4 9
ANTHROPOLOGY AND INSTITUTIONALIZATION:
FREDERICK STARR AT THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO, 1892-1923
R. Berkeley Miller
Department of Sociology
Brown University
Providence, Rhode Island
Within the history of social science, it is well
known that the first department of sociology in
the United States was formed with the opening of
the University of Chicago in 1892. It is perhaps less
well known that this department was, in fact, the
Department of Social Science and Anthropology-
changed a year later to the Department of Soci-
ology and Anthropology-making it also one of the
earliest departments of anthropology.'
For William Rainey Harper, first president of the
University of Chicago, recruiting faculty for the
new university proved to be exceedingly difficult
(Ryan 1939). Before anyone had been appointed
in sociology, Frederick Starr, head of ethnology at
the American Museum of Natural History and a
past associate of President Harper, decided to
accept Harper's proposition and agreed "to do my
best to build a strong department of anthropology"
(WRH: Starr to Harper, 17 February 1891). Not
quite a year later, Harper finally recruited Albion
W. Small for sociology. In the same letter confirm-
ing Small as "head professor" of "social science,"
Harper wrote: "I have wondered whether it would
not be well to put anthropology in your depart-
ment and make it Sociology and Anthropology. We
have appointed a man who wants to develop the
line of anthropology" (UPP: Harper to Small,
8 February 1892). Apparently Harper was not in-
clined to form two separate departments and there-
fore hoped to persuade Starr to practice his re-
search and teaching within the administrative
bounds of sociology, and Small to accept an ap-
pointment without prior consultation.
Though we do not have Harper's correspondence
with either Starr or Small, we do know he was
successful. Starr responded that he
would be glad to arrange the work in Anthroplogy in
such a way as to have it co-operate with . .. the work
in Sociology, but of course it is understood that the
work [in anthropology] is a separate work and capa-
ble of broadening into a full department or school.
It is also understood that Prof[essor] Small is not my
superior in Anthropology and that this subject
[anthropology] is [in] no sense a subordinate one
[WRH: Starr to Harper, 21 March 1892].
For his part, Small immediately responded to
Harper that he, Small, "must vigorously protest,
on general principles, against the appointment of
instructors otherwise than by nomination, or
previous consultation of the heads of departments"
(UPP: Small to Harper, 26 February 1892). Short-
ly thereafter, Small overcame his objections and
wrote to Harper that
Dr. Starr is quite right-that the work in anthropol-
ogy is capable of broadening into a full department or
school. I wish to be a learner from Dr. Starr in his
field, and in no case . . . should I desire to limit his
work by any attempt to direct matters which he is an
authority and I am not [WRH: Small to Harper, 26
March 1892].
Small then insisted that a place for Starr's program
be found within the threefold division Small had
planned-'historical sociology,' 'contemporary sociol-
ogy,' and 'constructive sociology': '. . . the first
division, viz. historical sociology, with such alter-
native title as Dr. Starr might choose-for example,
anthropology and ethnology-should be under Dr.
Starr's direction, and the courses should be enlarged
or modified according to his judgment' [WRH: Small
to Harper, 26 March 1892, quoted in Diner 1975:
519].
Finally, Small stated:
I simply wish to have it appear in our programme that
we recognize . . . the logical relations between anthro-
pology and constructive social science . .. and ... the
necessity of laying the foundations of social philos-
ophy-partly in the investigations which Dr. Starr's
department must pursue [WRH: Small to Harper, 26
March 1892].
Small's wish was confirmed a year later in the
second Annual Register by way of the introducto-
ry remarks preceeding the courke announcements
for the Department of Sociology and Anthropol-
ogy. Certainly this confirmation must have pleased
Starr also. These remarks read in part:
The organization of Sociology and Anthropology in a
single department is provisional. The differentiation
of an independent Department of Anthropology and
Ethnology is anticipated. Meanwhile the present al-
liance and cooperation is fortunate, as it recognizes
the dependence of social philosophy and social art
upon anthropological science [University of Chicago
1893-94:58].
And so a wedding was consumated between sociol-
ogy and anthropology at Chicago that was to last
for the next 37 years, even though each Annual
5 0
Register carried the above statements or a minor
variation thereof.
Edward Shils (1970:770) has written that
from the very start, there was a propitious atmos-
phere for research at Chicago, created, in part, by its
youth, the first president's determination to make it
into a research university . . . , and the large number
of vigorous young professors who shared the ideal
embodied in the research-centered seminars of the
German university.
Chicago sociology, under the guidance of Small, W.
I. Thomas, and, a little later, Robert Park and
Ernest W. Burgess, soon achieved a position of
hegemony within that discipline. Though Starr
(1897:791-792) claimed "that at no other Ameri-
can institution is instructive work in anthropology
so definite and at the same time so comprehensive,
some eleven different courses in somatology,
ethnology, and archeology being offered," Chicago
anthropology languished for decades. It is reason-
able, I believe, to question why, on the one hand,
Chicago anthropology did not also attain a position
of national importance early on, and, on the other
hand, why-in spite of the statements to the con-
trary in each Annual Register-it took 37 years to
separate anthropology from sociology into a de-
partment in its own right?
The answers to both questions center on the
process of institutionalization, defined by Profes-
sor Shils (1970:763) as "the relative dense inter-
action of persons who perform that activity. The
high degree of institutionalization of an intellectual
activity entails its teaching and investigation within
a regulated, scheduled, and systematically admin-
istered organization." Chicago sociology achieved
its position of hegemony because it became more
thoroughly institutionalized sooner than other de-
partments. This pattern of institutionalization
centered on a standard textbook which promulgated
the main principles of analysis, postgraduate courses,
lectures, seminars, examinations, individual supervi-
sion of small pieces of field research to be submitted
as course and seminar papers, and dissertations done
under close supervision. . . . It was sustained by the
publication of the main dissertations in the Chicago
Sociological Series and the transformation of the
American Journal of Sociology into an organ of Uni-
versity of Chicago research. It was reinforced by
public authorities and civic groups which offered
sponsorship and cooperation for research, and by
financial support from the university and private
philanthropists [Shils 1970:772-773].
