Picturing Disability

People with disablements have always been overrepresented in the ranks of beggars.¹¹ In many people’s minds, begging goes hand in hand with disability. In some communities, so-called ugly laws prohibited disabled panhandlers from seeking alms. In other localities, they were more or less given free reign (Schweik 2009).²² Many famous photographers have produced well-known portraits of people with handicapping conditions in the act of panhandling. Some of these photographs are icons of art photography,³³ but I do not look at art museum photographs in this chapter, saving them for chapter 9. Here, I examine a genre of beggar photography that mendicants themselves used to raise money. The photo of John Rose in illustration 3.1 is an example.

Americans have always been distressed by people asking for a handout—in terms of both the abstract concept of seeking alms and the face-to-face encounter it involves. Beggars are an assault on capitalism in that they reveal that many people are unable to find gainful employment under that economic system. Especially in America, beggars are a contradiction of the belief that everyone should and can provide for themselves by working. These abstract considerations may contribute to visceral reactions to beggars and our resistance to contributing. Even though the beggar’s physical act of soliciting can involve laborious effort and long hours in dangerous settings, most Americans do not think of panhandling as work or a legitimate vocation. Many citizens view all beggars as offensive, unworthy hustlers to one degree or another. They are often cast as “scroungers,” “sponges,” “freeloaders”, “bums,” and “moochers.”

Begging on the street is more nerve racking to the person who is asked to give than to the solicitors. People are not used to being approached for a handout by a stranger, especially one with a demonstrable physical or mental anomaly (Goffman 1963). Out of fear, disdain, indifference, or the desire just to move on, many of those approached by beggars develop strategies designed to manage the encounter without forking over cash. Others are more sympathetic and deal differently with those looking for a handout. They establish rules for themselves about the interaction—criteria for whom to give to, under what conditions, and how much to give.

Beggars have their own ways of thinking about these encounters. Most beggars are experienced in confronting people. They have conventions to manage such meetings. Although some merely passively sit at their stations, others are more active. They size up potential benefactors, deciding whom to approach and what tactics to use. They realize the discomfort they may cause. They are also aware of the strategies their patrons use to avoid them and so develop their own methods of manipulation to increase their chances to score.⁴⁴

Talking about beggars in the way I have, as manipulators, might offend some readers. I do not mean to single out beggars as operators. All people present themselves in strategic ways, especially in occupational roles (Goffman 1959). Not to acknowledge that people with disabilities manipulate the alms situation is paternalistic and denies them agency as well as their real connection to other human beings. Beggars’ deceptions rely on some citizens’ assumption that people with disabilities are too helpless, too nice, too disabled to be devious. My wary approach does not mean that I do not believe many people who beg are needy and use what they receive for real needs. The cat-and-mouse game between beggars and their potential benefactors is an interaction that has a deeply rooted history in our culture. Beggars’ performances and scripts evolved in concert with Americans’ values, and those patterns have been handed down through the generations. People learn how to beg—not necessarily through tutorials in an apprenticeship relationship with an experienced beggar, but sometimes in indirect ways such as watching from a distance, hearing people talk about beggars, and acquiring their own deep understanding of American norms and values.

The images and accompanying text were typically distributed face to face on the street and in other public places. An alternate and an often more refined approach was for the beggar to send his or her image through the mail along with the request that money be returned via post. (For some, the mail approach was a way to circumvent antibegging ordinances and face-to-face confrontation.) In this chapter, I share some of these historical images and explore the embedded messages as well as the accompanying text.

I cover the period from approximately 1870 to 1930. In reviewing the visual material, I did not detect varying historical trends in how people presented themselves. That is, the beggar images remain similar throughout the period. Based on the evidence in my collection, the number of people with disabilities who used begging cards dropped off in the 1920s and 1930s. This decrease parallels the general decline in personal begging and the rise of charity organizations. Starting in the early decades of the twentieth century, formal charities opposed begging and campaigned to control and eliminate it (Schweik 2009, 41). In addition, they actively engaged in their own solicitations through charity fund drives. I explore these activities in chapter 4.

