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Book Review
Karen W. Tice, Tales of Wayward Girls and Immoral Women: Case
Records and the Professionalization of Social Work, Urbana: University
of Illinois Press, 1998. Pp. x + 260. $49.95, cloth; $26.95, paper (ISBN
0-252-02397-8; 0-252-06698-7).
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Karen W. Tice's Tales of Wayward Girls
and Immoral Women belongs to a growing body of historical writing
on the professionalization of social work and the role of gender,
race, and class in mediating social workers' quest for legitimation
and their interaction with clients. Tice shares with Regina Kunzel,
Mary Odem, Peggy Pascoe, Joanne Meyerowitz, Robyn Muncy, Gwendolyn
Mink, and other historians an intense interest in the power dynamics
that developed between middle-class women caseworkers and their
(mostly) female, working-class, and immigrant clients while social
work was struggling for professional status in the early twentieth
century. Tice stands apart from these authors in making her central
concern the textual practices of the emerging profession; she wants
to know why social work developed specific case-writing and record-keeping
conventions and how these norms affected the face-to-face interactions
of caseworkers and clients. |
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Tales of Wayward Girls and
Immoral Women is based on a close reading of 150 case records
produced by children's aid, child protective, and family welfare
agencies in Minneapolis, Boston, and the state of Massachusetts
between 1900 and 1930. According to Tice, these records are not
transparent accounts of clients' needs, perceptions, and experiences;
nor are they simple factual accounts of social work intervention.
Rather, they are texts that encoded and truncated the complex individual
histories brought by clients to their encounters with caseworkers.
As middle-class caseworkers tried to make sense of, and gain some
control over, the tangled lives of their poor and working-class
clients, they inscribed client accounts and supplementary data with
popular middle-class tales of poverty, moral disorder, and social
redemption. Caseworkers were authors, though they may not have recognized
themselves as such. In composing case records they drew on popular
middle-class representations of lower-class women and girls, describing
some clients as characters in dramas of moral degradation, others
as protagonists in tales of moral uplift and cross-class sororal
friendship. In turn, case records became scripts or blueprints for
future interactions and interventions; social workers used existing
case files to make decisions about the dispensation of aid and to
predict the likely futures of their clients. |
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Tice begins her book
with an account of antebellum female benevolence and the emergence
of "scientific" charity organizations after the Civil War. Charity
organizations began to develop scientific practices and professional
ambitions while responding to increased rates of urban poverty and
immigration and to disconcerting changes in the moral conduct of
working-class young women. The new charity workers discredited the
faith that women reformers placed in cross-class gender solidarity.
Instead, they made class position a "moral condition" and described
the middle class as "synonymous with virtue" (19). These new presumptions
about class had direct and practical consequences for charitable
aid. Charity workers divided prospective clients into the worthy
and unworthy poor, casting into the latter category all those who
resisted middle-class codes of conduct. Charity workers also developed
new procedures, including case record keeping, to reduce waste,
duplication, and fraud. Case records became essential instruments
of surveillance, allowing charity workers to gather information,
evaluate client needs, and control the dispensation of aid.
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In time, case records "proved
to be a main access for entry into the brotherhood of professions"
(52). Throughout the early twentieth century social workers struggled
against widespread disdain for occupations dominated by women and
for hands-on work with the poor. By the 1910s and 1920s the fledgling
profession of social work was preoccupied with using case records
to prove to public critics and skeptical practitioners in the neighboring
fields of sociology and psychiatry that its work was scientific
and efficacious. Critics in both camps doubted the capacity of women
to respond appropriately to the problems presented by the poor,
yet they conceptualized female social workers' shortcomings differently
and required different responses. The general public responded appreciatively
to published case records that told of clients who had been reformed
through the intervention of knowledgeable social workers. Sociologists
and psychiatrists were more likely to respond positively to case
records that showed a consistent theoretical orientation or that
permitted rigorous quantitative analysis. |
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In their
quest for legitimation social workers produced case records that
experimented with numerous formats and narrative conventions. During
the 1910s they tended to write "tales of detection" that highlighted
the immorality of clients and the scientific authority of social
workers. By the 1920s social workers more often wrote "tales of
protection" that featured sympathetic interaction between clients
and their caseworkers. Throughout the early twentieth century (female)
social workers struggled to fit the endless detail and unstructured
face-to-face interactions of casework into (masculine) models of
professionalization that privileged theoretical abstraction, interpretive
closure, and ritualized interaction between experts and clients.
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Tales of Wayward Girls and
Immoral Women thoughtfully illuminates the capacity of textual
practices to shape professional interventions. Tice is at her strongest
in showing how social workers who wrote "tales of detection" were
compelled to act like prosecutors engaged in a "relentless search
for social evidence of wrongdoing" in the lives of their clients
(104). She disappoints, however, in neglecting to tell us as much
about social workers as the texts they produced. The social workers
who wrote case records, struggled for legitimation, and interacted
with clients remain rather shadowy figures; it is not altogether
clear why they reacted to critics in the way they did or why particular
narratives predominated in their case records at particular points
in time. Moreover, Tice should have done more to help her readers
understand the multiple forces and tensions operating within social
work and its discourses. While she is centrally concerned with the
ways in which the discursive strategies of professionalization encouraged
social workers to amass and misuse power, Tice also wants her readers
to understand that the face-to-face interactions of casework tended
to counteract this tendency. These open-ended interactions permit
Tice to retain respect for social work as a profession, past and
present. And yet, she does not tell us enough about these competing
tendencies or about the efforts of caseworkers to interpret and
juggle them. Despite these deficiencies, Tales of Wayward Girls
and Immoral Women provides a valuable textual analysis of case
records and will be of interest to historians of social work, the
welfare state, and twentieth-century American women. |
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Ruth M. Alexander
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Colorado State University
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