Though the environment at the turn of the centu-
ry, both within the new university and the wider
anthropological community, was also ripe for the
institutionalization of anthropology at Chicago, no
significant progress was made in that direction
during the tenureship of Frederick Starr. The
above two questions can be answered with confi-
dence, then, through an examination of the life
and work of Starr, as well as the relationships exis-
tent between Starr's program, the offices of the
University President and Dean of Social Science,
and American anthropology in general. These sub-
jects will be taken up in order.
LIFE AND WORK
Frederick Starr was a complex, sometimes
peculiar, individual, a product of his religious up-
bringing and scientific training. His father, a Pres-
byterian minister, determined as a young man to
bring the social gospel to Weston, Missouri. There,
in 1854, Reverend Starr was tried by a "lynch"
court as an abolitionist and threatened with a
hundred lashes. According to the Record of the
Class of 1848 in Yale College (Yale College 1871:
73), he "was permitted to address the court and so
bold and eloquent was his defense that he was
acquitted by an unanimous and rising vote."
Weston was situated directly across the Missouri
River from Kansas, and shortly after his trial, pro-
slavery and anti-slavery forces began the battle over
the fate of Kansas. When the pro-slavery forces
started to gain the upper hand in 1855, Reverend
Starr, on the advice of friends, made haste to
remove his family and anti-slavery views from
Missouri. His public speeches shortly thereafter-
four delivered in New York City for the Republi-
can National Central Committee-were the first on
Kansas and attracted much attention. Earlier, in
1853, his nine "Letters to the People," published
in a New York City newspaper and "containing a
most remarkable discussion of slavery in Missouri,
involving its relation to those laws of population,
and those social, commercial and political forces
which seemed to the writer destined to effect its
gradual but sure extinction" (Yale College 1871:
75), brought national recognition.
Frederick Starr was born on September 2, 1858,
in Auburn, New York, after Reverend Starr had
fled Missouri. He spent his boyhood in the East
and in 1882 graduated from Lafayette College,
Easton, Pennyslvania, where in 1885 he received
his Ph.D. in geology. In 1883 he became a profes-
sor of sciences at the State Normal School in Lock
Haven, Pennysylvania. He was a professor of biol-
ogy at Coe College, Cedar Rapids, Iowa, from 1884
to 1887. In the summer of 1885, he became an
instructor of geography at Chautaugua University,
Chautauqua, New York, and continued to teach
there through correspondence courses until 1892.
At this institution he also served as registrar from
1888 to 1889, and it was probably in this capacity
that he became acquainted with William Rainey
Harper, who also held a high administrative posi-
tion (Diner 1975). From 1889 to 1891 he was
5 1
engaged in arranging, labeling, and classifying the
collections in the Department of Ethnology at the
American Museum of Natural History. In 1891 he
became a professor of geology and anthropology,
and dean of the science department, at Pomona
College, Claremont, California. As already indicat-
ed, during the latter part of his tenure at the Amer-
ican Museum, as well as his year at Pomona Col-
lege, he was in correspondence with President
Harper. Starr joined the faculty at the University
of Chicago as an assistant professor and became an
associate professor in 1895. He remained in this
position, simultaneously holding the position of
curator of the anthropology section of the Walker
Museum at the university, until his retirement in
1923.
Starr inherited his father's speaking ability.
Throughout his career, he was an immensely popu-
lar lecturer among both his students and the gen-
eral public. He also inherited his father's outspoken
moral convictions. As shall be more fully discussed
below, he supported many unpopular causes; he
continually spoke for the underdog and against
what he saw as United States imperialism. The two
qualities, oratorical skill and forthright convictions,
combined to bring him a goodly amount of noto-
riety. Indeed, Starr's ability to gain attention was
almost uncanny. To illustrate, in 1899 his private
remarks condemning the American intervention in
Cuba and the Philippines, delivered at a small
Illinois college during a reception following one of
his lectures, were reported in the New York Times
(May 2, 1889) and caused quite a scandal. A few
years later, in 1902, he again garnered "headlines
for his statement . . . that Pithecanthropus erectus
had used baby talk" (Darnell 1969:157). In 1916
Starr wrote an article discussing the Japanese's
expansionist tendencies which covered the entire
front page of the San Francisco Examiner (April 3,
1916). And finally, "in 1920 [he] publicly de-
bated the merits of civilization with Clarence
Darrow, defending the negative with reasonable
success" (Darnell 1969:158). Starr thoroughly en-
joyed his notoriety, writing his mother weekly of
his exploits and "keeping scrapbooks which ran
into volumes of newspaper commentaries" (Darnell
1969:158).
Of his stay at the University of Chicago, Faye-
Cooper Cole, who replaced Starr in 1924, has
written:
During his thirty-one years [at Chicago] he was
probably the most popular instructor in the Universi-
ty. Though his classes were crowded and he was the
only instructor in the subject, he refused to add
others, remaining, as he said, "the Lone Star." He had
numerous personal idiosyncracies. He refused to wear
an overcoat, never used a telephone, and usually
walked about the campus with an open book in his
hands, while his apartment was a labyrinth of books
stacked on the floors in various rooms. His frankness
and fearlessness in the expression of opinion often
made him enemies; on the other hand, his informali-
ty and camaraderie in the classroom created a loyalty
seldom met between students and professor. When he
retired from the University in 1923 his former stu-
dents presented him with a large purse, which enabled
him to purchase a house in Seattle, a location con-
venient for his frequent trips to Japan [1935:532] .
