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Interesting anecdote on why firearms knowledge can be important.
How many, before the case made it to todays courts, would have the defendant in this case tried convicted and hung as a "rude toter"?
8 replies
= new reply since forum marked as read
= new reply since forum marked as read
And there's some interesting history when you google those names (not the bad cop or the perp, the other guys) about long range shooting competitions in the 1870s (Creedmoor). New to me, at least, and fascinating...
Edit to add a link (a transcription of an article from 1876):
...
Then, elated with this sudden victory, the Irish marksmen, panting for new laurels, having beaten England and Scotland, wanted to be champions of the world. So they sent over to America a polite invitation for the Yankees to meet them in a friendly match to decide the championship of the world. The invitation came to the National Rifle Association, and was by no means welcome. The directors were keenly sensible of the "greenness" of all their shots, and for these veterans to invite them to a contest seemed like mockery. No one wanted to accept the invitation. Like Jeff Davis, they wanted to be "let alone," and were perfectly willing to acknowledge their inferiority to the Irish. Then it was that the Amateur Club came to the rescue, picked up the glove, and volunteered to meet the Irish champions in a match at Creedmoor. It must be admitted that there was quaking in the American camp. We had not been too lucky in our late athletic contests with the parent country. Our Harvard boat crew had been decisively defeated by Oxford; our Atlanta boat club distanced by the London men; our Ten Broek's horses had made little figure in English races. In a word, American sporting stock was "down," British "up." That we should beat the Irish team, which had recently conquered England, seemed impossible. The Amateur Club itself did not hope for victory, but only to make a respectable show in the fight. And so the spring of 1874 was ushered in, with a heavy contest on our hands, and, as it seemed, a hopeless one.
...
The contests opened, and less than thirty men took part in them, all members of the Amateur Club, all city men in business. It became evident that the Amateur Club would have to fight single-handed, and make good shots by practice, since the frontiersmen, with all their vaunted skill, could not be induced to come. The group of city men went to work, and after a few trials the team was selected. Only one, John Bodine,was an old rifleman; two, Hepburn and Yale, were foremen of the respective gun factories of Remington and Sharps. Of the other three, one, Dakin, was a retired merchant with gray hair, a militia general, and a man who fired his first shot at Creedmoor the previous fall. The next was Fulton, a young civil engineer, just beginning to shoot. The last was Gildersleeve, a young lawyer, who had been a volunteer during the war, and was then Lieutenant Colonel of the Twelfth New York Militia, in which Fulton was a Lieutenant. The team captain was George W. Wingate. The professional riflemen, keepers of shooting galleries, did not acquire places on the team, though some were in the reserve. It was early resolved, therefore, to confine the team to six instead of eight, as the reserve at command was so small. Every additional man on the team gave a chance to the veteran Irish shots, as it was perceived that the victory would depend, not on the best, but the poorest shots of each side.
...
Then, elated with this sudden victory, the Irish marksmen, panting for new laurels, having beaten England and Scotland, wanted to be champions of the world. So they sent over to America a polite invitation for the Yankees to meet them in a friendly match to decide the championship of the world. The invitation came to the National Rifle Association, and was by no means welcome. The directors were keenly sensible of the "greenness" of all their shots, and for these veterans to invite them to a contest seemed like mockery. No one wanted to accept the invitation. Like Jeff Davis, they wanted to be "let alone," and were perfectly willing to acknowledge their inferiority to the Irish. Then it was that the Amateur Club came to the rescue, picked up the glove, and volunteered to meet the Irish champions in a match at Creedmoor. It must be admitted that there was quaking in the American camp. We had not been too lucky in our late athletic contests with the parent country. Our Harvard boat crew had been decisively defeated by Oxford; our Atlanta boat club distanced by the London men; our Ten Broek's horses had made little figure in English races. In a word, American sporting stock was "down," British "up." That we should beat the Irish team, which had recently conquered England, seemed impossible. The Amateur Club itself did not hope for victory, but only to make a respectable show in the fight. And so the spring of 1874 was ushered in, with a heavy contest on our hands, and, as it seemed, a hopeless one.
...
The contests opened, and less than thirty men took part in them, all members of the Amateur Club, all city men in business. It became evident that the Amateur Club would have to fight single-handed, and make good shots by practice, since the frontiersmen, with all their vaunted skill, could not be induced to come. The group of city men went to work, and after a few trials the team was selected. Only one, John Bodine,was an old rifleman; two, Hepburn and Yale, were foremen of the respective gun factories of Remington and Sharps. Of the other three, one, Dakin, was a retired merchant with gray hair, a militia general, and a man who fired his first shot at Creedmoor the previous fall. The next was Fulton, a young civil engineer, just beginning to shoot. The last was Gildersleeve, a young lawyer, who had been a volunteer during the war, and was then Lieutenant Colonel of the Twelfth New York Militia, in which Fulton was a Lieutenant. The team captain was George W. Wingate. The professional riflemen, keepers of shooting galleries, did not acquire places on the team, though some were in the reserve. It was early resolved, therefore, to confine the team to six instead of eight, as the reserve at command was so small. Every additional man on the team gave a chance to the veteran Irish shots, as it was perceived that the victory would depend, not on the best, but the poorest shots of each side.
...
http://riflemansjournal.blogspot.com/2010/04/history-story-of-creedmoor.html
See how simple it is... 
...like Inspector Ochoa who want us to... "We want you to get out of New York... Permanently."
Vincent Gardenia was born on January 7, 1920 in Naples, Campania, Italy as Vincenzo Scognamiglio. ...
Played in Death Wish
