Dynamite Lady Expects Every Show To Bomb

Allison Bly blew into Spokane Friday.

The petite brunette fixed up her hair. She put on some makeup. The skimpy, red-white-and-blue jumpsuit she slithered into was strategically designed to show off Bly’s patriotism as well as some pretty explosive cleavage.

In the center of the Spokane Veterans Arena, the 36-year-old Tampa, Fla., woman squeezed into a 4-foot box and attempted to blast herself to smithereens.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

KER-BLAAAM!

Another day at the office for America’s Dynamite Lady.

For the past 13 years, Bly has roamed the world repeating her chest-thumping stunt. She is thought to be the only woman pursuing this bizarre profession. Drag races. County fairs. Motorized thrill shows. She’s done ‘em all, raking in about $2,000 per blast.

The famed Guinness records crew recently dubbed Bly the planet’s most blown-up female. And this afternoon at the Hot Rod Monster (truck) Jam in the Arena, Spokane will get one last chance to see the Dynamite Lady try not to come apart at the seams.

Don’t blink. The 2 p.m. show marks Bly’s 1,124th attempt.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

Flash back to Friday afternoon. Hours before show time, Bly sits on a couch in the lobby of Cavanaugh’s Inn at the Park and explains how a nice girl like her endures such a dangerous racket.

“Let’s see, I’ve broken both feet and both hands. I chipped an elbow and caught on fire. I’ve been knocked out …”

Here’s the thing. Being Dynamite Lady is not some phony smoke-and-mirrors deal, like picking the right card or conning the Senate into letting you stay president. What Bly does is a mixture of art and verrry careful science.

After Bly squeezes inside the box, she has but a few seconds to precisely position her body a scant 18 inches away from the explosive charge. A crash helmet protects her ears from the noise.

Load too big of a bomb and, well, it’s Bly Bly Birdie. “There’s no margin for error,” she says. “Whatever you have sticking out is in trouble.”

Bly became an expert on the Big Bang Theory on a whim. After leaving the Army, she worked in a health club and did a bit of modeling. Then one day she happened to read a newspaper ad placed by a man looking for a stunt woman.

He was Jim Lawrence, a throwback promoter who runs a stable of human cannonballs, human torches and guys who ram cars into walls. Sort of a Col. Parker of the Freak Circuit.

Lawrence was in a jam. His last Lady Dynamite, a university student, up and quit after only a few years of following the fuse. Little did he know that the 5-foot-4 Bly would cleave to this job as if it were a life’s mission.

“Allison is the best I’ve ever seen at doing that stunt,” Lawrence says in a telephone interview. The agent confirms that he takes 25 percent of everything Bly makes. It sounds like a lot, especially considering that Lawrence isn’t the one getting his gong rung night after night. “I prefer to watch,” he says.

Not Bly. She is a throwback to the era of barnstorming vaudevillians - jugglers, contortionists, knife-throwers - who roamed the country with acts guaranteed to leave ticket-buying goobers gap-jawed with amazement.

Lawrence says the Dynamite Lady stunt dates back to 1946, when an Alabama woman named Carol Floyd was talked into a box rigged by her manager with explosives. A few too many explosives.

The subsequent concussion KO’d Floyd like a George Foreman uppercut. By the time her manager arrived at her side, Floyd had recovered enough to stand up and throw her own punch squarely into the man’s nose, knocking him flat.

Floyd threatened further mayhem if he didn’t get it right. He got it right.

Since then there have always been dynamite daredevils around to raise the gooseflesh on the back of our necks. One geezer who calls himself Captain Dynamite is so ancient that his helpers must roll him to the explosive box in a wheelchair, Lawrence says.

“People love noise. They love fire. They love smoke,” Bly says.

We sure do. But even Bly has her limits. She is beginning to think about settling down with her pilot husband and raising a family. “I’m not going to be selfish and drag a kid around with me,” she says. “I want the log house in the country.”

Does Bly really want to procreate not detonate? Will she leave this madness with all her fingers and toes? Or like the song says, is there really no business like blow business?

“I always liked being a ham,” says America’s one and only Dynamite Lady. “I just never intended it to be smoked ham.”