Through our history curriculum, Commonwealth students learn how to be historians rather than passive absorbers of facts. They read and analyze primary sources from a variety of voices in their historical contexts. And they graduate knowing that a single textbook could never tell the whole story. Core to this discovery process is an annual research paper that hones students’ analytical and writing skills and challenges them to dig deep into a variety of sources on any topic of interest, whether it be debunking the “primitivist” myth around jazz, the impact of the breakup of the AT&T monopoly, or, as you will see in this recent example from Amanda '26, offering a closer look into the life of Frances Perkins, Secretary of Labor under Franklin D. Roosevelt, and how her faith colored her work as a public servant.

On a frigid winter morning in 1906, three young settlement workers stood along a snowy Chicago sidewalk waiting for a streetcar. As they stood, they noticed a man across the street, shivering in a tattered jacket and with his toes peeking up through torn, slush-soaked shoes. “Is there any way to get that man a new pair of shoes?” one asked, but the encounter soon prompted them to debate the question of why they should. One offered up, “because his feet are cold,” while the other insisted they should “for Jesus’ sake.” One of these young settlement workers was Frances Perkins, an integral player in Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal and the architect of Social Security. She would come to recount this specific debate throughout her life, and almost forty years later, would settle it for herself, determining that “for Jesus’ sake” was the better reason as it possessed a tenacity a “merely humanitarian urge” lacked. For Frances Perkins, her “personal religious outlook on life,” as she described it, acted as both a lodestar and a propellant for what she pursued and championed. However, in 1906, she believed “the argument,” for the moment, “could be left unresolved; what mattered was taking action.” 

Contemporary historians, in their discussion of Frances Perkins, have often overlooked the significance of religion's role in guiding her life and work. Part of this comes from Perkins’ deep desire for privacy; she was never especially comfortable or open with the public regarding any aspect of her personal life, including religion. Apart from personal correspondence, the most openly she discussed its impact was in an extended interview conducted by Columbia University’s Oral History Research Office in 1955. The other reason perhaps stems from an unfamiliarity with the liberal religious movements of the early 20th century, such as the Social Gospel Movement. However, by reading into the religious context of the time, the association between social work and religion becomes more apparent. Furthermore, Perkins has fallen into the historical trap of being one of the advisers to Roosevelt’s New Deal, where accomplishments are not always traced back to their roots, something made worse by older histories’ sexism that further minimizes her influence. Often, she is not mentioned more than in passing, nor is the time taken to thoroughly discuss her motivation, presumably “because his feet are cold,” not “for Jesus’ sake.”   

Much of Perkins’ early dedication to “taking action” emanated from her undergraduate experience at Mount Holyoke. The college, founded in the late 1830s as a nondenominational female seminary, “had always had a strong religious emphasis,” but also looked to give its students access to higher educational opportunities at the time only available to men. As historian George Martin explains, the school's founder, Mary Lyon, believed education “implied a responsibility, and she insisted that the purpose of the college was ‘to cultivate the missionary spirit among its pupils: that they should live for God and do something.’” This “robust form” of Christianity, that one should “do what nobody else wants to do; go where nobody else wants to go,” was a credo Perkins took to heart. Holyoke was also where she was first exposed to the idea of social work. In the February of her senior year, Florence Kelley, the head of the National Consumers League and a former settlement worker, came to Holyoke to give a talk. The speech, Perkins later remarked in a letter to a friend, “first opened my mind to the necessity for and the possibility of the work which became my vocation.” In her final semester at Holyoke, Perkins chose to take a course unrelated to her science-focused major in physics with minors in biology and chemistry: a class on American economic history. In Perkins' words, her teacher, Annah May Soule, “had a brilliant idea of having a class of perfectly innocent girls—that is, innocent of the industrial process—go and look at some factories that were not too far distant from the college.” Perkins “was astonished and fascinated” by what she saw, describing how the class “opened the door to the idea that there were some people much poorer than other people.” These two experiences in her final year at Holyoke changed her life's trajectory and laid the foundation for her passion for social work.  