The pictures I display here were produced for the beggars by local commercial photographers or by small printing companies who used photos to create plates to print the images. The beggar was almost always an active participant in the production of the cards. Sometimes with a collaborator,⁶⁶ the beggar would present himself or herself to a photographer and describe how he or she wanted to appear. He or she would review the proofs, pick the one he or she thought was most appropriate, tell the photographer how many to produce, and wait a day or two to pick up the order.⁷⁷ The resulting images represented roughly how the beggar wanted to be presented.

In some localities, people with disabilities had a special claim to the role of beggar. Their physical or mental condition legitimated their asking for a handout. People without a disability would often feign impairment as a begging tactic (Schweik 2009, chaps. 3 and 5).⁸⁸ Some were so clever at their ruse that the deception is impossible to detect in photographs. For the images in this chapter, I have no way of knowing whether the people depicted were frauds or authentic—that is, with real disablements. Whether beggars were truly disabled or impostors did not change the way they appeared on their cards. Both groups shared the strategies and forms of presentation that would induce giving. The issue of fraud is complicated.99 Just as people who were relatively healthy and unimpaired faked disabilities, people with actual impairments sometimes fabricated stories about themselves and posed in deceptive ways. The latter exaggerated the nature and the extent of their condition and told lies about how they became disabled and about what they planned to do with the donations. They carried crutches and wore bandages or eye patches or other accessories even when they did not need them. In one sense, all beggars shared a degree of fraud. It was the degree of deception that separated the liar from the deceitful.

Chapter 2 focused on freak portraits and the motivation behind their production: to supplement the freaks’ income, to publicize exhibits, and to render the freaks inviting to the public. Whether in the aggrandized mode or in the exotic, the people photographed were cast in a way that would advance curiosity, wonder, and amusement. In the hundreds of freak photos I have studied, none seems to hint that the viewer should pity the person in the picture or buy the image as an act of charity to contribute to the person’s livelihood.

Begging images are quite different. They typically parade helplessness and call for pity. Although there are minor exceptions, the beggars did not brag of competence, as in the aggrandized photos; they instead claimed that they were dependent and posed in ways to appear so. The aim was to appear needy and grim and to ask directly or indirectly for alms.

Harry T. Petry’s begging card in illustration 3.2 is a striking example of the pity approach to begging. Given the card’s small size, two and a half by four and a half inches, and the absence of an address to send funds to, Petry probably handed it out to passersby on the street.

Petry is sitting in a wheelchair in the picture. His face and posture convey gloom. The image effuses misfortune, or at least the message on the card asks the viewer to draw the conclusion: “AM PERFECTLY HELPLESS. MY LEGS ARE BOTH OFF ABOVE THE KNEES AND HAVE TO BE FED LIKE A BABY.” As with most images of beggars, Petry appears well groomed and wears clean clothes. His attire is arranged to display his missing legs and dysfunctional arms.1010

The image of Petry is constructed to support the assertion at the bottom of the card: “THIS IS THE ONLY WAY I HAVE TO MAKE A LIVING.” On the back of the card is additional text. “Good Luck to the Purchaser of this Card…. Please Give What You Wish.” These words, along with the earlier reference to “making a living,” are significant because they embody a begging strategy. Note the use of the word purchase, which normally means a real exchange of goods or services for money. Petry also uses the word give. The card thus creates ambiguity regarding whether he is merchant or panhandler.¹¹¹¹ Or, to put it another way, the appeal for charity is finessed by the idea that the giver is receiving an object, the picture of Petry, in return. Further, Petry’s begging is cast in the language usually reserved for people who are employed—“make a living.”

In small print on the back of his card, Petry offers a poem that captures his misery:

Petry’s verse adds another element to the exchange; he is giving away or selling his poetry. To top it off, he offers a religious justification for giving: God will reward those who give to the less fortunate. And in general, Petry’s presentation embodies many aspects of the visual and verbal pity rhetoric that was a standard part of begging cards.

