Historians have long discussed the different ways in which the first professional lawyer to practice in Massachusetts Bay Colony, Thomas Lechford, was at odds with colony authorities in his three-year stay there—from June 27, 1638 to August 3, 1641. Some accounts have focused on his religious views, since Lechford disagreed with the strict forms of church membership prescribed by the colony's religion, Congregationalism. When he returned to England, Lechford wrote a book called Plain Dealing in which he argued against this form of religious organization, claiming that he had received enough first-hand experience to recommend a return to the Church of England. This book has been an important source of information on religious and political arrangements in colonial Massachusetts, and so for many, the picture of Lechford as religious dissenter is familiar. Another important picture of Lechford, especially familiar to historians of the American legal profession, is Lechford the impecunious lawyer disbarred for the unethical practice of law. Lechford himself had written, “I am…forced to get my living by writing petty things, which scarce finds me bread.” He had been disbarred for “embracery,” pleading to a jury out of court, and it was assumed that this combination of circumstances forced him to return to England. James Savage wrote under his biographical entry for Lechford: “left here, aft. vain attempt to earn bread.” Other nineteenth-century scholars of colonial Massachusetts said much the same thing. William Whitmore, in an introduction to a collection of Massachusetts colonial laws, wrote that Lechford “was finally starved into returning to England.”

…he [that] is judged mute, that is dumme by contumacie…his condemnation is to be pressed to death, which is one of the cruellest deathes that may be: he is layd upon a table, and an other uppon him, and so much weight of stones or lead laide uppon that table, while as his bodie be crushed, and his life by that violence taken from him. This death some strong and stout hearted man doth choose, for being not condemned of felonie, his bloud is not corrupted, his lands nor goods confiscate to the Prince…

Elias Berdos had not yet reached the age of fourteen when he arrived in the United States in the first decade of the twentieth century. Three weeks after debarking, he applied to Tremont and Suffolk Mills in Lowell, Massachusetts and was put to work in the textile factory's spinning room, tending the mules as many boys his age did. Inexperienced at factory labor and unable to speak English, he ventured forth into the helter-skelter world of a cotton mill. About four weeks later, Elias stood in the spinning room, waiting for the workday to begin. With his back turned to the machinery, he rested his hand on a guard that covered the spinning frame's gears. When his hand slipped into the rotating metal, Elias joined the tens of thousands of workers injured in the process of American industrialization. Like many of those workers, Elias and his family sued the company for damages, but unlike many of his fellow laborers, Elias relied on Massachusetts's statutory prohibitions against child labor to maintain a cause of action. Losing in the lower courts, Elias appealed to the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts. His case led the court to examine the development of child labor law in Massachusetts, looking into both its statutory genesis and legislative intent.

The Civil War, by abolishing chattel slavery, launched a revolutionary era in American constitutionalism during which lawmakers debated what liberty, dependency, and good governance would mean in the new nation. Although historians have made a convincing case for the significance of legal developments in the 1870s and 1880s, they have not focused much attention on the problem of children's rights in the age of slave emancipation. This is largely due to the assumption that the history of children's rights did not begin until the U.S. Supreme Court's landmark decisions in Brown v. the Board of Education (1954) and In re Gault (1967). This article, however, builds on the work of scholars, such as Joseph Hawes and Mary Ann Mason, who have demonstrated that the ideas and practices central to the modern children's rights movement of the late twentieth century have deep roots in American history. I argue that a sophisticated conception of children's rights existed in the late nineteenth century and investigate how lawmakers in Illinois articulated it through their attempts to define the “rights” of “dependent children.”

In 1962, Francis Perkins, Franklin Roosevelt's secretary of labor, recalled the “Roots of Social Security” for an audience of Social Security Administration staff members. The Committee on Economic Security, which had broad agreement on most issues, “broke out into a row because the legal problems were so terrible.” According to Perkins, the legal committee had deadlocked in the summer of 1934 over the crucial question of the constitutional basis for federal authority over unemployment and old age insurance. Then, as Perkins told the crowd, she paid a social call on Justice Harlan Fiske Stone's wife. The justice himself sat down to tea and asked how she was getting on. She seized the opportunity and laid before him the problem that was occupying the Committee:

Well, you know, we are having big troubles, Mr. Justice, because we don't know in this draft of the Economic Security Act, which we are working on—we are not quite sure, you know, what will be a wise method of establishing this law. It is a very difficult constitutional problem you know. We are guided by this, that, and the other case. [Justice Stone] looked around to see if anyone was listening. Then he put his hand up like this, confidentially, and he said, “The taxing power, my dear, the taxing power. You can do anything under the taxing power.”

Less than two years after Justice Harlan Fiske Stone reportedly advised Franklin Roosevelt's secretary of labor that “You can do anything under the taxing power,” the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in U.S. v. Butler that Congress had no authority to create a system whereby farmers would receive subsidies for limiting production, with the funds coming from a tax on basic commodities. While Stone, along with Brandeis and Cardozo, voted to uphold this feature of the Agricultural Adjustment Act, a majority led by Justice Owen J. Roberts declared that this particular scheme of taxing and spending interfered with the reserve powers of the states to control local manufacturing and agriculture. Roberts cited the great nationalist Joseph Story for the proposition that “the Constitution was, from its very origin, contemplated to be a frame of a national government, of special and enumerated powers, and not of general and unlimited powers.… A power to lay taxes for the common defence and general welfare of the United States is not in common sense a general power. It is limited to those objects. It cannot constitutionally transcend them.” The AAA was “a scheme for purchasing with federal funds submission to federal regulation of a subject reserved to the states. … If the Act before us is a proper exercise of the federal taxing power, evidently the regulation of all industry throughout the United States may be accomplished by similar exercise of the same power.”

Howard Gillman is unconvinced by my argument that New Deal lawyers turned to the history of federal disaster relief in support of key spending measures, such as the Social Security Act. Likewise, he is unpersuaded by Justice Stone's suggestion to Frances Perkins that she could “do anything under the taxing power.” I understand why Stone's comment grates on Gillman's modern ear; it grated on mine too. What is Stone talking about, and how could his comment be squared with our understanding of the pre–New Deal period as one of sharp limits to federal power imposed by the courts? Gillman's conviction that, in this era, the Supreme Court exercised substantial veto power over federal spending leads him to some critical misreadings of key cases and misstatements of fact. I appreciate the opportunity to respond to his comments and, in particular, to include some details regarding Supreme Court developments for which there was no space in the article itself.