The night was warm, but precipitation threatened, as 100,000 people crammed onto Lemon Hill and other Fairmount Park points to watch Fourth of July fireworks. “People of every garb, grade, and hue” thronged together, occupying all available spots in order to witness “what promised to be the greatest spectacle of pyrotechnics that this continent has ever beheld.” Ultimately the crowds were not to be disappointed, as the rain held off and the sky filled instead with rockets, sparkles, and imagery steeped in Americana: portraits of Washington and Lincoln, the Liberty Bell, and a great temple honoring each of the United States of America.

150 years from now, perhaps an account of Philadelphia’s celebration of the nation’s semiquincentennial this year, will read something familiar. If it does, it will be an echo of an echo. The above description of Independence Day festivities hails from July 5, 1876 when the Philadelphia Inquirer reported on centennial celebrations of the night before.

In so many ways the account sounds similar to the Benjamin Franklin Parkway celebrations of modern times. Poetically, the night of 1876 also spoke to fireworks’ ability to help bring together a fractured nation, at least for one evening. Among the symbols ignited in the sky that night, the newspaper reported, was a “conjunction of the North Star and the Southern Cross, emblematic of the reconstructed Union. A lesson of fraternal love that was beautiful and impressive.”

But, wait. 150 years ago could fireworks really produce iconography as complex as Lincoln’s complicated face and the Liberty Bell? Was it really true that, in 1876, a “Professor Jackson,” the organizer of the show according to the Inquirer, was able to conjure up, which the newspaper described as the “greatest spectacle of fireworks” ever seen? “It was a great temple, allegorical of the rise and progress of our great country, presented in one extended view of fifty-four by one hundred and twelve feet,” the article retold. “The central figure was a cluster of thirteen columns, emblematic of the thirteen original states of the union, the name of each state appearing on the base of the columns.”

Something doesn’t add up. Fortunately, Jesse Smith was able to square things. A curator and museum director at Science History Institute, Smith and co-curator Nadia Berenstein this spring launched the exhibition Flash, Bang, Boom!, which traces the science of fireworks from their black powder origins in ancient China to the cutting edge drone displays of today.

The answer to the riddle of 1876, Smith said, is something called a “set piece,” essentially an old-timey pyrotechnic display that involved igniting flammable materials attached to a grounded structure. The variety of set pieces was as wide as their creators’ imaginations, from something as basic to a pinwheel propelled by sparklers to elaborate, towering images of a person’s fiery portrait or an ornate building.

Prior to the mid-20th century, such set pieces were popular and often deployed alongside airborne fireworks. The institute’s exhibit includes a large image of one made in the likeness of President Lyndon Baines Johnson that was displayed at the 1964 Democratic National Convention in Atlantic City. However, set pieces ultimately fell out of favor.

All of this begs the question: How have Philadelphians celebrated the Fourth of July throughout the nation’s history? Here is an abridged history.

1777: A Thirteen Cannon Salute and Hessians Made to Beat the Band

Infamously, Founding Father John Adams wrote in a letter to his wife Abigail that July 2–the day that the Continental Congress voted for independence in 1776–would go down as the one worth celebrating with “with Pomp and Parade…Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this continent to the other from this Time forward forever more.”

The prediction lasted only a year. In the July 5, 1777 edition of the Pennsylvania Evening Post, the day prior was already referred to as the “Anniversary of the Independence” of the United States, having marked one year since Congress approved the actual written copy of the Declaration of Independence. On that first Fourth of July anniversary, Philadelphians indeed did celebrate. Hostilities with Great Britain were already in full swing. The battles of Lexington and Concord were fought more than two years prior in April 1775. By the nation’s first official birthday, General George Washington had already made his daring crossing of the Delaware River to attack a Hessian garrison at Trenton and wage “10 crucial days” of battle. On the following Fourth of July in Philadelphia, the spoils were on display. “The Hessian band of music, taken in Trenton the 26th of December last, attended and heightened the festivity with some fine performances suited to the joyous occasion,” the Evening Post reported.

Philadelphia was a much smaller city at that time, with a population of little more than 30,000 oriented along the Delaware River. It was in the river that at 1 p.m., 13 armed American ships lined up, decorated with the colors of the new nation, and discharged their cannons in celebration. Later, high-level political and military leaders gathered for a feast, entertained by the Hessian band and also a corps of British army defectors, who lined up to fire their muskets in a “feu de joie.”

“After dinner, a number of toasts were drank, all breathing independence, and a generous love of liberty, and commemorating the memories of those brave and worthy patriots who gallantly exposed their lives, and fell gloriously in defense of freedom and the righteous cause of their country,” the newspaper reported, adding that each toast was followed by further discharges of weapons and music from the Hessians.

In the streets, Philadelphians also engaged in celebratory gunfire and “huzzas.” A collection of soldiers gathered for a review on Second Street. At nightfall, bells rang throughout the city, followed, of course, by the first ever edition of Independence Day fireworks, a “grand exhibition” that concluded with thirteen rockets that “beautifully illuminated the city,” the newspaper retold.

“Thus, may the Fourth of July, that glorious and ever memorable day, be celebrated through America, by the sons of freedom, from age to age till time shall be no more. Amen, and amen,” the Evening Post concluded.

Revolution to Evolution

According to Berenstein, a science historian, modern fireworks are remarkably similar to those fired even centuries ago. Much of the underlying chemistry remains the same, and the construction of airborne fireworks requires customization, as well as the dexterity of human hands, largely resisting mechanical automation that now produces so many other modern consumer products.

