Although the ‘God of Hellfire’ Arthur Brown’s burning crown may qualify as a ‘first’, it was a young, south London hard rock band named Stray who took to the stage at the Weeley Festival near Clacton-on-Sea during 1971’s August Bank Holiday weekend and made the news with one of the earliest noteworthy rock’n’roll pyrotechnic displays.

    Led by Del Bromham, and somewhat perversely signed to traditional folk label Transatlantic, Stray were very much fledglings to the more mature and muscular bands. Yet this outfit had already been around the block (playing the Middle Earth) and generally trucked a pretty advanced lightshow by any standard at the back end of the 1960s.

    I saw the band many times and they were always eager to push the production envelope, and never more so than at Weeley.

    By way of a set finale, their roadie was sent out to procure “something special”, but what the band failed to realise was that the rockets he came back with were, in fact, distress flares! As the show reached its crescendo and the flares were launched into orbit, the nearby Clacton lifeboats scurried off to sea in search of a major disaster; the band later apologised and a donation was sent to the RNLI.

    However, it was not until the following year, coinciding with the release of their best-selling third album, Saturday Morning Pictures, that Stray played the show that led directly to the founding of Le Maitre Lighting & Special Effects.

    In the audience was a young inventor/lighting designer named Martin Blake. As the band broke into the song ‘After The Storm’, a piece of metal guttering was produced, lined with flash powder, which was lit by the roadie at the other end and went down like a tracer.

    Blake grimaced at the pyro equivalent of an industrial coke snort and then had his epiphany. He knew there had to be a better way and was already mentally designing a product that would change the world. Poetically speaking, the Pyroflash became the raison d’être of Le Maitre... and the product that would define stage pyrotechnics for the next two decades.

    In the oft-quoted words of Samuel Butler, there is no great genius without some touch of madness, and somewhere in south London around the mid-’70s the two forces coalesced in the demoniacal world of Martin Blake.

    Blake was a blonde-haired, bespectacled hippie, who like so many had operated a pioneering lightshow, Crystalleum Lights, to supplement his more formal day job as a photography apprentice.

    Using doctored Rank Aldis Tutor 1kW projectors and 16mm Bell & Howell cine projectors he was one of the more advanced set-ups on a Surrey scene spoilt by premier psychedelic lightshows (John Lethbridge’s Cerebrum Lights and Neil Rice’s Infusoria Five Acre Light Show being two).

    He formed Martin Blake Lighting & Effects, but his eponymous company soon folded into the newly-formed Le Maitre Lighting & Effects, with partner Rick Wilson (a.k.a. DJ Rick Hawkins). Their mission was to develop the Pyroflash — probably the single most important development in a largely unregulated industry and now regarded as the safest pre-loaded pyro device on the market. Like everything Blake designed, it was superbly engineered.

    Blake and Wilson had first met at Cerebrum Lighting in Surbiton after the national disco convention in June 1976 had failed to take place; now there was talk about a new trade association, BADEM, taking over to promote a London show for 1977.

    Wilson, who was then running Croydon-based retail shop, Tulip Music, with his DJ colleague Mick McManus, had introduced Blake to Status Quo at the Winning Post in Twickenham, a popular gig venue in the early ‘70s. After Quo took him on as their LD, Blake was determined to repay the debt of gratitude.

    Fast-forwarding several years, Blake was in the slough of despond after a deal had fallen down involving Astra Fireworks, and 18 months of work had almost literally gone up in smoke. “The Pyroflash development was stalling,” remembers Wilson, “and at the same time, Martin asked if he could move in with me as he’d just set fire to his landlord’s curtains.

    “He had designed the [Pyroflash] capsules and pins, and commissioned the tools, but he was out of money for a huge amount.”

    Wisely, the special FX man had already applied for a patent, and seeking investment for the new business on Blake’s behalf, Wilson was steered towards his future in-laws, the Berlinskis.

    The Berlinski family ran the successful Le Maitre flat-pack furniture business from 316 Purley Way, Croydon — complete with a petrol station on the forecourt — and Wilson was dating their daughter Maxine. (They actually got married on the opening day of the Discotek 80 show, where the wedding party — still formally dressed — popped champagne on their stand).

