Lawrence A. Kreiser, Jr.’s Marketing the Blue and Gray analyzes newspaper advertising during the American Civil War. Newspapers circulated widely between 1861 and 1865, and merchants took full advantage of this readership. They marketed everything from war bonds to biographies of military and political leaders; from patent medicines that promised to cure almost any battlefield wound to “secession cloaks” and “Fort Sumter” cockades. Union and Confederate advertisers pitched shopping as its own form of patriotism, one of the more enduring legacies of the nation’s largest and bloodiest war. However, unlike important-sounding headlines and editorials, advertisements have received only passing notice from historians. As the first full-length analysis of Union and Confederate newspaper advertising, Kreiser’s study sheds light on this often overlooked aspect of Civil War media. Kreiser argues that the marketing strategies of the time show how commercialization and patriotism became increasingly intertwined as Union and Confederate war aims evolved. Yankees and Rebels believed that buying decisions were an important expression of their civic pride, from “Union forever” groceries to “States Rights” sewing machines. He suggests that the notices helped to expand American democracy by allowing their diverse readership to participate in almost every aspect of the Civil War. As potential customers, free blacks and white women perused announcements for war-themed biographies, images, and other material wares that helped to define the meaning of the fighting. Advertisements also helped readers to become more savvy consumers and, ultimately, citizens, by offering them choices. White men and, in the Union after 1863, black men might volunteer for military service after reading a recruitment notice; or they might instead respond to the kind of notice for “draft insurance” that flooded newspapers after the Union and Confederate governments resorted to conscription to help fill the ranks. Marketing the Blue and Gray demonstrates how, through their sometimes-messy choices, advertising pages offered readers the opportunity to participate—or not—in the war effort.

By the end of 1849, an estimated thirty-nine thousand gold-seekers had arrived in San Francisco by sea, and some thirty thousand others had crossed the continent on land. Another eighty-six thousand would arrive in 1850. According to the census for that year. there were twelve men for every woman in California. But who would want them? The words "gold rush" generate at best an image of raucous, all-male camaraderie, at worst a storm of lawless and irredeemable violence. Eliza Wood Burhans Farnham, a young widow who had already generated considerable attention for herself as the matron of Sing Sing prison, had a vision for California. "Woman, with all her kindly cares and powers, so peculiarly conservative to man under such circumstances," would bring a civilizing influence to the state. Farnham's vision went beyond gentility however, to a society in which individuals -- male or female -- could fulfill their potential, and virtues championed by free-thinking New England philosophers would reign supreme. The realities of everyday life in gold-rush California were daunting, but when Farnham's friend Georgiana Bruce (later Kirby) joined her the following year, hope returned in full measure: "She fills up a great place in my dark world and comes to me like a pleasant breeze or a bright sun after one of our long rains. We are going to be very independent and free...dashing about at our discretion." The stories of these "sisters on the way to the vast Beyond," as Farnham called them, could not be told separately. With insight, wit, and telling detail, JoAnn Levy relates the scope and outcome of their quest for human perfectibility in this account of two remarkable and redoubtable women in frontier California. Book jacket.