For the United States, the 50-plus years separating the Civil War and the First World War proved a time of great transformation and turmoil. To be sure, not as great as the Civil War itself, but immigration, westward expansion, Reconstruction, the Gilded Age, populism, and progressivism witnessed change on a vast scale in America’s fortunes. Occupying center stage in this period was the role of finance, industrialization, corporate trusts, and the interlocking directorships seemingly controlling all aspects of the American economy. Boom and bust were the order of the day, with financial panics and bankruptcies a regular occurrence and fortunes won, lost, and sometimes won again. Only robber barons, men such as Andrew Carnegie, John D. Rockefeller, and J. P. Morgan, stood victorious at the end of each cycle. Of course, that is an oversimplification, as farmers and workers were not without clout, especially when they made their voices heard via the Grange or unions and directed their fire at Congress. In a democracy, even the imperfect one America then was, that clout was increasingly felt. Thus, the revised tax code of 1916, passed to support the need for military and naval preparedness, came at the expense of the rich and their profits.

The country’s maritime fortunes did not escape such turmoil, as the Civil War witnessed the eclipse of the Merchant Marine with merchants seeking the protection of neutral shipping—chiefly British. In contrast, the lot of the U.S. Navy was never better as it expanded to meet the demands of suppressing the Rebellion. Peace brought retrenchment such that within 20 years, the diminished fleet that remained was primarily a collection of aged relics. Capable of showing the flag—and sometimes not even able to do that—the Navy would yet see a better day. Insufficient finances were the chief culprit for the atrophy, and proving that it costs nothing to think, a Naval War College appeared in 1884.

This story does not lack prior telling, and when it is recounted once more, the reader hopes something new and fresh awaits. Sea Power and the American Interest fails by that score, though the accounting provided by John Fass Morton remains generally sound for those not attuned to the period. Academics, however, will decry the number of errors present. To wit, Admiral Sir John Fisher was no longer at the Admiralty in 1911, the Franco-Prussian War did not end in 1873, Britain was not allied to Belgium before the First World War, and the value of American exports to the Allies in 1917 was measured in billions and not in millions of dollars. A lack of archival research by the author is one explanation for why the interpretation presented does not advance our understanding of the issues at play. Too often, Morton readily accepts the contemporary robber baron caricature without considering where else the talent to lead complex organizations such as the Army and the Navy was to be found. This is not to dismiss the faults of contemporaries, but, in kind, Henry Knox, James Forrestal, Charles Wilson, Thomas Gates, and Robert McNamara were not cut from such different cloth at an age removed.

For readers of this forum, rather more might have been said about the evolution of the Navy and naval thought. Yes, a “New Steel Navy” appeared, and Mahan wrote profusely, but Mahan’s writing did not instigate the modernization effort. The beginnings of the New Steel Navy predated Mahan’s most famous exposition, The Influence of Sea Power Upon History. The robust naval force that Morton posits backstopped the American informal empire of commercial interest in Asia and Latin America, meanwhile, only appeared in the 20th century and not in the 1880s. Even then, this naval force lacked balance, and, reflecting Mahan’s baneful influence and the parsimony of Congress, it counted too few lesser ships to support the battleships that were eventually commissioned.

What the author does offer is a sweeping survey of the American industrial and financial personages at the fore of the postbellum period and the centrality of the railroad in the politics and profits of the day. The phenomenon was hardly unique to the United States and the Americas—witness the dreams of constructing the Berlin-to-Baghdad railroad or of fashioning a Cape-to-Cairo route. Indeed, the construction of railroads and the encroachment of foreigners were underlying causes of the Boxer Rebellion and the Russo-Japanese War. Morton might have said more about the strategic implications of such projects to maritime powers, be it Great Britain, Japan, or the United States. Likewise, the same criticism may be offered regarding the period’s expansion of international telegraphs, which is neglected.

Coal was central to railroads and to navies, too, once ships started to lose their sails. Oil, though, offered a better alternative. With fields in Pennsylvania, Texas, Wyoming, and California, the U.S. Navy was blessed in a manner the Royal Navy was not. Securing a concession in Persia and relying on Mexican sources, Britain eyed Nigeria and Mesopotamia as further sources of the product. Here, political instability south of the Rio Grande might have tested Anglo-American relations even more severely than did the appointment of the “[n]otoriously Anti-American” Sir Lionel Carden as ambassador to Mexico, save that London recognized the paramount geographic advantage Washington enjoyed. Notwithstanding Britain’s vital interest in Mexico, the problem was not amenable to British sea power. Not an imperialist by nature, President Woodrow Wilson would appreciate the truth also—but too late.

Beyond finance and “informal empire,” maritime rights stood as a critical and longstanding American interest. During the World War, this interest was sorely tested by both Germany and Britain, the former via its submarine campaign, which upended the traditional rules governing commerce warfare, and the latter through ever-restrictive Orders in Council defining blacklisted goods to the detriment of American trade. In short, the American idea of “Freedom of the Seas” was being challenged by the belligerents’ competing visions of “Command of the Sea.” Browbeating Germany to accept the American viewpoint in late 1916, President Wilson seriously weighed whether the United States might have to intervene on the side of the Central Powers in the war if Britain did not give way. That did not occur, but it does explain why a Shipping Act and naval expansion followed that year and why a Naval Battle of Paris transpired in 1919. Wilson and his Secretary of the Navy, Josephus Daniels, became reluctant navalists to protect America’s interests. Still, more than neutral rights, Germany’s attempt to entice Mexico to enter the war proved the last straw for Wilson. Strangely, the story of the Zimmermann telegram does not feature in Sea Power and the American Interest.

This is a work well illustrated with contemporary photographs, artwork, and period political cartoons. The breadth of secondary research remains impressive, and the story is handsomely told. The several errors and omissions present remain unfortunate and limit the story’s value to the serious student, though all others will benefit. With those caveats in mind, the work is warmly recommended.