Although after graduating, though Perkins’ parents urged her to pursue a career near their home in Worcester, either as a teacher or in a church until appropriate marriage prospects emerged, Perkins made her way to Illinois, taking a teaching job in the science department of Ferry Hall, an elite girls school just north of Chicago. Perkins’ time at Ferry Hall encompassed a transitional period in her life.  Over the three years she taught there, Perkins began to reinvent herself: she changed her name from the more childish Fannie Coralie to simple Frances, entered into a new Christian denomination by enrolling in a local Episcopal church, and began to more purposefully pursue social work in two of Chicago’s settlement houses, Hull House and Chicago Commons. In her second year teaching, she spent her Christmas vacation at Chicago Commons, declaring to friends afterwards that, “I never got so many ideas in my life as I did in those three weeks.” As the year went on, Perkins began increasingly to spend breaks and weekends as well at Hull House, bringing her into “contact with desperate poverty for the first time.” Perkins recounts how “as a young worker,” or naive but eager “squirt,” as she called herself, she was “not expert enough to do any real social work” in her first several months, but instead often acted as an extra helping hand. Sometimes she would accompany Hull House nurses on their rounds to particularly impoverished and struggling households, while at others she was sent out to extract wages from sweatshop employers who refused to pay their workers. At the end of an assignment one day, she burst out to a fellow settlement worker, "What is the trouble? What is the matter? How can we cure this? Is this going to go on forever, these people being so poor that we have to give out free milk, we have to have free nursing services, the babies die, there's nothing to do on a Sunday afternoon but get drunk? What is the matter? What can be done? What should be done?” first grasping at the wide-ranging systemic questions she would spend the rest of her life trying to solve.  
In retrospect, Perkins marked her years in Chicago as when she first found “a principle.” She reflected that “it was like a vocation. I had to do something about unnecessary poverty, unnecessary hazards to life, safety and so on. It was sort of up to me.” Perkins noted as well how much of this motivation stemmed from spirituality, that she “was considerably religious minded,” and, although “born into the Anglican Church, [...] It was not so much my bringing up, but that I'd developed a personal religious outlook on life,” and it was from this that her calling came. To Perkins, although unsure at the time of exactly how to enact this change, “one thing seemed perfectly clear. Our Lord had directed all those who thought they were following in His path to visit the widows, the orphans, the fatherless, the prisoners, and so forth,” and from this she concluded, “definitely the circumstances of the life of the people of my generation was my business and I ought to do something about it.”

Perkins was not alone in this interpretation of the Christian mission. The Social Gospel movement, first originating in the early Progressive Era, was a religious movement that used biblical teachings as grounds for taking concrete steps towards social justice. Christopher H. Evans defines the movement as “an offshoot of theological liberalism that strove to apply a progressive theological vision to engage American social, political, and economic structures,” or more specifically, it “integrated evangelical and liberal theological strands in ways that advocated for systemic, structural changes in American institutions.” An example of a more religious and contemporary understanding of the movement can be found in the preaching of Father Edward McGlynn, particularly in his sermon “The Cross of a New Crusade.” Similarly to Perkins, McGlynn saw his work for societal betterment as “necessarily religious,” as “any movement, any object that enlists the thought of men and the affections of the hearts of men must have a religious inspiration, a religious justification and a religious consummation,” both as to act as a motivation and to validate its purpose. McGlynn’s discussion of economics in the sermon, that “God was the father who by beautiful laws of justice, by simple universal economic laws, had provided admirably for His children, had provided a table so long and so wide and so well supplied with all manner of good things that there never could be too many at that table never the slightest fear that the poorest and weakest need be crowded away from it” also bears a resemblance to Perkins’ own views. As Martin explains, “for her, the test of any economic system was “whether or not it serves the people who depend upon it for the goods which they need; and whether it contributes to the moral and spiritual development of men to know, love and serve God.’’ Both Perkins and McGlynn adhere to the idea that “true religion” means “to visit the widow and the fatherless in their affliction, [...] to keep one's self unspotted from the world [and…] to insist on what is essentially the equality of man, regardless of the comparatively trifling differences in their gifts and acquirements.” Perkins’ Social Gospelist mindset continued as she became more entwined in the labor movement and different forms of social work movement over the next three years.     

