TDisputes may be Donald Trump’s favorite political tool — one he envisions as a catch-all solution to America’s problems. Recently, Trump bragged about how his threat to impose 25% tariffs on Canada and Mexico if they didn’t curb immigration had prompted Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau to visit the club from Trump to Mar-A-Lago to meet the president-elect.
Trump’s penchant for tariffs is linked to a skewed view of American history. Trump sees a role model in William McKinley, who, first as a Republican congressman from Ohio and then as president, pushed for tariffs and protectionist policies. On the campaign trail, Trump specifically held up the McKinley Tariffs of 1890 as a model to follow, crediting them with making the country the richest in the world.
Yet Trump’s boasts reveal a superficial understanding of the political struggle over the McKinley tariffs. Instead of sparking an era of protectionist patriotism, the tariff wars of the 1890s pitted the federal government against New York’s economic elite in a long struggle for power and influence.
This was especially true of a provision of the Customs Act of 1890 that made the importation of luxury dresses extremely expensive. Wealthy elite women viewed this provision as an attack on their way of life.
As a result, rather than acquiesce and acquire their clothes from American merchants as McKinley and his supporters hoped, wealthy women took a stand. The ensuing battle made headlines for more than 10 months and reinforced the superiority of French fashion among American elites. Far from strengthening the government or the economy, it actually helped usher in a new era of free trade.
Just like today, tariffs were controversial in the late 19th century. Supporters see it as a way to boost American manufacturing. Yet, perhaps surprisingly, the two richest Americans And the working poor opposed it. The majority of poor workers protested that the tariffs raised prices without raising wages. Meanwhile, wealthy retailers and manufacturers protested their reduced access to materials.
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The debates over tariffs were fierce. However, they were not partisan. Although McKinley and the Republican Party were associated with high tariffs, not all Republicans supported the policy. Many wealthy Republicans, such as William Astor and William K. Vanderbilt, who made their fortunes in commerce and shipping, favored free trade.
In 1890, it was the protectionist side of the Republican Party that won the internal battle. As Republicans sought to differentiate themselves politically from Democrats, they became increasingly dependent on financial contributions from industrialists who pushed for aggressive tariffs.
McKinley spearheaded the effort to grant their wish, and after 450 amendments, the Republican majority in both houses of Congress passed a bill that increased the tax rate on a wide range of goods and materials , significantly expanded the graduated assessment system and imposed heavy penalties. on fraud.
Yet the provision that sparked a political uprising among wealthy New Yorkers was not focused on manufacturing or common textiles like wool or cotton. While on average the bill imposed a 48% tax on items, Schedule L applied a 60% duty on silk and silk articles, velvets, lace and embroidery. As these plush products did not have a strong domestic industry in need of protection, elite women viewed the measure as vindictive and a way for the government to continue making money from imports.
Shortly after President Benjamin Harrison signed the tariff bill on October 1, 1890, Appendix L transformed the debate from one about industry and politics to one about culture and consumption.
At the heart of the saga were two dresses that Mrs. Caroline Astor – the wife of William Astor and leader of the “Four Hundred”, a list of New York’s most important social influencers – ordered from the French fashion designer “Maison Félix” earlier that year. . She intended to wear them to the Patriarch’s Ball, one of the most prestigious events in the social elite’s calendar.
Yet when the dresses arrived at U.S. Customs in New York in December 1890, federal agents, who suspected they had been intentionally dumped to avoid tariffs, seized them and sent them for appraisal. The appraisal determined the value of the dresses at 3,500 francs, or about $700 (about $24,000 today), or 1.5 times more than the $400 paid by Astor and about 3.5 times the value that the creator’s agents had told them.
Although Ms. Astor could certainly afford to pay the several hundred dollars in fees and penalties required to release her dresses, she refused to do so. She acknowledged that her notoriety allowed her to take a powerful political stand against tariffs – one that would make headlines. Appealing to Treasury Secretary William Windom, Astor argued that the accusations were erroneous and that it was illegal to ask him to pay. His protest implied that the government should not intervene in the decisions of the elite.
Astor’s appeal to Windom fell on deaf ears. As the government found no interest in keeping the dresses, Deputy Treasury Secretary Oliver Spaulding decided to auction them in the hope of recouping some of the lost costs. Customs officials also hoped that the auction would embarrass Astor and persuade her to pay the fee to avoid scandal.
But Astor didn’t blink, and the auction went ahead as planned.
The sale exceeded all expectations of government officials, netting the government $1,430, more than double the estimated amount. The lucky buyers were the Bloomingdale Brothers, who resold one dress at their department store, and Koster and Bial’s Music Hall, a notorious nightclub known for its lewd entertainment and cancan dancers, who offered the other dress to the one of their performers, the actress Jennie Joyce. .
Although Mrs. Astor was unhappy that her couture dresses ended up in the hands of a lowly artist, her stance inspired other women to use their financial strength to challenge tariffs on imported dresses. In 1891, the press reported that New York customs had accumulated a large stock of dresses made in Paris, seized from “rebellious” customers who refused to pay tariffs. A cartoon in Puck The magazine titled “McKinley and the Fashions” mocked the government as more interested in becoming a fashion retailer than a governing body. It represented a sale of “Ms. Van Astorbilt’s seized dresses” – confusing the names Astor and Vanderbilt – as the best show in town.
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The drawing also illustrates the futility of government efforts to prevent elite American women from acquiring their favorite French dresses without paying customs duties. It depicted a ballroom scene where only dresses bearing the “official Mckinley stamp” were permitted, but it also described the many ways elite women found to dodge this duty. Indeed, in 1892, the wedding dress of Cornelia Martin, only daughter of socialite Bradley Martin, caused a scandal, when the family claimed that it was a “worn and dirty” dress to avoid paying heavy taxes.
Despite hopes that these tariffs would cause the fashion elite to turn to domestic couturiers, wealthy American women maintained their loyalty to the French designers who they believed set the standards for style.
When it came to taste, the power lay not in the halls of government, but in the consumer decisions of women. The American fashion industry could not compete with French styles, no matter what tariffs the government imposed or how many dresses were confiscated.
By resisting tariffs, women like Ms. Astor showed that their consumption practices were not frivolous indulgences in conspicuous consumption, but choices woven into the debates of the day with major implications for the economy and the political system.
In the midterm elections, which took place a month after Congress passed the McKinley tariff, the Republican Party lost its majority in the House. Two years later – with tariffs as the main issue – President Harrison lost to former Democratic President Grover Cleveland, and the Democrats also took full control of Congress.
McKinley had hoped his tariffs would reinvigorate the economy and force the wealthy to pay for their luxurious consumption. Yet their inability to change entrenched habits serves as a warning. Ms. Astor may have lost two valuable dresses in her battle with McKinley, but she won the war because this highly visible fight only intensified her cultural influence.
This suggests that Trump should be wary of the harmful effects of tariff fights. Although he sees them as the perfect geopolitical weapon, they are unlikely to change American consumer preferences and could take a heavy political toll in elections.
Einav Rabinovitch-Fox teaches at Case Western Reserve University and writes about the intersections between culture and politics. She is the senior editor of Dress: The Journal of the Costume Society of America. His recent book is Dressed for Freedom: The Fashionable Politics of American Feminism (University of Illinois Press, 2021) and she is currently writing a book about the 1930s Broadway musical. Pins and needles.
Made by History takes readers beyond the headlines with articles written and edited by professional historians. Learn more about Made by History at TIME here. Opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of TIME’s editors.