Petry’s reference to Christian charity is not unusual; religion was often evoked in beggars’ cards. In an early example (illus. 3.3), a carte de visite photograph from 1875, Nathan P. Van Luvanee assumes a sympathetic pose in his wooden wheelchair. He is touching a Bible.

The text printed on the back of the card is too long to include in its entirety here, but a summary of the relevant parts emphasizes the subject’s religiosity. The text is not by Van Luvanee; it is a testimonial allegedly written by his pastor. We are told that Van Luvanee was born in 1848 and became a “helpless invalid” when he was fifteen years old. In 1871, he was “blessedly converted” to the Lord and at the time of the picture, 1875, was “constantly and sweetly resting in Jesus.”

Some people were leery of beggars, suspecting that they were not what they claimed to be, but impostors rather than the afflicted.1212 Van Luvanee’s approach was to deal with that concern directly by having a minister testify for him. The message from the minister ends with the following backing: “I have known him for more than two years. He is a faithful and devoted Christian and a true follower of Jesus, whose blood cleanses from all sin.” The choice of the minister to vouch for Van Luvanee was tactical of course. It is difficult to dismiss a minister as a liar. Further, a viewer might hesitate to think that Luvanee composed the statement himself, which he might well have done.

Beggars made use of the charity sentiments embedded in Judeo-Christian text and tradition, including “I am my brother’s keeper.” They regularly called upon or fabricated statements by ministers and other church authorities to bolster their claims. But one never knows whether the religious vouchers were heartfelt messages from authentic religious people or fraudulent fabrications devised to grease the flow of money.

Another unhappy soul, A. Souslin, appears on a printed postcard begging card in illustration 3.4. His back and neck brace is clearly visible in the picture. His address is given at the bottom, presumably so that people could mail in donations.

Souslin’s card illustrates a number of additional begging strategies. He employs his family to evoke sympathy for his plight. Notice the stoic look on Mrs. Souslin’s face and the child’s somber gaze. Souslin takes on the persona of someone in distress. The phrase that appears at the bottom of the card, “THEIR ONLY SUPPORT,” has a double meaning: in his role of father provider, Souslin was the sole support of his family, but now begging is the only way for them to survive. Note how this pitch is different from the intent of freak family images in the previous chapter. In the latter, families were included to normalize and enhance the disabled person’s status; in the former, they were used as a ploy to provoke sympathy.

Souslin used another begging card as well (illus. 3.5). In it, he features his two-year-old son, Marion. The boy is holding a baseball bat and is surrounded by toys. The lead line in the caption is: “WILL PAPA EVER BE ABLE TO BUY ME ANY MORE TOYS?” The maudlin plea is a graphic illustration of the use of family as central to the beggar’s appeal, but, strangely, what the boy is concerned about seems rather insignificant—toys, extravagant when compared with the basics, food and shelter.

The text of the first Souslin card, showing the whole family, also reads: “Neck broken October 23, 1906, while decorating new office building, N. C. R. Dayton, Ohio. Was stooped over in the act of removing rubbish, plank fell striking edgewise on the back of neck.” The specificity of the account adds detail and compelling credibility to the narrative, but it also introduces another theme prevalent in many begging cards: the beggar was formerly a hard worker who had been actively engaged in making a living but now, owing to no fault of his own, he cannot work—making him one of the deserving poor.

All my examples of begging cards have so far featured adult men as solicitors. Men were disproportionately represented among those who employed begging cards, but women also used them and engaged in the same tactics men did. The woman in illustration 3.6, who is allegedly sightless, included a young child, presumably her own, in her photographic handout. In the text, the beggar tells of her plight. She does not provide the details of her disability but rather relies on prose and a religious appeal: “As you behold the light of day think of me who is blind / I need your prayers as well as your support / I come too in Jesus name turn me not away.”

As we shall see in the next chapter, although depictions of children with disabilities seeking funds for their own welfare are almost absent in begging cards, children dominate the imagery in charity drives by philanthropic organizations.