After finishing a master's degree in economics and sociology in 1910 from Columbia University, Perkins began work at the New York City Consumers’ League. As Perkins described, the league was “interested in all phases of factory and industrial circumstances and conditions, particularly as [they affected] the lower paid and weaker workers, and often these were women workers.” She noted the League’s analytical processes in particular, saying, “it was the way in which I was trained and therefore respect[ed it] very much—by accumulating facts and not starting out with a preconceived idea. We accumulated facts and if the facts are significant enough and if the episodes that you think are wrong are frequent enough, then you proceed to find a remedy and recommend the remedy. But you first have to get the facts and see what it really is you are dealing with.” Much of the work Perkins describes herself as doing during her year at the New York City Consumers League was of this investigative variety, leading her to become an “expert on factory safety [...] and a wide array of [other] workplace hazards,” something that served her well when a catastrophe struck the city on March 25th, 1911.
On that day, Perkins was “in Washington Square [...] by pure chance,” having tea with several friends. She described how their “attention was attracted by the noise of fire engines and shouting.” They rushed out to the street, and “It was just about that time that they began to jump.” A factory in the loft of a building across the square had gone up in flames, and although unknown at the time, the exit doors had been locked, trapping the women working there eight floors up. Perkins recounts the chaos she watched unfold, how “The firemen appeared to be shouting to them not to jump. People were hanging out the windows by their hands. [...] One by one the people would fall off. They couldn't hold on any longer—the grip gives way. [...] People who had their clothes afire would jump. It was a most horrible spectacle. [...] There was no place to go.” The Triangle Shirtwaist Fire, as it was later named, killed 146 garment workers, primarily young women and girls. However, afterward, as Cohen describes “Perkins suddenly found herself in great demand” as “the Consumers’ League was the only social work agency up to that time which had any information what[so]ever about the hazard of accident by fire in factories.” Both “elected officials and reporters called Perkins for advice on how to prevent another such tragedy. She made enemies in fire departments and city halls when she said that there were hundreds of factories across the state at risk of an equally deadly fire,” an early example of Perkins’ commitment to unabashedly communicating the truth when it came to public welfare, even if it meant ruffling feathers. Perkins recounted how “efforts were made to suppress me. Some people went to see Mr. Cutting [an influential person she worked with] to see if he wouldn't try to suppress me. He said, no, he wouldn't. I had a right to say it.” Witnessing the Triangle Shirtwaist fire deeply affected Perkins and reinforced her convictions. Later, she proclaimed it as “the day the New Deal was born.” 

Over the next nine years, Perkins continued her work in New York before marrying and having a daughter. However, in 1930, she was launched back into the nation's spotlight after calling out President Hoover’s misinformation over employment numbers. For the past year, she had been working as the New York State Industrial Commissioner under then-Governor Roosevelt, particularly around issues of employment. On January 22, 1930, as Perkins was on her way to work, she caught a glimpse of the front cover of the New York Times, which had declared “EMPLOYMENT TURNS UPWARD, HOOVER REPORTS; CHANGES FOR FIRST TIME SINCE STOCK SLUMP.” Perkins was startled by the statement and skeptical of its veracity as, according to her data from New York State, “joblessness was as bad as ever.” Affronted by what she saw as Hoover’s dishonesty and “worried that the inaccurate report would mislead people about how bad conditions were,” Perkins called a press conference. It did not occur to her until afterwards, though, that she had not cleared this impromptu whistle-blowing with Roosevelt. By the next day, the Times as well as several other newspapers were reporting how Perkins had challenged Hoover’s numbers as “not statistical, and probably based on inadequate, improperly analyzed material,” and it soon became clear she was correct. Later, Roosevelt told her, “Frances, this is the best politics you can do [...] Just be an outraged scientist and social worker.”

