Palmetto Bugs and Broken Arrows

Part investigative history, part wry travelogue, and part personal reckoning, Palmetto Bugs and Broken Arrows is a deep-dive exploration of a city where utopian dreams and chaotic reality have been roommates for three centuries.

When the narrator returns to Savannah after twenty years, he finds a city that is a masterclass in irony. It is a place founded by a prison-reformer who banned lawyers, yet is now draped in legal billboards; a city designed with military precision that was ultimately "saved" by being surrendered; and a coastline that hides everything from 16th-century Spanish ruins to a lost Cold War hydrogen bomb.

• The Utopian Blueprint: Revisit James Oglethorpe’s radical 1733 experiment—a philanthropic colony that banned rum and slavery, only to see its rigid rules collapse under the weight of human nature.

• From Pearls to "Broken Arrows": Trace the city’s violent intersections with global history, from Hernando de Soto’s theft of freshwater pearls to the 1958 mid-air collision that left a nuclear weapon submerged off Tybee Island.

• The Architecture of Survival: Explore the rugged history of Fort Pulaski, the "Mighty Eighth" Air Force’s WWII home front, and the Gullah-Geechee resilience of Pin Point.

• A Personal Map: Follow the narrator as he measures the city’s grand historic squares against his own gritty memories of roach-infested apartments and hospital shifts—proving that in Savannah, the "bugs" are as much a part of the story as the monuments.

This isn’t a polished tourism brochure; it’s a narrative about contingency. It’s about how tides, terrain, and timing shape the world. Whether it's dodging "king tides" that close off the coast or investigating the dubious "shanghaiing tunnels" beneath a pirate-themed restaurant, this book captures the spirit of a city that is equal parts documented record and packaged legend.

With a keen eye for the absurd and a deep respect for the dead, Palmetto Bugs and Broken Arrows invites you to walk the grid of a city where history isn't behind glass—it's under your fingernails.