Recently, I purchased a small group of documents that stirred memories of a dark time in American history: the “Better Babies” movement of the early 1900s. I have written about this “movement”, which first began in the Southern U.S. around 1900 and lasted until just before World War I, in past articles. Our own Indiana State Fair held these contests in a building specially created for the “experiment.” The building still stands and is today home to the Hook’s drugstore exhibit. Better babies contests, held at state fairs throughout the U.S., were disguised as “health competitions” featuring babies between the ages of 6 and 48 months. In truth, Better Babies contests were straight-up eugenics experiments designed to weed out babies considered unfit or not perfect.
Nurses and physicians judged infants participating in the contests on mental health, physical health, and physical appearance. In 1913, the Woman’s Home Companion (WHC) magazine sponsored these Better Babies Contests. During the early 20th century, people in the U.S. began promoting eugenics. Proponents of the eugenics movement focused on creating a better populace composed of individuals with high intelligence and physical beauty and most importantly, without deformities. Supporters believed that creating a more efficient and able-bodied society would improve the state of the country.
These documents represent one person’s attempt to sanitize, sterilize and purify this unspeakable movement through prose and song. I have transcribed them as found so that you may experience them just as I did: by reading them. I feel quite sure that they have never been seen in print before, or at least, not for over a century. Written in a flowery sing-song style, when examined closely, the sinister goals of the Better Babies Eugenics project shine through. On the letterhead of Crutcher Brothers real estate and the office of J.D. Crutcher Atty. at Law at 1514 Main St., Room 207 in Dallas Texas, the first pages has the handwritten note at top: “Jim entered” with a date of October 1902 added. The first sanctioned contest was held in 1908 at the Louisiana State Fair in Shreveport, less than a 3-hour drive from Dallas where they originated from. So these ghastly fragments are surely among the earliest known American documents from the Better Babies Eugenics movement.
JUDGING THE BABIES – “BETTER BABIES” AT DALLAS FAIR.
The baby, arriving, shouldn’t be quite as red, – And, ladies should give us less girls and more boys: – The baby – on coming – alive and not dead – Should be in good humor – nor make such a noise. ‘Twere well not to pounce little baby too soon: should he not talk at first don’t be cross or sour – But, give him a bath every light of the moon, And, weigh him each month, instead of each hour. THE HEAD. Begin with the head – that should always come first – In instruction: not small, nor too large, of course; Abnormally either is always the worst: The hair should not be quite the mane of a horse. The head, it should never be bald or too slick, Nor set on a base that’s too small or not stout, – Never limber, and yet, not as stiff as a stick: – Base – head of the baby I am talking about. – Should have eyes, ears and nose, mouth, tongue – to see, smell, Taste, and to eat, drink and be merry at night; Cells, bones, bridges, skull, brains – and all that seems well: – Then, the surgeon comes in and, turns him upright. Two legs and two arms and two feet and two hands – (But not joined or joined in order I name) – A smart little baby, indeed, if it stands, Or plays ball, or, wrestles in month that it came. If baby have colic – from something it ate – Don’t go daft about it – keep stiff upper (lip) then; – Don’t send for the Doctor until it’s too late, And, babe will recover nine cases in ten. Have hatchet and iron – red hot, and, use free – If babe mash his finger or toe ‘gins to swell: Cut off at the elbow or joint of the knee: – If sent to a hospital – bid him farewell. His gait should be such – when you gaze at the feet – You don’t have to look at its face or its back. To know if it’s on the advance or retreat, Or, snapshot it’s person or survey it’s track.
PERFECT BABY
You have known perfect baby – Apollo in form, You know him again, when he had grown up. – Old Nature had played – as a cyclone or storm – With feature and face, and, his back is a cup. The girl with the face, hair and voice of Mermaid – The form of the perfect – demure as a mouse, – Grown a fright – no matter how thick paint is laid – With voice of the Calliope, can’t get in the house. The “Boy Jim” was entered: (and not a fat doll): But, his eyes didn’t suit – were not black, but sky – blue: Had a mouth full of language but, not pretty pol, – And, he couldn’t get by, – and he couldn’t pull through. Jim romped, hard, he wriggled and he wouldn’t keep still: If plunked in his cradle soon out he would squirm, And, puzzled the judges. – They said: “it won’t kill perhaps but, is jiggers or, either, hook – worm.” When you speak of better babies – Jim sure was some bad: wouldn’t say to the judges: howdy do, goodbye: When they chucked under the chin it made him real mad: When they thumped on his head, it made our Jim cry. But, Doctors and Science and Judges have set – And, ladies please keep to this Type – if you can: – And, husbands and lovers should strive hard to get – Best acquainted – as how to raise babe up to man. PLU-PERFECT – Baby. Now, take a grown Dago and, trim him down small, Or, strong Esquire, or, a black Irish Mike: He should stand up, from start, and never should crawl: – And, babies should look and be all built alike.