    Harold Berlinski could immediately see the potential of the new business arrangement, knowing he could also take advantage of a Business Development Initiative.

    With its injection-moulded plastic cup and two pins, Pyroflash was a totally unique idea. Initially dubbed the Flashpod by Cerebrum’s John Lethbridge, the system was demoed at the Berlinskis’ home and a deal was soon put on the table. But Blake refused unless Wilson was cut in as the third partner.

    “He was insistent that the company be split three ways,” says Wilson. “He always felt he owed me for that Status Quo introduction.”

LAUNCHING A LEGEND
On June 6 1977, the eve of the Queen’s Silver Jubilee, the company was incorporated under the pre-existing Le Maitre banner. “Harold gave us 2,000ft2 on the mezzanine floor and aside from the Pyroflash we also had the Pea Souper fog machine, mirrorballs and the first bullet beams, followed by the Rota Beam (which helped set off the pinspot explosion).”

    The company officially launched in September 1977 at BADEM’s very first Discotek show at The Bloomsbury Centre Hotel. Pyroflash (accompanied by Theatrical Flash and Silver Star) helped launch the company and since it was the first system that could be operated remotely, it opened up an indoor market among the mobile DJ community. However, if Le Maitre made one mistake that year, it was to singe the carpet, marking the last time cartridges were triggered at a trade exhibition.

    After his ill-fated alliance with Astra Fireworks, Martin Blake needed to ramp up production, and he approached the legendary Rev. Ronald Lancaster M.B.E. M.A. (Durham) F.R.S.C who ran Kimbolton Fireworks. Dubbed “the Master Blaster Pastor”, the fireworks guru was one of the leading exponents of theatrical pyro as well as being a Master of Divinity at Kimbolton.

    “By now we had paid for the patent but knew nothing about powders and Lancaster manufactured the first 2,000 capsules for us,” recalls Wilson. “The models shown at Discotek 77 were all Ron’s capsules.”

    As a result of the orders taken at that show, the follow-up requirement was for 10,000 capsules, but the pyro pastor was unable to supply that volume. A new capsule supplier was required and Le Maitre approached rocket manufacturer, Tony Little, MD of Wallop Industries in Middle Wallop.

    “God knows how we got hold of him, but we asked if he could make these capsules and he said, ‘Absolutely’. Tony made the flash powder and the capsule igniters and supplied the capsules pre-loaded. They were very heavy and I remember collecting them in 18” mirrorball boxes — they weighed a ton. Le Maitre made knock down furniture so you can imagine the potential hazards!”

    There was, however, a small flaw in the economics. Little had forgotten to cost the igniter into the equation and when the next batch order went in the costs had spiralled to a prohibitive level.

    Undeterred, Blake experimented by using neoprene wire instead of the igniter. However, the charge would melt the wire and it would set the flash powder off — the failure rate was simply too high.

    The next supplier was Haley and Weller (manufacturer of Benwell Fireworks) who also developed Le Maitre’s smoke cartridges. “The Pyroflash system was changing the way people used pyro in the theatre,” says Wilson. “A rock’n’roll show is wired in by technicians, the cartridge plugs in, and when it’s spent, you simply plug in the next one.”

    He knew instinctively that the only way to maximise their invention and the whole potential of stage pyro was to set up their own factory. “We knew it would cost a lot of money to do it ourselves but we had made a lot of money,” he reasons.

    But finding a site for the firework factory also proved difficult, with exclusions imposed including a ‘five mile radius of royalty’ clause. Eventually, the company settled on a four acre site in Peterborough, and with typical Le Maitre swagger opened it on November 5 1980. That is the date shown on a licence which took three years to acquire.

    With Blake designing and Wilson engineering, the two men ran the company with Harold Berlinski unaided for 18 months without a break. “It brought me to the verge of a breakdown,” Wilson confessed at the time. By this time, McManus had left Wing Music in Bromley and was taking an increasingly active interest in the business.