Starr was a man of boundless energy; he traveled
widely and constantly, especially in Mexico, West
Africa, Japan, Korea, and the Philippines, for the
sake of anthropological investigations, and pub-
lished and lectured fairly extensively on these
investigations. Today many-if not most-of his
works lie outside the realm of either immediate or
anthropological interest: his interests, for example,
ranged from cross-cultural studies to the study of
deformates and albinos, as well as to the collecting
of bookplates, origami, Filipino riddles, and
Korean coin-charms and amulets. Moreover, insofar
as anthropological theory and practice are con-
cerned, he left little of insight or originality.
Starr's training in the natural sciences placed him
squarely within the tradition of the 19th-century
evolutionists and he remained within this tradition
all his academic life. At about the same time that
Franz Boas was beginning his systematic critique of
"this more or less integrated body of assumption
[which] attempted to explain in scientific terms
the presumed superiority of white-skinned civilized
men to dark-skinned savages by placing them both
on a single developmental ladder extending upward
from  the apes" (Stocking 1976:3), Starr (1895:
297-298) was acknowledging his intellectual debt
to such evolutionary theorists as Edward B. Tylor,
Sir John Lubbock, and Herbert Spencer and
writing:
In the march from savagery to civilization all peoples
have not travelled at the same speed; some have hard-
ly travelled at all. Belated tribes exist, who represent
almost every stage of culture. When we have secured
our full series of specimens from every tribe, we may
trace a thousand lines of invention or art by compari-
son of specimens [ 1895:291] .
Starr (FSP: lecture notes, no date) stressed the
differences-"physically, mentally, and in life-
customs"-between peoples; he underlined "Anglo-
Saxon superiority"-"ours is the finest ever, all
others fall short." When discussing the differences
between Black Americans-"Liberians"-returned
to Liberia and the native population of that coun-
try, he asked:
Is it desirable that Liberians and the natives inter-
marry? It is certain that the native endures the cli-
mate better than the newcomers; it is true that he has
for more energy, vigor, enterprise-in case his interest
is once aroused. There can be no question that close
breeding among the little handful of Liberians is
fraught with danger; mixture with the native stock
5 2
would give, in many cases, good results. There is al-
ways, of course, the danger in such mixed marriages
of relapse to barbarism. This is a real one and needs
to be avoided [1913:247].
Even as late as 1922, when Boas and his "American
historical school" pretty well controlled the dis-
cipline, Starr wrote to a colleague, "In my teaching
evolution is fundamental. It runs through every
course I offer. It is what gives life and value to the
work" (FMNH-DA: Starr to Logan, 7 August 1922;
emphasis in original).
Starr (FSP: lecture notes, no date; see also
1895:283-293) defined the scope of anthropology
to be the " 'Science of Man' in the widest sense";
its content, the "origin, position, structure, reac-
tion, appearance, movement, varieties, achieve-
ment, and progress" of mankind. Following Daniel
Brinton (1892) with but few changes, he divided
anthropology into "four great subdivisions": (1)
somatology or physical anthropology, which at-
tempts to determine man's position within the
animal kingdom as well as the amount and kind of
physical variation within mankind; (2) ethnology,
which "investigates the origin of races and assails
the problem of the unity of man" (1895:289); (3)
ethnography, which "aims at the description of the
life, customs, languages, arts, religious beliefs, etc.,
of peoples" (1895:289); and finally (4) culture
history, which includes archaeology and traces the
growth of civilization.
In light of Starr's evolutionary orientation, it is
not surprising that his attitude toward field work
was that of a 19th-century museum curator: rather
than intensive "detailed study and meticulous
description of local cultures" (Goldenweiser 1940:
462) in the Boasian tradition, Starr made extensive
regional surverys for the sake of collecting, in as
systematic a manner as possible, "full series of spec-
mens"-physical measurements, artifacts, myths,
etc. In Mexico, one of his main objectives was
to ascertain and define the physical types of the dif-
ferent tribes. To accomplish this three kinds of work
were done: (1) measurements were taken upon one
hundred men and twenty-five women in each tribe,
and a description written of each subject; (b) photo-
graphs were made of selected subjects ... ; (c) plaster
busts were made of selected subjects who seemed to
be typical, five subjects generally being selected from
each tribe. While doing this work in physical anthro-
pology many photographs and data of ethnographic
interest were secured [Starr 1900-02:2-3].
For the sake of the above collections, he visited,
between 1898 and 1901, at least 24 tribes in
southern Mexico. In his 1905-06 trip to the Congo
Free State, Starr (FSP: Field Notebook ff3,
December 1905) wrote the following:
Results hoped for from trip: 100 stereoscopic pic-
tures and [a] book: series [of] life-size tattooings,
hair-dressings, etc.; autograph-portrait collection;
series of tooth impressions . . . ; 50 good phono-
graphic records; book-The People of the Congo;
book-narative [sic]; paper-original results: ethno-
graphic collections; series of moving pictures; 120
lantern slides of high grade; African basketry-collec-
tion [and] book.
Many of his collections eventually ended up in the
Field Columbian Museum (later the Field Museum
of Natural History) and the American Museum of
Natural History.
