This is, much earlier; described by John Northern Hilliard in Greater Magic (1938). I48 EucBNn BUnGER is in place on the tabled portion. If it isn't, this portion is replaced and the deck needs to be cut by one or more additional people. This may sound a bit haphazard, but it isn't-lf you do this with cards that are stiffer (Bicycle and Aviator are perfect; softer cards such as Streamline do not hold the gaffwell and are not good for this effect). With stiffer cards, the cutting at the gaff by the spectator happens with awesome regularity. But, you might say, doesn't this mean that there is an intrinsic possibility of failure in this effect? At some time isn't the performer going to be stuck with the spectator just failing to cut at the gafP I haven't, yet, but I do see the point. What I will do, when (?) this happens is this.I will smile and ask the spectator to hand the deck to me.I will hold it poised for a One-Hand Cut. I willlook away, perhaps close my eyes, pause, and with one hand cut the deck. I will ask the spectator to take the deck from my hand (much more dramatic than just putting it on the table myself) and place it on the table. The spectator will then be instructed to spell his or her first name, dealing off the appropriate number of cards. The spectator then names the card and is told to turn it over. Not precisely the same effect, of course, but one which is also quite effective. When Maurice Fogel did his last American lecture tour, he included this effect.It interested me because I felt it exemplified the real<r, better, one of the real-problems encountered when per{orming mentalism, namely, how is one artfully to include the necessary degree of enor which must be present? As I see it, there must be error. Error is a necessary element in mentalism. Without error, one simply and very obviously is doing magic tricks. Isn't this fairly obvious? With error artfully placed, one has the possibility of making people's spines tingle. Fogel's effect interested me because I saw immediately how to include the necessary element of error: Rather than have all three prediction cards match perfectly, I would have one of them "almost" match. Late4 I developed an alternative ending which plays even better. "Here, mix the cards," I say to a lady. "Do you euer get psychic impressions?" (Here, you can sometimes get whole stories from spectators!) "I asked you that because you struck n1.e as a person who would sometimes get psychic impressions"-here I begin, first, with the technique of the direct question loaded with a buzz-word ("psychic impressions") and then, second, I work to dull her perceptions with compliments. Taking the pack of cards from the spectator, I continue, "Sometimes I receiue impressions, too, though I can neuer guarantee they will always be successful." I begin looking through the pack and then looking up at the spectator and back to the pack again. The impression is that I am trying to select certain cards for this person. Often I will ask one or two questions of the spectator while I am looking through the deck. "Do you haue a fauorite color?" and"May I ask the month in which you were born?" are my favorites. Fousl $ IIIRIU Proilioliol
INrruern PowER L49 What I am doing, in fact, is this: I note the top three cards of the deck and remove their mates (black Queens, red Fives, etc.) and place them face down on the table. There is plenty of time to frnd the cards-you're supposed to be trying to figure something out, perhaps making some mystic calculation, who knows? Actually, I remove two mates and one card that is the correct value but the incorrect color. nl'ue taken three cards here, I'm not sure that I'm conect. What I'd like you to do is to think of any number between ten and thirty. Do you haue one?" (A number below ten might gtve away the method; a number above thirty gets a little boring.) "Pick up the pack. You haue o number in mind. Deal thot number of cords, face down, from the top of the pack onto a pile right here." I point to where I want the cards dealt. As the spectator does this, I secretly count the number of cards dealt, thus discovering her number. I instruct the spectator to put the remainder of the cards left in her hand aside, for we are finished with them. I ask the spectator to, "pick up the cards that were dealt on the table ond deol one, face down, right here," I point , "and aruother right here," I point to a spot again about three inches to the left of the second card dealt. 'And then just deal out all the cards in your hand." I continue pointing to where I want the cards dealt until I am sure the spectator has the picture. This is cnrcial for smooth working. If the spectator gets confused, or if she needs to be corrected, attention will focus on the procedure-which is exactly what you don'f want. The procedure, if followed as stated, will bring the original top cards of the deck (the ones for which you found mates and a near-mate), first, to the bottom of the cards dealt on the table and, then, to the top of the three heaps in front of you. "You could haue selected any numben You selected the number 27 (It I don't make it obvious that I was counting the cards, this little revelation surprises many people.) That number generated three cards-a red Jack, a black Queen, and a red fiue." As I say this I am, of course, turning over the cards at the top of each of the three piles and naming them. What I have said is, needless to say, false. The spectator's number did not generate the top three cards. I opt, however, for the direct lie: "You could have selected any number. You selected the number 27 and that number generated three cards." If the spectator believes the lie, what is to follow is really inexplicable. In any event,I do not give the spectator an opportunity to reflect on what I have just said. I continue immediately with the statement,"Before I asked you euen to think of a number I put three cards ouer here: a red Jack, a black Queen, and here I thought it was going to be a black Fiue." The error of almost matching the last card is perfect. Most spectators
150 EucrNn BuncER seem to think that if the magician could do it successfully, he would do it successfully. The fact that he erred makes the whole presentation much more baffling to those spectators. The error gives the demonstration a ring of truth; it wasn't introduced as another card trick, but with a question about the spectator's psychic abilities-or lack of them. It might not even appear to be another card trick to the spectator because ofthe fact that the performer was not fully successful. Here is the alternative presentation which, I might add, requires a bit more acting ability. As I look for the mates of the secretly sighted top three cards of the pack, I first remove one and place it face down. Continuing to look at the spectator and, perhaps asking a question, I remove the second mate. I appear to be having considerable difficulty deciding what the third and last card should be. I partially remove two cards from the deck and appear to be tryrng to decide between them. Imagine the sighted card was a red Five. I partially remove the other red Five and a black Five. I just can't seem able to decide. "Here,I'll go with this one,'I say-putting the incorrect black Five face down on the table with the other two cards. Then, as an after-thought, I add, "I think I should haue taken this one." Sayrng this, I put the red Five offto my right side. At the end, when the cards are revealed, I am able to do this: "Before I asked you euen to think of a numben I put three cards ouer here: a red Jack, a black Queen, and here I thought it was going to be a black Fiue." I pick up the black Five and spin it down on the table-showing just a bit of disgust for my error. "I knew I should haue taken the red Fiue!" With this, I pick up the red Five which I had placed off to the right-and spin i/ onto the table. In this presentation, the error remains but the ending is more upbeat. The performer is wrong, but he was almost right!You see, it is a game of wits! 0u[ o[ Tlisll|orlil Paul Curry's remarkable effect, "Out of this World," has continued to fascinate close-up magicians for a very long time now. While hundreds of plots have come and gone, Curry's wonderful invention-the spectator separating the red cards from the black without looking, remains one that has a not-surprisingly strong impact upon spectators-especially upon the spectator assisting you. I remember the first time I saw the effect. It literally sent shivers down my spine. It was inexplicable. And the performer, Alex Berecz, was kind enough not to explain it to me that evening. I went home completely mystifred. Later, after I had read Curry's manuscript, I felt the effect had two weak points: frrst, the switch of the incorrect packets; and second, the reason given for starting over midway through the experiment. It is necessary, from the performer's viewpoint, to begin again if the effect is to work successfully. But, from the spectator's viewpoint, this starting over is itself completely mysterious.
INrruarp Powon 151 Alex had already solved the problem of the switch of the incorrect packets. The thing to be achieved with the switch, as I see it, is this: if the performer really were doing what he is claiming to do, wouldn't he simply turn the packets of cards over? He wouldn't make it complicated. He would simply turn them over. This is what Alex apparently did. As the spectator was finishing dealing out the second group of cards, Alex picked up the (correct) pile that had already been dealt, squared it, and put it down. He then picked up the other (incorrect-to be switched) packet to square it. By timing what he was doing perfectly, Alex picked up the incorrect pile just as the spectator dealt the last cards from his hand. He looked up at the spectator, pushed the correct pile closest to the spectator toward him and said, "Here, square this up." As he said this, he picked up the incorrect pile closest to the spectator with his right hand. His left hand already held the other incorrect pile. He brought the cards in the right hand over to the cards in the left, squared them, and put the two piles back in reversed order-turning them over in the proces s. "Look,' he said, "you'ue dealt all the cards in the right order!" The switch is not hurried. It is done smoothly-looking the spectator directly in the eye. The other question which the effect raises-why does the performer ask the spectator to begin again halfiivay through-was solved for me some years ago when Phil Willmarth first showed me U.F. Grant's impromptu handling. I was drawn to it immediately, not only because the deck could frrst be shulfled by the spectator but, more important, because the effect could be shortened-all the cards did not need to be dealt out and the cards which remained undealt in the spectator's hand later could be seen to be mixed red and black. Not needing to have all the cards used was, I thought, a great touch, particularly since the remaining, undealt cards left in the spectator's hand are themselves mixed, red and black. I have found that more than 50Vo of the spectators will look at the cards left in their hand to see if they are in some kind of arranged order. In my own work, I very rarely have a complete deck of cards-and I am never sure which cards are missing. This is not a problem with the Grant version. The cards are shuffled. The performer removes the two guide cards and places them face up on the table. He then fans the cards toward himself and begins removing either all black cards or all red cards-asking the spectator to guess the colors. I usually remove no more than 16 to 18 cards, and I preface the experiment with the following instruction:"1 will remoue roughly 50Vo red cards and 50Vo black cards-though I will not rernoue them in any simple alternating pattern." This solves the problem of the spectator saying "red" for every card removed. After I have removed enough cards to make the top 18 or so cards on the deck the alternative color, I stop. I say,"I haue, of course, been looking at the face of each card before I asked you for your impression. It might haue been that by seeing their faces I was able to do something ircegulan Here, Let's try this again a bit dffirently. This time, no one will see the faces of the cards." I false shuftle the deck-nothing fancy-and hand the deck to the spectator to continue dealing cards, sight unseen, from the top of the deck.
