Flashing teeth, a fist clenched on high, pince-nez, and a walrus mustache, this is the picture that mention of Theodore Roosevelt brings to mind. A man of bouncing vitality, an advocate of the “strenuous life” and the “big stick,” he symbolized confident leadership in an era whose problems in retrospect seem singularly uncomplicated compared to our own. Yet the difference is more one of magnitude and urgency rather than kind, for the Roosevelt era marked a difficult, rapid transition from the quiet world of the nineteenth century to the boisterous insecurity of the twentieth. “That damned cowboy,” as Mark Hanna once referred to him, brought an unusual combination of talents to the task of leading the nation through that transition.
A multi-faceted individual, interested in a staggering variety of subjects ranging from reformed spelling to foreign policy, Roosevelt was above all fascinated by power. He saw the Navy as the concrete embodiment of national power, and he worked unceasingly to develop it. On this centennial of his birth, therefore, it is fitting that his contributions to the rise of the modern U. S. Navy should be reviewed in the Proceedings, through whose pages he sought support for his naval program.
Roosevelt came by his interest in naval matters quite naturally. His mother’s brothers, James D. Bulloch and Irvine Bulloch, were significant figures in the Confederate Navy, and young Roosevelt was enthralled by their tales when they visited his home after the war. “Uncle Jimmy” had resigned from the U. S. Navy and subsequently became Confederate naval agent in England and then in France. His account of running the Union blockade in a ship which became the armed cruiser Atlanta undoubtedly found an appreciative audience in the Roosevelt household. Uncle Irvine could match this yarn with his reminiscences about the sinking of the Alabama and his experiences in the Shenandoah.
With this background it is not surprising that as a student at Harvard, Roosevelt commenced writing the naval history of the War of 1812. His interest in the subject was initially aroused by what he considered to be special pleading in James’ Naval History of Great Britain, and while art undergraduate he completed two chapters of the book which appeared in 1882 when he was but 24 years old. His treatment of his subject was so thorough and fair that he was invited to cover the same field for William L. Clowes’ history of the Royal Navy.
In his first published work it was clear that Roosevelt placed a high value on national honor and national interest. An advocate of the “strenuous life,” he naturally felt that a nation to be respected must be strong. He viewed our unpreparedness as a major factor in bringing about the War of 1812, and the decline of our naval strength following the Civil War, paralleled by what he considered to be undue emphasis on the material side of life, disgusted and worried him.
When Roosevelt was suggested for the post of Assistant Secretary of the Navy in 1897, President McKinley had misgivings about making the appointment because of the young man’s reputed bellicosity. After the nomination went through, Secretary of the Navy John Davis Long reportedly took the precaution of confining his new subordinate’s duties to strictly administrative matters. Roosevelt’s enthusiasm was not easily dampened, however, and he launched into his job with characteristic vigor.
Less than two months after assuming office, the Assistant Secretary made a provocative speech on preparedness to the class at the Naval War College. “Merely for the protection of our own shores,” he declared, “we need a great navy, and, what is more, we need it to protect our interests in the islands from which it is possible to command our shores and to protect our commerce on the high seas.” Here was an obvious challenge to the coastal defense strategy that dominated contemporary planning. The “mollycoddles,” to use Roosevelt’s term, were startled and alarmed by his attack, which was rendered even more ominous by his assertion that “No triumph of peace is quite so great as the supreme triumphs of war.” Roosevelt himself feared that he might have gone too far. Nevertheless, this speech, as well as an article he prepared from messages of the Presidents concerning naval preparedness, appeared in the Proceedings.1
Roosevelt’s concern about the Navy’s un- preparedness stemmed from a conviction that the nation was moving toward responsibilities that only a strong, efficient fleet could discharge. Therefore, he made suggestions for improving gunnery, which he believed was not up to foreign standards; he instigated an investigation of personnel policies which resulted in the Personnel Act of 1899; and he used his influence to help Dewey gain the top command in the Asiatic Fleet, where Roosevelt saw the need for initiative. With the sinking of the Maine, he burst into a flurry of activity, showering Long with recommendations for action.