The results of these expeditions were generally
published in the form of (1) "travel narratives"
(1907, 1908a, 1924); (2) "ethnographic albums,"
which presented numerous photographs and some
descriptive materials (1899, 1912); and (3) "ethno-
graphic notes," which provided brief descriptions
of the tribes surveyed (1900-02, 1909b). Although
at one time or another Starr touched on every
possible subject-social organization, language,
religion, mythology-these descriptions concentrat-
ed mostly on the material aspects of housing,
clothing, and other native industries. Starr also
published numerous articles on specific subjects.2
Curiously, while many of Starr's writings and
lectures were unabashedly racialist in tone because
of his evolutionary orientation, his religious back-
ground steadfastly prevented him from subscribing
to the doctrine that all differences between cul-
tures were fixed or that it was the white man's
responsibility to elevate the so-called backward
peoples. In different lectures he (FSP: lecture
notes, no date) emphasized that "there are no
strange peoples" (emphasis in original). Other peo-
ples' "ideals are as sacred as ours [and] . . . may be
as legitimate." Two important lessons to be learned
from anthropological research are the "recognition
of similarity" and the "respect of difference."
Starr (see especially 1919) vigorously con-
demned the European colonization of Asia and
Africa-"it is mutual jealousy, not great success,
which holds the European powers in Africa"
(1913:v-vi), as well as American colonization of or
interference in Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Philippines,
Panama, the Dominican Republic, Haiti, Nicaragua,
and Costa Rica.
Personally I dislike the effort to elevate, civilize, re-
make a people. It is my belief that every people is
happier and better with self-government, no matter
how unlike our own form that government may be. I
feel that no nation is good enough, wise enough, or
sufficiently advanced to undertake the elevation and
civilization of a "lower" people. Still less do I ap-
prove the exploitation of a native population by out-
siders for their own benefit [Starr 1907:4].
Regarding Africa, Starr (1913:v) claimed straight-
forwardly that ". . . the black man is capable of
conducting an independent government." Starr felt
that any efforts directed towards elevation-if
5 3
necessary-should be carried on by native elites,
not colonial elites. Moreover, he felt that such
efforts should concentrate on, first, "practical in-
struction in agricultural lines that will enable" the
native peoples "to get a better return for their
labor and live in a greater degree of comfort," and
second, on raising the natives' "consciousness and
appreciation of the fact that they are part of the
nation" (FSP: Starr to de Alva, 7 February 1922).
Not surprisingly, he characterized the League of
Nations as "a gathering which represents nothing
but a selfish, narrow, bigoted, hostile little cluster
of white peoples" (1919:27). Starr did not only
lash out at foreign domination, however. He up-
braided the United States for perpetuating racial
inequality at home and ignoring the fate of Liberia,
"an American enterprise, pure and simple" (1907:
121-129).
Starr received much public recognition-both
good and bad-for his work. On the positive side,
he was awarded a grand prize for his efforts at
organizing a group of Ainu natives for the Louisi-
ana Purchase Exposition, held in St. Louis in 1904,
and over the years was decorated by Holland,
Belgium, France, Italy, Japan, Cuba, and Liberia.
On the negative side, for example, Gilbert H. Gros-
venor of the National Geographic Society cancelled
his society's offer of a lecture because of Starr's
frank and bitter criticism of the United States' role
in the Philippines (FSP: Grosvenor to Starr, 17
December, 21 December 1908). At the University
of Chicago, however, Starr was virtually ignored,
remaining, as already indicated, an assocaite pro-
fessor from 1895 until his retirement. In a letter to
his mother written while packing for a trip to the
Pacific Northwest and the West Coast, Starr com-
plained:
No, I have received no "walking papers." Why should
I? My services may not be appreciated and promises
made may not have been kept, but I see no reason in
either of those things for my being dismissed. If I had
an assured income of $2000 a year I would never re-
turn. I am tired . . . and want to leave. I want to get
... away from everything ... associated with my suf-
fering here. I hope within three years not to have to
go back to teaching. If I should continue to teach it
would be somewhere else where I might have a living
salary and some appreciation [FSP: Starr to "My
Dear Mother," 18 August 1914; emphasis in original] .
Why did Starr receive little or no recognition from
his Chicago colleagues?
Starr languished as an associate professor be-
cause Chicago anthropology languished. Between
1892 and 1923, the Department of Sociology and
Anthropology awarded 55 Ph.D. and 104 master's
degrees (Faris 1967). Of these, only three doctoral
and four master's dissertations can be said to be
strictly anthropological-Starr is acknowledged as
an advisor in only one of these dissertations. An-
thropology languished, in great part, because of
Starr's numerous and extended absences. Rather
than gathering a core of graduate students around
him who could be dispatched to the field to re-
search various problems, Starr conducted all field
research by himself. Hardly a year passed without
at least one trip. Lacking resident leadership,
anthropology was unable to separate itself admin-
istratively from the Department of Sociology and
Anthropology. More importantly, such absences
prevented the essential efforts necessary for the
expansion of Chicago anthropology: Starr was un-
able to actively recruit qualified graduate students
or supervise their advanced work.
Anthropology languished also, in part, because
Starr's evolutionary perspectives and museum-
oriented field trips increasingly existed outside the
realm of what came to be mainstream, Boasian-
historical anthropology. Boas argued.
that the strong tendency to accumulate specimens has
often been a disadvantage to the development of
anthropology, because there are many aspects of this
science in which the material objects are insignificant
as compared with the actual scientific questions in-
volved. [A] nthropology requires a broader point of
view for its fieldwork than that offered by the strict
requirements of the acquisitions of museum speci-
mens [1907:931].
Many of Starr's publications, moreover, were
either popularizations or polemics not directed
toward the growing audience of professional
anthropologists. Potential graduate students, con-
sequently, may have been unaware of Starr's
work. Others, aware of the shortcomings of Starr's
anthropology, would have looked elsewhere for
advanced training. George Amos Dorsey, Chief
Curator of Anthropology at the Field Museum,
sent some of his assistants-Faye-Cooper Cole, for
one-to the University of Chicago for initial gradu-
ate instruction, but to Boas at Columbia for
specialized or advanced studies. Without a core of
graduate students, there was no reason to expand
Starr's department of anthropology by increasing
the size of the faculty. Clearly, without students or
teachers, there was little chance for the process of
institutionalization to begin.