L52 Eucnxo BUnGER The reason for changing the rules has now been provided. In the frrst instance, the performer looked at each card before the spectator guessed; in the second instance, the cards are being guessed blind, without anyone looking at them. It provides the spectator with some rational structure to understand what is happening here. He can understand, and even restate if called upon, why he started over the second time. And, this is precisely what I think is needed. Get U.F. Grant's "New Way Out of this World" (sold by MAK Magic) for a complete description of his very clever handling. It is well worth the small cost! EasU flonou Pro$otllaliotl When Jay Marshall showed me Fred Kaps'handling ("Flash Cash") of Pat Page's effect "Easy Money," I was very impressed. I had worked with the Page method a year earlier and had little success. Not only was Kaps' handling much easier to do, the effect was more visibly magical. I worked out the following presentation in August of 1980. I gave it to Frances and Jay and it is included in their printed instructions for the effect. I am including this material here with their permission. Should you not know the workings of the Kaps'method, Magic,Inc., will be most happy to supply you with the secret (at a modest cost). Here, I am interested in the presentation. It is an example of 'he "game of wits" par excellence becanse it deals with a wonderfully curious area: the restaurant magician who would like to make tips. Magicians who work in restaurants and bars soon discover that while there is a social convention that tells patrons to tip the waiter, and another which tells them to tip the waiter at least l|Vo, there simply is no social convention regarding tipping magicians. Countless numbers of people have asked me, very often sheepishly, whether I "accept gratuities." How many more must think this question and be too reluctant to ask it? My rule has always been to "Get the money out on the table." The simplest way, of course, is to borrow it for a trickpreferably the trick before your fantastic finale. This presentation for "Easy Money" was designed to answer the question, "Does he-or doesn't he-accept gratuities?" in a magical way. Thus while you are communicating information to the spectators, you are doing so with a wonderful piece of visual magic. Needless to say, I do not do this as an opening, but after the spectators have responded positively to me. I rather slip it in: About a month ago, I was performing here, and when I fi,nished, a n1,an handed me some bills-at least, I thought they were folded bills. Actually, they were pieces of paper-cut from a copy of Playboy magazize. I thought, 'This guy is pretty weird!'He smiled and said,'Just believe in magic!'- and he took the pieces, gave them a snap, and right in front of my eyes, changed them into real money! I was dumbfounded!And, that's not even the strange part. I looked up and he was gone, and I looked down and I was holding pieces of paper. And I thought, 'Easy come, easy go!"'
INtruarn Pownn 153 The first line tells the spectators that, indeed, you do accept "folded dollar bills." But the story moves right along and the magic is quite sensational. You need not, of course, luse Playboy magazine, and part of the value is that other paper can be used, with the names of the sponsors, product direction sheets, advertising material, letterheads, etc. For example, "The man said,'Son, Playboy has pictures but it also has ideas, and ideas are worth real money."'Again: "These directions for this product (you might use brochures, pictures, etc.) might seem to be simply pieces of paper, but they can rrlean real money (do change) to you!" For magicians performing at trade shows or working with products or sponsors, this routine really is great-remember, it is real money! If the goal of the close-up magician as an entertainer is to create audience impact, the goal of the close-up performer as an artist is precision: precision in our handling of our props precision in what we are doing precision in what we are saying -so that the doing, on the one hand, and the saying, on the other, are wedded together---choreographed, so to speak. Once you have attained real precision in your presentation of a particular magical effect, you frnd, don't you?, that this precision is itself the source of confidence and power. I remember when I frrst visited Nevada in 1970. We spent the evening in Elko and, in one of the casinos,I saw a really excellent Blackjack dealer, a young and very attractive woman who seemed to be about 22 or 23 years ofage. She was dressed in a cherry gingham dress and looked very much like an innocent young Sunday school teacher. But then she shuffled and dealt the cards! Every time she picked up the cards to shuffle them, it looked just like every other time. She had complete precision of movement, a perceptible precision in her handling of the cards. It caught one's attention because, of course, it seemed a bit incongruous-this Sunday school teacher dealing Blackjack with expert handling of the cards. I watched her, fascinated, for over half an hour. When I lectured in Grand Rapids, Michigan, in October, L982,I had the great pleasure to stay with June and Sam Horowitz. One of my non-magician, actor friends accompanied me and, after Sunday breakfast, I said to June, "Show Ray a little magic." Now, when "grandma" takes out her deck of cards and proceeds to dazzle you with card magic, the effect is wonderfully incongruous-for grandmothers,I had been led to believe, usual-
154 EucpNs BuncpR ly spend all of their time baking cookies and not perfecting Elmsley Counts! Watching June Horowitz is not only thoroughly entertaining, but perfectly absorbing of one's interest. Just as we don't expect Sunday school teachers to deal Blackjack, we don't usually imagine that grandmothers can do superb card tricks. I'm not talking about the showy or show-offkind of precision that makes everyone present realize you've done a great deal of work. Real art, after all, is art-less. In the cases of both the Blac$ack dealer and of June Horowitz, the precision is much more relaxed-and is generated because the performer knows what she is doing. I agree with S.W. Erdnase when he wrote in 1902, in his book which later came to be called, The Expert at the Card Table: "The inviolable rule of the professional is uniformity of action. Any departure from his customary manner of holding, shuflling, cutting or dealing the cards may be noticed and is consequently avoided." Erdnase is here speaking ofthe professional card player, ofcourse, but don't his words apply equally to the close-up performer who wants to be perceived not as a "card manipulator," but as a "worker of wonders?" For the record, I am highly suspicious of Mr. Erdnase, however, when he writes, "The amateur conjuror who is not naturally blessed with a'gift of gab' should rehearse his'patter' or monolog as carefully as his action." First, what he is saying here obviously applies to professional as well as amateur conjurors and, second, the idea that only those "not naturally blessed with a 'gift of gab"' should rehearse really accounts for much of what is currently wrong with the contemporary magic scene. Too many performers seem to feel that (a) they are blessed with this, to me, somewhat mysterious "grft of gab" and (b) that they, therefore, have no pressing need to rehearse. The net result? Some pretty awful close-up magic. Meanwhile, close-up magicians everywhere are buying new tricks ... . On the one hand, precision is a function of performing magic effects which lie within the range and reach of our own competence, rather than overshooting one's technical bounds. On the other hand, precision usually is the hard-won result of long hours of practice and rehearsal. Wouldn't it be wonderful if there were a shortcut? Frankly, no. The practice of an art ls How do I practice? the art. * This, unfortunately, is a capital "B" Big Question and I have found that it is very often asked by people who have no real intention of getting down to it-and practicing-but who, instead, are collecting information and theories. It is fun to collect both, but knowledge-in-the-head is not a substitute for practice and rehearsal. In a real sense, the question, "How do I practice?" can only be answered by you. Other people can tell you their stories and give you pointers along the way, of course, and, sometimes this is helpful. But I doubt seriously that it is os helpful as spending two quiet hours in front of your mirror with a pack of cards or, if you prefer, some coins. I can tell you, of course, that there may be repetition-practicing the
Ixuuarp Pownn 155 move or sleight over and over; then rehearsing the whole presentation over and over and over. I can tell you that you must look at the results of your work with a critical eye and a mind which ceaselessly asks: Does this look real? Is it natural? Is it deceptive? But, having said this,I confess that I believe that words and theories are not the road to good practice. Too of[en, in fact, words and theories about practice take the place of practice. We don't practice; we theorize and think about practice instead. And we collect what this person or that person soid about practice. Caught up in this sort of activity, the quality of our practice remains very poor. I am continually amazed, for example, at the number of magicians I meet who do not practice regularly in front of a mirror. Some don't even houe mirrors! (Most often, they're "lookingl but they haven't found the "right mirror" yet.) Needless to say, I feel strongly about this. Again, to quote Erdnase: "The only proper way to practice is to be seated in the usual manner at a card table with a looking glass opposite; and much time and Iabor are saved by this plan. The correct positions and movements can be accurately secured, and the performer becomes his own critic." That's pretty clear, isn't it? * Let me take this a bit further to show you exactly what I mean by "precision in handling one's props." In Secrets and Mysteries,I explained an effect which uses "Glorpy"-s11 exceedingly clever prop (a handkerchief with a specially bent piece of wire in one corner). How many times have we seen performers take out their "Glorpy" and then start trying to figure out which corner has the wire in it? Gruesome, isn't it? Such fumbling ruins the magic by making the fact that something is "funny''about the handkerchief painfully obvious. "Precision in handling one's props" means that every time you take out your "Glorpy" you know that the gimmick is in the same place that it was the last time you took it out. It doesn't matter how you fold it in the sense that there are may ways to fold it for storage. It only matters that you fold it the same way each time. Thus, every time I refold my "Glorpy" after using it, I fold it in the same way. I place it in my magic box, the box in which I carry my props when I am working, the same way. When I reach into the box, the gimmick is always in the same place, so that my fingers can take hold of it without any additional thinking. No thinking necessary in fact. I am on automatic pilot. tF The final presentation that I want to discuss requires precision in handling one's props. It requires that hands and mouth work together, in harmony, to produce action which, in the spectators'perception, is clear, easyto-follow, and direct.