Even before the 1932 election between Hoover and Roosevelt was called, The Washington Post declared that it “seems to be a foregone conclusion” that if Roosevelt won, Frances Perkins would be his Secretary of Labor. Perkins herself, however, was uncertain. Later, she recounted that “it probably was sometime in mid-January that the first little squibs appeared, somebody saying that Miss Perkins would be in the new Cabinet, but I really took no stock in it.” Perkins' private life was also in a complicated place. Her husband was in the hospital, struggling with mental illness, and she “had to be available for crises in his affairs and the hospital's affairs with a great deal of regularity.” She was also quite happy with her work as the Industrial Commissioner of New York, and later looked back on it fondly as “the most wonderful and beautiful job [she] had ever had.” Perkins concluded that “in the moment,” as these whispers of her in Cabinet began to flutter about, “it just seemed utterly impossible to even think of the thing. And [she] felt sure [she] wouldn't be thought of.” Martin, though, argues that this was not in fact the case. He describes how “those close to Roosevelt received a clear signal to pass to others: he would like to appoint a woman to the cabinet; he would like her to be Frances Perkins. It all depended on the call for her around the country. Thus invited to create a ground swell, committees sprang up to solicit telegrams and letters from bankers, businessmen and labor groups.” ​​Mary Dewson, a political activist, fellow New York NCL worker, and early proponent of the New Deal, in particular pushed Perkins to accept the possible appointment. She believed Perkins “had the training for the job, and from her work for the state and the Consumers’ League she had a program for the country’s industrial problems: unemployment insurance, minimum wages, maximum hours, safety programs and abolition of child labor.” Moreover, as she told Perkins over the phone, “you want all these things done. You’ve done them. You have the ideas, and you have no doubts. You can do it as nobody else can.” Later, after Perkins had received an invitation to meet with Roosevelt, presumably about the role of Secretary of Labor, she called Dewson, who told her, “Frances, you do the right thing. I’ll murder you if you don’t.” 

However, as the days ticked by, growing ever closer to her meeting with Roosevelt, Perkins was still unconvinced. At last, she reached out to the Episcopalian Bishop Charles K. Gilbert, whose letter in response sealed her decision. He wrote: 

God has fitted you by natural gifts and by experience for a service such as few others are competent to render and, as I see it, that service can mean great things for multitudes of distressed and bewildered people whom He wants helped. If we are to find a just and righteous way out of the problems which now seem to threaten our social security, the contribution you are equipped to make will be urgently needed. I am not thinking only of the Department which would be your special responsibility but of the influence you would have in the councils of tire Administration. I know that your persuasiveness and your discerning judgment and your insistence upon the higher human values would make itself felt. I really believe that it is God’s own call. If it is, you can’t refuse. I can appreciate the sacrifice that may be involved — for you personally and for those whose feelings you are bound to consider. Perhaps no one will know the price you have to pay for the privilege of rendering the difficult service that is demanded of you. [...] But, if it is a job to which God has assigned you, what man thinks is of no consequence. And, if the assignment is His, He will help you to see it through; and He will take care of the domestic problems that may be presented. 

Gilbert's response both deftly addressed Perkins’ concern about familial duty and revitalized her devotion to social work. He echoed much of Perkins' earlier language surrounding her settlement work era, that she had found a “vocation” and it was imperative that she do something “for Jesus’ sake.” Accepting the appointment of Secretary of Labor would also drastically increase her potential for “taking action,” particularly now that she could answer her younger self's question of “What should be done?” It’s telling that this letter from her bishop, that vocalized “God’s own call,” was the final driving force that drove Perkins to accept the job if offered.

Leading up to her meeting with Roosevelt, Perkins compiled a list of causes she was determined to fight, deciding to only accept the role as Secretary of Labor if he promised to support them. The list included aid to state and local governments for unemployment relief, a large-scale public works program, a federal minimum wage and maximum hours laws, a ban on child labor, and unemployment and old age insurance. Although at the meeting Roosevelt was hesitant, reminding her, “You know, Frances, I don’t believe in the dole and I never will,” in the end he agreed, saying, “I suppose you are going to nag me about this forever.” This, Perkins understood to be an invitation, later saying, “he wanted his conscience kept for him by somebody.” Perkins' agenda was ambitious and, at this scale, unprecedented, something she deeply understood. As she left, she turned to ask, "Are you sure you want these things done? Because you don’t want me for Secretary of Labor if you don’t.” But in the end, Roosevelt chose to nominate her, and on the day the administration took office, the New York Times wrote that “‘social justice’ is more than a shibboleth with her; it has been the maxim of her life,” and it would continue to be. The New York Times’ claim is not conjecture; for Perkins, social work was not a mere word but a calling. Even as she entered into her role as Secretary of Labor, it remained her focus, as always driven by her “personal religious outlook on life.”