There was one glorious day in his tenure as Assistant Secretary, February 25, 1898. On that day the Secretary left his impetuous subordinate in charge of the Department, and Roosevelt made the most of his opportunity. Fie cabled Dewey to move his squadron, except for one vessel, to Hong Kong, and to prepare for offensive operations against the Philippines. He also caused unaccustomed excitement in numerous shore establishments at home. The next day, however, he had to resume his usual duties. Although Secretary Long was aghast at Roosevelt’s “bull-in-a- china-shop” approach, it was with genuine regret that shortly afterwards he saw the younger man resign to take a more active part in the war at the head of the “Rough Riders.”
Roosevelt’s well-advertised war exploits brought him the governorship of New York and then the Vice-Presidency, where New York political bosses hoped that he would soon be forgotten. An assassin’s bullet negated this reasonable expectation and catapulted Roosevelt into the White House. From there he was in the best possible position to develop a navy in keeping with the nation’s new position as a world power and his own concepts of global strategy.
When the Rough Rider took office, our Navy ranked fifth among world navies. The United States had only nine first-class battleships in commission, though eight more were authorized and in various stages of construction. The existing ships were distributed among five stations and had not been brought together for large-scale maneuvers. The Navy was undermanned, personnel policies had not kept pace with changing conditions despite the Act of 1899, and shore establishments needed attention. In short, the Navy was still in the transition period wrought by technical innovation. This fact, combined with the country’s growing world responsibilities, led Roosevelt to lay down the challenge before Congress and the nation in these words:
The American people must either build and maintain an adequate navy or else make up their minds definitely to accept a secondary position in international affairs, not merely in political, but in commercial matters. It has been well said that there is no surer way of courting national disaster than to be “opulent, aggressive, and unarmed.”
Like the muckrakers on the domestic economic and social scene, the President counted heavily on the support of public opinion to further his plans. Even as Assistant Secretary of the Navy he had been conscious of the importance of a “good press,” and he had advised the careful selection of the correspondents to be permitted to view the maneuvers of the new torpedo boats. As President he attempted —usually successfully—to influence public opinion in a variety of ways. His own newsworthy personality and activities helped enormously, but he also took pains to lay the groundwork for a favorable reception to his ideas. In the summer of 1906, for instance, he invited James B. Connolly, author of the popular “Out of Gloucester” series, to accompany him on the Mayflower for a naval review in Long Island Sound. His avowed purpose in extending this invitation was to get Connolly “under the naval spell.”
By continuing emphasis in official and unofficial statements on the importance of strengthening the Navy, Roosevelt succeeded in adding an impressive number of ships to its list. By 1905 Congress had authorized ten battleships, four armored cruisers, and seventeen other vessels. Although Roosevelt thought that it would then be possible to slacken the pace, the emergence of Japan as a major naval power and the appearance of the British Dreadnought led him to demand more heavy naval tonnage. Congress responded somewhat reluctantly, but it authorized the Delaware (1906),2 North Dakota (1907), Florida and Utah (1908), and the Arkansas and Wyoming (1909), as well as numerous smaller vessels. Although Roosevelt had hoped that a ceiling would be placed on the size of battleships by international agreement, the failure to reach such an accord strengthened his determination to have a navy second only to Great Britain’s in size. By the time he left office, this goal had been almost reached.
Roosevelt had strong allies, as well as opponents, in building up the Navy and improving its efficiency. William S. Sims, an energetic and dedicated young officer, often provided the President with ideas and the ammunition to support them. Roosevelt’s reputation for an interest in the Navy had led Sims in November, 1901, to write directly to him concerning deficiencies in armament and target practice. This highly irregular approach appealed to the new Chief Executive, and he ordered Sims’ reports published and distributed to naval officers. More importantly, this episode marked the beginning of an association between the two men which ripened into friendship and placed Roosevelt on the side of an insurgent group of officers who were impatient for reform in the Navy. While the President, who was an astute politician as well as a navy enthusiast, refused to go all the way with their program for streamlining the Department’s administration, on operational matters they seldom found him lacking in ideas, interest, and support.
Roosevelt shared Sims’ concern with rapid, accurate gunnery, and in August, 1902, he recommended that a prize and certificate be given for marksmanship with the big guns. As a result, a plaque was awarded the best ship in annual target practice, and gunners received additional pay for their skill. The Commander-in-Chief also put his weight behind Sims’ recommendation that new gun- sights be adopted by the Navy, and they were installed in record time considering the obstacles that had to be overcome.