Ihe Top Change is explained in Audience lnvolvement on p.69 of this book. 156 EucBNn BuncER [raoula aNllg $ororilu 0irls This is my presentation for "Under Attack," a most novel card effect released recently by Dale Anthony-and which is discussed here with Dale's kind permission. My handling reflects changes made upon Dale's effect by Dave Solomon and myself. Dale's version required a card force and Solomon, as far as I know, was the first to devise a way in which that could be eliminated. Solomon's handling, however, retained the use of the gummed sticker under which rested a magnetic shim. My first development was to change the gummed sticker to a gummed star since the card, representing Dracula is the "star" of this story. After preparing 35 gummed stars by applying to their sticky side tiny pieces of the excellent shim which Dale supplies, I realized this was not the way I wanted to spend the remainder of my magic career. Thus, my second, and more interesting, development was to eliminate the shim and, thereby, the gummed star entirely. The writing is done directly on a freely selected card. It is this card which later appears Under A Tack. When you realize all the things you need for this, you might conclude that it is less expensive of your time and energy to send Dale Anthony $20 and have him send you the magnetic tacks, gimmicked tack head, shims, cards, and his and Dave's routines. Finding ever5rthing and putting it together will take quite a bit of time-thus, not too many people will be performing "Dracula and the Sorority Girls" which, for those of us who do, is fine. Here is the presentation as the spectators see it. The performer spreads the cards face up on the table and announces: 'A moral tale: Dracula and the Sorority Girls." To a spectator, the performer says,"What Id like you to do is to reach ouer and take any number card-not a picture card-from the deck. That card will represent Dracula in our story)'A number card is used so the writing will stand out rather than be camouflaged by the printing on a picture card. The spectator complies. The performer continues, "I'd like you to write the name'Dracula' on the face of the card. Write it large so eueryone can see it." If the spectator is correct in the spelling, I comment, "It's really nice to perform for literate people who can spell polysyllabic words." Sometimes I say this if the spelling is incorrect as well and if I want to be, shall we say, a bit tacky. "Our story begins where most of these uampire films end. Dracula has been impaled with a siluer spike, represented by this thumb tack.'A silver thumb tack is placed on the table. "He has been impaled right on top of his coffi.n, represented by the card case." The card is stuck through with the tack which is then pushed into the center of the card case on the side opposite the flap side (which rests on the table). When I stick the "spike" through "Dracula," I make a sound not unlike the vampires who were impaled in the many movies which I watched, spellbound, as a small child. "Ughhhh!" will do it perfectly. I pick up the pack and fan it, faces toward the audience. A group of soror-
INtrn,tarp Powpn L57 ity girls, represented by the deck at large, are hauing a picnic in the woods. And, one of the young ladies (here I look through the deck, remove the Queen of Hearts, and place it face up on the table) strays from the group and comes upon the uarnpire's coffin. Not realizing the consequence of her deed, she foolishly remoues the siluer spike. Acting in her stead, Mory, would you refiLoue the tack-and place it ouer here." The performer picks up the Queen and, with it, gestures toward the right side of his close-up mat. The Queen is placed face down on the table to the right of the card box "This frees the uampire, utho shows his gratitude by attacking the innocent young co-ed." The vampire card is lifted from the card box and slid under the face-down Queen. And, as uampires will do, he drains her of most of her life's blood!" The Queen is turned face up; the card is now completely faded-out. Here the action pauses for a moment as the spectators are allowed to touch the card-something that almost all spectators want to do. "Stimulated by the red fluid and recognizing that there are other party girls at the picnic, Dracula jumps into the center of the picnickers-and begins cutting up." Dracula is placed into the center of the pack which is then cut several times. 'The housemother appears on the scene. She sends the innocent co-ed's body back to Des Moines for a proper burial." The Queen is removed and placed in the performer's pocket-or, alternately, it might be made to disappear in some way. This is necessary because the unusual card, if it were to remain visible on the table, would be too distracting for the spectators. They would continue to keep some of their attention on it and, therefore, would miss the impact of the final sequence. 'And then the housemother takes the siluer spike and returns it to the top of the coffin. Mory, do you see the hole in the top of the card box? Put the tack back in the hole." Mary complies. "Meanwhile, back at the picnic, a tenible shuffie is going on." Performer picks up the pack and gives it an overhand shuffle. "Dracula succeeds in luring the entire sorority chapter onto the top of his coffin." The pack is placed, face up, on top of the tack stuck into the card box. Holding the bottom half of the pack in place, the performer twirls the top half in a circle so the indices of the cards can be seen. "Well, it looks like curtains for the co-eds, doesn't it?" T}re performer pauses. "But, you see, the housemothe4 Mrs. Van Helsing, brought with her a small tana leaf from an old Mummy mouie-it's an eclectic sfory."The performer removes a small artificial flower leaf from his pocket and places it on top ofthe cards. "The tana leaf works its magic, the co-eds o,re saued, and Dracula is impaled again under the tack." So saying, the performer takes hold of the flap of the card case and lifts up. The cards slide offonto the table. There stuck under the tack is "Dracula." The performer lifts the card from the card case, removes the tack, and places both in front of the spectator as he says, And, that's a true story!" Required are: (1) A Queen of Hearts which has been steel-wooled until
'o 9 t.\ a o 158 Eucol.lp BuRcnn the surface is just faintly perceivable as the Queen of Hearts (fiS.l). (2) A cork ball into which are placed three or four steel (magnetic) thumb tacks. (3) A specially prepared tack head from which the point has been removed and a small magnet put in its place. (4) A small piece of "FunTack" or "Holdit" plastic adhesive (made by Eberhard Faber, Inc.), or, if you're lucky, some "Blue Tac" which is the best, but is made in England. You need about a quarter-inch ball of it.I have used magician's wax here, but I frnd that the plastic adhesives work much better. The small ball of adhesive is stuck onto the magnet embedded in the tack head under the card case (fig.2). (5) A tana leaf or reasonable facsimile; fortunately, few spectators know what real tana leaves, should there be such things,look like, so you have lots of latitude in finding a leaf. (6) A deck of playing cards and a card box with a hole in the center of the non-flap side. I generally use a tack to make the hole and then enlarge it with the point of a pencil. This enlargement will make the removal of the card at the frnish of the presentation trouble-free. 23 Now to walk through the presentation again, explaining the simple procedure. When the cards are spread face up so the spectator can select "Dracula," the performer spots the regular Queen of Hearts. This makes spreading the cards later (and I spread them so the spectators can see their faces) when you look for the Queen, much easier. The deck can often can be initially spread very near the Queen for its removaland you don't have the undesirable feature of passing by the Queen of Clubs, etc., to find the Queen of Hearts. We want nothing to look suspicious to the spectators. Dracula is signed as you place the tack on the table. Take the signed card and "impale" it face up on the card case with the tack (figs.3 and 4). Pick up the deck and spread it face toward audience. Remove the Queen of Hearts and place it face up on the table. Talk for a few seconds, then pick up the Queen. When the spectator removes the tack and is told to "place it over here"-the performer gestures with the regular Queen and top changes it for the prepared Queen. This is surprisingly easy to do. All attention is on the Dracula card and the removal of the tack. I do not move until the spectator moves. Once the spectator's movement has begun-a prime principle of "misdirectisn"-I begin my movement. My right hand with the regular Queen does not move. The left hand, with //l !l
INrruerp Powpn 159 the pack, crosses over in front of the right hand and, gesturing with the left forefinger toward the place where you want the tack deposited, the cards are exchanged in the process. "Dracula" is returned to the deck as follows: the right hand cuts offhalf of the face-down cards held in the left hand. The Dracula card is placed on top of the left-hand portion. As the right-hand portion is replaced, a break is obtained under the card. Thus, when the deck is double-undercut, the Dracula card is to the bottom of the face-down pack. As the spectator replaces the tack in the top of the card case, the performer takes hold of the case with the right hand, thumb at the back, directly over the hidden, grmmicked tack head. As he says, "Do you see the hole?" he lifts the case slightly (fig.5), releases the tack head, and moves the card box forward. At the same time, he places the pack, which is held in the left hand (thumb along one long side and fingers along the other), directly over the tack head (fig.6). Because of the adhesive, the tack head is immediately picked ,p and now rests on the center of the face of the Dracula card. When the deck is given an overhand shuffle, the Dracula card is brought to the top.The deck is placed face up, on top of the card case and tack-the magnet now holding the grmmicked tack head (and the card) in place over the tack. The tana leaf is placed on top of the deck (frg.7). The right hand takes hold of the flap of the card case and lifts up slightly. The cards slide off-and Dracula is under the tack (fig.8). To remove the tack: the card is lifted from the card box and tipped forward slightly toward the spectators-to hide the full tack on the underside of the card. The card may even be set on the table in this condition-and this is most effective. Picking the card up with the right hand, fingers underneath, the real tack is stolen between the first and second fingers of the right hand. The point Dracula brought
160 EucpNB BuncER of the tack goes between the fingers (fi9.9). The card is taken by the left hand as the right hand (with the hidden tack between the fingers) is brought to the top of the card (fi9.10) and the tack head is peeled off (fi9.11) and stuck directly onto the side of the right forefinger where it remains hidden (fig.12). The real tack and card are then deposited in front of the spectator-and the hands move away with fingers deceptively spread apart slightly. As the spectators reach to touch the card and tack, and they will, the tack head may be lapped,leaving the performer clean. 12 k)
In this final chapter, I want to look briefly at two often-repeated magical maxims. Each relates to the general subject of this book: close-up maglcal presentation. The frrst is this: "It isn't what you do, but how you do it." May I ask you a question? Do you believe this? Do you believe that it really isn't the specifrc tricks you perform so much as how you perform them that creates audience interest and impact? Magicians almost universally seem to accept this maxim as true, in theory That is, if asked whether or not they believe it, most would cheerfulIy agree that they do. The problem, of course, is that "beliefs" all too often are little more than "mind-events," things which happen only "in the head"-part of what the late philosopher Alan Watts referred to as the "chatter in the skull." Conjuring, on the other hand, at its best happens not merely in the head but in reality itself. It boils down to this: People simply do not always practice what they believe and preach-and magicians surely are no exceptions to this. Magicians say and believe one thing, and often they do, in practice, another. Witness the large number of dreadful magical presentations offered by performers who themselves insist that, "It isn't what you do, but how you do it," and you'll get the picture. And so I ask you again: Do you really believe that technical expertise must be supplemented and framed with solid presentations if the end result is to be entertaining? If you answer affirmatively, I would then ask you these two further questions: A. Do you spend as much time working on your presentations as you do working to learn your various sleights and moves? B. Do you set aside time each week to rehearse your presentations from beginning to end-talking out loud to those imaginary spectators? If you can truthfully answer both of these questions affirmatively as well, you are on your way to being a successful magical entertainer. The second magical maxim is Robert-Houdin's famous statement: 'A conjuror is not a juggler;he is an actor playing the part of a magician." Again, the sad thing is that we can read such a statement so often that we lose sight of its real force and impact. And even sadder is the fact that
L62 EucnNB BuncER we think this applies only to stage performers (or worse, only to stage performers wearing weird hats and funny shoes) and that it doesn't apply to close-up performers at all. At this point, it's no surprise to tell you that I think it does. Performing entertaining close-up magic for the general public is not at all the same thing as doing a Pass invisibly or a deceptive False Shullle-though, of course, these things may very well be part of it. Do you really see yourself as an actor or merely as a "doer of card tricks?" There is quite a difference, isn't there? The actor is one who prepares for his role, seeks to understand his character deeply, and is willing to take the necessary time to master his script and his movements. The actor is interested-very often to the point of boredom for his family and friends-in the details, in the nuances of costume and voice, of props and staging, of interaction and timing, all of it-which, taken together, produce the theatrical or dramatic impact of the proceedings. Consider this: how often have you watched close-up performers who appear nervous? Not sure of themselves? Not sure of what they are doing? Not sure of what they are sayrng? It's pretty awful, isn't it? And it is more than simply awful. The magician, as a character (a theatrical role) is the man (or woman) of power. To appear nervous is to ruin the effect, to destroy the character, and to make the role just a little ridiculous. I repeat: The magician is a character marked by confrdence and power. It is that simple. When we reflect upon magicians we have seen, we frnd that there is, indeed, a confidence and a power which some performers exhibit. Where do they get it? How does it come about? It is perceivable by audiences: You can watch a performer and you can see that he has this confidence and a power which some performers exhibit. It is "there" and audiences experience and relate to it. On the other hand, all too often we see close-up performers who are caught up in their own worries. Worry about whether their tricks are going to work. Worry about what they are going to say. Mumbling and worry go together, don't they? I am not talking here about mild stage fright-that feeling of excitement and energy that many performers feel just before going on because they want to do the best job possible. The performer who experiences mild stage fright is totally different from the performer who knows, deep down, that he really isn't prepared.I{nowing that you are not prepared isn't stage fright: it is the material of which nightmares are made. After all the words have been written, and all the theories explained, there is only one way to discover this confidence and power. That is the way of practice and rehearsal: the way of work. Confidence,I am inclined to think, cannot be pursued and found directly; it is the indirect by-prod-
INuuetp Powsn 163 uct that appears when we know deeply that we really are prepared to be performing this effect before a real audience. Confidence and power appear when we know that we have begun to approach our artistic goal of precision. Precision brings confidence. To return once again to the example of "Glorpy." Once I know where the wire will be,I never need worry about it again. Once I have attained precision in my handling of this prop,I never need to worry about whether I will be able to frnd the gimmick without fumbling. I know that I can. I am confident of it. We have all seen it: Magicians in front of audiences ner:vously engaged in the game of "Find the Gimmick." Audiences see it, too. One must never underestimate the power of people's perceptions-even after they have had two or three drinks! WilI you make aresolution tteve\ ever, to play "Find the Gimmick" again? That's what it takes. * With precision comes freedom: the freedom of the clear mind, the mind that isn't frlled with worries about this or that during a performance, the mind that is free to interact with these particular spectators-and to enjoy deeply this interaction. For this interaction, as I have already said, is the show. As I see it, then, it is a great error to think that precision refers and applies only to one's finger movements-where to put your frrst finger and thumb-but it also refers to the precision of your words with your actions. There is no short cut. There is only the way of practice and more practice, rehearsal and more rehearsal. And if that sounds dismal and dreary to you, perhaps performing in front of people isn't your cup of tea. It is easy to do magic poorly; it takes considerable work and thought to perform it well. The practice and rehearsal of an art, however,ls the art. That is the beauty and enjoyment of it for those who love it. Creating an effective artistic endeavor is always is the result of hard work. How could it be otherwise? Yet, through this work, we come to precision-the source of the confrdence and power which are the marks of the true magician.