The begging card of Theordore Peters (illus. 3.8) has a presentation that is similar to Souslin’s in that it emphasizes that Peters would work if he could and that resorting to begging is no fault of his own. It uses the phrase “Wonder of the World,” but the meaning is decidedly different from its use in freak shows; Theordore Peters is presented as a hero.

According to the text, Peters was a union iron worker who fell 350 feet into a river when he tried to save a coworker’s life. We are also told that his wife died from shock after hearing about her husband’s injuries. She left five children. The recipient of the begging card is asked: “PLEASE BUY ONE OF MY CARDS.”

Illustration 3.9 provides another example of an injured worker’s begging card. Barney Brooks poses here with his family in his solicitation card. The appeal is less colorful. The portrait is well composed, and were it not for the message printed on the back and the uniformly sad faces, one would think the photo was just a family picture produced for inclusion in the family album. (I take up family or citizen pictures in chapter 10.)

Mr. Brooks, however, makes a special appeal to fellow workers: “Would you kindly help a brother who has had misfortune to lose the power of his limbs by falling from an electric pole[?] I am a lineman and will appreciate any thing you give or buy.” Although the ambiguous “give or buy” seems to be an appeal to a specific audience, fellow workers, Brooks’s address is included at the end of the message, suggesting that he might have been soliciting in general through the mail.

Beggars extensively used the presentation of a down-and-out, helpless condition, but, probably realizing the limitations of this depressing and downbeat appeal, some of them also added a positive element to their plea. In the 1920s, Mr. George Washington had a “keep your sunny side up” avowal (illus. 3.10).¹³¹³

The basics of the picture are the same as others we have examined. Washington looks cheerless, is clean and respectably dressed, and has a disability: a missing lower left leg and mangled right leg are prominently displayed. In the first sentence of the text, he tells us of his plight: “40 Years Since I Have Walked,” but in a turn of tactic he states: “But Not Licked Yet: Anyone Can Quit.” Not Washington, though. He goes on:

Washington’s overtly buoyant message is more positive and direct than one typically finds on begging cards, but there many examples of others who use a less understated version of the message “not licked yet.”

As far back as the Revolutionary War, veterans who were injured in service to their country received pensions and were some of the first people with disabilities to receive government services. Even so, some former soldiers who were mutilated chose or had to resort to begging as a method of support. The number of those who chose to beg with the assistance of photographic images was apparently small; I came across only two in my research.

The oldest veteran begging card I found is of two Civil War amputees (illus. 3.11). One has a war medal pinned to his lapel and grasps a large American flag with his remaining hand, and the other holds a gun. The flag and the medal are part of the solicitation’s appeal. They remind the potential donor that these men served their country and should be rewarded with a contribution. At the bottom of the card is the hand-written notation “25 cents,” which suggests it was distributed as a begging card.

Take the case of Daniel Rose, a man with cerebral palsy pictured in his home in Johnstown, Pennsylvania (illus. 3.12). The image shows examples of his whittling. Rose most likely distributed “The Expert Whittler” postcards through the mail as well as when people visited his home to see his carvings—miniature cars, houses, and other objects he created out of wood. The objects he allegedly created were special not because of their exceptional quality, but because they were produced by a person with a demonstrable disability. The display and sale of pedestrian self-made objects showed that Rose and others who engaged in such crafts were trying to make a living for themselves, not just sitting around begging.

Rose was featured in a number of different postcards. In a photo postcard, illustration 3.13, he is shown with a woman he claims is his twin sister in the text in the back of the card. He makes no mention of his whittling in this card, and it appears to be a begging card stripped of his claims to being an artist.

