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Selling Women's History: Packaging Feminism in Twentieth-Century American Popular Culture

Selling Women's History: Packaging Feminism in Twentieth-Century American Popular Culture

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Selling Women's History: Packaging Feminism in Twentieth-Century American Popular Culture

473 pages
63 hours
Jan 9, 2017


Only in recent decades has the American academic profession taken women’s history seriously. But the very concept of women’s history has a much longer past, one that’s intimately entwined with the development of American advertising and consumer culture. 
Selling Women’s History reveals how, from the 1900s to the 1970s, popular culture helped teach Americans about the accomplishments of their foremothers, promoting an awareness of women’s wide-ranging capabilities. On one hand, Emily Westkaemper examines how this was a marketing ploy, as Madison Avenue co-opted women’s history to sell everything from Betsy Ross Red lipstick to Virginia Slims cigarettes. But she also shows how pioneering adwomen and female historians used consumer culture to publicize histories that were ignored elsewhere. Their feminist work challenged sexist assumptions about women’s subordinate roles. 
Assessing a dazzling array of media, including soap operas, advertisements, films, magazines, calendars, and greeting cards, Selling Women’s History offers a new perspective on how early- and mid-twentieth-century women saw themselves. Rather than presuming a drought of female agency between the first and second waves of American feminism, it reveals the subtle messages about women’s empowerment that flooded the marketplace. 

Jan 9, 2017

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Selling Women's History - Emily Westkaemper



Packaging Feminism in Twentieth-Century American Popular Culture




Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Westkaemper, Emily, 1979– author.

Title: Selling women’s history : packaging feminism in twentieth-century American popular culture / Emily Westkaemper.

Description: New Brunswick, New Jersey : Rutgers University Press, 2017. | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2016015514| ISBN 9780813576336 (hardback) | ISBN 9780813576329 (pbk.) | ISBN 9780813576343 (e-book (epub)) | ISBN 9780813576350 (Web PDF)

Subjects: LCSH: Women in popular culture—United States—History. | History in popular culture—United States—History. | Women in advertising—United States—History. | History in advertising—United States—History. | Women—United States—History. | Feminism—United States—History. | BISAC: SOCIAL SCIENCE / Women’s Studies. | ART / Popular Culture. | SOCIAL SCIENCE / Popular Culture. | DESIGN / Graphic Arts / Advertising. | HISTORY / United States / General.

Classification: LCC HQ1410.W47   2017 | DDC 305.420973—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016015514

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

Copyright © 2017 by Emily Westkaemper

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, NJ 08901. The only exception to this prohibition is fair use as defined by U.S. copyright law.

Visit our website: http://rutgerspress.rutgers.edu

Manufactured in the United States of America

For my mother, Kathleen Hogan Westkaemper





1. Martha Washington (Would Have) Shopped Here: Women’s History in Magazines and Ephemera, 1910–1935

2. The Quaker Girl Turns Modern: How Adwomen Promoted History, 1910–1940

3. Broadcasting Yesteryear: Women’s History on Commercial Radio, 1930–1945

4. Gallant American Women: Feminist Historians and the Mass Media, 1935–1950

5. Betsy Ross Red Lipstick: Products as Artifacts and Inspiration, 1940–1950

6. You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby: Women’s History in Consumer Culture from World War II to Women’s Liberation




About the Author


I received generous financial support for archival research from the Smithsonian Institution, the Hagley Museum and Library, the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study at Harvard Schlesinger Library, Smith College, the University of Wyoming American Heritage Center, Franklin & Marshall College, and an Andrew W. Mellon Foundation Fellowship at the Library Company of Philadelphia and the Historical Society of Pennsylvania. Rutgers University and its history department provided funding during my graduate study. James Madison University (JMU) provided vital assistance through an Edna T. Shaeffer Humanist Award, a College of Arts and Letters Faculty Summer Research Grant, a Madison Caucus for Gender Equality Professional Development Fund Grant, and history department research funds. I would also like to thank Gabrielle Lanier, Michael Galgano, David Jeffrey, and my colleagues and students for making JMU a wonderful place to work as a historian.