When I wrote Intimate Power,I intended it to be a sequel or companion volume to Secrefs and Mysteries for the Close-Up Entertainer. I saw Intimate Power both as yet another nonlinear booklet, but also as an extension of the kinds of ideas and strategies that were explored in the frrst booklet. If Jay Marshall is correct when he said that I kept writing t}ne same book, Intimate Power was certainly my most successful attempt at it up to that point! In fact, when people who have never read any of my writings ask me where to begin, I tell them to try to frnd a copy of Intimate Power.I think that this really is the best short summary of where I was as a magician, and also a writer about magical subjects, in the early 1980s. It also contains several routines which I believe are truly excellent, within the performing range of most all of the readers of this book, and which I continue to perform today. From my present perspective, the central things here are, first, some of the individual performance strategies (such as using compliments to dull observation, or the various ideas about creating interest) and, second, the discussion of precision. If I were writing this booklet today, I would no doubt stress the importance of aiming for precision in our magical work even more than I did here. I would also try to develop in greater detail this psychological relationship between precision in practice and confidence in performance. This is important! Don'tyou want to be a more confident performer? In my early years as a full-time magician this was precisely what I was seeking. Most new jobs require time for an individual to learn how to do them and being a professional magician certainly is no exception to this rule. It took me years really to get the knack of performing close-up magic in public places where no one expects you to be present (as opposed to corporate parties where you are the hired and sometimes featured entertainment). At the beginning, the truth is that I had a great deal of confidence when it came to performing my individual pieces of magic, but very little confidence when it came to performing this magic in these strangely public places. And confidence was what I wanted and was seeking! And then the relationship between confidence and precision dawned on me. It didn't come as an instantaneous flash but, rather, as a gradual realization over a several month period. I came to see with great clarity that the road to precision is also the road to greater confidence. In the text, I used the example of always folding my "Glorpy" spirit handkerchief in exactly the same way every time, so that the wire is always in the upper right corner and the longer length of wire is across the top. It is then placed into my close-up box (in the same way) so, when I need to introduce this prop, my fingers frnd it without any extra thought.It is our need for "extra thought," this need to step outside the boundaries of the
INrnruuDE Fnre 165 performance to frgure certain things out, that undermines my confidence in the performance. As I strive for greater precision in my magic-in my words and my actions and in the marriage between the two-I am, in the process, gaining confrdence. I saw the ultimate aim of precision in simple terms: being able to perform my magic without extra thought, without the need for on-the-spot calculation. In a card routine that uses an Elmsley Count, for example,I would not need to think about whether that last card goes to the top or the bottom at the conclusion of the Count. My fingers would "know" and would consequently do exactly what they needed to do. If I was no longer thinking about what I needed to do to accomplish the magic effect, my attention could move to my audience: I could be present with my audience in an entirely new way. When I frnally began to understand this intimate relationship between seeking precision in my words and my actions, on the one hand, and gaining confrdence as a performer, on the other, a new magical world opened out before me. I understood my goal as a magical performer and the path toward this goal. As I look back at those days when I wrote Intimate Power,I now see that the very act of writing this booklet was itself part of the path that I was travelling. It was almost as if, once I wrote the words down for you to read, my own commitment intensifred. This was an important time in my magical development. I was learning that a magician can be more than an affable clown. My growing understanding of the importance of precision in my performances, precision in word and deed, opened up my understanding and appreciation for magic itself. I began to see deeply, almost as if I was seeing it for the very first time, that the performance of magpc does have an artistic dimension and a deep artistic quality. I began to look at my magic, the actual effects that I was then performing, in a new way: each effect in my repertoire was examined as if I were looking at it for the first time. How,I now asked myself, how can I make the handing of this effect more precise? And, remember, by "handling" I mean both the physical movements my hands and body need to make to accomplish the effect and, especially, the words that I am speaking-and how these two connect and flow together. It was not always a matter of changing things. Sometimes it was simply learning to understand what I was already doing and then, consciously, deciding that this is the way that I would always do it-until, that is, I consciously decided upon some better way to do it! It was around this time, as I remember, that I gave a lecture on the subject of "Timing" at the Magic Castle in Hollywood and, midway through the talk, suddenly realized those most of the people in my audience didn't have anything to time! I had the feeling that I was in psychological quicksand and rather quickly shifted gears and taught a few practical card tricks. Think about it: if you don't have a real sentence or two (or more!), how might we talk about timing? If you give me a sentence, we can discuss
166 EucnNe BuncER such fascinating questions as when you are saying this sentence in your performance, where you might pause, or which words you might emphasize. These are, indeed, fascinating questions, but you need a real script before we can deal with them in any real and practical way. And that is the art of it! I would now like to make a few comments about some of the effects in Intirnate Power. I learned The Card Cheat, without any presentation, on a family vacation in Eagle River, Wisconsin, when I was 14 years old. The owner of the lodge in which we were staying, Louie by name, was a friend of my father's who had opened a resort in northern Wisconsin. Louie knew a few color changes and some card tricks, including this one with two cards. He fooled me with it the frrst time and then, foolishly, performed it a second time and the method bumped into my head. I showed him some of my magic and Louie encouraged me to bring some of my props during our next year's vacation. I happily brought two suitcases and eagerly performed a show for the guests one evening. The following year, Louie had a big surprise for me. He had talked to the entertainment director of the Show Boat Lounge in Twin Rivers, Wisconsin, and he had agreed to let me perform one night in a real night clublYery exciting for a 16 year old. It was particularly exciting because the entertainment director was a magician whose name I knew from the magic magazines: Martin Sunshine, who wore a fez and performed under the name of Kismet. I remember him as being especially kind to a 16 year old whose signature piece was "The Mutilated Parasol." Sunshine was credited by many, I might add, when he was living in New York, with creating both "Color Vision" and also the Center Tear. Performing at the Show Boat Lounge was a real thrill for me at the time. The happiness of this evening-and our vacation-was dimmed when, later in the week, Louie was checking a gas leak and lit a match, thereby blowing every window pane out of its mooring on the frrst floor and himself into the hospital. "The Card Cheat" is an excellent effect to teach a novice magician because of all the reasons stated in the text. Most importantly, this is an effect that is beingpresented in such a way that it is about something! It's about the fascinating idea of things that card cheats might do to cheat us ... you ... rne! If a student can learn to present this effect deceptively, he or she is on their way because they will have learned some important lessons here. I feel much the same way about the T[iple Prediction effect in the booklet. It is also a terrific trick to teach a sincerely interested young or old beginning performer. And one of the more important lessons is learning that you can sometimes rely less on sleights and more on sheer presence to create a deception. Alter writing this booklet, I learned that the Tliple Prediction was not Maurice Fogel's, though his lecture was where I first saw it performed. I am assured by both Max Maven and Stephen Minch that the principle goes back to the early part of the twentieth century where it was proba-
INTnnLUDE Fnre L67 bly used for a fourAce production.I have thought about this effect a great deal, especially the question of how one begins a performance of it among friends, and my thoughts will be found in the Rediscoueries booklet later in this text. Ihe Old Carnival Game remains, for me, an almost perfect magic routine. It has all of the elements that I still appreciate. There is an engaging premise with definite hooks to create interest, we are leading our audience down a beautifully false path, the frnal surprise when the glass disappears can be truly stunning and, best of all, I can perform it with items that are readily available in anybody's home. Frankly, I especially appreciate this last quality. A Voodoo Ritual is another routine with an engaging premise and a presentation that has a meaningful, if offbeat, subject. When the nosmoking wave began to spread across the country and ashtrays disappeared from more and more hotel parties, I stopped doing this effect for a period. How I brought it back, along with my present thoughts on it, will be found in the final booklet, Rediscoueries. Second Hand Smoke is a routine I rarely perform today.Although I still periodically push cigarettes up my nose (if only because strangers rarely suspect that I would do such a thing!), I have stopped talking about "cocaine" cigarettes. What was an amusing subject for a humorous moment in the early 1980s is hardly so today after we have seen the numbers of lives this white substance has destroyed. Times, indeed, change and sometimes our performances must change with them. Sitting around informally, I fooled several magicians at the last two magic conventions I attended with Spelling Stunner. Even those who know about such things as the DeSieve card, usually don't realize when another performer is using one! On one of the occasions, since it was a red Bicycle deck that was going around the table, I simply palmed on the DeSieve card from my deck and performed some very surprising card miracles for those present with a borrowed deck. When I frrst saw Dale Anthony's marvelous effect "(Jnder Attack" in the early 1980s, I thought it was absolutely delightful and I was immediately hit by the idea of using it with a vampire theme: tacks through cards; stakes through hearts!A tiny leap of faith! And then the routine quickly grew: tana leaves and mummies, sorority girls and draining a card of its life blood, and on and on. And Dracula and the Sorority Girls was born. With the exception of the initial placement of the tack head on the bottom of the card case with putty, which required great care and attention, the effect was fun to perform and entertaining for my audiences, but the fact is I had hardly anSplace where I could perform it!And so I dropped it and moved on. When I began constructing "Dracula and the Sorority Girls," I consciously thought that it would be perfect to perform in the Close-Up Room at the Magic Castle. In a real sense, the effect was created for that setting. As I said,I never performed the routine that often. The reasons were simple. My version of the Dale Anthony effect is a five minute routine where
168 Eucnxn BuncER a great many things are happening, and so it requires the kind of attention on the part of an audience that one truly finds only in a formal setting (such as at the Magic Castle). Consequently, I never thought of "Dracula and the Sorority Girls" as a good effect for restaurant work, although I did perform it in restaurants once or twice for patrons who seemed especially interested in magic. Without this interest, there are simply too many other things competing for an audience's attention. I repeat: this effect requires focused attention on the part ofthe audience and it also requires this attention for a full frve minutes! Along with the Magic Castle, I also performed this routine at one or two American magic conventions; and my last performance was on Paul Daniels Live Halloween Special on the BBC in 1987. I haven't performed it since then. Interestingly, when I performed Dracula on television in England, Paul and Ali Bongo helped me make many changes in the script. There are no sororities, deans or coeds in the British consciousness. It was a real lesson for me to realize this. When Dale Anthony originally released "Under Attack," it was rather quickly appropriated by other magic dealers and Dale soon discovered that they had better distribution than he did. Dale's original version fell by the wayside and eventually the other versions disappeared as well. In the original booklet, I gave information about how to order this effect from Dale. That information is now incorrect and so it has been deleted from the text. I did contact Dale and he can again supply his remarkable effect. If this interests you, contact him directly: Dale D'Alessandro,4020 Wesley Terrace, Schiller Park, Illinois 60176. He can be reached by telephone at@47)678-0232. (A short but well deserved commercial message!)
