Having a blast on the Fourth

The Fourth of July is a really big deal here in Whitefish. It's not just the beans, buns, boating and bombs that set people off — this is a resort town that basically promotes fireworks with an ordinance that allows sale and use within the city limits

It's also a town that grows by 2,000 people in the summer, increasing the potential for bombast.

Last year's City Beach fireworks show never happened. It sort of fizzled away, leaving private citizens with the honor and duty to light up the sky

This year, thanks to a last-ditch fundraising effort, a professional fireworks show returned to City Beach. The show must go on.

A $50,000-plus barge was purchased to replace the one jury-rigged out of materials scrounged from the City Beach bone yard, and a pyrotechnician was brought in from Polson.

The budget for Polson's Fourth of July display was around $12,000, but local fundraisers had their eyes set on something really big. All told, they were talking about raising $100,000.

In the days leading up to the Fourth, the consensus at the Whitefish police station was that things were relatively quiet. A few residents had complained about fireworks, particularly along Whitefish Lake — one man offered to use his boat to transport police to a notorious launch site — but overall it was kind of peaceful. The dogs and cats like that.

City ordinance allows fireworks dealers to open up their plywood trailers to bomb enthusiasts from noon to 8 p.m. on July 2 through the Fourth. Anyone who can't wait to see a rocket's red glare can step across the city line and buy some goodies in the county.

But city ordinance prohibits the discharge of fireworks before July 2. In fact, the ordinance limits fireworks discharge to 11 a.m. through 10 p.m. on July 2-4.

And therein lies the recipe for conflict — how do you get the bomb-throwers to respect their neighbors (setting aside the fact that many pyro enthusiasts here are visitors and not exactly neighbors to begin with)?

Can you imagine the private fireworks displays coming to a screeching halt at 10 p.m. on the Fourth? Whistles and booms this year could be heard all across the town until 4:30 a.m. the next day.

The City Beach show was officially permitted as a public display. It began at 10:30 p.m. and was over 15 minutes later. If you looked down to put some mustard on your bratwurst, you might have missed half the show.

Not that there wasn't plenty of bombs rocketing off the city's new barge. They just set them off so fast it looked like Mulligan stew. At least in the beginning — halfway into the show, the pace slowed and watchers could catch their breath long enough to emit a few ooohs and aaahs.

When it was over, at least a thousand stunned viewers sat in their collapsible deck chairs and waited. They didn't know the show had ended. And while they waited, the private rocketeers around town and at mountainside villas went into action, filling the sky with red, white and blue.

It was way past the fireworks-curfew time, but you didn't see Whitefish's finest scrambling into action. They'd already had a long day dealing with grass fires and juveniles shooting fireworks from car windows (city ordinance penalizes parents or guardians when minors are caught with fireworks).

As dozens and dozens of watercraft maneuvered tow ard boat ramps and a thousand people on foot or bike migrated away from City Beach, their way was well lit by bombs bursting in air.

Evidence of how much fun everyone had was clearly visible the next day across town — spent cardboard mortar tubes, shreds and shards of exploded missiles, and the occasional plastic component, a copter-shaped buzz bomb or even a parachute or two.

And anywhere people had gathered to watch the show from afar — the viaduct, a low hill — was marked by a crushed soda or beer can and a fast food wrapper.

No doubt about it — a good time was had by all.