Many archivists and curators assisted my research. Thank you to Marianne Hansen and Eric Pumroy for providing access to the unprocessed Philadelphia Club of Advertising Women records at the Bryn Mawr College Library. At the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History, Larry Bird, Fath Davis Ruffins, and Susan Strange offered useful insight. Larry generously shared his Cavalcade of America research materials. At Schlesinger Library, Ellen Shea made fruitful recommendations. Paula Weddle and the JMU interlibrary loan staff provided important assistance.

I appreciate feedback on portions of this work presented at the JMU History Forum; the JMU Center for Faculty Innovation; the 2013 American Historical Association Annual Meeting; the 2008 Berkshire Conference; the 2007 American Studies Association Annual Meeting; and the 2007 Graduate Symposium on Women’s and Gender History at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. Participants in Bonnie Smith’s research seminar at Rutgers helped me define this project. Pete Daniel, David Gilbert, Ann D. Gordon, Elizabeth Hageman, Allen Howard, Alison Isenberg, Temma Kaplan, Abigail Lewis, Sandra Mendiola Garcia, Jennifer Miller, and Melissa Stein improved my research and writing. I am also grateful to Anne Boylan for sharing her seminar paper on radio and her research on Miriam Holden. My JMU student Jessica Davis located the Saturday Evening Post article Are Women Doing Their Share in the War?

I first examined popular culture’s use of the past for an undergraduate thesis directed by Grace Hale, whose insight set the path for my subsequent research. Cindy Aron, Alon Confino, Alan B. Howard, Elisabeth Ladenson, Michael Levenson, and Franny Nudelman also provided inspiration at that early stage.

Nancy Hewitt, Jackson Lears, Bonnie Smith, and Jennifer Scanlon provided expert guidance on my dissertation. I am also indebted to Nancy Hewitt for her advice and encouragement on its revision into this book.

I am deeply grateful for the editorial work of Kimberly Guinta, Carrie Hudak, Katie Keeran, and Leslie Mitchner at Rutgers University Press and for the feedback of three anonymous readers. I also thank copyeditor Romaine Perin and all the Rutgers University Press staff who have assisted with this publication.

Throughout my research and writing, I drew support from family members: Timothy Westkaemper, Richard Benedict Westkaemper, Sunya Olson Westkaemper, and Richard Barwise Westkaemper. The memory of Margaret Paradise Hogan is one of the reasons I pursued women’s history. I benefited from Sarah Henry’s invaluable friendship throughout the entire process. Aric Berg gave bountiful inspiration.

My mother, Kathleen Hogan Westkaemper, has sustained me in countless ways, which I am grateful to acknowledge with thanks and love.




The assertion that women have a history worth telling has featured prominently in American feminism. Between suffrage and the women’s liberation movement—before the institutionalization of women’s history as a scholarly field—the mass media offered unique opportunities for promoting this message. Within U.S. popular culture, feminists, historians of women, corporations, and the advertising industry publicized diverse—sometimes competing—discourses about women’s historical roles.¹

This book analyzes the variety of women’s histories in product promotions and commercial media from the 1910s through the 1970s. Patterns established early in the century persisted for decades. Historical subjects ranged from exceptional achievers to anonymous grandmothers. American stories—both fictional and fact based—appeared most frequently, with an assortment of archetypes and eras represented. Some narratives proclaimed modern progress, seeking to differentiate the past and the present by touting the benefits of new products—or by applauding women’s growing roles in employment, education, and politics. Other popular histories distorted the past so it mirrored modern norms. Sentimentalized visions of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century domestic life saturated the twentieth-century consumer culture landscape of women’s magazines, greeting cards, product packages, and store displays. Such portrayals often supported dominant gender ideals, particularly the importance of consumption to female identity.