t804
Frrorulil Eugene Burger is one of the gteatest "people persons" I have ever met He seems to intuitively understand people and how to win them over. His booklets on close-up presentation have been praised by cognoscenti and tyro alike and explain why he is a professional magician who, literally, can work as much as he wants. Fortunately for magicians, Eugene thoroughly enjoys traveling, lecturing, and meeting magicians-the reason for this work and for much of his previous literary production. As he has traveled around, talking to and with magicians, he has come to know what they both want and need to learn about this craft of magic-the real secrets of the art: how to learn magic, how to present it, how to entertain with magic, how to sell both your magic and yourself to potential buyers (restaurant owners, company meeting planners, agents, etc.), how to adapt effects to your own personality, and on and on. There are those who depreciate his efforts and even those who feel he will eventually regret sharing these "real secrets" with the amateur and the less-informed part-time or full-time professional. However, Eugene believes it is the ill-prepared tyro who is the greatest danger to magic It is the tyro who believes that the tricks alone will carry him, who is interested in showing off, not in seruing his audience, who is constantly in search of "the latest miracle" which will change him into "the life of the party"-and without any real work, any real thought, or personal input on the part of the tyro. We all know this doesn't work, because deep in our heart of hearts, we all know that, at one time or another, each and every one of us has been guilty ofjust this type of self-deception. What is so critically important is that we recognize it when it happens and that we know what to do about it when we recognize it! To a very large extent, "growing up" means "accepting responsibility." There is nothing at all wrong with being a trick or book collector, a technician who invents sleights, methods, tricks, or even a magical theorist and inventor, etc.-as long as we recognize our limitations and our responsibiliries when it comes to performing for the public. Especially, when we perform for the public for pay! Magic is an art form with every bit as much tradition, artistry (at least, the potential for artistry), the multi-disciplinary training needed for real mastery, all of the demands of the most demanding of the performing art forms. However, until we, its most ardent lovers and practitioners, begin to respect it as an orf. Until then magic must remain a "second-class citizen" among the recognized performing art forms music, dance, theater, mime, juggling. Please think about this, then make ap your mind to do your part. Eugene is showing the way. Phil Willmarth
Tup Cnerr op Mecrc L7l hlroiluolorulolu Much of the material in the following essays was originally presented in lectures given in various parts of the United States, Canada, and Mexico during the past several years. I confess that I have never given any lecture in exactly the same way twice-feeling that audiences who are themselves awake and alive deserve a speaker who is no less alive and thinking on the spot, rather than one who is simply reading last year's notes. In all my talks before groups of magicians, I want to speak to the particular persons who are present rather than to a purely imaginary audience that I conjured up at my typewriter in Chicago. When it came to rewriting this lecture material into its present form as essays, however, I found that it rros necessary to conjure up an audience for them. Shall these essays be directed to the expert or to the beginner? I decided to toss a coin and (like the philosopher O.K. Bowsma) I was surprised to find that it landed on its edge! Then, I knocked it over (what else?)-and promptly conjured up an audience composed of the many magicians I have met in my travels who spend a good deal of their time thinking about sleights, moves, and tricks, and sadly little of their time thinking about other equally important aspects of their craft. Not the least of these other aspects is the shockingly neglected question: How can I better organize my practice and rehearsal time to make a more effrcient use of my energy and, consequently, make some real, observable progress as a magical entertainer? To stimulate magicians to a deeper appreciation for their craft-and to become better performers-is the purpose for which these essays have been prepared. Eugene Burger T[lg0rall o[ fiagic I wonder if we might reflect together on the craft of magic. It is commonplace today to read and talk about the art of magic and, while I have no doubt that magic as an art,little attention seems to be given to conjuring as a craf[, "a pursuit requiring manual dexterity" and "the application of artistic skill" (to quote from Webster's Third International Dictionary). I have little interest in attempting to separate what might qualify as a "craft" as opposed to an '(lfi"-fsa such an excursion into the search for precise defrnition is a monumental task which, even assuming it can be successful, would take us far beyond the scope of this essay. Certainly, there are many pursuits which have the characteristics of both "craft" and "sft,"-ssd conjuring (particularly sleight-of-hand) I take as one of them. My own interest really is in exploring the relations and attitudes which a successful craftsman might have toward his craft. My reflections rest upon observations I have made regarding many of my friends who are
L72 EucpNr Buncnn themselves crafbsmen (and women!). I have always been interested in how these various craftsmen"/friends relate to their crafts, and in any similarities or parallels between their attitudes and my own work as a closeup magician. I am, then, certainly not laying down truths for the reader to accept. I am, rather, simply looking at our craft of magic and, in the process, hoping to stimulate both the reader and myself to become better crafbsmen and better performers. And so I wonder if we might look at this thing, conjuring as a craft, if we might look at it together with patience and with care and with concern. To look at something in this way, to examine something with care, requires a mind which is open rather than closed, a mind which is ready to look and see, rather than one which is already frlled with its own opinion and views. It also requires, doesn't it, a mind which has great interest. hlurusl When I was eight years old, my parents decided (for me) that I should play the accordion. I was never to become an enthusiastic student of this purported musical instrument; in fact, I very much hated the half-hour that I had agreed to practice every Monday through Friday, with a reprieve on Saturday and Sunday, a contract which was virtually signed between my parents and myself in blood. Though I had a happy childhood in most every respect, the one respect in which my childhood was most defrnitely not happy related to my accordion lessons and that dreaded half-hour of practice. I dreamed, of course, of freedom-from the lessons and the practicing and the sometimes almost daily arguments about my lack of interest. Yet, as a child of but 10 or ll years of age,I simply did not understand how I was supposed to make myself interested in something that did not interest me at oll. While you might, for instance, successfully command me to be quiet; it isn't clear at all how you might command me to be interested. Yet this is precisely what my parents and music teacher were expecting me to conjure up. (As I have grown older, the adult world has continued to possess confusing and contradictory elements.) Not infrequently, my mother would try this line of approach "After all the money your father has spent on your accordion and those lessons, it would just kill him if you were to stop!" Well who, other than Oedipus, wants to kill his father! After six years of lessons,I entered my fourteenth year a dismal failure as an accordionist. I still couldn't play "Lady of Spain" with a bellows shake. One day, when I was driving in the car with my father, I suddenly found myself blurting out, without even thinking: "I don't want to play the accordion any more!" There! I had said it! Would I ever be forgiven? Had I failed miserably as a son? I began to crouch down in the seat. Do you know what my father replied? He looked at me, smiled, and said,
THp Cnam or MacIC L73 "I've been waiting to hear you say that for three years now." And, in an instant, in the twinkling of an eye,I was FREE! I will not even attempt to describe the feelings I suddenly experienced except to say that it was all quite wonderful, as if a great and terrible burden had suddenly been lifted from my life. A six-year burdent Since that day, I have never again even touched an accordion. Do you see that for a person to excel in any craft, there must be great interest? Without great and sustained interest, we never get to the heart of any matter, we are always on the outside, on the surface. It doesn't matter whether we are talking about playrng the accordion, making model ships or airplanes, basket weaving, or performing magic tricks. Without great interest in our performing, there isn't much real progress. We are simply going through the motions-much as I would begxudgingly practice the accordion. But was I really practicing? Looking at it all from today's vantage point,I would say that I was not so much practicing as I was resisting practicing , resisting learning, resisting, as we say, getting into it. The legendary King Midas, you may remember, had the power to turn everything that he touched into gold. We humans generally have the power to turn everything we touch into a drudge-an activity which we tolerate, that we solemnly endure, and with which we cope. That's pretty much the way in which I practiced the accordion. The first step was always gritting my teeth-the keep a stiff upper lip school of muscular strain. Looking back on our lives, we are always wiser. It now seems obvious to me that another student with comparable ability, but with twice the interest, could have spent half the time and probably made three or four times the progress that I had made. And so, I would ask you these questions: Are you deeply interested in the craft of magic? Are you interested in improving your ability to perform before audiences? Are you truly interested? Along with interest, there arises a certain singleness of purpose. The Danish philosopher Sdren Kirkegaard wrote a book with a most wonderful title: Purity of Heart is to Will One Thing. While I wouldn't recommend the book, I heartily recommend the title! In dealing with any craft, one needs this singleness of purpose, this deep interest to "will one thing." This does not necessarily mean that one must lose oneself in one's craft to the exclusion of everything else-though some craftsmen, indeed, do so exclude themselves. Singleness of purpose canalso mean that, in those hours that I devote to my craft, I will give it my full attention rather than lapsing into frequent inattention. Needless to say, if this is approached as a duty, it will most likely be undertaken with a gritting of the teeth and every sort of muscular strain. Yet, if one is deeply interested in something, giving it one's full attention is rather easy; whereas if I am not interested, if this is something that I merely think I should do, then I am already on the verge of turning my involvement into another drudge. But what, you might ask, does all this specifically have to do with the craft of magic? The answer is not difficult to discover if we turn to the issues raised by the necessity ofregular practice and rehearsal.
