Let’s begin with the assumption that you know nothing about the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society. The first part is Howard Phillips Lovecraft, author of numerous macabre tales. If you don’t recognize the name, then let’s call him a cult figure of some talent who influenced others. If you do recognize the name, then you either A) read all his stuff incessantly no matter how obscure; B) find his writing a wee bit ponderous, but grant him some credit for accomplishing this or that; or C) you recall an acid rock band that swiped his name. The “Historical Society” portion of their name bears no resemblance to the historical societies which dot the small town landscape. The term signifies an interest in the past. The curious thing is how this interest manifests.

The members of the HPLHS like to live-action role play, (imagine Dungeons and Dragons without the table). Games like Vampire: the Masquerade and Killer have been encouraging players to move beyond dice rolling, but these people have clearly moved on to a whole different level. They have traveled to Great Sand Dunes National Monument in southern Colorado and the British Museum in London. They usually portray 1920’s-era Lovecraftian versions of Mulder and Scully faced with the best that their imaginations can throw at them. The individuals who design these investigations utilize Hollywood-style props and surprise guests. They simulate combat and camp together (you decide which is the more dangerous).

All right- it does sound like a murder mystery weekend gone haywire, but they have been at it for over twenty years. Hundreds of people have participated. Maybe I’m a little too susceptible, but it has top be quite a bit better than watching more CSI or Law & Order. Did I mention that their motto is “Ludo Fore Putavimus” (“We thought it would be fun”)?

December, 2006

It is just possible that the Beatles might not be the coolest thing about Liverpool, England. Certainly, they are not the only cool thing, though I suspect your list might run dreadfully short after the Beatles and… Gerry and the Pacemakers. Don’t feel bad- few Liverpudlians could come up with a long list of cool stuff about Rochester. Sure, Liverpool is doubtless a lovely place in a post-industrial way. But now you can take the high road and add the Williamson Tunnels. That’s right- Liverpool is swiss-cheesed with man-made tunnels.

Joseph Williamson, a co-founder of Leigh & Williamson, made a lot of money for himself around the beginning of the 19th century. He started building in the Edge Hill District: houses, gardens, and tunnels. Then, he kept digging tunnels. Some of which were huge as banqueting halls. Some dead-end. Some are beautifully finished with stone work. Not being the record-keeping type, no one really knows what Williamson was thinking, but the most popular theory is that he was providing unskilled work to soldiers freshly returned from the Napoleonic Wars. Suggestions of more unsavory pursuits are less likely when considered against the fact that the tunnels were never made secret. No one ever liked using them, however. By the 1990’s, virtually all the excavations were filled with trash and debris.

Nowadays, when you make your pilgrimage to the Cavern Club to see the place where the Beatles got their start, you can spend spare time touring some re-opened passageways, courtesy of the Friends of Williamson’s Tunnels. And while you’re standing there in the Cavern Club, soaking up the atmosphere, you can lean over to a companion and say, “You know, this used to be an air raid shelter. And before that, it was a man-made cavern…”

February, 2007

This fireworks factory sat up the road from my high school about a mile. A series of red wood shingled buildings scattered across the property. Upper classmen reveled in describing how the buildings housed small crews who assembled the various products. The layout was in case something went wrong- then only the crew was blown up, not everyone else. I always wondered why the buildings looked so well-maintained since they seemed intended for self-destruction.

Apocryphally, some cook somewhere two thousand years ago mixed saltpeter, sulphur, and charcoal and exploded something for dinner. Experiments over the succeeding centuries revealed that color could be incorporated into the explosions: copper salts make blue; sodium salts make yellow; barium salts make green; etc. Moreover, titanium adds excellent sparks and zinc produces smoke clouds.

The center of world fireworks fabrication remains the Hunan province in China. Firecrackers emerged in the region a thousand years ago as a method for scaring away evil spirits. European traders and crusaders brought the technology home where pyrotechnics became a centerpiece of public celebrations.

Shortly before my high school matriculation, President Nixon normalized trade with China; American makers visited for the first time in the modern era. Still, that factory loomed just up the road, a potentially tantalizing spectacle in the mind of a teen-ager. We received news only sporadically, so we were doubtless unaware that the fireworks industry was migrating out of our little hamlet even then.

Early in 2005, the United States Department of Justice Office of Consumer Litigation sent letters to fireworks hobbyists throughout the country, notifying the recipients that they were under scrutiny for having their names on invoices at various fireworks outlets.

I remember riding in a friend’s car one spring Saturday as we passed the fireworks manufacturer. One little red building near the road was a shambles.

December, 2005