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James P. Woodard's history of consumer capitalism in Brazil, today the world's fifth most populous country, is at once magisterial, intimate, and penetrating enough to serve as a history of modern Brazil itself. It tells how a new economic outlook took hold over the course of the twentieth century, a time when the United States became Brazil's most important trading partner and the tastemaker of its better-heeled citizens. In a cultural entangling with the United States, Brazilians saw Chevrolets and Fords replace horse-drawn carriages, railroads lose to a mania for cheap automobile roads, and the fabric of everyday existence rewoven as commerce reached into the deepest spheres of family life. The United States loomed large in this economic transformation, but American consumer culture was not merely imposed on Brazilians. By the seventies, many elements once thought of as American had slipped their exotic traces and become Brazilian, and this process illuminates how the culture of consumer capitalism became a more genuinely transnational and globalized phenomenon. This commercial and cultural turn is the great untold story of Brazil's twentieth century, and one key to its twenty-first.

\"Beginning in the 1490s in the Caribbean, and through the slow demise of native slavery in North and South America over the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, millions of Amerindians were subjected to enslavement, captivity, and forced labor. Indian slavery was practiced across the Americas, at one point in time or another, in jurisdictions claimed by every European power that engaged in New World colonialism. Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, English, Scottish, French, and Russian colonists held native Americans as slaves, exerting their mastery over them and dealing in them as chattel. In parts of the United States, Mexico, and Brazil, native slavery survived the ending of European colonial claims and the formation of independent nation-states, lasting well into the nineteenth century. By that point, however, the numbers of Amerindians held as slaves in Brazil and the United States were tiny compared to the masses of African and Afro-American captives that made up the absolute majority of the populations of the two country's plantation zones. Indian slavery thus seemed a small thing-economically, socially, demographically-when set alongside African and Afro-American slavery, on the ascent through the first half of the new century in Brazil and the southern United States alike. Until recently-and for many good reasons-scholarly attention to Indian slavery has been similarly dwarfed by the volume of care and attention paid to African and Afro- American slavery in the Americas. Over the last fifteen years, however, the study of native slavery has undergone a remarkable boom among North American historians\"-- Provided by publisher.

This article examines a much cited but little understood aspect of the Latin American intellectual and cultural ferment of the 1910s and 1920s: the frequency with which intellectuals from the southeastern Brazilian state of São Paulo referred to developments in post Sáenz Peña Argentina, and to a lesser extent in Uruguay and Chile. In books, pamphlets, speeches, and the pages of a vibrant periodical press—all key sources for this article—São Paulo intellectuals extolled developments in the Southern Cone, holding them out for imitation, especially in their home state. News of such developments reached São Paulo through varied sources, including the writings of foreign travelers, which reached intellectuals and their publics through different means. Turning from circuits and sources to motives and meanings, the Argentine allusion conveyed aspects of how these intellectuals were thinking about their own society. The sense that São Paulo, in particular, might be “ready” for reform tending toward democratization, as had taken place in Argentina, Uruguay, and Chile, was accompanied by a belief in the difference of their southeastern state from other Brazilian states and its affinities with climactically temperate and racially “white” Spanish America. While these imagined affinities were soon forgotten, that sense of difference—among other legacies of this crucial period—would remain.