17 4 EucnNp BuncER [urulopflU 0ur Prauliuu There is no doubt in my mind that one makes faster and more observable progress in magic, as in any craft, if one's work is regular rather than sporadic. In every branch of magic, there is simply no substitute for regular practice. Yet, regular practice requires a commitment that few magicians seem willing or interested to make. It is, after all, so very easy to do magic poorly. I don't know if you've ever tried seriously to teach someone else the magrcian's craft. I strongly recommend it as a fully fascinating series of experiences. Not only do you have the opportunity to see your students grow and improve, you might also discover many new ideas for yourself about how conjuring is learned. I have taught students who, at the beginning of their study, knew absolutely nothing about magic. I have also taught seasoned magicians who come more for coaching-to have another pair of eyes look at their material and give suggestions on how to make it stronger in its impact. In this process,l have learned that every student is different, unique, if you will. What might work for one student in helping him make progress, might for another student be a terrible burden and, consequently, not work at all. Some things, on the other hand, seem to be helpful for all students. Let me discuss some of these now. First, the teacher and the student must know exactly what specifrc effects the student already knows, that is, can perforrrz. This demands a listing of his or her repertoire, those effects that the student believes are already polished enough for public performance. Second, a list is made up of effects that the student might like to learn. As a teacher, I always attempt to go with the student's interest. Why try to teach coin tricks to someone who has always wanted to be a card sharp? Working with a student, like working on your own (alone), requires taking these lists seriously. Not infrequently, of course, when I see the items on the student's first list, the repertoire list, in performance,I frnd that much of this material needs a great deal of additional work. Sometimes the intended effects just do not look like magic. Personally, I prefer to work backward and forward with students so that some of the session's time is devoted to the repertoire list and some time to working on new material. With a total beginner, of course, there is no repertoire; all the time is devoted to building a repertoire. I think that writing your repertoire out, as I have already said, is an extremely important thing to do. Not only does it give you the opportunity to see your repertoire, it gives some sense of structure to your practice sessions knowing exactly what it is upon which you want to work My own experience has been that any student, beginner or advanced, will make more observable progress if his practice is (1) regular, and (2) structured-that is, the student must know in advance what it is that he is going to practice rather than spending this precious time wandering from effect to effect aimlessly. The situation, as I see it, is quite simple: Imagine that there exists this
Tsp Cnarr op Mecrc L75 large, conceptual "apple pie" which represents the time in your day. All students of magic have but limited amounts of time to devote to their craft-some greater amounts of time, of course, and some lesser amounts of time. Some of this time is spent reading book and magazines, some of it is spent going to magic stores and meetings, and sorne of it is spent practicing. What is important, as I see it, is that you use this limited "slice" that you spend practicing your magic effectiuely so that you aren't, to use that curious Western idiom, wasting time. Quite obviously, the student who is spending his practice time wandering from effect to effect, from move to move, is making far less effective use of his time than the one who knows what he wants to practice-and practices this material. I would distinguish, further, between what I call messing around and practice. When I am messing around, the stereo or television might be playrng and I am practicing a card sleight say, an Elmsley Count. Part of my attention is on the music and part of my attention is on the Count. Now there is nothing wrong with messing around. A certain amount of progress can surely be made in this way, especially for technical or mechanical sleights such as counts. I don't think, however, that we should confuse messing around with practice. When I practice, I turn the stereo off. I turn the television off. I give all my attention to what I am doing. I don't split my attention. Good practice requires good attention. It requires that we are aware and conscious of what we are doing and how it looks. As I see it, there is only one way to frnd out how what we are practicing looks to an audience and that is to practice in front of a mirror. I think this is the only way. While I don't think that one should rehearse in front of a mirror, I don't think there is any effective way to practice close-up magic except in front of a mirror: (1) We can see how the effect we are practicing looks, how it will appear to an audience seated across from us, and (2) It encourages us to practice our magic without looking at our hands. Later, when we move on to rehearsal, our eyes will look out into the spectators'eyes. The two questions which students most often ask are: (1) How lozg should I practice? and (2) How often should I practice? The second question is easier. To make obseruable progress, we must practice regularly. My own view is that five days a week is frne (though seven days is probably better). Some students, however, simply can't put fiue practice sessions a week into their schedules;for them, perhaps only three or four practice sessions a week are possible. The important thing is that these sessions, regardless of their number, be regular and scheduled. I tell students that if they have the time and are interested, to practice every day. But if you can't practice every day, don't waste your time feeling guilty about it! What is important is that your practice be regular in terms of the reality of your own weekly schedule and that, when you practice, you are attentive to what you are doing. How long should I practice? There is no answer that will work for everyone. I suggest that students start with sessions that are 30 minutes long. If they frnd that they are still interested, go on to 45 minutes or, perhaps, an hour. On the other hand, if after 15 minutes, you frnd that your mind is beginning to wander, why not stop for a while?
L76 EUcBNB BuncER The determining element here, I believe, must be the student's own interest coupled with a realization that discipline, while necessary, is very often a drag: it is work and not fun. Yet one must be disciplinedone succeeds in no craft without the willingness to keep at it, even when you might prefer to stop and do something else. I believe that interest creates discipline-which, in turn, deepens our interest. Practice requires repetition-and repetition without awareness is boring after a short period of time. Discipline is, indeed, most important;yet I can't see that there is any value in trying to make a student (or myself!) conform to a practice regimen that is completely beyond his own frame of interest. What I am saying here, no doubt runs counter to the way most magicians approach their magic. For most, I suspect, their practice is sporadic rather than regular, and wandering rather than structured. Few magician I have met even have written out their repertoires so they can see them-though I have been told by more than one who, after writing out his repertoire, suddenly saw this activity as the valuable one that it is. I suspect that if what we have considered thus far seems counter to what most magicians in fact do, what now follows may strike them as absoIutely freaky. Luaruglolslloar$o In the mid-1970s, with a group of friends collectively organized as "The Spirit Theatre Company," I set out to produce a show about seances. One of my partners, Erik Counce, had no background in magic, but an excellent background in the technical aspects of theater, having served as technical director for several university theaters in Chicago. My background, needless to say, was "Square Circles," "Drum-Head Tubes," feather flowers, and Chiffon (artfully treated with luminous paint, of course!). There was bound to be a clash as neither of us had what might be called a retreating personality. The clash came-and it centered on this: Erik could not understand how we were going to put together a show without rehearsals and I, who spent great amounts of time practicing, simply did not know what he was talking about. (I was, however, soon to learn.) As I have said in Secrets and Mysteries: We practice the parts (the moves, the sleights) and we rehearse the whole (the effect, the show). Rehearsal means that we start at the beginning and continue to the end-without intermption. If I mess up, I deal with it-as if the audience were in fact present. During rehearsal, I speak out loud to those imaginary spectators. I had to learn to rehearse. One learns this by beginning and doing it! It didn't come naturally. I very often didn't like doing it because rehearsal brings all of one's performing sins into sharp focus. Needless to say, one doesn't rehearse in front of a mirror-for in rehearsal, as in actual performance, your eyes are no longer fixed on a reflection in a mirror, but now move out to meet yoat audience. Like practice time, rehearsal time should be (1) regular, and (2) struc-
Tun Cnart on MecIC L77 tured. We should know before we begin exactly what we plan to rehearse and we should spend our time rehearsing that material. In rehearsal, I develop and frnally polish my script-the actual words that I will use in the public performance of a particular effect. Rehearsal allows me to polish my script and choreograph my words to my actionsso that the frnal result flows together. It all sounds so simple, doesn't it? T[tuholsol 0ur0rall If we were to ask the proverbial one hundred magicians to name the "tools" of their craft, I suspect most of them would list such items as playing cards and coins. Personally, I consider these to be the "props" or "material" of our craft and not the "tools." Let me, then, briefly discuss what I take to be the three most important "tools" of a 20th century conjuroy's craft. First, there is one's notebook. Here we find the list of our repertoire and also the list of those effects which we wish to learn and add to our repertoire. As these latter items are perfected in rehearsal, they are added to our repertoire list. Our aim, of course, is not so much to have a large repertoire as it is to have a repertoire in which euery item can be counted upon to produce real impact. Personally, I want only what I can perform as a strong effort in my repertoire and so, from time to time, I have dropped items from my repertoire (and my repertoire list) if I felt they did not continue to produce the impact that I wanted. My notebook also holds ideas on tricks and on presentations that I might, some day, wish to pull together. As ideas come to me,I always make sure that they make it to my notebook. Second,there is the magician's rnitor-a priceless tool. It is essential for our practice-if we are to see how our actions appear to our audiences. Third, one needs to have a recorder<ertainly an audio or cassette recorder; if you are more aIfluent, you might also consider a video camera. The audio recorder is used, first of all, in practice. Imagine that you want to learn a fairly complicated card trick-say, one of those packet tricks with lots of sleights, moves and manipulations. Personally, I don't find learning this kind of material easy; part of my attention is on the cards, part of it is on trying to keep my place in the book, part is on trying to follow what the book says. Some paperback books may flip themselves closed six or seven times and fall off the table twice before I even get a sense of the routine. It's all pretty discouraging-not only for the beginning student, but also for those who do this for a living. Obviously, if my attempts to learn new material are such bummers, I may begin avoiding practice sessions altogether because they are psychologically debilitating! Do you realize that the use ofan audio recorder can save you an unbelievable amount of time in learning complex new material? Simply read the instructions into the recorder and then play it back and do what the voice says. You will find that what was previously very diffrcult to figure
178 EucpNp BuRcpn out is suddenly surprisingly easy-and fun! I cannot urge you strongly enough to try this. It really works! If there are photographs or illustrations, prop the book open and look at the illustrations when the voice refers you to them. It sometimes helps to turn the book upside down and, thereby, see the performer's view (or the audience view) in the photographs more easily. I repeat, if you find learning complex routines to be difticult, try this approach. You will have a quite wonderful surprise. A recorder is useful, second, in rehearsal. It is a most wonderful tool for it affords us the opportunity to hear how our presentations sound to others. Are we speaking clearly? Are we dropping the last word in our sentences? Are the words which we are using colorful and interest-sustaining? Can we understand, what is happening in the effect simply by listening to the audio tape? If one's rehearsals can be video taped, the obserwant student will learn a great deal more about his performance. All of our little ticks and twitches scream out at us from the screen.It is, you see, a quite tremendous tool for the modern magician. Even if one can't afford a video camera, in today's world audio cassette recorders are now available for very modest sums of money. To listen to ourselves as we present our magic is a way of making rapid progress-if we are honest and attentive to what we are hearing. 0riliud fiuarsru$$ aN l|oru$lu There is no substitute for honest, especially, honesty about ourselves and our progress in our craft. We need to look at our own work with a critical honesty if there is to be any improvement at all. This is, to be sure, the most difficult part of any craftsman's relation to his craft: to view one's own work with honesty. To bring these reflections to a close,I would like to point out that there is great value in reading books about magic, public speaking, theater, and so on. Reading books very much helps us as thinkers about our magic. I am not at all convinced, however, that reading books is the road to good performance. The "thinker" is not necessarily the "performer," and what will nurture you as a thinker (reading books and magazines) will not necessarily nurture you as a public performer with your magic. The road to good performance is the path of practice and rehearsal, the way of work, the way of interest and attention, the way of discipline. What you will gain from regular, structured practice and rehearsal will far outweigh most of the benefits you derive from reading books and imagining. When we begin to view our relation to our magic as a relationship to a craft, we can place our priorities into a sharper perspective. Seen in this light, what is important for progress is not simply reading and imagining (as wonderful as both might be!) but, rather, actual practice before a mirror-and rehearsal, the polishing of our words and our actions so that we might become better, more effective performers.
