The urbanization of America in the late nineteenth century triggered the expansion of the daily newspaper. Between 1880 and 1900, the population of the United States increased by fifty percent, the national wealth more than doubled, and people began crowding into cities, especially the new urban centers of the mid-west and the west. To cater to this new population, newspapers began to change from the genteel, Victorian publications which catered to the educated, upper classes to ones that appealed to the masses.

Joseph Pulitzer introduced "new journalism" in 1883 when he transformed the New York World into a newspaper targeting the working class men and women of America by offering "lively coverage of the day's news, aggressive crusading for civic improvements, and entertaining reading about the drama and pathos of city life" (Marzolf 7). William Randolph Hearst joined the race for readers in 1895 by purchasing the New York Journal from Pulitzer's brother Albert. Soon the Journal surpassed the World in circulation through new journalism's tactics of exciting news, crusading editorials, stunts and self-promotion, extensive illustrations, and colorful cartoon pages--all for a penny a day.

Alarmed by the sensationalism and superficiality of the penny press, the traditional newspapers, which sold for five cents a copy and maintained strong political alliances, attacked the commercialism of the more aggressive newspapers, calling their reporting "yellow journalism," the color associated with "end-of-the-century decadence" and "urban social decay" (Marzolf 22). However, by satisfying the popular taste for crime and scandal, by exposing people of wealth and power, and by "ignoring social conventions and cultural taboos," both Pulitzer and Hearst built huge media empires (Marzolf 8).

Elia Wilkinson Peattie, born in Michigan in 1862, had been attracted to writing and publishing all of her life. After her marriage in 1883 to Robert Peattie, a reporter for the Chicago Times, the couple spent their evenings writing stories together to supplement Robert's sporadic newspaper income. In 1886, Elia officially joined the staff of the Chicago Tribune. The editor, R.W. Patterson, asked her to take on the responsibilities of their Art and Society page, and she accepted quickly, even though she knew little about either. Peattie's modest columns lead to larger fields, and she soon became the first woman reporter for the Tribune and the second "girl" reporter in Chicago, working day and night beside some of Chicago's best men journalists.

Meanwhile, the Omaha Daily World, founded by Gilbert Hitchcock in 1885 and the Omaha Daily Herald, established by George L. Miller, were both floundering financially. It was into this financial and transitional insecurity that Elia and Robert Peattie plunged in 1889 when Robert accepted the position of Managing Editor of Miller's Herald. Elia urged Robert to accept the position because they had also offered her the chance to write bylined editorials, putting both of them on a regular payroll. When Hitchcock decided to buy the Herald and merge the two newspapers into the Omaha World-Herald, Robert continued as Managing Editor.

To make the Omaha World-Herald competitive, Hitchcock followed the example of Hearst and Pulitzer, popularizing the content of the newspaper to entertain as well as inform the working class people of Omaha. This approach fit Peattie's talents and personality well. A fiction and poetry writer at heart, Peattie declared, "I enjoyed my writing on the paper, and was given a free hand, putting the fictional touch on most of the things I did and being permitted to sign my articles" (Star Wagon 72-73).

By 1890, Peattie was given her own column, one of the most sought after assignments on a newspaper. According to Maria Braden in She Said What?, "Columnists enjoy fame, independence, and a special relationship with readers. . . .Unfettered by the need to be objective or fair, columnists can be scathing in their criticism, unabashed in their praise, funny or poignant, arrogant or intensely personal" (ix). Often the bolder their remarks, the larger their following, and many columnists become local or even national celebrities. This was Peattie's case. She admitted, "At that time Nebraska had no writers of celebrity and it did not take long to make a gay little reputation. There were great fights on, too, and it was the fun of the world breaking lances against established trends and misbehaving folk" (Star Wagon 73).

Not only was it unusual for a young journalist to be allowed a byline, but it was even more rare for a woman to be hired into a "good old boys" establishment. Most mass-circulation dailies were published in "grimy, noisy downtown offices and printing plants. These were considered off-limits for women, who were expected to conform to the prevailing ideal of 'the lady,' a genteel creature who remained at home." Writing, however, if carried on in the home, was acceptable for women, especially if their topics were sentimental and targeted for other middle-class women. Such "Literary Ladies" often sold their works to newspapers, "but they rarely ventured into newspaper offices" (Beasley and Gibbons 8).

However, a few daring women, like Jane Cunningham Croly, Ida Wells, Nellie Bly, and Frances Willard, worked side-by-side with newspapermen. Although often negatively labeled "sob sisters" for their sentimental accounts, such women journalists continually struggled against cultural and political barriers that persisted in the newspaper world. By 1880, out of a total of 12,308 journalists, only 288 were women. By 1900, the field had grown, and of the 30,098 journalists, there were now 2,193 women writing for newspapers.