The President’s enthusiasm for the fast, big-gun ship was influenced in no small measure by Sims. But here, as in other parts of Roosevelt’s naval program, there was room for controversy, and a minor engagement was fought between Mahan and Sims in the pages of the Proceedings. Analyzing the Battle of the Sea of Japan, Captain Mahan, for whom Roosevelt had great respect, concluded that the high-speed, all-big-gun ship had major drawbacks.3 At Roosevelt’s suggestion, Sims prepared a detailed reply which also appeared in the Proceedings.4 The response from naval officers was predominantly favorable to Sims, and Mahan was forced to acknowledge that some of his information had been incorrect. Sims’ article also supplied the background for the President’s request in his 1906 annual message for “at least one first-class battleship equal in size and speed to any that any nation is at the same time building; the armament presumably to consist of as large a number as possible of very heavy guns of one caliber, together with smaller guns to repel torpedo attack. ...”
Despite his emphasis on battleships, Roosevelt did not overlook the possibilities offered by underseas craft. In the summer of 1905 he worried the nation and amused himself by an afternoon’s cruise aboard the submarine Plunger. The boat was submerged for about fifty minutes, and the President himself took the controls. He later explained his reason for the cruise as a desire to show the crew that he would not ask them to do what he would not also undertake. While the exploit appealed to his adventurous spirit, he was distressed to find that the crew had no mess facilities and that the officers had no quarters on board or ashore. He therefore promptly recommended that submariners by given preferential treatment and by executive order provided them with additional pay.
By now it should be apparent that Roosevelt’s knowledge of the Navy and its problems was not an academic one. He took every opportunity to ascertain for himself the condition of the ships and the morale of the men. It pleased him immensely that while on the Louisiana en route from Panama in November, 1906, he was introduced to a meeting of enlisted men as “comrade and shipmate Theodore Roosevelt, President of the United States.” The sailorman’s simple, rugged life in the service of his country made a strong impression on the Rough Rider, who preferred to be welcomed as a shipmate before attention was called to his position as Commander- in-Chief. But he was not satisfied with merely enjoying the Navy’s hospitality. Upon debarking from the Louisiana he wrote Navy Secretary Bonaparte a long letter commenting on a variety of matters that ranged from the ship’s inadequate brass bearings to the excellence of the mess. His observations also prompted him to request an investigation of whether armored cruisers were outmoded and whether navy staff titles comparable to the army’s might be adopted.
While many of the President’s views were bound to find support among military and naval men, others inevitably created resentment. His appointment of a medical officer to command the hospital ship Relief led to the resignation of Admiral Brownson, Chief of the Bureau of Navigation. Roosevelt’s decision to order Marines off the ships of the fleet met with Congressional refusal to make any appropriations for the Corps unless sea duty was restored. His enthusiasm for physical fitness caused army and naval officers considerable grief on another occasion when he ordered that they demonstrate annually the ability to walk fifty miles, bicycle one hundred miles, or ride horseback for ninety miles. The fact that the President himself rode horseback from the White House to Warrenton, Virginia and back on a cold, wet winter’s day to test this requirement, did not make it any more palatable. The fact that Fort Myer, unaware that the President was involved, had supplied ordinary cavalry nags for the trip caused Archie Butt, his military aide, considerable distress!
Since graduates of the Naval Academy controlled the operational effectiveness of the Navy, Roosevelt took more than a passing interest in that institution. As Assistant Secretary he had recommended that the title “naval cadet” be replaced by the more appropriate “midshipman,” but Congress had refused to act. In his first annual message as President he renewed the proposal and recommended that classes at the Academy be increased. This time Congress acted favorably on the change of title and at the next session authorized the doubling of classes for the next ten years. Thus Roosevelt was insured a steady flow of officers with which to man the growing fleet.
Roosevelt favored a very practical program of instruction for potential naval officers. When the Academy’s Board of Visitors proposed in 1907 that officers replace civilian instructors, except in foreign languages, the President expressed his approval and a desire that midshipmen be given more experience at sea and more practical training in engineering, mathematics, ordnance, and electricity. Reflecting his interest in physical fitness he had earlier insisted that judo be retained in the physical education program.
