Keeping Bangs From Turning Into Whimpers

The ad man behind the Los Angeles City Fire Department’s anti-fireworks advertising campaign is a lot like his message.

He’s not flashy or flamboyant. He doesn’t have to be. He just has to make his point.

“I know there will be dozens of people who will be hurt on the Fourth,” said Larry Londre, 46. “People think fireworks are cute and funny, but there are people who lose their eyesight and fingers. Fireworks are not cool.”

Londre first recognized that fact when he and his wife took a walk through their Northridge neighborhood a few days before the Fourth of July in 1984. He saw kids shooting bottle rockets that landed on roofs. He knew they could start a fire, and he angrily realized that it could happen to his roof one day.

Two days later, he dashed off a letter to then-Mayor Tom Bradley, volunteering to create and produce an anti-fireworks ad campaign. At the time, he was working for Abert, Newhoff and Burr, a Century City agency. Londre then met with city fire officials, and started to solicit support from his friends in the ad business.

The campaign began, and has been going each of the 11 July Fourth holidays since. There have been six different anti-fireworks ad slogans. This year’s is as simple as the rest. It features the single, red-lettered word “FLAMMABLE” plastered across a young child. A previous ad showed a little girl with eyes swathed in mummy-like bandages. The caption read: “Fireworks create memories that last a lifetime.”

“Kids are the ones who are hurt the most from fireworks,” Londre said. “We’re appealing to kids, and we’re also appealing to teen-agers and parents.”

The appeal has worked, according to the Fire Department: In 1981, there were more than 500 fireworks-related incidents and $2 million in property damage in the city on the Fourth of July; last year, there were just 53 accidents, and about $62,000 in property damage.

“We’re educating the public,” said Battalion Chief Rick Garcia, “and he’s been a big part of it.”

Garcia also appreciates the ad’s bluntness: “You need to get their attention, and a strong ad like that gets their attention.”

Maybe so, but Londre is far from satisfied. “If one kid gets hurt, that’s too many. It’s nice to be involved, but we still have a big problem.”

He suggests that perhaps authorities should be more aggressive in enforcing the ban on all fireworks, which, apart from public displays, have been illegal in the city of Los Angeles since 1942. “Why have laws that aren’t going to be adhered to?” he asks.

But moments later, Londre becomes leery of his own zeal; the last thing he wants to do is sound like Big Brother. He doesn’t want people to think he’s in favor of police trying to round up every kid that plays with fireworks. He looks forward to the Fourth of July. He believes people should feel free to celebrate their nation’s birthday. Go watch the fireworks, he says. Just watch them in safe public displays.

“I want people to have a good time,” he says, “but I want people to be safe.”

So cautious is he about the message he puts out, that he doesn’t want to talk about the days when he was a kid and played with firecrackers. He admits he did, but won’t go into details. “I don’t want to encourage people,” he said. “I think it glorifies it.”

Furthermore, don’t expect to find him at any huge public celebrations. He’ll most likely be sticking close to his house in Studio City. Londre doesn’t want to take any chances.

“I’m worried about irony,” he said. “After everything, I have this feeling that I’d be gone and my house would go on fire.”

Londre has another life. For the last 15 years, he has taught advertising once a week at USC. He and his wife, Patti, also run a marketing and public relations agency in Los Angeles.

Yet, he estimates that he spends several dozen hours each year working on the anti-fireworks campaign. The general pattern has been to run the same campaign for two consecutive years. It’s more cost-effective that way, and it gets the point across. Then, he’ll create a new one to raise awareness again. His ads usually start in late May, and appear more regularly as the holiday approaches.

In just over a decade, Londre said about 200 people have volunteered their time and expertise to the campaigns. For the last six years, the ads have been designed by Fattal & Collins of Marina del Rey. He has persuaded printers, local radio and television stations, photographers and billboard companies to help get the word out.

Ask him why he puts so much effort into the campaign each year, and you won’t get a very compelling answer. He won’t refer to some horrible incident that he saw as a youngster. He won’t mention a desire to protect his own kids--he doesn’t have children.

Londre will just talk about the unnecessary injuries that occur on every Fourth of July. It’s as simple as that.

Just like the ads.