For the next eight years, Elia made her voice heard and proved that not all of the women of the West were "gentle tamers." As one of the first Plains women to write editorial columns in a major newspaper that addressed public issues, Peattie's often irreverent remarks show us a side of the frontier often overlooked. Peattie's intellectual background, her use of irony and humor, her ability to employ various genres and literary approaches, and her undaunted "impertinence" produced a strong voice in waging her editorial campaigns. As a result, she became a vital catalyst for social change and a successful role model for promoting personal and professional independence for women.

An avid newspaper reader, not just of local papers but of news around the world, some of Peattie's most interesting articles and columns dealt with stories and issues that made front page news. And front page headlines were what were selling newspapers in the 1890s.

Priding herself on the editorial nature of her features as well as her daily columns, Peattie's voice became stronger and stronger as she grew in experience and maturity. She became more outspoken on controversial current issues, such as the unjust treatment of Native Americans, prostitution, capital punishment, and faith healers, and her views often conflicted with majority opinions, especially with those she considered to be of the materialistic, self-righteous upper class. However, she always maintained a sense of humor, or at least a witty sarcasm, about human nature.

Nebraska Indians found a dynamic advocate in Peattie. At a time when Native Americans were considered filthy and terrifying heathens, she looked behind the rhetoric of Manifest Destiny, questioned the negative stereotypes, and respected the customs, religion, and rights of the first Americans. Although she was not a lone voice in their support, most news stories did little to foster positive attitudes towards Indians.

One example of the negative stereotyping was printed on July 14, 1895, in the Omaha World-Herald. Viola Pratt had lived one year among the Poncas with her father, an Indian trader whom the Indians called "Long Beard." Although the body of her first-hand report contains interesting facts about the tribe, her introductory comments uphold their status of "other," one she vehemently maintains throughout.

"There is a current saying to the effect that 'a good Indian is a dead Indian," Pratt commenced, "and I believe, all things considered, that the originator of that remark knew whereof he spake when he made that observation. He had probably dwelt among them in fear and trembling long enough to become thoroughly acquainted with their 'tricks and manners,' and out of his accumulated knowledge much have come the above conclusion. With very few exceptions, a dead Indian is the best kind of Indian(12)".

Another woman, Elsie Robertson, viewed the Omahas and Winnebagos as vanishing noble savages. She and a Minnesota woman reporter traveled by wagon to the Omaha agency north of Decatur. In her August 28, 1892, World-Herald article, she quoted the matron as saying that the reason the Indian children did not have any playthings or books was because "They play very little and very quietly" and that they were "Not much trouble, not bright enough to get into mischief." The two women reporters then traveled to the Blackbird Mission, declaring the region right out of "Hiawatha" and "Evangeline." Mingling with the Indians who give them gifts of beadwork and descriptive Indian names, the women declared them to be "poetic children of the forest." The article closed with the description of a "blood-red" sunset and an allusion, perhaps unintended, to the myth of the Vanishing American Indian: "The day's death is beautiful as its birth. It is gone as all things beautiful must go"(11).

Peattie's first two writings in support of Native Americans appeared in January of 1891, shortly after the slaughter of the Lakota Ghost Dancers as well as women and children at Wounded Knee. Influenced by her close friends, the Reverend Dr. William Harsha, a long-time Indian advocate who supported Chief Standing Bear during his celebrated trial, and Thomas Tibbles, an editorial writer and reporter for the Omaha World-Herald, she had first-hand information from the Native American side (Boss HP).

In 1890, the World-Herald sent Tibbles and his second wife, Susette LaFlesche (Bright Eyes) of the Omaha tribe, to the Pine Ridge area of northwestern Nebraska and southwestern South Dakota, to cover the troubles developing there and the Messiah Craze. While other correspondents were sensationalizing war rumors, Tibbles and his wife saw the reality of the situation--that the Sioux were going about their everyday activities while 7^th Cavalry troops began surrounding the Sioux camp in order to begin collecting their weapons. Then on Monday, December 29, 1890, the first shot was fired by a warrior whom Tibbles had termed a "bad Indian," one of five Sioux Tibbles himself had urged the Army to arrest. The soldiers, most of them raw recruits from the East, opened fire. The next day, the World-Herald published Tibbles's eye-witness account. Tibbles called it "a war of extermination."

Peattie's first response, an editorial, "Lovely Woman and Indians," appeared on January 4, 1891, less than a week after Wounded Knee. With emotion riding high, Peattie urged her Nebraska readers, especially the women, to learn the facts rather than rely on emotion in trying to understand the situation.

Peattie began her editorial with a logical appeal: "There used to be every reason why a woman should be governed by her heart or her prejudices, instead of her brain. But there is no longer such an excuse for her." After castigating women for using less rationality than men over the recent Wounded Knee massacre, she noted that women either pitied or detested Indians. When she overheard one woman call them "dirty wretches" that "ought to be killed," Peattie sarcastically commented, "She used the word dirty in the sense of uncleanliness. I suppose she thought they were worthy of extinction because they were not intimately acquainted with perfumed soap. As a matter of fact the government has chosen to give them very limited rations of soap. No one could keep clean on it."