THE LIITLE BOY, JIM AT THREE MONTHS.
Ev’ry body loves – that little boy Jim, – He’s a little bits O’ little bits o’ boy; He just came here last Spring, and a little tiny thing. But his face is a-beam, full of joy. – Though a little bit o’babus is he – Just been here three months – don’t you see: He can move, he can budget and ain’t just a small smudge – As the most little babuses be. (chorus) He’s a grand little, good little, fine little babus-He’s a bright little, dear little joy: He’s a nice little, sweet little, smart little babus,-He’s a pretty little, cute little boy. That Little Boy Jim, when he takes a swim – That Is, when they give him a bath, – He just talks in his grunts and does all sorts of stunts. And, is red as a lobster, and wrath. From his biggest blue eyes he looks ever so wise, Yet, his big little head has no hair; – Oh, sometimes he cries but it’s most when he tries, And can’t rise up and walk on the air. (chorus) Do the Fays speak to Jim when a whimsical whim, Come upon him and he makes sudden dart? – His little arms fain would be wings of aeroplane, – He would sail but he can’t get a start. He’s a freak little, funny little Jim, – Do the Fays take possession of him? He’s a clown, he’s a show – he can make lots of fuss, He can see, he can crow, he can cuss – baby cuss. (chorus) –
SING YOUR SONG, JIM AT SIX MONTHS.
Jump into your hammock, Jim, and sing a little song, – Sing and swing, swing and sing, sing and swing along. – Sing a song, sing a song, sing a little song, Sing your little song, Jim, sing your little song. – Sing a song, swing a long, sing ‘em loud and strong: Sing your little Jim – song, sing your little song. – Sing a song, swing along, sing a little song, – Sing your little Jim – song, sing your little song. Birds are in the tree tops, perched upon a limb – Rocking off to sleepy-town, along with little Jim. – Sing a song, sing a song, while the birdies cheap: Sing in the birds to sleep, Jim, sing the birds to sleep. Chorus: Sing and swing, swing and sing, sing ‘em low and long, – Sing your little Jim – song, sing your little song. (Repeat Chourus) Man that’s in the moon, Jim, – in the big old moon – I’m putting out the light, Jim, – going to sleepy soon; Crickets on the hearth, Jim, and Fairies in the air. Are ‘sleep, or rest upon the wing – Silence ‘ev’ry where. Chorus: Stars are out and day is done – the shades of night are deep, – And, Jim has sung the birds and all, as well as self to sleep. – (Repeat Chorus)
JIM AT ONE YEAR.
No longer we call him the “little boy Jim:” no more “the baby” – no “baby” for him; He’s a man or boy, who walks like a bear’,-Up and down, here, there – and every where; – He’s a “jay-walker” – garrulous as a jay-With a mouth full of language – he can’t say. – He is wise as an owl: you would think he knew all things, – when he gazes you through and through. – He can lie on his back and cross his legs And guzzle the milk by gallons and kegs. He rides a direct with-out effort or pain – And can drive “old Daisy” with a race – tight rein. When he walks like a bear on floor or ground, Or straight, or across and around and around. And, levers the Earth – turns it up-side down – And raises a great big bump on his crown – Do you think he cries? – Then, you don’t know Jim: He’s a cloud – then, Sun – shine filled to the brim. –
Where’s Little Jim?