RELATIONSHIPS WITHIN THE UNIVERSITY
While Frederica de Laguna (1960:91) has char-
acterized "the first anthropologists" as "serious-
minded amateurs or professionals in other disci-
plines who delighted in communication across the
boundaries of the several natural sciences and
humanities," anthropology, by the turn of the cen-
tury, was nevertheless a well-institutionalized in-
tellectual discipline,3 flourishing in such centers as
the Smithsonian Institution, the United States
National Museum, and the Bureau of American
5 .4
Ethnology in Washington, D.C.; the American
Museum of Natural History in New York City; the
Peabody Museum in Cambridge, and the Field
Columbian Museum    in Chicago (Starr 1892b,
Anonymous 1906, Mitra 1933, Hallowell 1960,
Mead and Bunzel 1960, Stocking 1976). Anthro-
pologists regularly met under the auspices of the
American Association for the Advancement of
Science (Section H) (MacCurdy 1902), American
Ethnological Society, Anthropological Society of
Washington, and, after 1902, the American Anthro-
plogical Association; and communicated through
the journals, annals, and publications of these
societies and the above-mentioned institutions.
Anthropology, however, was still in the pre-
academic era (Collier and Tschopik 1954; Lowie
1956; de Laguna 1960; Freeman 1965; Darnell
1969, 1970; Stocking 1976). "Museums, not uni-
versities, were the centers of anthropological ac-
tivities, sponsoring field work, research, and pub-
lication, and making the major contributions to the
education of professional anthropologists . .
(de Laguna 1960: 101). Between 1890 and 1920,
early academic departments-usually headed by
museum men or former museum men-had to
closely cooperate with the longer-established mu-
seums in order to survive (Collier and Tschopik
1954, Darnell 1969, Stocking 1976). This coopera-
tion was largely a matter of financial assistance.
"Aside from the money appropriated for govern-
ment anthropology, research was supported largely
by individual philanthropy, channeled through
museums; universities provided little if any money
for anthropological research" (Stocking 1976:9).
Over the long haul, the dense, cooperative ex-
change of personnel, programs, and other resources
contributed to the institutionalization of academic
anthropology.
Starr's new enterprise at the University of Chi-
cago was no different than other fledgling aca-
demic departments. Support, especially in terms of
money for teaching equipment, fellowships, and
additional faculty positions, was always lukewarm
and, hence, slow in coming. Even before the uni-
versity opened its doors, Starr wrote to President
Harper and stated his need for an assistant in
American archaeology and complained about the
lack of funds for his program.
I am glad to have your assurance that you are going
to do the best possible for me and my department. I
have felt blue over it. I have gone into it believing and
expecting backing and have thereby lost two posi-
tions which would pay more than Chicago. I have
gone in believing that I can . . . build a department
which will not only be a good and recognized part of
the University, but a unique thing in America. But I
have felt as if the [opportunity was] slipping [away] -
and I have given up too much to be able to feel that
with equanimity [WRH: Starr to Harper, 11 June
1892].
Though Starr shortly received the funds for his
museum specimens and laboratory equipment
(WRH: Starr to Harper, 29 June 1892), his chosen
assistant, archaeologist William Moorehead, was
not hired "because of Harper's lack of interest in
fieldwork" (Darnell 1969:162).
Within three years Starr was again arguing for
more support. Because he approached anthropol-
ogy from the natural sciences, this time support
also included the reclassification of anthropology
from a social science to a natural science.
Has the matter of status of the work in Anthropology
been acted upon? Is Anthropology, as counted in this
University, a science or is it not? [T] his is very im-
portant to the success of my work. The students in
Anthropology are naturally students who are after
sciences and also are likely to be those who have a
scientific training in other branches. If the work is
not counted as a science the very students best pre-
pared for it will be repelled.
There ought to be a Fellowship in Anthropology.
Is there no way of securing one? I shall be glad to
draw students-with no status as a science, . . . with
no required courses, and with no scholarships, we
shall survive and. . . continue to grow-but with some
sort of encouragement we shall grow faster . .. [UPP:
Starr to Harper, 23 April 1895; emphasis in original].
Even without the kind of support Starr felt he
had been promised, the new department got off to
a small but propitious start, especially at the un-
dergraduate level. Instruction in the Department of
Sociology and Anthropology was divided accord-
ing to Albion Small's wishes into five categories
(Diner 1975). One category included the work in
anthropology and ethnology taught by Starr,
assisted by Merton L. Miller as a graduate student
in 1896 and 1897 and as a recently graduated Ph.D.
from 1899 to 1902, and by George Dorsey-who
continued to serve as curator of anthropology at
the Field Museum-from 1905 until 1915. Another
category encompassed the courses taught by W.I.
Thomas, which "included work on primitive races,
women, folk psychology, primitive art, primitive
education, racial development, occupations, and
sex"  (Diner 1975:537-538). Anthropology        was
never officially designated a "science," but at least
one fellowship was secured, probably by the fall of
1896. Head Professor Small wrote to Harper (UPP:
no date):
I am greatly pleased with the fellowship appoint-
ments, particularly the recognition of Anthropology.
I think I can help make that department a more im-
portant factor in the University and this encourage-
ment will make the process easier. Starr has some
great ideas in germination and Thomas will be an im-
portant element in creating a demand for the work.
By 1897 the new department had produced-
according to Fred Eggan (1974)-two outstanding
Ph.D.s, David P. Barrows4 and the already-mention-
ed Merton L. Miller.