Popular culture’s women’s histories were not necessarily feminist histories. By elevating earlier generations as models, advertisements often prescribed continued devotion to domesticity as female consumers’ duty to family and nation. Such narratives suggested that present-day changes—including suffrage and new household technologies—should not remove women from their exalted position in the home. Responding to the Great Depression and World War II, corporations likened colonial women and nineteenth-century western pioneers to their modern counterparts, celebrating an inherent female capacity for maternal and patriotic sacrifice while asserting women’s subordinate social status across time.

However, throughout the twentieth century, consumer culture also offered depictions of women as independent—sometimes transgressive—historical actors. Magazines, radio, film, and comic books featured biographies of famous and forgotten women, including entrepreneurs, activists, educators, and wives of notable men. Advertising women, magazine contributors, and scriptwriters elevated historical examples of women’s contributions to business and politics, asserting precedents for their own careers. Women historians added to mass market magazines’ and to radio’s frequent forays into the past, touting knowledge of historical struggles and achievements as a pathway to improving modern conditions. In some respects, this work prefigured the subject matter and perspective of late twentieth-century academic historians, tracking changes in the expectations for women’s behavior to demonstrate that society rather than biology had limited women’s activities.

Such historical revisionism appeared most prominently when adwomen, historians, and activists created their own platforms, developing new programs for 1930s radio. These projects provided feminist biographies that looked beyond domesticity, seeking to rescue women’s political, economic, and military contributions from obscurity. Nevertheless, strategic concessions to popular norms appeared even in these cases, as feminists sought wide audiences. Then, commercial celebrations of women’s historical contributions to public life increased when corporate advertisements, women’s magazines, and commercial entertainments offered the past as inspiration for women’s active participation in World War II. However, ahistorical assumptions of timelessness in women’s devotion to domesticity, romance, and beauty underpinned these depictions of women’s public contributions as a response to crisis. Thus, while the possibilities for experimentation in early commercial radio, and then the wartime propaganda supporting women’s military enlistment and paid industrial employment, brought complex, feminist portrayals of the past to new prominence, there was also significant continuity across the century because mass media consistently offered multiple models for understanding women’s history. A single magazine issue or broadcast day provided discrepant messages. A consumer in 1910 and one in 1970 could encounter mass media narratives that cast women’s legacy as timeless tradition—as well as narratives whose attention to historical transformation suggested that gender ideals were a social construction. Underlying these differences, however, was the shared logic that women’s history merits documenting.


My analysis builds on recent scholarship about the diverse ways in which women told histories in nineteenth- and twentieth-century America. Bonnie Smith’s The Gender of History examines the innovations women made as teachers, preservationists, and amateur writers after nineteenth-century professionalization defined the historian as a scientific male. Marginalized within academia, women historians nevertheless anticipated later historiographic evolutions, including attention to material culture and everyday life.² As Julie Des Jardins demonstrates in Women and the Historical Enterprise in America, women historians and historical preservationists working at the turn of the twentieth century reached wide audiences with efforts to bring greater attention to women’s contributions, particularly within domesticity. An 1897 biography by Anne Hollingsworth Wharton detailed Martha Washington’s political influence, proclaiming that women have been short shrifted in historical accounts and lamenting that George currently overshadowed his wife in popular memory. Other works, like Alice Morse Earle’s Home Life in Colonial Days (1898) reconstructed unknown women’s everyday household labor.³ Meanwhile, women waged campaigns to preserve houses and domestic artifacts as democratic symbols. The Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR), the Society of Colonial Dames (SCD), and the United Daughters of the Confederacy (UDC) all emerged in the 1890s, presenting members’ reverence for their ancestors as proof of modern women’s centrality to nationalism and patriotism.⁴ World War I and the Red Scare brought new significance to heritage groups’ activities, forging an alliance between the DAR and the government in service of national defense and anticommunism.⁵