The first Hundred Days of the New Deal was a whirlwind of activity. Roosevelt, throughout his campaign, had declared that “the country demand[ed] bold, persistent experimentation. It is common sense to take a method and try it: If it fails, admit it frankly and try another. But above all, try something,” and it was this ‘throwing things at the wall’ method to which he stuck. Perkins noted later that “the notion that the New Deal had a preconceived theoretical position is ridiculous,” instead it came out of what the public dubbed ‘FDR’s Brain Trust.’ As John Franklin Carter, one of the era’s leading journalists described, Roosevelt “did not invent the New Deal; he does not own it. [...] He is its master of ceremonies,” illustrating how The New Deal’s programs arose from the amalgamation of different stances and viewpoints represented in Roosevelt’s Cabinet. As Cohen explains, his “advisers did not work as a team, [...and] while the public storyline of the Hundred Days was about how Roosevelt, through his eloquent public statements and legislative initiatives, rallied a desperate nation, behind the scenes his advisers were battling over what shape the New Deal would take.” This ‘battling’ is particularly apparent in the later tumultuous creation of the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), Federal Emergency Relief Administration (FERA), and the National Industrial Recovery Act (NIRA); however, the first issue Perkins tackled coming into her role as the Secretary of Labor was by offering the labor movement an olive branch.

From the beginning, organized labor had been disgruntled by Perkins’ appointment. William Green, the president of the AFL, insisted that “the Secretary of Labor should be a representative of labor, one who understands labor, labor’s problems, labor’s psychology,” and both he and others were upset by the fact that the job had been given to someone entirely outside of their movement. As Cohen describes, Perkins, “who had always found [union] labor leaders to be too focused on their own members,” was unsurprised by Green’s strong statement, also believing her gender played some role. Although she had supported unions since her days at Hull House, Perkins was of the view that she would “much rather get a law,” as it protected a larger population. The Los Angeles Times viewed her appointment similarly, writing that  “Miss Perkins does not carry a union card and may, therefore, be able to consider the interests of the 93 percent of working people who do not carry union cards either.” However, on March 11th, after just six days in office, Perkins was called by Leo Wolman, who warned that labor leaders were  “restive” because “nothing is being done for labor.” Although she pointed out how new the administration still was, Wolman advised to “do something quick — anything. It doesn’t matter what it is. Just something that can be put in the paper.” Sydney Hillman pushed for action as well, insisting “the labor people can’t wait! They’ve got to have something now. A signal. A symbol. A demonstration that the administration cares about labor.” In the end, Perkins decided to hold a conference, but, as Martin explained, “the question of which leaders to invite was complicated by union rivalries and politics.” In terms of invitations, she prioritized breadth: inviting both major unions and smaller ones, Democrats and Republicans, an assortment of labor and economics experts, as well as eagerly including several women-led labor groups. Although a bit tense at moments, the conference proved a success, generating a ten-point labor program to present to the President as well as illustrating, to Perkins' own delight, that organized labor would not only support, but was calling for a large-scale public works program. Although the program itself was not particularly radical, the diversity of the conference was unprecedented, and the significance of a unanimous agreement across the great divides of the labor movement was enormous.

While Perkins was clearly committed to public works, Roosevelt still needed persuasion. On the one hand, the conference had demonstrated a large level of support from the labor movement, however, he was, as always, apprehensive of “the dole”. In Roosevelt’s first inaugural, he had stated: “Our greatest primary task is to put people to work. This is no unsolvable problem if we face it wisely and courageously. It can be accomplished in part by direct recruiting by the Government itself, treating the task as we would treat the emergency of a war, but at the same time, through this employment, accomplishing greatly needed projects to stimulate and reorganize the use of our natural resources.” However, as the Hundred Day wore on, a public works program remained unpursued even as Perkins “nagged.” In the first few days of the administration Perkins had pressed Roosevelt to enact “some kind of quick relief program,” but as late as April 14th “he was still telling reporters that he had not yet discussed it.” As Perkins wrote later, “this was one of the conflicts in Roosevelt’s nature and thinking, [...] He wanted a balanced budget, but he also wanted to do the right thing by his unemployed fellow citizens.” 

A first shift in Roosevelt’s mindset appeared in his address to Congress about the Civilian Conservation Corps. Throughout the twisting path to the formation of the CCC, Roosevelt had grown more receptive to both Perkins as well as Wagner, La Follette, and Costigan’s pressure for a public works program. In the address, although sparse with details, he announced an upcoming large-scale public works program, saying only that he would “make recommendations to the Congress presently.” As Cohen explains, though, “for Perkins and her fellow progressives, what mattered was that Roosevelt had gone on the record with his support of the basic idea.” This unnamed program eventually became FERA, the Federal Emergency Relief Administration, and was a direct inspiration of Perkins’ labor conference’s ten points. Originally, it included both details on “federal aid to the states for unemployment relief and a public works program,” however, due to Cabinet disagreements, a public works program was once again cut. 