5 5
Anthropology did not expand, however, beyond
its 1897 level until after Starr's retirement. Starr
refused to actively cooperate with the expanding
department of sociology, which perhaps could have
been a source for additional funds (as well as stu-
dents) because of Harper and Small's close personal
relationship and Harper's commitment to the work
in sociology. As presented in the Introduction,
Starr insisted and Small agreed that both should
head "separate" departments. Starr "understood"
that he was "to receive substantial support and
backing in building up the department's work"
(WRH: Starr to Harper, 17 February 1891), and,
for about twenty years, he dogmatically clung to
the hope that the university would eventually fund
him in a separate and expanded department. Starr's
only connection with sociology was through the
overlapping interests of W.I. Thomas, who "shared
Starr's conviction of the need for studies of primi-
tive man to complete the evolutionary history of
human society" (Darnell 1969:162). Thomas even
argued for the expansion of the program in
anthropology (UPP: Thomas to Harper, 20 April
1904). "But Thomas was peripheral to the sociol-
ogy department, and thus did little to integrate
anthropology within it" (Darnell 1969:162-163).
Starr cooperated even less with George Dorsey,
the only other long-term member of the anthro-
pology department in the early years. In 1896, as a
recently-graduated Ph.D. and newly-hired staff
member at the Field Museum, Dorsey applied for a
position within Starr's department. "Once assured
that Dorsey did not want to undercut his position
in the department, Starr acquiesced" (Darnell
1969:163). Starr's fears riegarding Dorsey do not
appear to have been unwarranted. Dorsey ener-
getically expanded anthropology at the Field
Museum (Martin 1943), and after joining the
anthropology faculty in 1905, harbored ambitions
of reorganizing Chicago anthropology along grad-
uate lines and reorienting the department away
from the evolutionism of Starr and toward the his-
toricism of Boas. Boas wrote to Dorsey (FMNH-
DA: 29 March 1907), "I am much interested in
your endeavors to reorganize the Department of
Anthropology, and hope that you may be success-
ful."
Indeed, in an effort to expand graduate instruc-
tion, Dorsey and Thomas in 1907.joined forces in
an attempt to bring Franz Boas to Chicago. While
only two years earlier Small had voted extreme
confidence in Starr's work (UPP: Harper to Small,
1 June 1905, Small to Harper, no date), Dorsey
and Thomas were able to persuade Small-"whose
goals for sociology stressed professional training"
(Darnell 1969:163)-that Starr was inadequate to
the task of building a graduate program. Thomas
wrote to Boas (26 March 1907, quoted in Darnell
1969:163), "you know very well that the subject is
in a deplorable condition and some of us are hop-
ing to have the department put on a really scientif-
ic basis, and to get some thoroughly trained men in
the work.... We are in fact not so very far from
the point of action." On the same day, Dorsey also
wrote to Boas (FMNH-DA: 26 March 1907):
I am just back from Dean Small's office . . . where I
have been talking with him on some matters of anthro-
pology. In the course of our conversation I was telling
him of the work I had been doing with you. Apropos
of nothing, he asked if I thought you would accept a
head professorship in anthropology at the University
of Chicago, to which query, of course, I could give no
answer.
Boas was unwilling to leave his position at Colum-
bia, though he did accept an offer to lecture in
Chicago's summer school in 1908. In response to
Thomas' letter, Boas noted, "Since the break-down
of the Museum in this city [New York], Chicago
has by far the best opportunity of developing an
anthropological department for the training in
investigators. It has always seemed curious to me
that the University has not improved that opportu-
nity at an earlier time" (Boas to Thomas, 29 March
1907, quoted in Darnell 1969:164).
The negotiations with Boas were conducted
without Starr's involvement. However, Starr may
have been aware of the plot: a week after Dorsey
wrote to Boas about Small's offer, Starr cancelled
Dorsey's spring quarter course. Dorsey had round-
ed up a number of graduate students for his course
but was forced to cancel it because, as he explained
to Dean Small, "[Starr] preferred that I should not
give it" (FMNH-DA: 10 April 1907). Perhaps to
underscore his ambitions, Dorsey concluded the
letter, "I am none the less ready at any and all
times to do everything in my power to further the
interests of the department in any way possible."
Following this incident until his departure from
the university in 1915, Dorsey's courses in physical
anthropology continued to be listed in each
Annual Register, though they "were rarely in fact
offered: Dorsey did not enjoy teaching ... and did
not get along well with Starr" (Darnell 1969:163).
If the support for Starr within the Department
of Sociology and Anthropology was weak after
1907, the support from the president's office was
no stronger. A month after the Boas incident,
Harper's successor, Harry Pratt Judson, wrote to
Starr (UPP: 8 May 1907), "I do not see any im-
mediate prospect of the development of the de-
partment. We are committed to so many things
which must be cared for that we can hardly under-
take to develop anthropology until these other
matters are arranged," President Judson reiterated
this same position in 1914 (UPP: Judson to Boas,
5 6
11 February 1914) and again in 1920 (FMNH-DA:
Judson to Laufer, 14 April 1920). Indeed, when
Dorsey left in 1915, ostensibly to join the war
effort, his position was never filled, even when it
became clear that he had no intentions of ever re-
turning.
By the time Starr retired in 1923, instruction in
anthropology was virtually at a standstill. Accord-
ing to the Annual Register (University of Chicago
1922-23), Ralph Linton lectured in 1923, with no
other courses being offered for the remainder of
the academic year. Faye-Cooper Cole joined the
faculty in the fall of 1924, followed the year later
by Edward Sapir, inaugurating the modern era of
Chicago anthropology (Eggan 1974). But for thirty
years Starr's department had languished, in some
measure, because the university was committed to
establishing on a firm foundation other programs
before anthropology, and-perhaps as a consequ-
ence of Starr's refusal to actively cooperate with
other members of the Department of Sociology
and Anthropology-because Small, as head of
social sciences had lost confidence in an expanded
anthropology program under Starr's direction.