    “We started getting more professional and eventually it came to a showdown,” remembers Wilson. “I threatened to leave if Mick wasn’t offered a partnership.”

    The early business of selling to DJs quickly migrated to theatres, whose idea of special effects was steeped in the dark ages. “Suddenly, with Pyroflash, they could present the wicked witch properly, and in a safer way, by firing it remotely from a distance.”

    By 1986, says Wilson, the company’s success was assured: “The Pyroflash had become the largest-selling pyro in Europe.” However, the year was bittersweet, as Martin Blake also left the company — and Le Maitre had yet to conquer the concert stages.

    Despite the early forays of Stray and their peers, including Pink Floyd and Queen, rock’n’roll pyro had largely to take off and early large scale spectaculars included London events — for instance, firing pyro off the roof of Buckingham Palace (for the G7 Summit), sounding the end of the old GLC across the Thames, while the Andre Previn-led Royal Fireworks Concert became the largest display of its kind ever in the UK.

    Much later, Le Maitre also handled the opening and closing ceremonies at the Millennium Dome, as well as the resident show.

STATESIDE
Up until that time the benchmark in large scale stage pyro had been set by American companies such as Alabama-based Luna Tech. Founded by Tom DeWIllie, it was the pioneer of electronically-controlled use of safe pyrotechnics on stage, and its clients included Ted Nugent, The Commodores, Heart and P. Funk.

    While Le Maitre had dominated the smaller end of the American theatre market with Pyroflash — and had enjoyed huge success in the theme and amusement park world (and Disney Cruise Ships) via supplier Garden State Fireworks — it was when its American office, set up in 1990, suggested it could sell 20 x 20s (20 second bursts x 20ft vertical spark height gerbs) to concert productions that a new market suddenly emerged.

    Enter Dr. John Perriam who arrived at the company on January 1 1999 to pimp the product range and pioneer a new generation of FX to a point where Le Maitre now has around 500 items in its catalogue (see next month).

    The industry had probably reached its first phase of maturity at least a decade earlier, by which time pyrotechnicians were starting to be afforded the same recognition as the laserists. It was patently no longer the province of the roadie to fire pyro, and Le Maitre personnel like Wilf Scott (later with Pyrovision), Richard Huffam (now with Pyrojunkies) and American ‘Pyro Pete’ Cappadocia achieved celebrity status.

    Over the water, companies supplying pyro included MP Associates, Next Effects, RES and Newco, as well as Luna Tech. But Le Maitre remained the only company to both manufacture and undertake its own shows.

    This soon led to a co-operation with Doug Adams’ Canadian- and US-based Pyrotek, which survives to this day with Le Maitre director, Karen Haddon assisting with the administration and permitting of its shows in Europe.

    Across the Atlantic, the genre was driven by the classic rock acts, like long-standing Pyrotek accounts KISS and Metallica — the latter being one of the first to use flames and pyro.

    Another landmark was AC/DC’s For Those About To Rock tour of 1981-82, when Nic Cave-Lynch’s short-lived but pioneering Birmingham company, Cause & Effects (Autoscan, etc) constructed the 21 life-size pyrotechnic cannons (while Martin Blake had been heavily involved in their previous tour, Back In Black).

    Doug Adams, Pyrotek’s president and designer, says that Rush put his company on the road to success. Adams started working for the Toronto company in 1980, taking it over in ’84.

    He recalls: “PSL owned it and they had a division called Pyrotek, the Canadian dealer for Luna Tech. I had been playing with bands as a singer/guitarist and we started firing pyro from soup cans, using gunpowder and making our own maroons. We also doctored a 35mm film canister and made it into a primitive firing contraption.

    “I had no money whatsoever when I bought the company. They wanted to sell that division off and I had to go to friends to raise the $25,000. From then on I was behind the stage rather than in front of it.”

    Pyrotek started out with local rock bands, moving up to Triumph and Rush, while handling corporate work. Adams’ principle interest was movie special effects. “I wanted to get into something different other than flashpots and flame projectors. We started using a lot of gas effects and started to experiment indoors using propane, air compressors and welding torches.

