II. Birth of the Kewpies

Rose O'Neill, ca. 1907

Rose O’Neill, the creator of the Kewpies, was an artistic force from an early age. Encouraged by a book-loving father and determined to support herself, she moved to New York City at 19 to study art, funding her education by selling illustrations to major brands like Jell-O and Kodak. Her path would soon shift the landscape of American visual culture.

In 1896, O’Neill became the first woman to publish a comic strip, breaking into a male-dominated field just as illustrated periodicals were booming. By 1897, she was the only woman on staff at Puck, one of the country’s leading humor magazines.

"The Old Subscriber Calls," 1896

“The Kewpies and the Christmas Frolic,” 1909

O’Neill’s work in illustrated periodicals soon got her noticed by Edward Bok, editor of the Ladies Home Journal, who asked if she could make a series of cupid-like creatures for the magazine. She replied with an illustrated letter featuring the character of the Kewpie, “a benevolent elf who did good deeds in a funny way.”

Always self-sufficient, O’Neill took control of the entire feature: story, verse, illustration and all. Thus were born the Kewpies, who debuted in a December 1909 issue of LHJ in a story called “The Kewpies and the Christmas Frolic.” The Kewpies were an immediate hit. Within months, Woman’s Home Companion followed suit, and the Kewpies would join the Good Housekeeping Magazine family in May 1914, becoming a fixture in homes across America.

“The Kewpies and the Circus," 1912

At face value, the Kewpies were whimsical creatures: plump, winged babies full of mischief and charm. O’Neill described them as “half elf, half angel,” whose mission was to “make you laugh while they do you good.” In this illustrated circus scene, the Kewpies ride animals and tame a wild tiger through sheer delight, turning the spectacle into a playground of joy.

But this innocence served as cover for deeper ideas—an enchanting façade that disarmed readers and opened the door to gentle critique, all delivered with a wink and a rhyme.

"The Kewpies and the Baby," 1910

As the Kewpies’ world expanded, their stories remained grounded in the everyday. O’Neill set most of her tales in homes and among families, reflecting the lives of her largely female readership. In one story, the Kewpies take over for an overwhelmed nurse and dress a squirming baby themselves. In another, they bring joy to a lonely woman by delivering her a child.

Readers saw themselves in the Kewpie world. One letter to the editor described how “each member of my family can discover himself in the different characters”—a testament to how O’Neill built trust through relatability and domestic charm.

“The Kewpies and the Circus," 1912

And O’Neill didn’t just create a few cherubs—she built an entire Kewpie universe. Each character had a distinct role and personality, from “Wag, the Chief” to “The Carpenter” and “Always Wears His Overshoes.” Illustrated roll calls introduced these figures en masse, filling the page with Kewpies peeking from windows or swooping from above.

Readers embraced them as more than fictional characters; they were companions. One wrote, “If I should turn my head suddenly to find Wag the Chief smiling at me, it would not surprise me greatly.” O’Neill’s serialized world was immersive, comforting, and sneakily instructive.

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"The Kewpies Arrive," 1914

By the time the Kewpies arrived in Good Housekeeping in 1914, their role as gentle moral authorities had become well-established. A playful verse warned readers that the Kewpies would “teach us things so multitudinous” that readers, always deserving of metaphorical “spanks,” would have no right to object to their antics.

Their world was funny and fantastical, but also full of instruction. The Kewpies corrected human missteps, nudging readers toward better behavior with humor, warmth, and just a hint of firm guidance.

"The Kewpies and Jim McGrew," 1912

And correct, they did. In a story about a poor boy named Jim McGrew, the Kewpies step in when wealthier children refuse to play with him because of his ragged clothes. With Kewpish encouragement, the children learn that kindness matters more than money: “being sweet and funny / does not depend on clothes and money.”

At a time when poverty was often portrayed as a moral failing, this was a radical message. The Kewpies, with their innocent authority, helped reshape how readers understood value and virtue.

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"The Kewpies and Samuel Gudge," 1915

In fact, wealth often equals moral dubiousness in the Kewpie stories. In one story, a miser named Samuel Gudge hoards money but has no joy. The Kewpies toss his fortune out the window, letting the poor collect it like autumn leaves, and help Gudge find happiness in generosity rather than gold.

Their lesson is clear: money doesn’t equal virtue. By cloaking critique in charm, O’Neill smuggled bold ideas about class, morality, and fairness into the lives of ordinary readers.

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“The Kewpies and the Christmas Frolic,” 1909