RELATIONSHIP TO
AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGY
As previously discussed, the lackluster support
for Starr's program was typical of many newly-
founded departments in the pre-academic era. But
unlike the heads of other such impoverished de-
partments, Starr did not seek close affiliation or
cooperation with the longer-established institu-
tions, or, perhaps more importantly, the newly-
founded Field Columbian Museum, in order to
bolster his resources. This course of action no
doubt inhibited the growth of his program, and, as
a devoted fieldworker constantly in need of travel
money, perhaps his own researches as well.5
When Starr accepted Harper's offer, he was not a
member of the inner circle of museum or govern-
mental anthropologists whose "networks of per-
sonal and institutional loyalties . . . largely con-
trolled entrance and advancement in American
anthropology in the last years of the century"
(Hinsley and Holm   1976:311).6 Nevertheless,
having heard of the "movement . . . started in
Chicago toward a great city museum" (WRH:
Starr to Harper, 27 February 1892)-actually the
World's Columbian Exposition-Starr hoped to
play a central enough role in the planning so as to
benefit his new department. Indeed, as the head of
the only department of anthropology in the Mid-
west, Starr probably hoped to be named the cura-
tor of anthropology. He wrote President Harper,
"Can we allow [the planning] to go along without
us? Ought not I, at least, to have some connection
with it in such a way as to make it helpful to us? It
is likely to be strongest in my Dep[artment] "
(WRH: Starr to Harper, 27 February 1892).
Unfortunately for Starr's hopes, Frederic Ward
Putnam, Professor of American Archaeology and
Ethnology at Harvard and the foremost museum
builder in the country, had already been appointed
Chief of the Department of Ethnology and Archae-
ology at the Exposition, with the approval of
Harper. Upon learning this fact from Harper,
Starr's "enthusiasm for the museum evaporated
." (Darnell 1969:159). Starr lamented, "I am
somewhat sorry that Prof[essor] Putnam will be
at the head of the City Museum. It will cripple our
work in archaeology and affect us in that seriously.
Utterly unacquainted with Ethnology and Physical
Anthropology, he is not to be feared outside of
Prehistoric Archaeology" (WRH: Starr to Harper,
21 March 1892). A few months later, again in a
letter to Harper, Starr revealed rather bitterly that
some ill feelings had developed between him and
Putnam.
Please do not call the Harvard archaeologist an an-
thropologist. There is a difference. He has been grow-
ig huffy ever since I went to the [Peabody] Museum.
He lately wrote me a letter which was not polite....
He has no good reason to speak slightingly of me for
I have often spoken well of him and his work when
he had no other friend to champion his cause.7 Possi-
bly he feels that there is not room for two [anthro-
pologists] in Chicago [WRH: Starr to Harper, 29
June 1892].
Whatever the specific cause of these ill feelings,
Starr played only a peripheral role in this signal
event in the history of anthropology. He consulted
with Boas, Putnam's assistant, regarding the uni-
versity's financial contributions to the Exposition
(WRH: Boas to Harper, 21 November 1892), and
spent some time collecting artifacts among the
Cherokee Indians of South Carolina for the exhib-
its (FMNH-DA: Records of Gifts and Purchases,
1892). Most surprisingly, he did not take part in
the important World's Fair Congress of Anthro-
pology, held at the Exposition in August of 1893
(Holmes 1893).
This experience set the pattern for the initial
arm's distance relationship between Starr's pro-
gram and the Department of Anthropology at the
Field Museum, which grew out of the Exposition.
This relationship probably was reinforced when
George Dorsey was appointed chief curator in
1897 as Dorsey had been one of Putnam's students
at Harvard, and when Dorsey sought with Thomas
to bring Boas to the university. Starr sold some of
his ethnographic collections to the museum in
order to finance his field researches (FMNH-DA:
Records of Gifts and Purchases, 1892, 1901,
1905), and apparently Merton Miller worked at
the museum sometime between the years of 1896
and 1900; but such interaction appears to be the
5 7
extent of their mutual cooperation. There is
no other record of any cooperation, even after
Berthold Laufer replaced Dorsey as chief curator
in 1915.
"Rather than seeking cooperation with the Field
Columbian Museum to build up his own depart-
ment, Starr encouraged the foundation of an in-
dependent museum on the University campus in
which his own role would be more salient"
(Darnell 1969:159-160). In a letter to Harper
(WRH: 21 March 1892), Starr asked, "Do we in-
tend to gather a Museum? If so I ought, of course,
as [the one] in charge . . . of Anthropology, to be
a curator of that section of the Museum. I have
some ideas . . . which are new and will be of value
to Education and Educators generally. . . ." Starr
(1896:790) explained that the proximity of the
Field Museum,
systematically developed in every line of science,. ..
renders the gathering of great collections at the Uni-
versity unnecessary, as students have special facilities
furnished them by the museum. Collections, then, at
the University [only need to] be . . . formed with
reference to their actual teaching value.
A museum was thus founded through the donation
of George C. Walker in 1894 and Starr was ap-
pointed curator of anthropology. While the mu-
seum housed many diverse subjects, the entire
third floor was given over to Starr's work, and in-
cluded space for laboratories, instrumental equip-
ment, charts, diagrams, and a considerable amount
of ethnographic materials. The Walker Museum
"did not, however, attract students, probably be-
cause it could not afford to sponsor research. Fail-
ure to draw on the resources of the Field Museum
was thus a considerable disadvantage" (Darnell
1969:160).