Although I have been rather skeptical regarding the artistry of Daniel Rose’s whittling, in the second half of the twentieth century a form of art referred to as “outsider art” became popular and collectible and made headway in being accepted as part of the establishment art world (Becker 1982; Fine 2004). Artwork by people with various physical and mental disabilities who had no formal art training as well as work by those with unconventional lifestyles found an audience and began selling for high prices. Some of these artists started as local oddities, and some of them, like Rose, were beggars. They were “found” and championed by dealers and collectors and were lifted to the status of artist (Fine 2004). Although this transformation from beggar to artist is uncommon, its occurrence reminds us that people with disabilities can and do have careers; they do not necessarily remain in the same role all their lives. Beggars become artists or move on to some other status. For most, begging is not a lifetime pursuit. It can be seasonal or just one of the many roles a person fills during the course of his or her life.

In the studio portrait in illustration 3.14, a photo postcard of a blind beggar provides another example of the mixing of begging and artist performance. The person pictured here apparently distributed this card to pedestrians as he played his harmonica and dulcimer. Although the image seems bleak, and the sign around his neck, “PLEASE HELP THE BLIND,” indicates he was a beggar, the fact that he also played musical instruments puts him in another league of beggar—that of the street performer.

Street entertainers solicit money just as beggars do. We do not know how talented the person in illustration 3.14 was or what the quality of his performances was, but even if he were a terrible musician, the fact that he was doing something in addition to asking for a handout put him in a different league of beggars. The beggar as performer was more active and probably seen more favorably than the run-of-the-mill beggar. Performance was another form of the assertion “But not licked yet.”

In the case of the blind man with a harmonica, the begging aspect is clear. He has a sign around his neck asking for help. In another card, however, distributed by W. C. Williams, the balance between musician and beggar is less clear (illus. 3.15). Mr. Williams is dressed in a band uniform and is surrounded by an array of musical instruments. The caption identifies him as a “ONE ARM ONE MAN BAND.” It is difficult to place Williams in the world of beggars. Typical of begging cards, Williams’s address is included in the caption. Not a circus sideshow performer, not a legitimate musician, Williams was likely a beggar with a twist, a novelty act whose music brought him attention, which in turn brought donations not least because of his self-help attitude.

Another genre of begging images demonstrates that some beggars with disabilities were willing literally to go the extra mile to enhance their fund-raising success. Richard E. New, the “Legless Motor Cycle Rider,” is a flamboyant example (illus. 3.16). Originally from Akron, Ohio, Mr. New traveled about the country at the beginning of the twentieth century collecting money in a vehicle made especially for him in order to support his roving lifestyle. A small insert of him on the postcard displays stumps where once there were legs. The lettering on the side of the cycle brags that he had driven “TWICE ACROSS THE GREAT AMERICAN DESERT,” presumably the Great Basin Desert, located primarily in Nevada. A portion of the text reveals that New met his expenses by selling photographs of himself according to a system we have seen before: “Price. What You Choose.”

The first illustration shown in this chapter is another postcard of a legless man who used pictures of himself to beg. Rather than getting about on a motorized vehicle, however, he employed a goat cart to accomplish his travel. The sign next to him reads: “Dear Friend, My name is John Rose driver of the only goat team in the world pulling 475 lbs averaging 16 miles per day. I was crippled in a R. R. wreck 12 yrs. ago. Someone Help Me.” By handing their begging cards to passersby, John Rose and Richard New solicited money as they traveled about the country.

L. J. Bogart, a legless eighteen-year-old, solicited donations with his photo postcards as he traveled by covered wagon and goat team “FROM JUDSONIA ARK. TO LIMA OHIO” (illus. 3.17). Like New’s approach, Bogart’s appeal to the potential giver asserts that he is not a lazy beggar; he is on the move, creating and completing challenges to show his spirit and willingness to go the extra mile.

Goats were not the only draft animal people with disabilities used to promote their solicitation. One of the oldest images I have come across of beggars going the extra mile in pursuit of donations is that of Max Engel of Buffalo, New York. In 1890, after a railroad accident that left him legless, Engel hitched his dog, Carlo, to a handmade rig and set off begging.¹⁴¹⁴ Engel sold the likeness of himself in his travels (illus. 3.18). Stamped on the back of the photo taken in Buffalo is a message from Engel stating that he has been on the road for five years and is on his way to New York City. In the picture, Engel is well dressed and has wooden blocks strapped to his hands to increase his mobility.

