When I was a child, the 4th of July was always a special time to me. It wasn’t special because that’s the day the Declaration of Independence was signed in Philadelphia, or because it is the day Vicksburg fell in the Civil War. No, as a small child, I didn’t know about any of that. I just loved fireworks. The bigger, the brighter, and the louder, the better.
The first year we lived on Cardinal Road, we weren’t yet members of the Country Club. I remember that Coachie and Miss Dot came over. We cooked hamburgers before the show, and then we all watched the fireworks from the back patio of mom and dad’s house. It was amazing. I had never seen anything like it before. I had no idea of why they were sending up fire works. I was only about five years old, but I really dug the show.
By the next year, we were members of the Country Club and were able to view the fireworks from the grounds of the club. Before the show, we had dinner at the Club, and then we went out to where we had set up lawn chairs to watch the show. Again, it was amazing. By this time, someone had explained to me the reason for the fireworks. My imagination ran wild as I imagined being in a fort with ships pounding the crap out of it with missiles and artillery shells. Just after the show ended, a tremendous thunderstorm descended on the Club and everyone raced to their cars as the rain came down in sheets. The thunder and lightning provided a second show.
One of the things I remember about the 4th is that parked cars, seeking a prime viewing spot, used to line the shoulders of Nettleton Ave. In those days, Nettleton was only a two-lane road with small gravel shoulders. That practice would continue until I was in junior high.
When I was small, we were never allowed to have fireworks. Dad, a physician, had seen too many fingers mangled by fireworks. No fireworks for us….well…at least not until I had a bicycle and could ride out to the fireworks stand. After that, no model ship or airplane was safe from destruction on or about the 4th of July. Eventually, my friends and I discovered the pure joy associated with bottle rocket and roman candle duels. My love for the 4th grew more and more.
Through the years, I saw many spectacular fireworks displays. When we lived in Memphis, the fireworks display down at the river was amazing. The Memphis Symphony played John Phillip Sousa music while the fireworks went up. Sometimes, I would get to watch the displays in the Capital on TV. Those were pretty cool. However, the best fireworks display I ever saw was in Jonesboro. It wasn’t even at night and it certainly wasn’t one that was highly organized and accompanied by a symphony orchestra.
In 1973 or maybe 74, a young entrepreneur bought an old bus and set it up at the intersection of Caraway Road and Race Street. Caraway was only two lanes and Race Street was gravel back then. This was outside the city limits by mere feet. (Danver’s Hamburgers would eventually occupy that spot for many years.) The city limit was in the center of Race Street. All the windows on the side of the bus were open and fireworks were sold out of them. You could by firecrackers and bottle rockets. You could buy roman candles and screaming fireworks of all sorts. This bus was chock full of all kinds of explosive fun. I had a couple of friends who worked there. I bought an awful lot of fireworks there.
One hot afternoon shortly before the fourth, one of my friends working at the bus was just a little bored. Boredom, as you might suspect, is a very, very dangerous thing for a teenage boy. It makes bad ideas seem logical. It makes them seem harmless. It makes them irresistible. Sales had slowed for a bit and they had a brand new kind of screaming rocket in stock. No one had seen how this thing worked. Everyone was curious. In the dull minutes of that slow, hot afternoon, curiosity got the better of my friend. He thought it through. He should know how all the fireworks work. That would, after all, better enable him to sell it. That makes sense. He really should test the new rocket. It was just good business. He’d do it way out in the road just to be safe. What could possibly go wrong?
In the early 1970s, Caraway Road had very little traffic past the intersection with Highland Road. This was because there was nothing out there. It was still pasture land for the most part. As per his thoroughly premeditated plans, my friend went out about 50 feet from the bus and into the middle of Caraway. He placed the rocket, per the directions on the wrapper, flat on the pavement. He pointed it away from the bus. He lit the fuse using his cigarette.
What happened next is legend. Nothing like it has ever been seen before or after in Jonesboro Arkansas. The tiny little rocket he lit took off like a shot rising about 4 feet off of the ground. It executed a perfect 180 degree turn and, leaving a light trail of white smoke marking it’s path, it tracked like a stinger missile directly toward the bus. It disappeared though one of the bus’s windows. Micro seconds later, the three guys who were watching all this from the bus dove head first out of the bus just as the “show” began.
When the rocket entered the bus, it’s sparks ignited other fireworks which in turn ignited more fireworks. It was kind of like a chain reaction or a runaway nuclear meltdown. There is no stopping it. Suddenly, in the immortal words of Marvin the Martian, “There was an earth shattering kaboom.” caused by the near simultaneous launching of thousands of rockets and roman candles, mortars and, of course the exploding firecrackers.
Witnessing this from about a quarter mile away, I paused in absolute awe. This was probably the greatest fireworks show the world has ever known. It may have registered on the Richter Scale as a seismic event. If you have ever seen the film of the Arizona exploding at Pearl Harbor, you have a reference point for this explosion.
In that moment, my friend who set off the whole sequence of events, acquired a new name. From this day forth, he would forever be known, to friend and foe alike, as ‘Rocket’.
Rocket stood like a statue, frozen in the middle of the road. He was in an absolute state of shock. He just stood in the middle of Caraway road as the bus exploded and fireworks went everywhere. The three who dove out of the bus and narrowly escaped death, thought that this was the funniest thing ever. (Guys, after all, find great humor in another’s misfortune.) Eventually, the Jonesboro Fire Department had to respond and put the fire out. They did wait until the fireworks quit exploding.
Every year on the 4th of July, I know that I will not see a fireworks display to rival that one. I’ve seen fireworks at Philadelphia and over the harbor at New York City. I’ve seen them over the Mall in Washington DC. They are nice, but nothing matches an exploding bus full of fireworks.
This event is burned into my memory. Rocket left us many years ago, but every year on the 4th of July I remember him. He shouldn’t be forgotten and not just because he set off the greatest fireworks display the world has ever seen. No, he should be remembered because he was a really good guy who just happened to have a really, really bad day. I felt badly for him then, but then I remember that it was the most awesome thing you could ever imagine. Perhaps I didn’t feel so badly for him after all.
When you are celebrating the Fourth this year, set off a rocket and raise a glass to Rocket. Just don’t do it in front of the fireworks stand.