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Maurice Evans, Pyrotechnician

November 5, 2015
by the gentle author

Maurice Evans has been collecting fireworks since childhood and now at over eighty years old he has the most comprehensive collection in the country – so you can imagine both my excitement and my trepidation upon stepping through the threshold of his house in Shoreham. My concern about potential explosion was relieved when Maurice confirmed that he has removed the gunpowder from his fireworks, only to be reawakened when his wife Kit helpfully revealed that Catherine Wheels and Bangers were excepted because you cannot extract the gunpowder without ruining  them.

This statement prompted Maurice to remember with visible pleasure that he still had a collection of World War II shells in the cellar and, of course, the reinforced steel shed in the garden full of live fireworks. “Let’s just say, if there’s a big bang in the neighbourhood, the police always come here first to see if it’s me,” admitted Maurice with a playful smirk. “Which it often isn’t,” added Kit, backing Maurice up with a complicit demonstration of knowing innocence.

“It all started with my father who was in munitions in the First World War,” explained Maurice proudly, “He had a big trunk with little drawers, and in those drawers I found diagrams explaining how to work with explosives and it intrigued me. Then came World War II and the South Downs were used as a training ground and, as boys, we went where we shouldn’t and there were loads of shells lying around, so we used to let them off.”

Maurice’s radiant smile revealed to me the unassailable joy of his teenage years, running around the downs at Shoreham playing with  bombs. “We used to set off detonators outside each other’s houses to announce we’d arrived!” he bragged, waving his left hand to reveal the missing index finger, blown off when the explosive in a slow fuse unexpectedly fired upon lighting. “That’s the worst thing that happened,” Maurice declared with a grimace of alacrity, “We were worldly wise with explosives!”

Even before his teens, the love of pyrotechnics had taken grip upon Maurice’s psyche. It was a passion born of denial. “I used to suffer from bronchitis and asthma as a child, so when November 5th came round, I had to stay indoors.” he confided with a frown, “Every shop had a club and you put your pennies and ha’pennies in to save for fireworks and that’s what I did, but then my father let them off and I had to watch through the window.”

After the war, Maurice teamed up with a pyrotechnician from London and they travelled the country giving displays which Maurice devised, achieving delights that transcended his childhood hunger for explosions. “In my mind, I could envisage the sequence of fireworks and colours, and that was what I used to enjoy. You’ve got all the colours to start with, smoke, smoke colours, ground explosions, aerial explosions – it’s endless the amount of different things you can do. The art of it is knowing how to choose.” explained Maurice, his face illuminated by the images flickering in his mind. Adding, “I used to be quite big in fireworks at one time.” with calculated understatement.

Yet all this personal history was the mere pre-amble before Maurice led me through his house, immaculately clean, lined with patterned carpets and papers and witty curios of every description. Then in the kitchen, overlooking the garden where old trees stood among snowdrops, he opened an unexpected cupboard door to reveal a narrow red staircase going down. We descended to enter the burrow where Maurice has his rifle range, his collections, model aeroplanes, bombs and fireworks – all sharing the properties of flight and explosiveness. Once they were within reach, Maurice could not restrain his delight in picking up the shells and mortars of his childhood, explaining their explosive qualities and functions.

But my eyes were drawn by all the fireworks that lined the walls and glass cases, and the deep blues, lemon yellows and scarlets of their wrappers and casings. Such evocative colours and intricate designs which in their distinctive style of type and motif, draw upon the excitement and anticipation of magic we all share as children, feelings that compose into a lifelong love of fireworks. Rockets, Roman Candles, Catherine Wheels, Bangers, and Sparklers – amounting to thousands in boxes and crates, Maurice’s extraordinary collection is the history of fireworks in this country.

“I wouldn’t say its made my life, but its certainly livened it up,” confided Maurice, seeing my wonder at his overwhelming display. Because no-one (except Maurice) keeps fireworks, there is something extraordinary in seeing so many old ones and it sets your imagination racing to envisage the potential spectacle that these small cardboard parcels propose.