THn Cnam or Mecrc 179 T[tu Fulurs o[ fluslaurail fiagiu In 1983, I had the pleasure of presenting a lecture for the Society of American Magicians'national convention. I chose as my subject, "The Secret of Restaurant Magic," and proposed to discuss what I felt was the really important thing-namely, the attitude which the restaurant performer personally exhibits to patrons and to the restaurant's staff. In my travels, however,I have discovered that this was not the topic in the larger area of restaurant magic that most of the magicians I met wanted to discuss. Almost to a one, the topic that interested them was tips and gratuities-specifically, how a magician in a restaurant setting might improve his tips. Since I have already discussed what / think is important, perhaps it is only fair that I now discuss what everyone else seems to think is important. One Saturday afternoon, I was talking with John Railing at the "Marlo Table" in Chicago's Carmen Lounge. John, as you may know, has performed at the prestigious Pump Room for almost four years. A young performer joined us who works the Rush Street area for tips only-that is, none of the establishments he enters pays him; instead, he roams about performing for people who may or may not give him money.lhis kind of performing is embodied in the old words "busker" (interesting, from the French, "to prowl") and "busking" ("to go about offering goods or entertainment in public houses"). As many readers no doubt know, Max Malini began his magical career in this manner. It is, I suspect, an interesting way to try to make a living in 1980s America. For myself, I propose that we give it the name, "Indoor Street Magic." It wasn't too long before the young man asked John and me how he could improve his tips. After a short pause, John replied: 'Act like you don't need them." I was immediately struck by the very good sense embodied in that remark, even though I suspect the young man completely failed to see its wisdom. (I would add that one's tips will also very likely be larger if you "act like you don't need them.") There simply isn't a social convention for tipping the magician. Some people do and some don't. And, that's the problem. There are almost as many solutions to this problem as there are restaurant magicians. Some that I have seen, or heard about, really are awful, e.g., borrowing a bill and makingit really disappear! Others simply seem to me to be crass4.g., putting a can labeled Tip Jar in the center of the table. Why not merely get the bill so disgusting (wet, slimy, crumpled almost beyond recognition, etc., etc.) that the spectator won't want it returned? For that matter, when the bill is signed for identification, why not request "Here, please sign my nam.e on the bill?" Please be clear on this point: However awful I personally might view such strategies,I do not for a moment doubt that, someplace, somewhere, some magician might be able to play them well. With the defrnite exception of my first example (borrowing a bill and then stealing it), I imagine that
180 EucnNo BuncER any of the rest might be played entertainingly by some performer. It's a question ofpersonality and character. Yes, even a can labeled Tip Jarwell, perhaps ... . None of the above strategies, however, is something that I would want to use in my own work. In fact, I would rather not get the tip than appear to be hustling the spectator for it. That is a personal preference: Again, it is a question of one's own personality and self-perception. Here's a sequence to consider: Borrow a bill and do a trick with it. Return it by laying it on the table in front of the spectator. Now do another trick which concludes with a souvenir being presented to the wife (or date) of the man who loaned you the bill. Now do your frnal effect, your real killer, announcing before you begin that this, indeed, is your finale. During this last effect, the man who loaned you the bill has the opportunity to put it all together ("He gave Mary this little souvenir/gift, maybe I should give him that ten."). If he does put it together, you will get the money. If he doesn't, you won't. The curious thing, to me, is that so many close-up magicians in restaurants seem to expect tips. On what do they base their expectations? Obviously, upon two considerations: First, the waiter is going to get a gratuity and, second, sometimes the magician does get a tip as well. While there is, as I have said, a social convention dealing with tipping waiters (and another which stipulates that one should leave LSVo of the check before taxes are added), there simply isn't such a social convention regarding magicians.Very often, in fact, it is simply assumed by the patrons that the magician's services are provided as free entertainment. Sometimes, of course, people do tip the magician. They do this, most often in my experience, not because of any rule or convention but because the performer provided a good show-and they are showing their appreciation. Thus, the simplest answer to the question about increasing tips is to provide a more entertaining performance. To get a tip from people, you must please them. You must relate to them and they must relate to you-not simply to your magic-to you. A tip, remember, is a token of appreciation for a job especially well done. Yet even a performance that everyone in the group thinks is positively wonderful will never guarantee a tip. I know this because many people who never gave me a tip when I performed for them in a restaurant went on to hire me for private or corporate parties. They obviously enjoyed my work but they never gave me a tip. To get a tip, further, almost always requires that you spend timewithpeople. If I were to perform, for example, three short effects for a party and then expect that someone is going to give me a tip, well,life is filled with unfulfrlled expectations, isn't it? This point is important to understand because the restaurant or lounge may very well not want me spending lengthy periods of time with a few patrons. The restaurant may prefer that I did those three effects for many patrons. To satisfy the restaurant owner or manager, I may very well be kissing any tips good-bye. The solution to this problem does not appear to be one that many restau-
THB Cnam or IVIacIC 181 rant magicians seem willing to face. The solution, the reol solution, my friends, is to get the money up front. The solution is not to rely upon tips at all, but to be free of concern about tips-which, of course, we want but which are not provided by any social convention other than a spectator truly enjoying our work and deciding to show his appreciation by giving us some money. This,I am afraid, is a bitter pill for many performers who work in restaurants to swallow. Some, perhaps, suspect that if the restaurant had to pay them real money, they would soon be looking for new work. Yet, can you imagine a musician in a good restaurant working for tips only? Very few, if any, would. It's a bit too demeaning. There is, further, the fact that as our fees get larger, the amount of respect shown us seems to increase as well. I confess that I sometimes have a dim view of the future of restaurant magic. I have doubts about the future of restaurants as a field for working professionals, as locations for professional performers to base their careers. I have these doubts because there appear to be too many parttime perforrners who are willing to work in restaurants for nothing, or virtually nothing, or very, very little. For the part-time performer, whose income is not dependent solely upon his performing, a part-time job as a restaurant magician is a fun way to make a little extra money as well as to have the opportunity to present his magic for strangers-rather than to the yawns of aunts and uncles, cousins and nephews, and friends. And so, as the freld of restaurant magic becomes glutted with people willing to work for nothing, the professional will move on. This doesn't mean, of course, that there won't exist some individuals who are able to work in restaurants for good salaries. These magicians, however, will need to be very good performers who possess some degree of uniqueness as entertainers and, perhaps even, as persons. PrssoilalioM $lUIu If I asked you to close your eyes for a moment and imagine a close-up perforrner you thought had great style, I seriously doubt if you would have much difficulty. In much the same way,I doubt if you would find it diffrcult to imagine a close-up performer you consider to have a truly awful style, a dreadful style of the sort that you especially hate. But, what is style? When I try to answer,I frnd myself in the position of St. Augustine when he tried to explain what time was. He knew what time was---except that when he tried to explain it, when he tried to put it into words, he just couldn't do it. "Style" is very much like that too. I don't have much diffrculty giving you examples of magicians whose styles I greatly admire and enjoy, and I would have even less dilficulty providing examples of magicians whose styles I really do not enjoy at all. Yet, I am not sure that I could tell you in words what style is. For the close-up magician, style would seem to point us not so much toward what particular effects we are doing, as it
L82 Eucpxp BuncER does to t}ae way in which we are doing them. But even this statement isn't exclusively true: The fact that I myself do close-up material that refers to spirits and ghosts contributes to my own style-even if the way in which I perform this material contributes more. But what is style itself? And, more interesting: If I feel that I personally don't have a performing style, is there any way in which I might "get" one? Can one acquire style? Is one born with it? Since I don't have any ready answers to these questions, I thought I might approach this important, and, I think, fascinating subject in a somewhat unusual way. Having an admittedly bizarre historical fondness for the image of Martin Luther nailing his "95 Theses" on the door of the Church of Wittenburg (I was, as we say, "raised a Lutheran" and this may account for some smaller part of this fondness), I thought that I would spare the reader and submitbut four theses or propositions for your consideration. I set these propositions forth, quite literally, for your reflection: Exactly how each, if any, applies to your own work as a close-up magician is for you to discover. Proposition One: Style emerges after we haue mastered the techniques of an effect. This seems rather basic, doesn't it? As long as the performer is desperately struggling with his Double Lifts, Elmsley Counts, and Half-Passes, we probably wouldn't say he has much style at all-not, at least, in the more positive sense of the word. Desperate struggle with the basics, the moves, the sleights, seems to preclude much style on the part of the performer. The reason is obvious: Audiences, whether laymen or magicians, notice the performer's clumsiness and fumbling and begin to watch it and not the larger effect which the performer thinks he is presenting.In much the same way, if you begin your close-up performance with a large piece of spinach caught in your front teeth, the audience will watch the spinach and not the show As we watch performers fumble through their sleight-of-hand, we begin to lose track of the proposed effects and watch instead the fumbling. The only solution to this situation is more practice and more rehearsal. In Greater Magic, Hilliard stated part of the goal of performance most succinctly: "There should be no fumbling, no hesitation, no clumsiness" (p.50). What could be clearer? I have often suggested that performers copy this as a motto and stick it on the mirror in the morning-something to contemplate as one is brushing one's teeth and combing one's hair. Would that all the close-up magic we saw fulfilled these conditions-no fumbling, no hesitation, no clumsiness! To perform our magic smoothly, without fumbling, hesitation, or clumsiness, requires practice and rehearsal. Yet it also requires, I suspect, that we select material that is within the reach of our own technical ability. To have a repertoire of very difficult (to perform) magic, none of which is well done, is ridiculous. Better to do only easy effects and do them well, so well that you do them with ... style! I am not, of course, arguing against selecting close-up material that is technically difficult. Hardly! I am only sayrng that each performer must