Des Jardins proposes that these pageant masters, domestic writers, and preservationists . . . [who were] conservative in their political outlook and nostalgic in their views on the national past may have unwittingly paved the way for diverse groups of American women with new agendas—radicals, feminists, and race activists, among others—to engage in the public sphere, as both historians and historical heroines in the making.⁶ For example, building on the connections between historical commemoration and elite womanhood, the National Association of Colored Women (NACW) sought recognition and political capital within the civil rights movement by funding the preservation of Frederick Douglass’s home in the 1910s.⁷ From the 1900s through the 1940s, historians housed inside and outside the academy, among them Edith Abbott, Annie Abel, Mary McLeod Bethune, Mary Ritter Beard, Angie Debo, and Lucy Maynard Salmon, uncovered historical evidence to encourage reexamination of contemporary ethnic, racial, socioeconomic, and gender inequalities. They wrote books, advocated new pedagogies, and urged the public to participate in archive collection. Much of their work explored underresearched fields such as African American history and Native American history. Nevertheless, the DAR and SCD exerted more popular impact, their glorifications of elite white women and men amplified by collaborations with consumer culture.⁸ For example, in the 1930s, as historian Francesca Morgan demonstrates, local DAR chapters designed department store windows celebrating George Washington, Martha Washington, and Betsy Ross.⁹

Building on this scholarship’s attention to the diverse outlets women used to tell histories, I analyze the packaging of stories about women’s pasts for mass audiences as part of the larger historical enterprise. To consider the motives behind the creation and consumption of popular culture’s histories, I draw evidence from the archival collections of corporations, advertising agencies, women’s advertising clubs, and individual writers and workers. Women employed in advertising feature prominently. Like scholars Jennifer Scanlon, Simone Weil Davis, and Denise Sutton, I identify the personal feminist philosophies of adwomen as an influence on these adwomen’s professional work.¹⁰ Placing new emphasis on adwomen’s professional societies, I argue that adwomen strategized, across multiple media, to construct a usable past that would support their own professional and activist goals.


This book deploys historian Nancy Cott’s definition of feminism as a philosophy with three core components: the opposition to hierarchy based on biological sex, the understanding that such inequalities are socially constructed, and the consciousness of women’s shared experiences and status. This identification of women as a social group can inspire collective action to combat gender inequality.¹¹ I define feminist history as analysis or commemoration of the past that is motivated by feminism or that supports feminism’s logic. Within popular culture, feminist histories sometimes relied on ahistorical comparisons, made without supplying sufficient context for adequately tracking change and continuity over time. Nevertheless, I categorize historical narratives as feminist activism when they strove to change social norms, publicizing the past to open new political and economic opportunities for women. Adwomen’s popular histories were largely motivated by personal career ambition, but these histories also redefined gender ideals. To dramatize the suitability of women for careers in marketing, adwomen pitched their narratives to professional organizations, potential employers, and consumers.

By identifying the resonance of such feminist rhetoric in mid-twentieth-century consumer culture, I also draw from recent scholarship challenging the division of the history of feminism into discrete movements, or waves. Beginning in the 1960s, women’s liberationists described themselves as second wave feminists, conceptualizing the first wave as women’s rights activism beginning in the mid-nineteenth century and cresting with the ratification of the Nineteenth Amendment in 1920.¹² Scholars adopted this model, and academic histories of feminism produced in the wake of the 1960s often assumed that the decades between the waves marked a lull in women’s activism. More recent works have challenged this idea, examining varieties of feminist action in those years.¹³ Accordingly, some scholars have identified alternative ways to conceptualize the evolution of feminism. In her study of four women, born between 1873 and 1896, who made feminism their life’s work, Mary Trigg applies a generational framework to acknowledge these individuals’ shared experiences while contextualizing their efforts within a larger feminist continuum of strategies and ideas persisting across generations.¹⁴ Reassessing the wave model, Nancy Hewitt applies an alternative metaphor of radio communication. Imagining feminist movements as radio waves, whose lengths and frequencies affect broadcast range, she explains, would help us think about how competing versions of feminism coexist in the same time period, but they also continue to resonate even in moments of seeming quiescence.¹⁵