Throughout the Hundred Days, Perkins found a refuge from the pressures and rapidity of her position through her religion. Beginning in April, she began to pay regular visits to All Saints, an Episcopal convent an hour's train ride away from Washington. Although she spent much of her time at the convent in silent prayer, she also often discussed the concept behind social legislation with Reverend Mother Laura, another example of how social work and spirituality were knit together in her mind. The other women at the convent never knew her to be the Secretary of Labor, as she always registered and was addressed by her married name, Mrs. Wilson. She told no one, save her secretary, in the Department about her visits either. To the outside world, these two aspects of her identity were kept entirely separate during her years in office, nobody aware of how deeply one influenced the other. 

By the time of the introduction of the National Industrial Recovery Act, or the NIRA, Perkins was determined to address the issue: “I don’t care about what they do about anything else [...] Let them do anything else they want to try—just so we get a public works program.” The bill's creation processes, like much in the Hundred Days, was chaotic. The Brain Trust split into factions, drafting their own section and clamoring to sway Roosevelt to their side. As Cohen narrates, “On April 29, Roosevelt made another attempt to resolve the issue of public works. He invited Perkins, Wallace, Ickes, Dern, and Douglas to the White House to discuss what a large-scale public works program would look like.” Although the meeting did not end with Roosevelt’s support of Perkins' $5 billion draft bill, in fact, as Ikes recalled, he “proceeded to rip that list [of possible New York projects] to pieces,” he was clearly becoming more comfortable with the idea of spending a substantial amount when it came to public works. As the bill began to further take shape, another hitch appeared. Perkins and Wagner had pushed to include the right of unions to organize in Section 7(a) of the bill, requiring “that every code of competition approved under the law guarantee [that right…] ‘through representatives of their own choosing.’” The section was wildly opposed by business leaders who tried to have it removed, to which Wagner responded, “No 7(a), no bill.” The dispute escalated all the way up to Roosevelt, who, after some convincing of its importance, approved it. Section 7(a) would later become known as the Magna Carta of the labor movement. 

After some final Hundred Day style tumult leading up to the bill’s announcement, where Perkins’ agreed upon $3.3 billion public works program was momentarily dropped, the National Industrial Recovery Act was presented to Congress on May 17th and, several months later, on June 16th, signed into law. Title I gave the “right to work through trade or industrial associations to develop ‘codes of fair competition.’ Industries would be able to set standards for what constituted ‘destructive . . . price cutting.’” It also “provided that the codes of fair competition could include minimum wages, maximum hours, and child labor protections.” Title II, however, created the Federal Emergency Administration of Public Works, later known as the PWA or the Public Works Administration, and authorized $3.3 billion for its programs. As Cohen describes, “the bill enumerated a wide array of projects that the money would be used for, including construction and improvement of highways and public buildings; conservation of public lands; water power and electricity development; slum clearance; and construction of public housing” and schools. Finally, Perkins had her public works program, and she continued to work closely with it as it evolved. However, there was still one more unchecked item on the agenda she had discussed in her meeting with Roosevelt: unemployment and old age insurance. 

Perkins' first mention of Social Security occurred before Roosevelt had even won the election, at the Tremont Temple in Boston in 1932. During her speech, she spoke to how people were searching for “security of opportunity to earn a living; security to plan their lives.” It was the first time she had used these words, but over the next three years, they evolved into Social Security. Throughout the program’s development, Perkins acted as both an architect and a forceful advocate. Beginning during the winter of 1934, she began the drafting of an unemployment insurance bill. In additional preparation for the bill, Roosevelt appointed a Committee on Economic Security, to which Perkins was named chairman. She  “defined the committee’s job as twofold: to prepare (1) a comprehensive report embracing all phases of economic security and (2) an immediate legislative program of items to be presented to the next Congress.” Eventually, the committee devised that “a federal payroll tax would be levied on employers with a provision for rebate (technically a tax-offset) to the extent the employer contributed to an unemployment reserve fund established by his state. Presumably, the states, preferring to keep the money rather than to pass it to the federal government, would rush to create systems of unemployment insurance.” 

