(L-R) Eric Salen, Marcus Mazzuca, John O'Sullivan and Brendan Ebling show their fingers (to prove that none of them have been blown off) at the Seltzer Fireworks Show. PHOTOS COURTESY OF MARCUS MAZZUCA
Originally published in the Pottsville Republican-Herald on June 25, 2021.
Marcus Mazzuca was born in Pottsville on the Fourth of July, 1984. Every year on his birthday, when the fireworks went off, his parents told him that they were all for him. In young Mazzuca’s mind, his birthday and the birthday of the United States of America were forever linked. He began setting off his own fireworks when he was 13, and in July 2002, his friend’s dad asked him, “Do you wanna shoot off some fireworks?” It was America’s first birthday after the September 11 attacks. Mazzuca remembers it as a great year for fireworks.
“Everyone was proud to be an American,” he remembered. “It was a big fireworks year. It seemed like everyone, everyone, had them. It was kind of like being a little kid again, that everyone was having fireworks on my birthday.”
Mazzuca’s friend’s dad lived in the small town of Seltzer, and the two men lit up the town baseball field in celebration of their country. Every Fourth of July since, Mazzuca has provided explosive entertainment in Seltzer. This year, Mazzuca and his fiancé, Kristen Walters, are planning the first-ever Seltzer Festival. The July 3 festival will include a car show, food, entertainment, vendors, and, of course, a fireworks show that Mazzuca promises will be the biggest he’s ever made. Mazzuca and Walters will marry on June 26 - and yes, there will be fireworks.
“We’re planning a wedding and a festival at the same time, so it’s a little hectic,” Walters said.
Permits and insurance for the fireworks and festival are expensive, not to mention the cost of the fireworks themselves.
“I’ve basically been doing all of the groundwork for it,” she said. “We’ve gone from business to business to business asking for sponsors. With COVID and businesses getting hit, it’s been quite a rough patch to find sponsors. Donations are very far and few, but the ones we got, we appreciate.”
Fireworks are not only Mazzuca’s preferred way to show patriotism, but are his preferred form of artistic expression.
“It’s something that everyone seems to get around to watch and enjoy,” he said. “I can’t really play any instruments or do anything like that, so I feel like a rockstar doing it. It’s a feeling like no other, that rush of setting something off that has great power.”
The fireworks also help Mazzuca cope with his post-traumatic stress disorder, which was first diagnosed in 2019 but has haunted him for almost a decade.
“They were a way for me to kind of vent any anger or any problems that I had,” he said. “When I would go out there on the field, I was there to do a show, to make sure I keep my focus. Everything else didn’t matter.”
The 2020 Seltzer Fireworks Show.
Mazzuca loved his country so much that he enlisted in the Navy in 2010. He needed some structure in his life. He was one of the oldest people in boot camp, and his fellow cadets did not expect much from him. He was determined to prove them wrong. In the Navy, he was an aviation electrician. AEs are known as “aviation everythings” because they must know everything about the inner workings of planes and helicopters. One morning, Mazzuca woke up with a sore neck and went to the doctor. The doctor recommended that Mazzuca rest for 24 hours, and to come back if his condition did not change. The next day, Mazzuca went to work in pain. Assigned to fix a helicopter rotor head, he climbed the ladder with his left hand and a five-gallon bucket of grease in his right. Reaching the next rung, he felt his neck pop and lost feeling in his fingers. His superiors wouldn’t let him go to the doctor until he finished the job. When he finally went, the doctors found damage in his neck and put him in a sling for three months. Unable to do his duties, he was released from the Navy in 2012. At his final checkup, the doctors told him that there had been a mistake - he only needed the sling for two weeks.
“I got made fun of a lot for being in the sling that long,” he said. “Just following orders. Afterwards, my arm is kind of chicken-winged. I didn’t like how they can hold your health hostage like that.”
In 2014, Mazzuca began experiencing insomnia, suicidal thoughts and a lack of interest in life. He traces these symptoms back to the humiliation he experienced in the Navy, but says he would do it again.
“If I had the knowledge that I do now, I would tell myself to be a little more careful,” he said. “There are some orders you don’t have to take.”
He entrenched himself in alcohol and fireworks. The fireworks turned out to be more helpful.
“I have to block all the bad out and just design a show that makes everyone smile, laugh and cheer,” he said. “I don’t need alcohol or anything. I can’t draw or anything, but to me this is an art in itself.”
Timing is everything in a fireworks display, and you can’t perfectly time one when you’re drunk. In the fireworks community there’s a name for what happens when too many fireworks go off at once, preventing each one’s colors from shining individually: “sky puke.”
In 2018, Mazzuca met Walters on karaoke night at a bar in St. Clair. He sang “My Girl” to her, and soon they were in love.
“I grew fond of him very quickly,” Walters said. “Both of us had pretty rough past relationships. It’s been a rocky road, but I’m very proud of how far he’s come since we’ve been together.”
“She’s been my rock,” Mazzuca said. “She helps me be more self-aware when I’m having problems. Sometimes when I don’t see it, she does.”
As they worked together on the annual fireworks shows, they grew closer and closer.
“I found out that he loved to do the fireworks show and I started helping him,” Walters said. “I’ve learned that it is an art. We watch videos and videos and videos of all the fireworks he wants to do each year.”
“She has been there to push me, keep it safe and make it the best,” Mazzuca said.
They now have their own business, Mazzuca Pyrotechnics, which provides their services to weddings, gender reveals and other events. The two are so excited about it that they finish each other’s sentences.
“We figured we’d-”
“Try to corner the market on that-”
“And bring joy to people.”
In 2019, Walters was pregnant with twins. Her Fallopian tube ruptured, causing severe internal bleeding. She lost both babies and almost died herself.
“I have PTSD and really bad anxiety from what happened,” she said. “They tried medicine with me and everything, and I just became a zombie. I couldn’t function at work. [Fireworks] kept my mind off of it.”
With all of this in mind, Walters wants the Seltzer Festival to be an opportunity to celebrate - to celebrate life, community, small businesses and a country beginning its recovery from a pandemic. She and Mazzuca were expecting fewer than 50 people to come to last year’s fireworks show. Over 300 people came, a crowd about the size of Seltzer’s entire population. This year, Coalcracker Pyro will help with the fireworks. Behind the scenes, Anne Shollemberger of Morgan & Halcovage Insurance in Minersville has provided support.
“She’s been an angel,” Walters said. “She’s worked with us so much.”
The show, like the ones before it, is dedicated to Mazzuca’s father, his cousin Victor and his friend Scott Rodosky, an Army veteran who volunteered at past shows and committed suicide in 2018.
“I think there might’ve been some experiences that could have triggered it,” Mazzuca said. “It was just out of nowhere. We were with them an hour prior, there were no signs, and that’s the scary part about it.”
Mazzuca’s time in the Navy made him distrust some aspects of the U.S. Military, but he will never stop celebrating the Fourth of July.
“I love the red white and blue,” he said. “I have clothing with it on. I love America. It may have its problems but it’s gonna be here to last forever.”
The Seltzer Festival will last all-day July 3 at 532 Seltzer Road. The car show is from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. and the fireworks are at 9 p.m.