Business is booming for master blaster
In a new series the Herald talks to people whose jobs are outside the ordinary. Today: Firework maker Bruce Allan
Bruce Allan was about 10 years old when a palm-sized cannon he’d filled with a firecracker — his brother had taken the Tom Thumbs he planned to use for his magic show’s grand finale — unexpectedly blasted through the closed door of his classroom and taught him the power, and delight, of the unexpected.
As his ecstatic classmates picked themselves up off the floor, and the school principal rushed in to see what had happened, Allan realised how much his audience responded to being surprised.
“It taught me that people loved to be entertained, even when things go wrong. It’s that element of surprise, it triggers endorphins.” Allan’s made a life out of it since. He builds fireworks, and while he started with wee puffs and tricks that won him favour at primary school and, on one occasion at high school, the cane, he has for many years made and set off fireworks for large public celebrations such as New Year’s, Diwali and the Lantern Festival.
The Wah Lee Top Hat Magic partner and head pyrotechnician has also worked extensively with the film and TV industry; his latest project is making old-style fireworks for liveaction Disney movie Mulan, which is being shot in New Zealand.
“I’ve just made 286 fountains for them.”
There were lots of big bangs in fireworks, but their lure was about much more than that for Allan.
“It’s not just to make a big noise. It’s to make a beautiful event.”
He loves blowing colour into the sky — sparkling reds and greens and golds, and that’s just how it should be.
“It’s all about colours.”
The 57-year-old can’t say too much about how he makes his fireworks, which he starts at his Clarks Beach home and, for the gunpowder part, finishes at a rural property.
But people might be surprised by some of the ingredients he sometimes uses, such as soil and oatmeal.
Making fireworks was like baking a cake — every ingredient had to be measured just right, and some things just didn’t mix together well, except that a bad cake was unlikely to remove a body part.
To prove his emphasis on safety, Allan proudly opened both hands for the Herald, laughing as he wiggled eight fingers and two thumbs. “Look, they’re all there.”
And much as he loves things that go bang, pop, hiss and boom, Allan sympathised with Kiwis lamenting against inconsiderate private use of fireworks.
“It’ll be 11pm and I’m in bed and I hear ‘boom, boom’. I feel like getting one of my big ones out and just going for it.”