Forgotten Weapons
Published 11 Mar 2026The Bannerman family decided to sell Bannerman’s Island to the state of New York in the 1950s, but the sale required that they first clear all the ordnance off it. That was no simple task, and the military was not interested in the job. Instead, the family found Val Forgett Jr, a demolitions expert who happened to be looking for seed money to start a business making reproduction black powder revolvers. His offer to do the cleanup work was accepted, and he spent a summer doing the job and put the proceeds into the first Navy Arms reproduction 1851 Colt Navy revolvers.
This video includes the talk given by Forgett to the Armor and Arms Club of New York in the 1990s explaining the process of clearing out the ordnance from the island …
(more…)
August 9, 2026
Clearing Bannerman’s Castle: A Century of Explosive Ordnance
QotD: Spoilers — threat or menace?
I used to think I was a control freak because I prefer knowing what happens before I watch a movie. Give me a book, and I will behave beautifully for the first hundred pages — then, suddenly, I’ll turn into a literary criminal and flick to the end. This doesn’t always happen; the writer has to be good enough to make me panic. Yet if I care deeply whether Harry Potter survives, or whether Catherine ends up with Heathcliff, I need the literary equivalent of someone taking my hand and saying, “Brace yourself, chapter thirty-two is going to be a bit of a donut”.
It turns out this may not be control freakery. How wonderful to think that I have been waiting years for science to rebrand my worst qualities as skills. Apparently, people who like spoilers are just trying to regulate their emotional response. We are not monsters, but only putting on a cardigan before the storm.
Those who hate spoilers also want control, but theirs is driven by a desire to preserve suspense. They want to receive information in the sequence designed by the storyteller. My own spoiler-seeking is also a form of control, although it works differently. I want the major facts early, so I can relax into the texture of the story rather than sit there like a meerkat scanning the horizon for emotional catastrophe.
So we are all control freaks, just wearing different cardigans.
Spoiler alerts began as a civilized courtesy. If someone on a bus was halfway through a book, it was not considered the done thing to lean across and announce the ending like a deranged town crier. There were rules. Perhaps not that many. But there were some.
Now the spoiler alert has become a moral siren. One can’t discuss a film, television show, podcast, documentary, memoir, cake reveal, or episode of Bluey without issuing a warning so elaborate that it requires its own stationery. People now approach plot discussion like bomb disposal experts. One innocent mention of a character’s demise, and the online village square bursts into flames. On “The Good Ship Murder” Facebook page, for instance, someone posts, “Can’t believe they killed Pierce”, and within seconds the spoiler militia descends.
Admins should delete this spoiler.
People might not have seen it yet.
Can’t believe you’ve posted a spoiler…You can almost hear the sirens. Somewhere, a moderator is reaching for a lukewarm tea and wondering how a cozy murder show has turned into the fall of Saigon.
Nicole James, “Tell Me Who Dies So I Can Relax”, The Freeman, 2026-05-07.