Maurice outgrew the bronchitis and asthma to have a beautiful life filled with fireworks, to visit firework factories around Britain, in China, Australia, New Zealand and all over Europe, and to scour Britain for collections of old fireworks, accumulating his priceless collection. Now like an old dragon in a cave, surrounded by gold, Maurice guards his cellar hoard protectively and is concerned about the future. “It needs to be seen,” he said, contemplating it all and speaking his thoughts out loud, “I would like to put this whole collection into a museum. I don’t want any money. I want everyone to see what happened from pre-war times up until the present day in the progression of fireworks.”

“My father used to bring me the used ones to keep,” confessed Maurice quietly with an affectionate gleam in his eye, as he revealed the emotional origin of his collection, now that we were alone together in the cellar. With touching selflessness, having derived so much joy from collecting his fireworks, Maurice wants to share them with everybody else.

Maurice with his exploding fruit.

Maurice with his barrel of gunpowder

Maurice with his grenades.

Maurice with two favourite rockets.

Firework photographs copyright © Simon Costin

Maurice Evans has donated his firework collection to the Museum of British Folklore

Read my story about

Simon Costin, The Museum of British Folklore

11 Responses leave one →
  1. November 5, 2015

    What a wonderful story I live in Shoreham and have only just recently heard of this gentleman. The pictures brought back memories for sure 🙂

  2. November 5, 2015

    Great story, I loved crackers as a kid in country Victoria, Australia and your brilliant photos brought back many happy memories .

  3. Tina allman permalink
    November 5, 2015

    What a fascinating man. I loved reading this, I giggled at your trepidation and his pride, such a fascinating collection, and a few I remember my dad bringing home and showing us as small children. Loved reading this.

  4. Molly Porter permalink
    November 5, 2015

    Thank you for this delightful story. I’ve written to the V&A Museum of Childhood to urge them to pursue and accept the wonderful offer Maurice Evans is making. They seems to me to be a natural repository, able to give a good home to his unique collection and share its contents and history with future generations.

  5. Annie G permalink
    November 5, 2015

    These took me back a bit! All the shapes and colours…I used to like collecting the spent containers the next day.

  6. Pauline Taylor permalink
    November 5, 2015

    These bring back happy memories of childhood firework parties. Part of the fun being my friend, Robin, and I setting out all the fireworks in his father’s shed, in the order that they were to be let off, they used to look so pretty in the wrappers like these. I think we enjoyed simpler things then!! One friend didn’t dare to go home as he had set fire to the inside of his raincoat, but that was the only accident that we had, no missing bits of fingers thankfully.

  7. ROBERT GREEN permalink
    November 5, 2015

    I couldn’t help laughing at Pauline’s comment about lining them up in order in the shed, I thought I was the only one who did that, Mr Evans maybe over 80 years old but he clearly still maintains his enthusiasm for fireworks, I’m sure he must have thoroughly enjoyed his carer in the industry, hopefully he will be able to continue to enjoy his amazing collection for many year’s to come, good luck to him, heartwarming story.

  8. Sue permalink
    November 5, 2015

    Brought back happy memories as I could remember a lot of the wrappers there. I remember hanging out of the bedroom window with a friend whilst her father set off the fireworks. He had them in an open box and the inevitable happened. Rockets shooting horizontally across the garden like in a cartoon. Luckily everybody ran for cover then the stupid man continued and it happened again!

  9. November 7, 2015

    Not sure I would like to live next door, though.

  10. Barbara permalink
    November 7, 2015

    Reminds me of when we used to make a Guy and ask ” Penny for the Guy ” along Whitechapel Road . We bought our own fireworks , lit them and built bonfires without an adult in sight ! What a wonderful collection , lets hope they find a good home .

  11. report from the heartland permalink
    November 14, 2015

    Sooooo beautiful. What is better than a night (or 15 minutes) of fireworks?

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