The “big stick” in national and international affairs was a logical extension of the “strenuous life,” and nowhere was its use better illustrated during Roosevelt’s administrations than in the world battleship cruise of 1907—1909. From his point of view the voyage, which naval authorities had been considering for some time, offered several potential benefits. A successful cruise promised to stimulate recruiting and create a favorable public attitude towards the Navy and the new Panama Canal project. It also offered the opportunity to test the ships’ readiness for a war emergency and sustained operations. Finally, there was a growing need to impress Japan with this country’s interest and power in the Pacific. During early 1907 anti-Japanese sentiment on the West Coast had created a seemingly dangerous situation, and Roosevelt did not want our conciliatory policy to be mistaken for weakness.
As a matter of fact, however, United States naval power in the Pacific was relatively weak at that time. The extent of the weakness had been brought home to Roosevelt in the summer of 1906 during a minor crisis over the killing of Japanese poachers on the seal rookeries at St. Paul Island. He had correctly estimated that the two battleships, five torpedo boats, nine unarmored cruisers, and single monitor on the Asiatic station would be no match for the Japanese. Rather than risk their destruction he had suggested that it might be wise to withdraw them to home waters.
Although the poaching incident was settled amicably, our policy thenceforth was to concentrate battleship strength in the Atlantic. This move was in keeping with Mahan’s doctrine, and he was alarmed in January, 1907, at reports that four battleships would be sent to the Pacific. But massed battleship strength was by then as much a part of Roosevelt’s thinking as Mahan’s, and he assured the older man that he had no intention of dividing the battleship fleet.
In line with this thinking, Roosevelt was determined to make as strong a showing as possible on the battleship cruise. Although four battleships were forced to remain at home for yard work, the remaining sixteen were put under orders. While the prospect of their absence from the Atlantic alarmed some observers and created some Congressional opposition, the President was confident that there were no dangers in that ocean comparable to the one posed by Japan. Untroubled, he watched the ships steam out of Hampton Roads on December 16, 1907, as the bands played “The Girl I Left Behind Me.”
Roosevelt’s expectations were more than justified by the Fleet’s reception in South America and then in Japan itself. Furthermore, in the wake of the latter visit came the Root-Takahira Agreement and a definite relaxation of tension, which Roosevelt credited in part to the Fleet’s appearance in Japanese waters.
After steaming 46,000 miles, the ships entered Hampton Roads on February 22, 1909, in the waning days of the Roosevelt administration. The ships and men of the Great White Fleet had proved themselves worthy representatives of American power, and the Rough Rider was justly proud of their accomplishment. In fact, he later wrote that this cruise was “the most important” contribution that he had made to peace. Certainly, it was a classic example of the benefits to be derived from “showing the flag.”
While Roosevelt placed a high value on peace, he placed peace behind “righteousness” in the lexicon of national virtues. He saw that neither could prevail if the United States was weak. Our responsibilities in Hawaii, the Philippines, the Caribbean, and especially Panama, demanded a strong navy. By raising naval tonnage from fifth to near- second place in the world, increasing the number of naval personnel and their proficiency, and by taking full advantage of technological innovations, Roosevelt helped to give the United States the naval strength that it needed. Above all, he stimulated national pride in the Navy and thereby assured continuing support for it. His lessons in leadership and his confidence in the response of a free people are not outmoded in a nuclear, missile age. Peace and righteousness remain our goals, but as Roosevelt saw, they can only be achieved and maintained by a nation unafraid of the “strenuous life” and the awesome responsibility of wielding a “big stick” intelligently and constructively in a troubled world.
1. “Washington’s Forgotten Maxim,” Proceedings, vol. XXXII (1897); “The Naval Policy of America as Outlined in Messages of the Presidents of the United States, from the Beginning to the Present Day,” ibid.
2. See “The USS Delaware: ‘The Skeered O’ Nothin’,” August, 1957, Proceedings.
3. A. T. Mahan, “Reflections, Historic and Other, Suggested by the Battle of the Japan Sea,” June, 1906, Proceedings.
4. W. S. Sims, “The Inherent Tactical Qualities of All-Big-Gun, One-Calibre Battleships of High Speed, Large Displacement and Gun-Power,” December, 1906 Proceedings.