Typically, a firework shell contains a central explosive propellant connected to an external fuse, which is encased in additional layers of incendiary material carefully arranged to fire and explode in a manner that creates the desired aerial design. In other words, bisect a firework shell, and you’ll find an arrangement of small black powder balls (called “stars”) in the exact same shape as the explored firework later seen in the sky.

Of course, there has been some evolution over time. Berenstein said the story begins in China in the 9th century AD, when monks discovered the explosive nature of black powder (saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal) during a quest to create a health elixir. The discovery quickly made its way into military and celebratory applications as rudimentary rockets and fireworks.

“Putting it in a confined space, think bamboo, that then generates a loud bang,” explained Berenstein. “Or putting pyrotechnic fountains and devices on a suit of armor. Just imagine a guy coming at you at night, with, like, flames shooting out of his shield.”

As the technology spread west, Europeans then took things to another level, primarily by applying metallurgic knowledge to create the first firearms. The Catholic Church also took up the use of fireworks as a part of religious celebrations, and it was the Italians who became continental leaders in firework productions.

When immigrants from Italy began to arrive en masse in the United States at the turn of the 20th century, including to Pennsylvania, they brought with them bigger and better rockets than were previously available on the continent, essentially the progenitors of what are seen in firework shows today. Their immigration coincidentally aligned with an increased interest in celebrating the Fourth of July after the Civil War, kicking off a rapid expansion of the domestic commercial firework industry. However, the introduction of beautiful, Italian-designed aerial rockets also led to a reduced interest in the earthbound-set pieces like the kind that wowed The Inquirer during 1876 celebrations. “There was a desire for bigger and bigger shows. It’s almost a kind of fireworks race,” said Smith. “At the same time, you’re really limited in the number of people who can see [a set piece]. You can sit on Belmont plateau and see fireworks, but you can’t really see ground effects.”

Exploding Casualties

By the early 20th century, the American fireworks craze began to get a bit out of hand. The industry had shifted from supplying products primarily to professionals, and, instead, toward everyday consumers. America was about to gain an understanding of why booze, bombs, and rambunctious boys typically don’t mix.

A July 6, 1909 edition of The Inquirer included an article titled “Fireworks Claim Annual Tribute from Patriots” and counted casualties by the hundreds: 257 Philadelphians harmed by gunpowder, 139 by fireworks, 29 by toy pistols, 12 by cannon, 12 by firearm, 5 by bombs, and 1 by “torpedo.”

A torpedo? Rather than the cigar-shaped projectile launched via submarine, Smith said it was likely one of the many varieties of consumer-grade fireworks used at the time. Indeed, an old wooden crate within the Flash, Bang, Boom! exhibit contains the word “torpedos” on the side along with labeling identifying the “New Jersey Fireworks Manufacturing Co.” of Vineland, New Jersey.

Smith said his research found Vineland was historically a hotbed of firework production, quite likely due to its history of Italian immigration. Online auctions of antique toys appear to indicate that torpedoes were a form of hand-thrown firecracker produced in Vineland in the early 20th century.

Eventually, Independence Day casualty counts became too much for public officials to abide. Littered throughout the first 50 years of the 20th century are newspaper reports detailing horrible injuries and deaths. In 1909 alone, three boys were hospitalized in serious condition after they placed their faces over a large cannon, whose black powder charge prematurely misfired. Elsewhere, a 14-year-old boy had his arm amputated by cannon fire, and a six-year-old girl whose dress caught fire would “probably die” from subsequent burns across her body, the newspaper reported. And the list went on. “Many lose fingers, several are shot,” read a sub-headline from the edition, which added the vast casualty count was extreme “despite the fact that the city’s celebration was one of the quietest in years.”

By 1938, news reports detailed how state lawmakers were being “urged to ban [the] sale of fireworks.” Indeed, an article in the July 6 edition of The Inquirer said an editorial in the paper calling for regulation was the first of its kind and would be “Exhibit A” before a Pennsylvania General Assembly hearing the following year. Already, the sale of fireworks was banned in Philadelphia, but copious amounts of bootlegged materials were entering from suburban communities such as Media, Clifton Heights, Marple, and Newtown Square. Berenstein said the regulatory action fit with a larger national trend taking place at the time. “Around the turn of the 20th century, there is a kind of alliance between the American Medical Association and progressive women’s groups. It’s in the name of child safety. They’re trying to ban the sales of commercial fireworks,” she explained.

Interestingly, the development of tetanus inoculation during the same time period also helped reduce deaths and injuries, as shrapnel from hand-held fireworks would carry dirt from the ground and act as a vector for bacteria to enter the human body.

Smith noted that in modern times many states have moved to deregulate fireworks, such as a 2022 Pennsylvania law that allows consumers to now purchase “Class C” varieties such as roman candles, firecrackers, bottle rockets, and artillery shells.

“When I was a kid growing up in the 1980s, you’d have to go to a far-flung state to get fireworks,” said Smith. “Now, with the exception of Massachusetts, every state allows some kind of fireworks. That’s been the success of the industry: self-regulating and creating new safety standards.” This all appears to set the stage for perhaps what will indeed be Philadelphia’s largest ever pyrotechnics celebrations on this Fourth of July, with a combination of modern aerials, old-time set pieces, and recently unbridled consumer-grade fireworks all on display.

Happy 250 and party safely, Philadelphians.

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