Peattie then stated the facts: "Most persons seem to prefer misunderstanding every Indian situation. . . . the Indians at Wounded Knee could not have surrendered, since there had been no engagement. They saw themselves surrounded by soldiers, with four frightful guns looking down at them from the tops of the dunes and they in the hollow; about them were their teepees with their wives and children. It looked like the last act of a long tragedy. They were weak with hunger; they were fearful of involving all those they loved in their own disaster; yet they fought, with a grim heroism that in a less despised race would be the subject for a hundred songs. These are the facts. How can they be perverted?"

To help readers understand the Indian situation in Nebraska, Peattie recommended that every woman read books to understand Indians and compared their history to a Greek epic. She suggested a comprehensive list of books, both historic and contemporary, commenting, "You are savage yourself if you cannot see in the decay of a nation, or the destruction of a race, a great historical fact, and a gigantic crime." She closed her argument vehemently: "The soldiers and the Indians are alike the victims of a conspiracy. Remember that always. The Indians have done nothing to deserve their present treatment. War has been thrust upon them. For what reason? . . . There is greed and dishonesty behind all this"(10).

Perhaps concerned that her logical approach had not swayed enough readers, three days later, on January 7, 1891, Peattie penned a sentimental short story entitled "The Triumph of Starved Crow" to add pathos to her appeal. Using a fictional Indian character symbolically named Starved Crow, she narrated the events of Wounded Knee from an Indian's perspective. As the tale also mentions a priest, this might be based on a true account told to her by her friend, Reverand Harsha.

In her tale, a priest, Father Craft, urged his starving Indian followers, who had been in hiding in the Badlands, to return to Wounded Knee. The day after their return, the Indians went to a Council meeting, hoping to plead their case. Instead, Starved Crow saw soldiers surround them with four mighty gattling guns "while the Sioux sat in a circle, shivering in their blankets." When told to bring their guns, Starved Crow smiled. "He found his wife and drew her aside for a moment. No one heard what they said. Then he began the death song. He knew--all the Sioux knew--that they were to be murdered. They were 150, not counting the women and children. The troops were more than twice that number. . . 'Why should we wait to die?' said Big Foot to Starved Crow. 'Let us die now. Do not let our wives call us cowards.' 'So!' said Starved Crow. He looked back at his wife. The children were clinging to her poor skirts. Her great eyes were fixed on him. He threw himself on the ground and pulled the trigger of his rifle. The bullet went whizzing up through the bunch grass. Then, a moment later, the red fire poured out of the guns like a molten streak from hell. The Sioux fell in their tattered garments, their faces proud, still, and fierce, and untamed."

Father Craft attempted to stop the killing, only to be killed by a stray bullet. Starved Crow's family all had been murdered, and he was critically injured, but he chose to feign death when rescuers arrived. Peattie ended the short story epically: "Three of the dead men sat with their arms about each others necks. One of them was Starved Crow. They had been frozen so. But at least they had conquered. They had not again been driven from their homes. They had chosen their own fate"(4).

The massacre of Wounded Knee typifies Peattie's ability to approach front page headlines from various angles, allowing her to amplify her more reasoned expositions with emotional appeals, thus influencing a larger audience. Although stories such as these could be termed "yellow journalism" for Peattie's blatant sentimentalism and her sensationalized plots, she is redeemed by her willingness to take a controversial stand. Her publishers must have been pleased.

Frances E. Willard, renowned suffragist, founder of the Women's Christian Temperance Union, and Dean of Women at Northwestern University, recommended journalism as an excellent profession for women. Although Elia Wilkinson Peattie, journalist for the Chicago Tribune and Omaha World-Herald was not as well-known nationally as Nellie Bly and Ida Tarbell, her life and writings exemplify what Willard, Susan B. Anthony, and Elizabeth Cady Stanton all advocated. She was groundbreaking in that, unlike Bly, who quit journalism when she married, and Tarbell who never married, Peattie was able to successfully combine her marriage, her career, and her causes.

Peattie stood at the door of the Progressive Era and held it open for a new generation of women who would continue to seek careers, gain universal suffrage for women, promote birth control, and continue to fight vice, filth, corruption, ugliness, ignorance, and exploitation.

The impact of Peattie's legacy evidenced itself when she returned to Omaha in 1923 at the invitation of the Omaha Woman's Press Club. Although she had been absent from Omaha for twenty-five years, over five hundred women crowed into the Fontenelle Hotel to hear her read. In addition, she spoke before a full house at the Omaha Woman's Club where, appropriately, the proceeds of the program went toward "helping to set other ambitious women on the high road to literary fame." A loving and beloved mother and wife and a successful journalist, Peattie proved that a woman, if she wanted it, could have it all.