    “The most spectacular was the gerb but there was nothing back then that was shock and awe. To my mind the best effect were comets and crossets. It was a case of keeping on top of [the suppliers] and saying ‘do something new’.” Le Maitre and MP Associates were always the most responsive, he said.

    The strategy must have worked for Pyrotek would later bring the whole arsenal out for Mötley Crüe with an impressive barrage of pyrotechnics including fireballs, flares, stadium reports, full colour mines, comets, airbursts, gerbs and flame projectors — as well as the famous propane Dragon Systems which throughout a show would emit spectacular propane flames from the stage’s custom props (such as totem poles and cages) suspended from the trusses.

    Their party piece was the ‘Gatling Gun’ — a spectacular replica gun which threw a 30’ propane flame straight into the house and over the heads of the astonished audience.

    Adams recalls his first meeting with Rick Wilson at the Fireworks Symposium. “I was starting Rush and got approached to do Pink Floyd in late 1993. I had to come over to the UK for a production meeting and he picked me up and I stayed at his house.”

    Adams took one look at the Wilson country pile and thought, “gee, the pyro business is good in the UK.” Sadly it wasn’t that good for Adams, he never landed that Floyd  tour — The Division Bell — which instead went to Pyro Spectaculars.

    Pyro also formed an essential ingredient in Mark Fisher’s extravagant stage sets for Pink Floyd, the crashing Stuka on The Wall was but one memorable effect. Another former fireworks guru, Wilf Scott, also became much sought after among the elite, and worked on Floyd’s Momentary Lapse Of Reason 1987-89 tour as well as with the Stones, Tina Turner and many more.

    “It was his creativity that was outstanding,” praises Rick Wilson. “He could create vistas and concepts that no one else could do.” His counterpart in the States was probably Pyro Pete, whom I met at Wembley in June 1992 with Guns N’Roses.

    Anecdotally, the pyro industry also harboured two of the funniest men on the planet. Today, Pyro Pete has found a whole new career as a stand-up comedian, delivering what is described as “trailer trash in flip-flops”. In the UK, Mick McManus is generally considered to be the funniest man who ever worked in the industry. 

PYRO-TASTIC
Back at the coal face, pyro wasn’t only the province of the metal brigade. When I interviewed Rick Wilson back in 1986, he alerted me to former CBGBs punk band The Plasmatics — another of Martin Blake’s triumphs.   

    Led by Wendy O. Williams, their party piece included shredding cars or demolishing guitars with chainsaws. Williams went so far as to blow up a car on the stage of the New York Palladium (as well as on TV’s Tom Snyder Show), before bringing her life to a true rock’n’roll end in 1998 with a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

    But we’ll end part one by reprising arguably the most pyro-tastic rock event of all time (courtesy of Doug Adams’ Pyrotek) — the famous ‘destruction’ scene for Metallica’s Load tour of 1997, containing a minute and half of pure and devastating pyro magic.

    “The request came from Metallica’s manager and it was the oddest request ever,” Adams says. “He wanted [the stage set] to look like everything was destroyed and burnt to destruction.”

    Giving full rein to his filmic background he produced a scene that combined Dante’s ‘Inferno’ with The Last Days Of Pompeii to produce the same profound effect on audiences as Orson Welles’ War Of The Worlds.

    Here’s what happened. Towards the end of the song, ‘Enter Sandman’, the stage set started to tumble down, the lights went out on the truss and Adams set light to one of the technicians (who was dressed in a fire suit).

    “The guys running the follow spots fell out of their cages on static lines and stopped inches from the ground. Everything was falling down around the band, but they were precisely taped for exact standing positions. Fire marshalls were running around the stage, people were frantically making 911 calls and we even hired paramedics to run on stage to complete the illusion.”

    Unbelievably, after this holocaust, the band returned with small amps and just held lightbulbs over them to finish the set, lo-fi style (although the smoke still hadn’t cleared). If you don’t believe it, check the Cunning Stunts DVD from 1998.

    It made a bit of volcanic ash raining down on planet look like small beer.
TPi