Last year, in the spring, little tiny thing – Little Jim was so small – ‘till he grew – And, then, he could walk, and, then next he could talk some – and all us children he knew. – It was sure some fun how that Little Jim done, – And, he’d crawl, and then he’d walk on the floor, – He’d back down the steps and through the door; – Then, they fenced Jim in, dash, but, it looked like a sin, Just to keep Jim from going a-bout, When, every day that all we children could play – There with Jim, or, could run in and out. – Where’s Little Boy Jim, Jim, – I am looking for him – We would say, when we went to his place; O, Jim, I see you – you are there – Peek-a-boo – Then how Jim would uncover his face. – A little girl’s pride – down street which was wide – Played with Jim: and she’d have him to make, But, he soon wouldn’t make – patty cake. – Neath the old oak trees he’d be there in the breeze, With his sand mound piled high to the blue, Or, building his blocks – ‘til like Babel it rocks – And his ladder house tumbled down too. If Jim is in the house he’s as mute as a mouse – Said his Pa once, I’ve searched all the place: O, God – where’s my child: – and, his mother was wild – And a pallor came over her face. – Down street was a crowd, or, a great human cloud, Who, had gathered to see what was done. – Some to stare or to learn what’s the fun; A girl ran ahead and the little one said: We found him – me and father found him – He couldn’t run fast And a big old car passed, And, it struck and it hurt little Jim.
The big crowd – next day – didn’t come there to stay, Or, to stare, or to have any fun: White crêpe on the door said someone is no more – And we knew ‘twas dear little one. – Where’s Little Boy, Jim, – and, all eyes were a brim, Most in tears – when the Preacher said – “Where!” Then he stopped – and said: “OVER – THERE!” The house was in gloom: His Ma sick in her room – And, us children don’t know what to do. – His Papa – he tried – but, he broke down and cried – And some men and the women wept, too. The whole of that day none us children could play – But, all of us who could went a-long – ‘Til we didn’t know where until all of us got there – And, the people was singing a song: And, we crowded a-round a deep hole in the ground, And – they said it was Little Jim’s grave, – And, the preacher’s hand raised in a wave: – They put him in there – and then – said a short prayer – And, then covered him under the clod: – But, a-wake, or, in dream it always will seem, Like, that Jim is a-playing with God. – The little boy, Jim, – ev’ry body loved him – And, I loved him most better than all: – When we was at play, was he hurt any-way. He didn’t just fall over and then squall. – I once loved his Pa, for, me always he saw – But, now he’s never looking a-round, – And, he goes with his head on the ground: – His Ma is no more just like she was before – But, she tries to be kind to us kids: – She’s been sick a while, and, when she tries to smile – She’s so white and so red are her eyelids.
Where South Sweet zephyrs kindly blow, Beneath the stars and Texas skies; Nor cold or storm, nor sleet or snow, Above these e’er closed lovely eyes. Your constant watchers – most alone – The mock – birds flit from shaft to tree, And, changing oft for many a tone, Still sweet, if sad or cheerily. No shrill, unwelcome, sound is here: – Gone are the buds and brown sweet bee. – A sweet small rabbit burrows near – As if he, too, would vigil thee. I bade you keep our latest joy, I laid so soon beneath the sod – Side by your side – the baby boy, In your sweet presence there with God. My charge grows hour by hour in grace. And beauty, wise beyond her days; The perfect picture of thy face: With ways as was the mother’s ways. – To pass in vain a Sabbath hour. – Pupil two ants WHO have a PLAN. To paint a shrub. – To place a flower. To note the nothingness of man. Nor neither – home – that once was home – Nor this loan sodden narrow place. Confines thy spirit. ‘Neath the dome – Above – it finds a fuller space. The sun sinks now amid the haze, A Non-the moon comes o’er the hill: The days – SOME HOW – the nights and days go by. – And, yet, it was HIS WILL.
Little Boy Jim, the example used in these documents, may have been a real little boy or simply a fictional character molded out of Texas red clay. Regardless, it seems that Little Boy Jim was judged unworthy from the day he was born. These verses were created for use at the 1902 Texas State Fair in Dallas. Ironically, that year, fire devastated the fairgrounds, destroying the State Fair exhibit building and other wood structures. The fairgrounds were literally burnt to the ground. History can be cruel. In my opinion, it is a good thing to see history in black and white, warts and all. If only to remind ourselves that it should never happen again.
Al Hunter is the author of the “Haunted Indianapolis” and co-author of the “Haunted Irvington” and “Indiana National Road” book series. His newest books are “Bumps in the Night. Stories from the Weekly View,” “Irvington Haunts. The Tour Guide,” and “The Mystery of the H.H. Holmes Collection.” Contact Al directly at Huntvault@aol.com or become a friend on Facebook.
