“Paint us an angel with the floating violet robe and a face paled by the celestial light; paint us a Madonna turning her mild face upward, and opening her arms to welcome the divine glory, but do not impose on us any esthetic rules which shall banish from the reign of art those old women with work-worn hands scraping carrots, those rounded backs and weather-beaten faces that have bent over the spade and done the rough work of the world, those homes with their tin pans, their brown pitchers, their rough curs and their clusters of onions. It is needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them out of our religion and philosophy, and frame lofty theories which only fit the world of extremes. Therefore, let art always remind us of them; therefore, let us always have men ready to give the loving pains of life to the faithful representing of commonplace things, men who see beauty in the commonplace things, and delight in showing how kindly the light of heaven falls on them.” -George Eliot

Why did I create the Lewis Hine Project?

Back in the 1960s, I was taking an American history course in college, and it occurred to me that the reason I was so bored with it was because I couldn’t identify with the people and events I was studying. As far as I knew, no one in my family was ever a general, or a president, or a senator, or a railroad magnate, or some other famous or privileged person (mostly rich white men). As the saying goes, we were just plain folks. I thought to myself, “Didn’t history happen to ordinary people, too?”

About five years ago, I took a course in genealogy at a local college and went to work exploring my family history. I found out a bunch of amazing stuff. My father’s maternal grandparents married at age 17, and left their homes in Indiana in a covered wagon, heading slowly to Kansas to look for a place to farm. They eventually had nine children, four of them destined to die in their first year. My father’s paternal great-grandfather came to the US (Illinois) from Ireland in the 1830s, and lost five of his six sons in the Civil War. Both my father and I were named after the only son who survived. Now, that’s history I can relate to!

The children and families depicted in the child labor photographs of Lewis Hine are part of our history, but we know almost nothing about their lives. The pictures were taken for a noble purpose, but a century years later, they have become an enormous photo album of the American Family. By finding out what happened to some of them, and by revealing the photos to their descendants (most descendants are unaware of them), we are dignifying their lives, and the lives of everyone that history has forgotten.

I am well aware that the mostly anecdotal information from descendants has limited historical value, since some important details will be left out, due to faded memories or an occasional unwillingness to mention embarrassing or deeply personal events. I also understand that the child laborers for whom I have been successful may tend to represent those who left the most easily followed trail, such as those who lived long enough to get a Social Security number, or those who married and had children. And I have come to realize that I often select children with "searchable" names, such as Archie Love, Shorpy Higginbotham and Ora Fugate; or that I may favor photos that are compelling simply because their artfulness or because of the way they touch me emotionally, whatever the reason.

But my aim here is not to write definitive biographies of each child, nor to establish any trends, nor to come to any conclusions about how the experiences of child labor influenced the outcomes of children in their adult lives, nor to even make an informed argument for or against the practice of child labor. The stories, however long or brief, are what they are, and they help us to get to know a few people whose only public persona, for as long as a hundred years, has been a simple snapshot.

How do I track down the descendants?

Most experienced genealogists and historical researchers are familiar with the tools I use to find the descendants. It’s essential to have access to the Internet, and a website such as Ancestry.com, which has a huge database of searchable digital records.

I usually choose a photo that has at least one person named in the caption. Many of Hine’s captions don’t name anyone, and those that do often misspell the name. Many also give the likely age of the person. The first thing I do is look in the US census to see if anyone with that approximate name and age was listed in the city, town or state where they were photographed. If I find the person, I try to follow them up through the 1930 census, the most recent one that is currently accessible to the public. This information helps to establish the year and place of birth, and names of parents, siblings, and in some cases, spouses and children.

If the person died with an assigned Social Security number, their death record will appear in the Social Security Death Index. Once I know where and when they died, it is likely that I will be able to obtain a copy of the obituary in the newspaper archives at the library in the town in which they died. Most libraries provide this service, and will mail out obituaries for a nominal fee.

The obituary usually lists some of the surviving family members, and often the town they were living in at that time. At that point, I search for the survivors in the Internet White Pages, or on one of the major search engines, such as Google. If I find one of them, I contact them.

There are major obstacles I constantly encounter. Some people just don’t get listed in the census. Some died very young and left no survivors. Many immigrants changed the spelling of their names, or the census takers (and Hine) hopelessly misspelled their names. And the biggest obstacle is finding the death records of girls, since those who married would have died with a different last name, which I won’t know unless I am lucky enough to find a state marriage record. If I get stumped, I pick out a male sibling and track him instead.

Lately, I have chosen some children who were not named in the photos, managed to get the newspaper in the city or town where they were photographed to publish the photo, and then I wait to see if any readers recognize the child. This has proved to be a very effective tool, as you will note from some of the stories on this site.

That’s the short answer to this question. There is much more to tell.

What are my plans for the Lewis Hine Project?

Because I am author, I am seriously considering writing a book about it. I have received some interest from several publishers. A documentary film, perhaps in the style of those on Public Television, would be a terrific way to tell the stories of the child laborers, and my role in the project as well. A third idea would be a travelling exhibition, similar to those sponsored by museums such as the Smithsonian. At the present time, I am working on this project essentially by myself, and at my own expense. Recently, I have obtained the services of several college student interns, and a local resident, to help with transcribing tapes of the many interviews I have done with the descendants. I am actively seeking grants and other assistance.

There are almost 5,000 child labor photos to choose from. I can’t do all of them. So when do I plan to stop?

That’s not likely to happen. The most rewarding part of this project has been having the opportunity to contact descendants who were not aware of the photos, send copies to them (free of charge), and get to know them. Many of these descendants have never seen photos of their parents or grandparents as young children, and each new photo I choose brings the hope of finding yet another surprised and delighted descendant, and another story. Why should I stop now?

“The great social peril is darkness and ignorance. Light is required. Light! Light in floods!”

-Lewis Hine