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In America today, a public official's lawful income consists of a salary. But until a century ago, the law frequently authorized officials to make money on a profit-seeking basis. Prosecutors won a fee for each defendant convicted. Tax collectors received a cut of each evasion uncovered. Naval officers took a reward for each ship sunk. The list goes on. This book is the first to document American government's “for-profit” past, to discover how profit-seeking defined officials' relationship to the citizenry, and to explain how lawmakers—by banishing the profit motive in favor of the salary—transformed that relationship forever.

Making extensive use of archival and other primary sources, this book demonstrates that the development of the “appropriation doctrine,” a system of private rights in water, was part of a radical attack on monopoly and corporate power in the arid West. It describes how Colorado miners, irrigators, lawmakers, and judges forged a system of private property in water based on a desire to spread property and its benefits as widely as possible among independent citizens. The book demonstrates that ownership was not dictated by concerns for economic efficiency, but by a regard for social justice.

This book explores the emergence of a specifically Spanish concept of community in both Spain and Spanish America in the eighteenth century. Challenging the assumption that communities were the natural result of common factors such as language or religion, or that they were artificially imagined, it reexamines early modern categories of belonging. The book argues that the distinction between those who were Spaniards and those who were foreigners came about as local communities distinguished between immigrants who were judged to be willing to take on the rights and duties of membership in that community and those who were not.

The advent of the photographic and cinematic camera in the mid to late 19^th century caused new harms to individuals (particularly women), which existing laws (copyright, defamation, trespass) were inadequate to address. This book demonstrates that women forged a ‘right to privacy’ in the United States by bringing lawsuits claiming control and ownership over filmed images (still and moving) of their faces, bodies and narratives. At a time when they still lacked civil and political rights, women employed ‘a right to privacy’ to prevent themselves being reduced to nameless ‘pretty’ objects; to protest the transformation of their bodies into spectacles of ‘monstrosity’; to limit their exposure on the big screen to the mass ‘gaze’ of audiences; to control the development of their careers in paid work as models, dancers and actresses; and to reclaim their personal life stories from exploitation by film studios. Case documents also reveal the nexus between privacy claims and arguments by the subjects of images for property rights in them (eventuating in the right to publicity). This book interrogates the gender of privacy law and shows how privacy emerged as an ambiguous claim for women – it both reinforced traditional stereotypes of femininity or womanhood and progressed the feminist aspirations of the New Woman for greater self-determination and self-articulation. It shows that visual crimes against women occurring today via the Internet, such as revenge pornography or non-consensual pornography, have an important legal, social and political history.

The entity that became the Yale Law School started life early in the nineteenth century as a proprietary school, operated as a sideline by a couple of New Haven lawyers. The New Haven school affiliated with Yale in the 1820s, but it remained so frail that in 1845 and again in 1869 the University seriously considered closing it down. From these humble origins, the Yale Law School went on to become the most influential of American law schools. In the later nineteenth century the School instigated the multidisciplinary approach to law that has subsequently won nearly universal acceptance. In the 1930s the Yale Law School became the center of the jurisprudential movement known as legal realism, which has ever since shaped American law. In the second half of the twentieth century, Yale brought the study of constitutional and international law to prominence, overcoming the emphasis on private law that had dominated American law schools. By the end of the twentieth century, Yale was widely acknowledged as the nation's leading law school. The chapters in this collection trace these notable developments. They originated as a lecture series convened to commemorate the tercentenary of Yale University. A group of scholars assembled to explore the history of the School from the earliest days down to modern times. The book preserves the format of the original lectures, supported with full scholarly citations.

This book explores Native American claims against the United States government over the past two centuries. Despite the federal government's multiple attempts to redress indigenous claims, a close examination reveals that even when compensatory programs were instituted, Native peoples never attained a genuine sense of justice. The book addresses the important question of what one nation owes another when the balance of rights, resources, and responsibilities has been negotiated through treaties. How does the United States ensure that guarantees made to tribal nations, whether through a century-old treaty or a modern day contract, remain viable and lasting?

It is widely accepted that American procedure—and indeed American legal culture as a whole—are adversarial (and distinctively so). Yet, precisely because this assumption is so deep-rooted, we have no history of how American adversarialism arose. This book provides such a history. It shows that the United States long employed not only lawyer-empowering adversarial procedure, but also various forms of more judge-dependent, quasi-inquisitorial procedure—including the equity tradition borrowed from England and, to a lesser extent, conciliation courts transplanted from continental Europe. However, the United States largely abandoned quasi-inquisitorial procedure by the close of the Civil War and Reconstruction, committing itself to lawyer-driven adversarialism. In explaining this turn to the adversarial, the book looks to developments both internal and external to the law. Among the key internalist factors on which the book focuses are the rise of the previously unknown category of “procedure”, as well as a set of seemingly small changes in the approach to taking testimony before equity-court officials known as masters in chancery, which ended up having unintended systemic consequences. So, too, from a more externalist perspective, the book traces how advocacy of adversarialism became intimately linked with demands for a largely unregulated market and the preservation of white supremacy. The product of deep-rooted inheritances, as well as more immediate and contingent occurrences, the nineteenth-century embrace of adversarsarialism would prove deeply consequential, shaping Americans’ experience of the law down to the present, often in ways that constrain rather than expand access to justice.

The passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) in 1990 was hailed as revolutionary legislation, but in the ensuing years restrictive Supreme Court decisions have prompted accusations that the Court has betrayed the disability rights movement. The ADA can lay claim to notable successes, yet people with disabilities continue to be unemployed at extremely high rates. This book examines the history of the movement and discusses the various, often-conflicting projects of diverse participants. It argues that while the courts deserve some criticism, some may also be fairly aimed at the choices made by prominent disability rights activists as they crafted and argued for the ADA. The book concludes with an assessment of the limits of antidiscrimination law in integrating and empowering people with disabilities, and suggests new policy directions to make these goals a reality.

This book highlights the multiple, often overlooked, and frequently misunderstood connections between land use and development policies and policing practices. In order to do so, it draws upon multiple literatures—especially law, history, economics, sociology, and psychology—as well as concrete case studies to better explore how these policy arenas, generally treated as completely unrelated, intersect and conflict. The book identifies different types of urban “disorder,” some that may be precursors to serious crime and social deviancy, others that may be benign or even contribute positively to urban vitality. The book's unique approach—to analyze city policies through the lens of order and disorder—provides a clearer understanding, generally, of how cities work (and why they sometimes do not), and specifically, of what disorder is and how it affects city life.

Should the Boy Scouts of America and other noncommercial associations have a right to discriminate when selecting their members? Does the state have a legitimate interest in regulating the membership practices of private associations? These questions—raised by Boy Scouts of America v. Dale, in which the Supreme Court ruled that the Scouts had a right to expel gay members—are at the core of this book, an in-depth exploration of the tension between freedom of association and antidiscrimination law. The book demonstrates that the “right” to discriminate has a long and unpleasant history. The book brings together legal history, constitutional theory, and political philosophy to analyze how the law ought to deal with discriminatory private organizations.