The following winter, barely a month after the Social Security Act had been presented to Congress, Perkins gave a National Radio Address discussing the bill. She spoke to how it would be a  “significant step in our National development, a milestone in our progress toward the better-ordered society,” and also emphasized how it “will not merely alleviate the ills of today, but will prevent, as far as it is humanly possible to do so, their recurrence in the future.” These opening lines in particular seem exemplative of Perkins' larger goals of societal betterment through social work. Perkins described too how the Depression had elucidated why “the large majority of our citizens must have protection against the loss of income due to unemployment, old age, death of the breadwinners and disabling accident and illness, not only on humanitarian grounds, but in the interest of our National welfare.” She discussed in detail how the program dealt “with safeguards against unemployment, with old-age security, with maternal aid and aid to crippled and dependent children and public health services.” Finally, Perkins concluded her speech by addressing how the “fear of interstate competition” had long been an obstacle in the creation of state run “unemployment compensation systems,” but now, through the SSA, the states would be able to develop systems “best suited to their individual needs,” without the halting fear of competition. On August 14th, 1935, the Social Security Act was signed into law, and although often only associated with old age insurance, it contained ten different social safety net programs. Just after the act passed, Perkins made a second radio address. At the end, she spoke to the occasion's significance, that it was representative of “the progress which the American people have made in thought in the social field and awareness of methods of using cooperation through government to overcome social hazards against which the individual alone is inadequate,” what she had been fighting to prove all along.  

Stretching across almost three decades, Frances Perkins’ dedication to social work helped countless groups and individuals. Her story is one that stretches from the roots of America, knocking on doors and demanding sweatshop owners pay their workers wages in Chicago, up to national legislation, such as Social Security, that is still in place and assisting people today. Although at first unapparent, Perkins was deeply religious, and her spirituality acted as both the inspiration and motivation for her work. She felt a calling, “for Jesus’ sake,” to find a way to better the world, to shield those who could not shield themselves from the “unnecessary hazards to life,” and she spent her life answering it. Despite the fact that she is not often associated with the Social Gospel Movement, Perkins seems to embody it, using Christianity as her propellant for social justice.  

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Bibliography

• Cohen, Adam. Nothing to Fear: FDR's Inner Circle and the Hundred Days That Created Modern America. New York, NY: Penguin Press, 2009.
• Evans, Christopher Hodge. The Social Gospel in American Religion: a History. New York: NYU Press, 2017.
• Martin, George Whitney. Madam Secretary, Frances Perkins. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin, 1976.
• McGlynn, Edward, Rev. Dr. "The Cross of a New Crusade." Address transcript, Academy of Music, New York, NY, March 29, 1887.
• National Radio Address. "Social Insurance for U.S." Performed by Frances Perkins. Aired February 25, 1935. https://www.ssa.gov/history/perkinsradio.html.
• Perkins, Frances. "Frances Perkins: The Principles of Social Security." In New Deal Thought, edited by Howard Zinn, 274-81. American Heritage Series 70. Indianapolis, IN: Bobbs-Merrill, 1966.
• ———. "Oral History Interview with Frances Perkins, 1955." By Dean Albertson. Columbia Digital Library Collections. Columbia University Libraries. https://dx.doi.org/10.7916/d8-3cmk-kj98.
• Roosevelt, Franklin Delano. "Address at Oglethorpe University in Atlanta, Georgia." Address presented at Fox Theatre, Atlanta, GA, May 22, 1932. The American Presidency Project. UC Santa Barbara. https://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/node/288094.
• ———. "First Inaugural Address of Franklin D. Roosevelt." Address presented at East Portico of the United States Capitol, Washington, DC, March 4, 1933. The Avalon Project. Lillian Goldman Law Library. https://avalon.law.yale.edu/20th_century/froos1.asp. 

Appendix I
George Martin’s List of Perkins’ Labor Conference’s ten-point program:

1. Unemployment relief by federal aid to the states
2. Safeguards against relief being used by employers to subsidize sweatshop wages 
3. Public works to stimulate the basic industries
4. Abolition of child labor
5. The use of public buildings for education and other purposes for the unemployed
6. Limitation of hours
7. Higher wages
8. The possibility of industrial boards to set minimum wages in certain industries
9. The government in its contracts to specify that the Department of Labor could determine minimum wages and conditions of work 
10. The right of workers to organize and to choose their own representatives