via sequential panels and serialization, they promoted emergent theories about the function of humor, and they attempted to reach a broad, diverse audience. And as I illustrate below, themes of childhood and images of children frequently overlaid these approaches.

At first blush, it seems impossible to consider caricatures as images that welcome a variety