'Dynamite Jack' Happy in Retirement
Published: Friday, May 21, 2021
One might say that Jack and Norma Shriver have lived a charmed life. For many years, the retired couple operated a unique side business to their Miami County crop and dairy farm. Whenever someone in their area needed to clear land or remove a large concrete object, they turned to "Dynamite Jack."
Over the course of two decades, he and Norma, who worked as his assistant, removed countless trees, blew up stubborn boulders and tore down silos, to name just a few of the jobs they were asked to take on.
There were some close calls, but Jack never got hurt and can still count all 10 fingers on both hands.
The family's penchant for dynamiting started with Norma's father, Albert B. Smith. Norma said she grew up helping him take out stumps, rocks and other large objects. Her earliest memory is when she was 9 years old.
"I can remember as a kid we cleared a woods on (S.R.) 14 just east of (S.R.) 13, within that first mile on the north side of the road," she said. "And he (Albert) made signs, so Mother and I stood out on the road (to alert motorists). When he'd get ready, he'd do pot-shots and then he'd get ready to blow. Some people stopped and some people—he'd wait so long—and if they kept going, he'd just set one off. But he was ornery. He liked to set a little half-stick charge. He'd see a semi coming down the road and they'd stop and think they had a blow-out. I don't think you could do that nowadays. I remember clearing that woods and a lot of different places."
Jack and Norma have known each other for 70 years and have been married for 66 of those years. They have three children, all graduates of North Miami High School, as well as seven grandchildren and 21 great-grandchildren—with one more on the way.
In addition to helping on the farm, Norma found herself shuttling loads of dynamite to customers. Norma also held several off-farm jobs and sewed many quilts and wedding dresses.
Though her pace has slowed down considerably since suffering a stroke three years ago, Norma has lots of memories of "a country life" spent raising children and working with her husband.
When Jack exchanged wedding vows with Norma, he essentially married into the blasting profession. He worked with Albert, known as "Dynamite Smitty," and learned the tricks of the trade from him. He also farmed with his father-in-law.
Together, they used dynamite to clear land and remove large objects. For Shriver, it turned out to be a "booming" business.
"Albert and I tore down a lot of silos," he said. "We just put a line of dynamite right around (the silo) ... put one cap in it, knocked the bottom out and put it right where we wanted. It's about like falling a tree down."
Albert died in a pipeline accident, though dynamite wasn't involved.
Jack started farming at age 13, working for his father on a 200-acre spread in Fulton County. The young Shriver farmed with horses and helped his father run a thrashing ring. As a young man, he also worked for three other farmers before getting drafted into the U.S. Army during the Korean Conflict, where he was a tank commander.
When he was released from military service, he returned to the area to get married and start a family. He milked cows for 20 years and is proud of several milk quality awards he earned.
But his best memories come from a line of work which he refers to as "dynamiting."
Jack said he never bothered to name his side business. People in need of a blasting service, or who wanted to buy dynamite, usually asked around and were told about a man named "Dynamite Jack."
"I was the only one that did dynamite, besides Albert," he said.
"We were mainly into selling it, but there was always somebody that didn't want to use it and wanted to have you come and do it," he said.
One of his biggest jobs involved blasting limestone to make room for construction of cement silos along U.S. 24, west of Logansport. A deep hole was needed to place the anchors. He and Albert laid down several 150-foot rows of electric caps and detonated them in alternating fashion. The explosions created piles of rock that were then scooped from the site.
He also blasted old bridge foundations and cleared land for farming.
According to Shriver, dynamite sticks aren't dangerous until the caps are attached. Each cap holds a 3-inch-long fuse, giving the person three minutes to find cover. Shriver said he and two partners once lit 200 charges, lighting each one with matches.
On one occasion, he used dynamite to unearth a 6-by-6-foot boulder from a farm field. He said he used nearly a case of dynamite to split it in half so it could be brought to the surface and hauled away.
Shriver remembers having difficulty convincing his insurance agent to provide coverage for his dynamite business. Eventually, he purchased a million dollars' worth of liability insurance, but he said it cost him "a pretty penny."
Jack decided to get out of the dynamiting business shortly after the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995. He maintained a dynamite shack at his property, but the act of domestic terrorism prompted the government to issue new restrictions on how explosives could be stored and who could use them.
"We had a dynamite shack that held 15 tons of dynamite that was on Albert's (property)," he said. "When he got killed, we moved the dynamite shack to my back forty. Then that (blasting) cap building was down here in the yard. When we went out of business, then that put a stop to that, or when the government started harassing us, really."
In retirement, Jack makes toy barns and does various woodworking projects.
Jack remembers one close call that happened on his last job, at a house along S.R. 114 near North Manchester. Debris from a blast went flying overhead and hit a pickup truck, struck the garage door and eventually landed in the property owner's flower bed.
He fixed the truck and garage door, but was thankful that no one was injured.
"It could have landed right in that house," he said. "I'll tell you, that done it for me."
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