The Tipping Point: How a Feudal Custom Became America’s Economic Enigma

By Apirate Monk

In the heart of a bustling New York City diner, a server named Maria balances a tray of steaming coffee mugs and plates piled high with pancakes. Her smile is warm, her movements swift, but her paycheck tells a different story: $2.13 an hour, a figure frozen in time since 1996. She relies on the coins and crumpled bills left on tables to make ends meet, a ritual so ingrained in American life that few pause to question it. Yet, tipping—now a cornerstone of the U.S. service economy—carries a fraught history, one rooted in feudalism, racism, and exploitation, as revealed in a 2021 episode of NPR’s Throughline titled “The Land of the Fee.” This practice, once decried as a “cancer in the breast of democracy,” has morphed from a European import into a deeply American institution, shaping labor, culture, and inequality for over a century.

The Feudal Roots of Tipping

Tipping’s origins lie in the medieval courts of Europe, where masters tossed coins to servants for extra services—a small gesture of noblesse oblige in a rigidly hierarchical society. By the 18th century, this custom had spread to taverns and inns, where patrons tipped service workers directly. When wealthy Americans began traveling to Europe in the 19th century, they encountered this practice and brought it back across the Atlantic, much to the chagrin of their compatriots. To many, tipping reeked of Old World feudalism, clashing with the young nation’s egalitarian ideals. “It was called servile, a bribe, a moral malady,” journalist Nina Martyris explained on Throughline. “It established a class system—by tipping, you rendered someone your inferior.”

This perception wasn’t just philosophical. Tipping was seen as un-American because it undermined the democratic notion of fair wages for fair work. In the 1800s, Americans prided themselves on a system where labor was compensated directly, not through discretionary handouts. Yet, the practice gained traction as European immigrants, accustomed to tipping, arrived in droves, and American employers saw an opportunity to cut costs. The stage was set for tipping to take root, but it was the post-Civil War era that cemented its place in the American economy—and exposed its darker undercurrents.

A Legacy of Exploitation

The end of the Civil War in 1865 marked a turning point. With the abolition of slavery, millions of formerly enslaved Black Americans entered the workforce, often with few skills, no land, and systemic barriers to education and opportunity. Employers, particularly in the hospitality industry, seized on tipping as a way to exploit this vulnerable labor pool. Restaurants and hotels hired Black workers at little to no wages, expecting them to survive on tips from patrons. “If tips were expected, companies could get away with paying laughably low wages,” Martyris noted.

No industry exemplified this more than the Pullman Car Company. Founded by George Pullman, the company revolutionized train travel by offering luxurious “palace cars” akin to modern business class. These cars promised comfort and service, delivered by Black porters—often Southern Black men—who were paid a meager $27.50 a month, far below a living wage. Pullman himself justified this by claiming these men were “trained” by their plantation past to be “pleasing to the customer.” The rest of their income came from tips, a system that allowed Pullman to profit while offloading labor costs onto passengers.

This wasn’t just economic opportunism; it was racial exploitation codified. As posts on X have noted, tipping proliferated post-emancipation as a deliberate mechanism to avoid paying freed Black workers fair wages. “White business owners didn’t want to pay Black people wages, so they adopted the tipping system from Europe,” one user wrote, echoing a sentiment shared across social media. The racial dynamics were explicit in contemporary accounts. In 1902, journalist John Speed wrote, “Negroes take tips. Of course, one expects that of them. It is a token of their inferiority.” For white workers, accepting tips was seen as degrading; for Black workers, it was expected, reinforcing a racial hierarchy.

The Anti-Tipping Crusade

By the late 19th century, tipping had spread beyond railroads to restaurants, hotels, and barbershops, sparking a backlash. Americans complained of a “shakedown,” forced to pay twice—once for the service, once for the tip. The practice was so contentious that William Howard Taft, running for president in 1908, boasted of not tipping his barber, earning him the title of the “patron saint of the anti-tipping crusade.”

The most vocal critic was William Rufus Scott, whose 1916 book The Itching Palm became the manifesto of the anti-tipping movement. Scott argued that tipping was a “moral malady” that degraded both the giver and receiver, perpetuating a system where workers were underpaid and forced to rely on charity. He called for organized resistance, likening the anti-tipping movement to the suffragist and temperance campaigns. Anti-tipping associations sprang up, and by the early 20th century, six states had passed laws banning the practice. Yet, these efforts faltered. Courts struck down many of the laws, and cultural inertia kept tipping alive.

The movement gained momentum during a time of labor reform, but it couldn’t overcome entrenched interests. Employers resisted, arguing that tipping allowed them to offer affordable services, while patrons grew accustomed to the custom. The rise of the service economy, fueled by immigration and urbanization, further entrenched tipping as a norm, despite the moral outrage it inspired.

The Legal Entrenchment and Modern Debate

The tipping system’s resilience was cemented in 1938 with the passage of the Fair Labor Standards Act (FLSA), which established the first federal minimum wage at 25 cents an hour. Shockingly, restaurant workers were excluded from this protection, a decision that codified the reliance on tips as a primary income source. “That was the nail in the coffin for ever getting a fair wage,” Martyris said. This exclusion created a two-tiered workforce, where tipped employees—disproportionately women and people of color—remained vulnerable to economic instability.

Today, the debate rages on. In 2025, as inflation bites and wage disparities widen, calls to abolish the tipped minimum wage have grown louder. The “One Fair Wage” campaign, supported by activists and some lawmakers, pushes for a single minimum wage that includes tips, arguing that the current system perpetuates poverty and racial inequity. Opponents, including some restaurant owners, contend that eliminating the tipped wage would raise prices and disrupt a tradition that benefits both workers and consumers.

Recent data from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics shows that tipped workers’ median hourly earnings, including tips, reached $14.73 in 2024, yet this figure masks significant variability. In low-traffic areas or during off-peak hours, servers like Maria can earn far less, forcing them to depend on unpredictable tips. Meanwhile, X posts reflect a polarized public: some decry tipping as a “shakedown,” while others defend it as a reward for good service.

The Lingering Question

As America grapples with its economic and racial past, tipping remains a symbol of unfinished business. From its feudal origins to its role in post-Civil War exploitation and its stubborn survival through legal loopholes, the practice encapsulates a tension between tradition and justice. Whether it will evolve into a fairer system or persist as a relic of inequality depends on the choices made in dining rooms, legislatures, and public discourse. For now, Maria and millions like her continue to balance trays—and hope the next table tips generously.