Fred Vaillancourt, shown in illustration 3.19, was a former railroad breakman who also lost his legs in a train accident. He traveled about the country in a rig pulled by two dogs. Vaillancourt distributed a variety of photo postcard portraits in his travels. Illustration 3.19 is one of eight different images I have seen of him and his dog team.

In the early 1930s, Homer Minor of Plainview, Texas, used a tactic similar to Clewell’s in soliciting funds. He mailed a box of engraved Christmas cards to potential donors and asked that they either send a dollar or return the cards in a self-addressed, stamped envelope. He waited a week and then sent a follow-up postcard asking the recipient if he had received the package and urging him to send the money or the cards so that his account could be settled. In the message, he suggests that the recipient buy more cards and sell them to others. Minor does not mention his disability in the text, but on the address side of the card there is a picture of him sitting in a wheelchair with his proportionately small legs tucked in close to his body.

Besides offering marginal gifts, people with disabilities also offered real products—items sold in stores and available from other merchants. Some of these sellers with a disability acted as any merchant would, but others promoted their wares by emphasizing their disability and suggesting that buying from them had added value–charity. They typically priced their items higher than other sellers, trading on the buyer’s sympathy as their promotional technique.

Another ambiguous beggar card shows L. W. Prettyman, the “Shut-in-Magazine Man,” who appears to be selling a product: subscriptions to magazines (illus. 3.22). Though a real merchant, he uses pity and other begging strategies to improve his market position. Prettyman’s approach is that of an aggressive salesperson: “Yes, its [sic] a fight—a fight against disease, pain, and COMPETITORS. In my condition the fight seems unusually hard. I must win, for I have to earn my own living. Will YOU help me win? Help me to succeed. You can by sending me each and every one of YOUR magazine and newspaper subscriptions.” On the back of his postcard, he notes that his subscription sales are “our only means of support, both mother and I.”

Illustration 3.23 shows the card distributed by a John Concilio, who, from the text on the back of the card, appears to have been very self-conscious of the distinction between being a beggar and being a merchant. His pitch contains many of the elements of finessed begging mentioned earlier, but with twists and contradictions. The picture shows a well-dressed man striking a pose as an organ grinder, a person who hauls around a mechanical musical instrument that produces tunes when the operator turns a crank. In this case, the large organ is ornate and mounted on wheels. Organ grinders were often immigrants and were common on streets in the United States through the first third of the twentieth century. These itinerant street people would solicit money by holding out a cup or hat to encourage donations. The solicitor would sometimes be accompanied by a monkey who did tricks and held the cup.

What about Mr. Concilio? The back of his card shows the headline sentence: “This Man Does not Play for Money But Gives Full Value For Contributions.” The text states emphatically, “He is not playing for pennies but gives full value for any donations. For 35¢ he gives you one of the latest and most popular song books containing 181 of the most popular songs.” The text goes on to say that he lost the use of his right leg and has been crippled for forty-nine years. Although he offers little detail, even which leg he is talking about, he mentions that he recently broke his leg and was “laid up” for two months, during which time he “lost everything he had.” Finally, he states that any donation will be used for the support of his family—his wife and two small children—and himself.

Sound familiar? His presentation contains many of the themes we have already discussed. Unlike the presentation on other begging cards, however, on his card Concilio does not show his alleged disability. He must certainly want the viewer to think it is hidden behind the hand organ. There apparently are other elements of deception in Concilio’s presentation.

Illustration 3.23 is one of two cards I have that Concilio used. Both cards seem to have been distributed around 1911 and have similar text in the back. But the second card gives a Dubuque, Iowa, address rather than the La Crosse, Wisconsin, location given on the first. No mention is made in the second card of his having a family. In the second card, he states that he is an amputee, whereas the first says he lost the use of his right leg. The second card states that he has been crippled for twenty-six years, but the first states that it has been forty-six years. The disparity between the two pitches is so blatant that the story on one or both is obviously contrived.