An examination of the Brazilian newspaper O Combate, this article accomplishes four goals. First, it defines the politics of a periodical long cited but little understood by historians. Second, it documents O Combate's place, alongside other ‘yellow press’ outlets, in the making of a ‘public sphere’ in São Paulo. Third, it situates the same publications' role in the bringing into being of a more commercial, publicity-driven press, which would shed the yellow press's radicalism and abet the collapse of the public sphere of its heyday. Fourth, it suggests that O Combate's radical republicanism was one fount of the democratic radicalism of the late 1920s and early 1930s, as well as of the regionally chauvinist constitutionalism of 1932–7. In this rare application of the ‘public sphere’ idea to twentieth-century Brazil, readers may also detect an account closer to Jürgen Habermas’ original formulation than that found in the historiography of nineteenth-century Spanish America. Al examinar el periódico brasileño O Combate, este artículo busca cuatro metas. La primera define a la política de un periódico largamente citado, pero poco entendido por historiadores. La segunda documenta el lugar de O Combate, junto a otros periódicos amarillistas, en la construcción de una ‘esfera pública’ en São Paulo. La tercera sitúa el papel de estas publicaciones en el desarrollo de una prensa más comercial propulsada por la publicidad que dejaría el radicalismo de la prensa amarilla y así facilitaría el colapso de la esfera pública del momento. La cuarta sugiere que el republicanismo radical de O Combate fue una fuente de radicalismo democrático de finales de los años 1920 y principios de los 1930s, así como del constitucionalismo chauvinista regional de 1932–7. En esta rara aplicación de la idea de ‘esfera pública’ del Brasil del siglo XX, los lectores posiblemente también detectarán una narrativa más cercana a la formulación original de Jürgen Habermas que la que se encuentra en la historiografía de la América española del siglo XIX. Analisando o jornal brasileiro O Combate, este artigo cumpre quatro metas. Primeiro, define-se a posição política de um periódico bastante citado, mas pouco compreendido por historiadores. Segundo, documenta-se o lugar de O Combate em relação a outras publicações da ‘imprensa amarela’ na construção de uma ‘esfera pública’ em São Paulo. Terceiro, contextualiza o papel destas publicações no surgimento de uma imprensa mais comercial e dirigida à publicidade que terminaria com o radicalismo da imprensa amarela e contribuiria para o colapso da esfera pública de seus dias áureos. Quarto, sugere-se que o republicanismo radical de O Combate foi uma fonte do radicalismo democrático do final da década de 1920 e início da década de 1930 assim como do chauvinismo constitucionalista e regionalista de 1932–7. Nesta rara aplicação da ideia de ‘esfera pública’ no Brasil do século XX, os leitores também poderão detectar um relato que se aproxima mais da formulação original de Jürgen Habermas que daquelas encontradas na historiografia da América espanhola do século XIX.

The development of U.S. consumer culture and its advance through Western Europe has absorbed the attention of many U.S. and European historians who are increasingly in dialogue with one another. Efforts to include the rest of the world as a subject in this dialogue, however, have been unsatisfactory. This is regrettable, considering that greater attention to the history of the global expansion of U.S. consumer culture has much to offer historians, from problematizing geopolitical taxonomies (e.g., the West vs. the Rest, First World vs. Third World, North Atlantic vs. Global South) to high-lighting the importance of transnational actors, agents, and circuits, not only in the history of consumption but in national and regional histories as well.

“Rarely has the Paulista Capital seen an event of such great proportions.” The verdict of São Paulo’s largest-circulation newspaper was an exaggeration, but not that great of one, for it was undoubtedly the most impressive store opening in the city’s history. On the morning of March 15, 1949, awaiting an eleven o’clock ribbon-cutting, thousands of people—men, women, and children—crowded outside a massive new structure looming over what until recently had been a quiet intersection in an entirely residential part of the city. Some members of the crowd had strolled there, the site having been picked because it stood

In April 1978, the Third Brazilian Advertising Congress met at the convention center built for the AMCE fairs. The mood was downbeat, a contrast with the First Congress and its coincidence with the euphoria of the Kubitschek presidency, to say nothing of the Second, at which Delfim Netto praised the profession for enriching the world. Amid the after effects of the first oil shock, Brasil Grande began to seem small and vulnerable, the scenery and stage props of the miracle teetering, even as organizers—executives of Salles/Inter-Americana and TV-Globo, GM and JWT—planned the four-day meeting around a theme tardily

Over a four-year period spanning 1918– 1922, Brazil’s oldest continuously published newspaper ran a series of reports from the United States. In doing so, the Diario de Pernambuco provided a forum for a young man named Gilberto Freyre, a native son—born in the Pernambucan state capital of Recife in 1900—who opted to pursue an undergraduate education in Texas, followed by a master’s degree at Columbia University, at a time when his peers’ academic ambitions typically ended at the local law school, a musty temple to tradition founded in 1827. Under the title “Da outra America”—of and from