Starr remained marginal to the rest of the
anthropological establishment also. Evidence indi-
cates that he increasingly charted his own inde-
pendent course as the years-and the approbation
of his colleagues-passed by. For example, in 1901
he took part in the discussions which eventually
led to the formation of the American Anthropo-
logical Association (McGee 1903, Stocking 1960),
and in 1904 traveled to Japan on behalf of the
anthropological section of the Louisiana Purchase
Exposition to secure a group of Ainu natives. But
by 1914, while extensively lecturing in Berkeley,
Oakland, and San Francisco, he appears to have
consciously avoided A.L. Kroeber, only meeting
him by accident at a luncheon held for theJapan-
ese consul (FSP: Starr to "My Dear Mother,"
24 November 1914), and by 1916, he was not in-
cluded among the group of important anthro-
pologists assembled to discuss "the objects and
methods of anthropology teaching in colleges and
universities" (Boas 1919:41).
Starr's program languished, in part, because he
failed to coordinate his efforts with those of his
colleagues, especially those in the well institution-
alized museums and the Field Museum in particu-
lar. Given his already limited resources, such co-
ordination probably would have strengthened his
program through enlarged opportunities for field
work, publication of original results, and employ-
ment of recent graduates.
CONCLUSION
Chicago anthropology did not attain a position
of national importance early on and remained a
junior partner in a department dominated by men
dedicated to the professionalization of sociology
because Frederick Starr stood in the way of its
institutionalization. The process of institutionaliza-
tion centers on the teaching and investigation of
the discipline's subject matter within a systemati-
cally administered organization. Unlike Chicago
sociology, which from the beginning was fortunate
in having teachers, research, publication outlets,
and financial support centered within and organ-
ized by the department, Chicago anthropology-
like other academic departments of anthropology
between 1890 and 1920-only had facilities for
teaching. It had only one full-time faculty member,
some museum equipment, little, if any, financial
support for field research, and no publication out-
lets. Nevertheless, Chicago anthropology possibly
could have overcome its shortcomings through
cooperative programs with the department of
sociology and especially the Field Museum, which
was well endowed by private philanthropists, con-
ducted numerous research expeditions, and pub-
lished a number of anthropological journals. This
pattern of cooperation between academic depart-
ments of anthropology and museums was common
during this period, and "where no close relation
ever developed, academic anthropology before
1920 never got off the ground" (Stocking 1976:9).
Unfortunately, Frederick Starr did not actively
seek cooperation with his colleagues. He was de-
termined to build a strong department on his own,
believed the university would eventually fulfill its
promise to support his program separately, and
therefore refused to subordinate any of his efforts
to Albion Small or the department of sociology.
An early clash of personalities between him and
Putnam prevented him from cooperating with the
Field Museum. Without the expanded resources
such cooperation would have provided, i.e., increas-
ed funds for fellowships and research, graduate and
postdoctoral employment opportunities, the de-
partment could not attract graduate students.
To compound matters, Starr's career at Chicago
spanned the period when the Boasian critique of
social evolutionism was gaining dominance in the
5 8
discipline. Thus, Starr's dogmatic and increasingly
archaic evolutionism probably discouraged poten-
tial graduate students from attending Chicago, and,
coupled with his frank, sometimes imperious opin-
ions, no doubt inhibited the free academic explora-
tion of anthropology. His frequent absences from
the campus prevented the close supervision of
graduate course work and dissertations, and con-
tributed to a lack of leadership within the depart-
ment. Without graduate students, the free ex-
change of ideas, or consistent leadership, the de-
partment was returned to step one: there was no
reason for the university to increase its support of
the department.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I gratefully acknowledge the Special Collections
Section of the Regenstein Library, University of
Chicago, and the Department of Anthropology,
Field Museum of Natural History, for permission
to quote from their archival materials. Triloki N.
Pandey and George Stocking provided useful
comments on an earlier draft of this paper.
5The Field Museum was fairly well endowed by
private Chicago philanthropists and Starr, who
often paid for his research excursions out of his
own pocket, could possibly have benefited from
the museum's research funds.
6Starr worked at the American Museum of Natural
History before Putnam (from 1894 to 1903) re-
organized the department of anthropology and the
museum entered the anthropological establishment.
7While researching for his article "Anthropological
Work in America'" (1892b), Starr visited Putnam
at the Peabody Museum. Whether Putnam ever
"had no other friend to champion his cause" is
questionable, but Starr was very complimentary of
Putnam's work in his article.
NOT-ES
'The department was in fact the third department
of anthropology in the country (Darnell 1969).
Throughout this paper, the following abbrevia-
tions will be used in citations referring to manu-
script collections: Frederick Starr Papers (FSP),
William Rainey Harper Papers (WRH), and the
University Presidents' Papers (UPP), (all located in
the Special Collections Section, Regenstein Li-
brary, University of Chicago), and the Department
of Anthropology's Archival Materials (FMNH-DA),
(located in the Field Museum of Natural History).
2Limitations of time, space, and format prevented
the inclusion of all of Starr's articles in the "Refer-
ences Cited." However, several important works not
cited in the body of this paper are Starr (1892a,
1902, 1904, 1908b, 1909a, 1914, 1918).
3The discussion here follows Shils' (1970:803)
d ifferentiation:
An intellectual discipline exists when a number of
persons believe themselves to possess an identity de-
fined by the common subject of their intellectual
concern and when many or all of the problems which
they study are raised by or derived from the tradition
-that is, the body of literature and oral interpreta-
tion produced by those who regard themselves as
practitioners of the discipline. An intellectual dis-
cipline is an academic discipline when it is taught-
that is, discussed and investigated-through academic
institutions which bear the name of the discipline or
something akin to it [emphasis mine] .
4Barrows later became the president of the Univer-
sity of California, 1919-23.
5 9
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