Both the generational and the radio waves models provide a useful way to approach popular culture’s histories. This book’s core examples of female creators and consumers of popular history were born between 1871 and 1903, coming of age during the final stages of first-wave feminism. Some continued to produce new popular histories into the early 1960s. Many of these women expressed ambitions to leave a legacy for subsequent generations, as they sought to document histories that preceded their birth—as well as ones in which they were actors. Simultaneously, the women covered in this book also publicized diverse histories. This diversity appears not only in cultural discourse as a whole but also within individuals’ bodies of work. Many feminists used multiple media outlets, broadcasting conflicting and overlapping interpretations simultaneously. For example, the work adwomen produced for their corporate clients shared the radio airwaves—in some cases literally as well as metaphorically—with the feminist narratives created by adwomen’s professional societies. By examining the interconnections between these popular commemorations, this book considers the variety of twentieth-century feminism.


American popular culture has frequently cited the past to define the present.¹⁶ As historian Michael Kammen argued, visions of the nation’s creation as a dramatic rejection of European tradition inspired late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century popular histories that narrated the past as a story of progress. Then, between World Wars I and II, mass media perpetuated a nostalgic modernism. Because celebrations of modernity required historical examples for contrast, Americans looked simultaneously to the past and to the future.¹⁷ According to historian David Lowenthal, the concentration of commemoration in delineated, but ever-present spaces in society, including museums and historical reproductions available for consumer purchase, removed the perceived danger of backward-looking complacency.¹⁸

Within popular memory, the tension between nostalgia and modernity resulted in stories celebrating men as agents of progress and women as forces of stability. Early twentieth-century mass media relied on identifiable male icons as shorthand for American exceptionalism, reminders of the innovation embedded in the creation of the United States. In these stories of great men, women typically appeared in subordinate roles as patriotic nurturers. In many narratives celebrating George Washington as an agent of change, Martha’s homemaking received credit for providing essential support. However, the first lady’s own personality remained vague. Memorialized in historical pageantry and school lessons in the 1920s and 1930s, Betsy Ross attained unprecedented visibility as a historical heroine who created something new. But her acclaim stemmed from her resonance with the familiar image of colonial domesticity. Patriotically applying her seamstress skills to produce the original Stars and Stripes for General Washington, the mythic Ross sat at the iconic, glowing hearth of the colonial home.¹⁹

The historiography on gender and consumer culture illuminates the economic motives driving such stories. As William Leach, Jennifer Scanlon, and other historians have shown, early twentieth-century marketers and magazine editors encouraged consumer desire for products by elevating housekeeping as personally fulfilling, socially important work.²⁰ By drawing parallels between contemporary life and the idealized early American epoch, women’s magazines likened consumption to patriotic, democratic participation, presenting shopping as both a historically significant act and a way to honor America’s past.²¹ Proclaiming colonial roots for their own products, manufacturers sidestepped popular anxieties about mass production and its perceived disruptions of the Jeffersonian ideal of household economic self-sufficiency.²² Simultaneously, advertisers asserted the stability of social differences by assuming that the ideal woman—past and present—was white. In corporate marketing campaigns pitched to the mainstream consumer public, African American women seldom appeared outside the context of nostalgia for the antebellum South.²³

Historical novels and films provided more complex portraits of women who transcended domestic support roles. Scholar J. E. Smyth contrasts the scarcity of female subjects in early twentieth-century academic narratives with the abundance of female characters popularized by such novelists as Edna Ferber (author of Cimarron and Show Boat) and Margaret Mitchell (Gone with the Wind) in the 1920s and 1930s. In the 1930s, when Hollywood prioritized female filmgoers as the majority of the industry’s target audience, cinematic adaptations of these authors’ work, and of literary classics, for example, Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women (1868) and Helen Hunt Jackson’s Ramona (1864), encouraged audiences to identify with rebellious female characters and their transgressions against their eras’ norms. Ferber’s and Jackson’s stories examined racism against African Americans and Native Americans and celebrated mixed-race protagonists. Meanwhile, Hollywood also offered fictionalized biopics, portraying Annie Oakley and Calamity Jane as headstrong but feminine heroines in the American West. While great men inspired greater numbers of movies, these films portrayed women as active participants in the past.²⁴

