Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, July 5, 1995 TAG: 9507050077
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: C-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: DIANE STRUZZI STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
Each year around the same time, William Craft's butterflies go into overdrive.
It happens as soon as the fireworks are trucked onto the field. Like clockwork, it began Wednesday night around 7.
Without the Craft Family Shooters, after all, it wouldn't be much of a Fourth of July celebration at Victory Stadium. An Independence Day without fireworks is sort of like a New Year's Eve without champagne and funny hats.
For 32 years, Craft has been working his talents with explosives. He calls it his hobby that has co-opted his whole family, some of his friends and scores of volunteers.
At 65, Craft can't remember the last time he and his family actually celebrated Independence Day on July 4.
"We do our Fourth a week later, on a weekend," he said.
But he still gets into the spirit, sporting red, white and blue suspenders over a blue T-shirt with his company name.
Tuesday afternoon, his workers fortified steel mortars sticking up from a field near the Roanoke River with dirt and sandbags.
"The purpose is for people to enjoy the color, the sound, the oohs and ahhs," Craft said. "They don't see this element of work. That's the way it should be."
Eight-year old Meaghan Jones wasn't worried about the mortars or the sandbags. She had one priority - to see the pretty colors light up the sky. She even got a reprieve from her regular 9 p.m. bedtime. Good thing, since the fireworks began at 9:45.
As howitzer cannons from the Martinsville National Guard blasted a volley of rounds to accompany the ``1812 Overture,'' the Craft Family Shooters went to work.
They plugged the mortars with 4-, 5- and 6-inch shells that sprayed rays of color throughout the sky.
Stephen Frye and Charlie Witt helped their father-in-law light the fuses. Each turned his back as the fuse disappeared and a rocket of fire thrust into the sky.
Right behind were the cleaners, who poked in the mortar holes with a large stick and brush to rid the casing of excess debris.
BLAST! A shell blazed a trail of white light before it burst into a sun of sparks. BLAST! One fizzled and crackled like kindling from a fire. BLAST! An eruption of white, blue, red and green chrysanthemums.
The bigger, the better. The more unusual, the louder the crowd gasped.
Fire rained around the workers. A faint smell of sulphur and a cloud of smoke settled over the strip of grass.
After 20 minutes, Craft began the rapid-fire grand finale. Rows of fireworks spewed white light into the sky.
"It's a wrap," said Bonnie Witt, Craft's daughter, who had divvied out the fireworks from coolers moments earlier.
Craft hugged everyone - a thanks for a safe journey through the event. Fireworks bring joy for a brief but powerful moment, he said.
Some years ago, just after a show in Waynesboro, a couple of spectators asked to speak with Craft. It was a conversation he will never forget.
"It was a man pushing a lady in a wheelchair. ... He said I gave her 23 minutes of something no doctor had been able to give her," Craft remembered. "It was one of the greatest compliments ... that someone's mind could be that distracted from the hurt and pain because of the sight and sound of the fireworks."
by CNB