Reading about the Torpedo Station explosion of July 1897 brings to mind a question I've had for quite some time. On January 26, 1918 my great uncle John Henry Connolly died in an explosion at the Torpedo Factory on Goat Island, along with some 12 other men. I had heard from my grandfather and great aunt that a memorial stone of some sort had been placed either on Goat Island or in front of the City Hall, but upon my last visit to Newport, it almost seemed as if the entire incident had been completely forgotten. So the question is: does any memorial remain of the men who died on that day, or is there anyone out there who has stories of that day handed down to them? Here's my family story: My uncle John was a young man with unlimited potential. Born a third generation Irish-American in 1896, he had a very wide circle of friends. He was a member of a championship basketball team. I have a picture of him with his team of 1917-1918, and my mother has others from other years. He was engaged to be married. His father and grandfather both were ship captains, working with the navy as merchant seamen, with Fort Adams in particular. He had a desire to go to sea himself, but his father did not want him to follow in his footsteps. His mother forbade him to join the service during the war, so instead he worked at the torpedo factory as a means of serving his country during wartime. He had only worked there for a short time, and was not even scheduled to work that day, but had agreed to fill in for someone else. Apparently, the explosion at Goat Island was felt in Newport City. My great grandfather left to find out how bad it had been. My great grandmother and aunt were left at home to fret. They scrubbed the kitchen floor...cleaned and cleaned to get their minds off their fears. A few hours later, My great grandfather came home and said not a word. Then the phone rang, he answered and said, "John is dead. My son is dead." In my mother's possession is an old box of chocolates, filled not with candy, but with sympathy cards. These cards and cables were sent from all over the country from friends and family. And the box was all that was left of the last present my uncle gave to his mother. -Pat. Wary