Simultaneously, the films of writer and star Mae West (including She Done Him Wrong [1933] and Belle of the Nineties [1934]) provided a comedic take on historical fiction, deploying what media scholar Pamela Robertson identifies as a feminist camp sensibility. As West’s performances combined modern slang and humor with 1890s costumes and settings, her characters mocked the limitations of nineteenth-century gender ideals. Such engagement with the past supported the feminist logic that gender was constructed and, thus, changeable. Like the camp aesthetic that Susan Sontag famously theorized, this perspective dramatized both the appeal and the ridiculousness of outmoded styles.²⁵

While historical fiction presented alternative perspectives on women’s history, corporations and their own political goals dominated fact-based popular interpretations from the 1930s through the 1950s. As historian William Bird Jr. demonstrates, the DuPont chemical company sponsored the historical anthology Cavalcade of America on radio (1935–1953) and television (1952–1957), dramatizing notable men’s and women’s lives to make the corporation’s capitalist vision, rooted in opposition to the New Deal, palatable to the public. Prominent scholarly historians served as program consultants, embracing the opportunity to reach large audiences, even when their own politics differed from DuPont’s.²⁶

While most Cavalcade subjects were men, biographies of women did appear. However, the program’s triumphant framework and commercial goals often limited its portrayals of feminist history. By contrast, CBS broadcast its series of dramatic historical reenactments without corporate sponsorship for its radio incarnation CBS Is There (1947–1950) and for half of its You Are There television episodes (1953–1957). Historian Erik Christiansen analyzes the program as a reflection of its male writers’ leftist politics; some of them blacklisted, they sought to examine social problems, including gender oppression.²⁷ During the Cold War, however, such candor was rare. Corporations actively shaped school curricula and public history exhibitions.²⁸ Scholarly historians strove to shape popular memory with enterprises like a History Book Club subscription service. However, Christiansen argues, their initial goals of exposing the public to critical interpretations ultimately gave way to political and market demands for celebratory commemoration.²⁹

The subjects of my book endeavored to meld business and feminism, embracing popular culture as a forum for telling women’s history. Reworking themes already prevalent in media portrayals, early twentieth-century advertising women positioned themselves as agents of modernity and as guardians of the past. By celebrating women’s historical contributions, adwomen became activists on their own behalf, working in dialogue with their industry’s larger efforts to claim legitimacy as a prestigious American profession with roots in the nation’s founding.³⁰ Contemporaneous with the late nineteenth-century professional societies that standardized such fields as medicine, law, and history, associations of advertisers emerged across the country. In the 1910s, these groups sought public favor by promoting industry self-regulation to ensure truth in advertising and by sponsoring civic activities that celebrated the role of business in American life.³¹ Excluded from membership, women formed their own societies, beginning with the League of Advertising Women (later renamed the Advertising Women of New York [AWNY]), established in 1912 to enable women doing constructive advertising to co-operate for the purpose of mutual advancement; to further the study of advertising in its various branches; and to emphasize the work that woman is doing and is specially qualified to do in the field of sales promotion and in the many-sided business of advertising.³² AWNY and other women’s advertising clubs combined educational programs, such as vocational courses for women, with highly publicized social and professional events. Their annual balls and their lectures on the latest advertising techniques earned prominent newspaper and trade journal coverage. Applying historical pageantry and industry history to these activities, clubs created a usable past that justified women’s presence in modern business and supported feminist demands for further advancement in women’s roles by asserting continuity in women’s abilities across time.

