Despite Louis Brandeis' well-publicized opposition to the New Haven-Boston & Maine railroad merger of 1907–1909, a large number of public-spirited men, including many progressive reform leaders whom Brandeis had worked with and admired, favored the combination. They saw the merger not as a conspiracy against the public interest, but a necessary response in the public interest to a commercial crisis in Massachusetts. This examination of their reasoning and action tempers Brandeis' widely accepted assessment of the controversy.

In the manner of the Creole tradesmen of Louisiana, whose lagniappe to their patrons is legendary, the Editor offers a similar bonus to readers of the Review. Instead of trifling presents added to a purchase, however, our lagniappe will be notes and documents illustrative of the evolution of business enterprise.

Substantial gains made within the past score years in clarifying the nature and scope of business history afford ample grounds for confidence that this academic youngster will assuredly develop into a vigorous adult. Such high optimism can be sustained, however, only if this small guild of practitioners develops and administers appropriate intellectual booster shots necessary for its continued health. At the moment it does appear that business history is vulnerable to a large number of afflictions. To put the matter more specifically, business historians as a group give the impression of being sharply divided on issues where agreement might reasonably be expected at this stage of the field's development. Signs of a recent shift from emphasis on decision-making, innovation, and administration to a stress on a vaguely defined “general environment” fueled concern.

Will the lack of hard data forever preclude firm conclusions about the impact of industrialization upon antebellum America? Whether it does or not, it seems unlikely to prevent continuation of one of the liveliest debates in American economic history. Professors Vedder and Gallaway contribute their findings to the controversy, and conclude that the rate of profit on manufacturing capital before 1860 was much lower than recent work has suggested.

Nowhere was the postwar growth of multinational corporations more dramatic than in the petroleum industry. The major oil companies of the western nations were soon banded together in a complex of joint exploration, producing, refining, and marketing organizations. But efforts to advance criminal prosecution of the American companies under the antitrust laws soon ran head-on into overriding considerations of national security. The hardening of the Cold War, complicated by internal political weaknesses in Iran, persuaded both President Truman and President Eisenhower to soft-pedal litigation. In the end, criminal prosecution of joint production enterprises became civil suits against marketing and pricing agreements, which were settled by consent decree. This, according to Professor Kaufman, amounted to attacking “the tail but not the head or body of the energy tiger.”

Early American life insurers found themselves facing the problem of asymmetric information, as they needed to rely on applicants themselves to provide truthful, complete answers to a standard set of questions. In an attempt to repersonalize the relationship between their boards of directors and the individual applicants, firms selected highly respected local citizens to act as their agents. These agents were expected to evaluate the appearance of candidates, unearth evidence of unhealthy family histories or questionable habits, and attest to the respectability of people writing testimonial letters on an applicant's behalf. In short, the initial purpose of the agency system was not to actively solicit customers, but rather to recreate the glass-bowl mentality associated with small towns or city neighborhoods.

Canadian lines that were spreading out over what would become the Province of Ontario looked forward, in the years before the American Civil War, to becoming important east-west carriers between the rapidly growing American cities of the eastern seaboard and the still-new cities of the American Midwest. Canada's small population and undeveloped industry would force her railroads to rely heavily on traffic going from one American city to another. Lines like the Grand Trunk and the Great Western struggled desperately therefore, to avoid American financial control. With the help of British capital, they succeeded. But America's contribution to Canadian railroading ran much deeper than money. Dominating the skilled engineers and experienced construction contractors who came from south of the border was more difficult for Canadian directors to manage. In the end, however, it was the early failure of top Canadian management to bury their rivalries, ignore their English creditors, emulate Americans like Vanderbilt, Thomson, and Garrett, and consolidate into an integrated line between New England, the Middle Atlantic seaboard, and the Midwest that doomed their railroads to becoming, as one Canadian put it, “side streets to the trade thoroughfare.”

This special issue of the Business History Review has as its theme the business of trade in the Atlantic World of the eighteenth century. It has as its purpose to highlight the rich and diverse work that is being accomplished by business historians, including people like the four authors—Kenneth Morgan, Silvia Marzagalli, Linda Salvucci, and Thomas Truxes—whose essays constitute the substance of this issue. The articles have a common focus but reveal very different aspects of their shared theme in delightfully instructive ways. While both sides of the Atlantic Ocean are represented and the northern and southern regions are discussed, and while France and Spain and their colonies receive nearly as much play as Great Britain and its colonies (and one-time colonies), almost by the very nature of trade, the stories told are more about links and connections than they are about the limitations imposed by national and imperial boundaries. My contribution, as editor—an otherwise unknown tract written in the 1780s by a minor but influential British civil servant, Thomas Irving, and edited and newly presented here—implicitly argues the case put forth by the other contributors: it was the limitless bounds of eighteenth-century business that defined the Atlantic World.