I end this chapter with an image that illustrates that the line between begging and regular commerce was fuzzy. Billy McGogan traveled around White Cloud, Minnesota, selling candy, popcorn, peanuts, cigars, and postcards. The postcards show him sitting in his goat-drawn mobile store. In the picture, he is nicely dressed, wearing a straw hat, and parked in front of his favorite haunt, the railroad station where he would meet the trains and sell to travelers.

McGogan was an entrepreneurial beggar who had lost the use of his legs early in his life when he was shot by a local farmer while attempting to steal chickens. As the book’s conclusion indicates, many people with disabilities had the status of local characters—that is, they were widely known in a particular geographic area for their peculiar behavior and lifestyle. McGogan filled that role in his town and capitalized on his notoriety by selling postcards and other goods.

Certain messages are repeatedly conveyed in these begging images and the accompanying prose. Beggars’ presentations of the period covered were rooted in centuries-old British laws that distinguish between the worthy poor and those not deserving charity (Katz 1990, 1996). According to this distinction, the worthy poor want to fend for themselves but cannot. The unworthy are slackers, people who are too lazy to do the hard work of supporting themselves. We show pity for the worthy by providing charity and contempt for the unworthy by requiring that they take care of themselves or be punished. Beggars pitched their appeals with knowledge of these sentiments and so worked to establish themselves as worthy.

In addition to the worthy/unworthy distinction, beggar imagery was laced with ideas of rugged individualism and American capitalism. Aspects of the begging lineup included quasi-entrepreneurial exchanges and upbeat salesmanship. Beggars approached their task with an understanding of the Christian imperative for charity. “Give to the least of us” was translated into “Make yourself look as needy as you can.” Promote pity, and people will respond. One particularly effective approach in this appeal was to include dependent children.

1. This overrepresentation is linked to a number of factors, including lack of other occupational opportunities, employer discrimination, and choice.

2. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, several cities adopted “unsightly beggar ordinances,” also referred to as “ugly laws,” to keep people with incapacities from asking for handouts in public. Some of these laws remained on the books until the second half of the twentieth century (Garland-Thomson 2009, 72; Schweik 2009).

3. They include Jacob Riis’s “Blind Beggar” (1888); P. Strand’s “Blind Woman” (1916); A. Kertesz “Legless Man Selling Flowers” (1928); B. Shahn “Accordion Player” (undated); and Garry Winogrand’s “American Legion Convention, Dallas, 1964” (1964) (see Marien 2006, 203, 346; Winogrand’s photo is also discussed in chapter 9).

4. In some urban locations, beggars negotiate with each other for territory and share common understandings about acceptable tactics. Some are loosely tied to a street subculture.

5. In some municipalities, selling begging cards made beggars eligible for peddler licenses, which then legalized their activity.

6. Some beggars were assisted by family members or associates, including people who served as their managers.

7. There are two main types of images: images printed on printing presses from plates made using original photographs and real photos printed from negatives directly on photographic paper. Because of the expense of making the initial print, the former were printed in large numbers. The real photos were usually done in smaller runs.

8. Early films often used a seeing person posing as a blind beggar as a source of humor. In one of the earliest, Fake Beggar (1898), a man with a sign “Help the Blind” quickly reaches down to pick up a coin that landed on the floor after missing the cup. A similar routine has been present in films to the present day (Norden 1994, 14).

9. In their relationship, beggars with disabilities and nondisabled people ranged from street colleagues to adversaries (Schweik 2009, 5).

10. Although Petry does not describe his condition in detail, his comments suggest that he, in addition to being legless, does not have use of his arms.

11. In some locations, begging was illegal, but peddling was not, which may in part explain some of the duel presentations.

12. See Norden 1994, chap. 1, for a discussion of disability fraud in early movies.

13. His name is given on the back side of the card, and he makes no connection between his own name and that of the first president of the United States.

14. For a discussion of disability and railroad workers, see Williams-Searle 2001.