Advertising women combined their feminist claim that women merited better opportunities with their acceptance of prevailing ideals of femininity. This reflected their vocation. Consumer culture—and adwomen’s employment—depended on the success of corporate sponsors peddling domestic and beauty products. Accordingly, advertising women often adopted essentialist definitions of gender. They created historical narratives in which innate maternal drives or proclivities for fashion shaped women’s lives. However, these stories also cast motherhood, consumption, and housework as well-established pathways to more public contributions, ascribing new value to women’s culturally prescribed roles. This approach sustained professional women’s efforts to claim legitimacy, and it incorporated feminist ideas during the midcentury decades between suffrage and women’s liberation.


Evidence from the papers of Dorothy Dignam (1896–1988), a longtime copywriter and women’s advertising club member, appears throughout this book. Dignam applied her personal interest in history to her professional work. Simultaneously, she collected substantial archives documenting her own career and the history of women in advertising—materials subsequently used by historians of advertising and American culture.³³ Selling Women’s History expands upon these scholars’ work by assessing Dignam’s and her contemporaries’ own efforts as historians. As adwomen strove to document their experiences for subsequent generations, they constructed histories that supported their feminist and professional goals.

Dorothy Dignam began her writing career as a child, contributing columns for the regional lifestyle magazine published by her Chicago advertising agent father. After his 1916 death, she volunteered for Chicago’s Women’s Press, seeking reporting experience. This became a paid position, and Dignam contributed articles that likened civilian responses to World War I to historical examples of American patriotism.³⁴ These pieces celebrated the past’s power to inspire.³⁵ A 1918 article praised Martha Washington Bags, packages of clothing and toiletries for female refugees in France created by women of the Chicago Chapter of the American Fund for French Wounded with support from local groups, including the Women’s Advertising Club of Chicago.³⁶ The kits held French-language cards with the dedication "in memory of Martha Washington[:] wife of George Washington, first President of the United States, father of his country, and friend of the Marquis de La Fayette [sic] who gave aid to America in the war for its independence.³⁷ Focused on the president, this biography credited Martha only for her marriage. Dignam’s report provided further commendation, editorializing that Martha Washington always has been beloved in this country. No woman in our national history had greater or more noble attributes. And associated with her are all the quaint and picturesque customs of our early days, as well as the memory of her helpful and encouraging influence upon President Washington when he was engaged in the struggle for our independence." Briefly lauding Martha Washington for her helpmeet role, this publicity attributed her appeal to a preexisting popularity. She deserved historical celebration because she had previously received historical celebration: Dignam’s focus on the first lady’s ability to invoke nostalgia reflects the emotional, rather than educational, tone that pervaded many popular histories.³⁸

But during the coming decades, Dignam and her contemporaries would expand the mass media’s historical canon, both through their own careers as women working in advertising and through their collective feminist activism to expand opportunities for women in business. It was no accident that advertising women, frequently cited as symbols of modern changes in gender roles, turned so frequently to the past. By publicizing their visions of history, they pursued multiple goals. They demonstrated professional skill through their strategic ability to capitalize on the preexisting vogue for historical references. Simultaneously, by finding examples, set safely in the past, where women succeeded by challenging social norms, they established precedents that legitimized their own feminism, making it appear traditional rather than transgressive.

This project complemented Dignam’s own interest in storytelling. Writing in her early career personal diary that she preferred journalism although the money is in advertising, she began work as a copywriter for a Chicago-based agency in 1919, noting that she was the sole woman in her department.³⁹ She quickly joined the Women’s Advertising Club of Chicago, which connected her with others facing isolation at predominantly male workplaces.⁴⁰ By 1920, she began serving as its official historian.⁴¹ Some pasts, however, intrigued her more than others. In her diary she flatly described spending all day at the library looking up dead men’s quotations to promote one of her agency’s clients, Chicago’s Moody Bible Institute.⁴² The tone

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