look at his own abilities with critical, ruthless honesty-and correlate his working repertoire to his abilities rather than to his fantasies. If your ability to perform an Elmsley Count, for example, is successful only 807o of the time (the rest of the time you flash the card-to-remain-hidden or get goofed up in some other way) well, my suggestion is that you stopstop-performing effects which require Elmsley Counts in public.It's fine if you want to work on such effects in practice, in rehearsal, but please not in front of real people, not in public! In public performance,SoVo is not an acceptable success rate. It's much too low. So, then, one must practice and rehearse-and be honestly aware of the Iimits of one's technical ability and skill. It is in practice-and never in performance-that we work to exceed and move forward to higher skill Ievels. In public performance, I personally only perform what I know I can do uery well. I want to discuss a card effect that I have used since I first became a fulltime professional magician. It is very simple to do, quite amazing, and allows me to concentrate on the way in which I perform the effect. The method is based almost totally on theatrical, rather than sleight-of-hand, ability. Let's call it: EasU $tuflug Here is the effect, the interaction, as the audience sees it. The performer removes a deck of cards from its case, shows their faces and backs, and gives them a brief overhand mix. The spectator cuts the cards and looks at the card at which he cut. It is shown to those present. The performer takes the deck and, holding it about eight inches above the table top, begins allowing the cards to drop from his hand. "Tell me when to stop," he asks. The spectator calls "stop" and the performer allows the card to be replaced on the tabled portion. He continues to allow the remainder of the cards in his hand to drop onto the tabled cards. "Square them up,' he says, "and cu,t them once-" The performer picks up the deck, his hands come together, and he appears to do something exceedingly suspicious-in any event, his right hand moves away from the deck in an awkward manner, almost as if something were concealed in it. Undaunted, the performer asks: "Do you think your card is still iz the deck?" Very often spectators reply, nNo, it's in your right hand!" Whatever the spectator's reply, the performer looks at his own right hand, pauses, and allows the palmed card to (r\ THB Cnam oF MAGrc 183 (\ come into view (fig.1). The performer smiles. "This isn't your card, is it?" he asks-turning the card face up. Indeed, the palmed card is not the selected card. "You must not be so ... suspicious," the performer says, smiling. "Your card really is in the deck. I was simply teas- (\
184 EucpNr BuncrR ing you a bit! Here,I'll proue it to you. I'll spread through all the cards and you simply rnake sure your card is in the deck. Of course, you must not react when you see your card---or say anything-just watch to make sure it is there.' The performer spreads through the cards face up and, when frnished, looks at the spectator and asks, "You did see your card, didn't you?" Thre spectator replies positively. "Well," the performer continues,onow that we both know the card is in the deck, rny task is to find it. I can do that in seueral ways. The easiest way is to spell it. Say you picked a red card, the Ace of Hearts. To find that card we would sirnply spell it, one card for each letter." The performer, holding the pack face down, spells the card, turning each card face up as he does so. On the last letter of the spelling, he turns up the Ace of Hearts. Giving the deck a shuflle, the performer continues: "That works with all of the cards in the deck. You probably knew that already. Say you picked a black card, the King of Clubs." The performer now spells "King of Clubs" and on the last letter the card he holds is the King of Clubs. "What card did you select?" the performer asks as he hands the deck to the spectator. The spectator replies that he selected the Nine of Diamonds. "TYy it for yourself, Just spell'Nine of Diamonds'." The spectator does so, and on the final card ofthe spell he discovers his selected card. Since I have performed this effect well over a thousand times for laymen, I know how well it registers with them. As readers of my previous books will understand,I am especially fond of effects like this wherein the spectator is put into the role of magician and *star." It's so much more fun for the spectator than watching passively. The effect is quite simple to perform. It begins with a card force (I'11 discuss the specific force that I use shortly). From then on, the effect hinges on the theatrical ploy of creating doubt that the card is, in fact, in the deck. Once suspicion is successfully raised, it makes perfect sense to prove to the spectator that the card is in the deck by spreading through the deck face up so he can see it-the point at which the actual spelling is set up. If you are good at glimpsing a returned, selected card, you might prefer to eliminate the card force, have the selected card returned, glimpse it, and proceed. In either event, if you are attentive to roughly where the card is being returned-and, approximately how many cards the spectator cuts-you will know (approximately) where the selected card lies. The point is that you want to bring the card nearer to the bottom (face) of the deck. If the spectator has cut the cards so the selected card lies nearer to the top of the face-down deck, simply cut the cards again to bring the card nearer to the bottom while you execute the fake palming-off sequence. Once the palming-off sequence has been completed and the palmed card shown not to be the selected card, the element of doubt and suspicion is raised. The performer offers to prove the card is in the deck, cautioning the spectator to remain silent and to not react when the card is seen (this
Tsp Cnem or Mecrc 185 feature can be played much stronger than I play it: One can have a good deal of fun with the spectators about "not reactingl). At this point I begin to spread the face-up cards from my left hand to my right. I am not simply spreading the cards-this is important-I am pushing the cards off the face of the deck with my left thumb and, taking the cards, one at a time, with my right hand. Once I spot the forced (or glimpsed) card, I begin the spelling processbeginning with the selected card as the first letter. Because I am actually taking cards away with my right hand, the spelling process is very easy to do silently, without even looking at the cards. As I frnish the spell, my eyes return to the cards long enough to see the last card of the spell. Then, starting with the next card (say the King of Clubs),I begin to spell it ("King of Clubs") with this card itself as the frrst letter of the spell. As this spell is completed, I look to see the frrst card that follows the completed spell (say, the Ace of Hearts). Starting with this card as the first card of the next spell, I now spell 'Ace of Hearts." One of three things might now occur: (1) The spelling might end perfectly: As I get to the "s" of "Hearts," I am holding the last card of the deck. This rarely happens. (2) You finish the spell a few cards short. If I need three cards, for example, to complete the spell, I simply cut three cards from the face of the face-up pack to the bottom (i.e., the top of the facedown deck). (3) I might have a few extra cards-which again are transferred from the left hand to the face (front) of the face-up cards in the right hand. These transfers are not a big deal and are accomplished without seeming interest or intent as I comment"Now that we both know your card is in the deck ... ." The effect is now self-working-though I do throw in an occasional false riffle shuflle (nothing fancy!)-never, of course, looking at my hands when I do this brfi always looking up at the spectators. I wanted to discuss this effect because it is a fine example of an effect which is within the technical reach of probably 95Vo of the magicians who read this book. At the same time, it is most mysterious. T[tufuo$$][loFutoo Allow me to explain the card force which I personally use with the above effect-and certain touches which were added to it byAI Baker. This will, further, lead me into the second Proposition which I want to offer concerning performance sty1e. Most readers are probably familiar with the old card force using a handkerchief. In this force, two cards are reversed (face up) on the bottom of the face-down deck. The lowermost card is the force card. The cards are spread face down before a spectator without flashing the two reversed cards on the bottom. The cards are squared and placed face down on the performerrs outstretched left hand. They are now covered with an (opaque) handkerchief and the spectator is invited to reach over and cut the deck
186 EucpNn BuncER through the handkerchief at any point-and to hold the cut-offportion two or three inches above the remainder of the pack. The spectator is now asked to make one of three choices: (1) to drop some of the cards he is holding (2) to pick up some of the cards from those which the performer holds, or (3) to stand pat. The spectator makes his decision. The performer asks the spectator to take away the handkerchief, and the cards which he holds, and to take the top card from the group on the performer's left hand. Needless to say, just before the handkerchief is removed, the performer turned the cards in his hand over and the card which the spectator removes is the force card. The second card which was reversed now masks the fact that beneath it is a face-up group of cards. In his book, The Fine Art of Magic, George Kaplan simplifies this procedure as follows: the force card is on top of the deck and the performer turns the entire deck over as he covers it with the handkerchief The deck now resides on his left hand face upthis fact being hidden by the opaque handkerchief, The spectator is invited to cut the deck and is then given the three further choices. Again, before the spectator removes the handkerchief and the cards which he holds, the performer takes the handkerchief and also the cards within it. Though the handkerchief force is most effective, its drawback is that it is not always possible to grve some plausible reason for introducing and using the handkerchief. Just why are the cards being couered? ('lMell ... because this must be done in darkness." Fteally? And just why is thal the case?) On the other hand, what has always appealed to me about this force is that it is one force you can sell as nof bein g a force at all. The spectator, remember, is given one of three choices: take more cards, drop some he holds, or stand pat. This feature can be sold in performance, showcased, thereby seeming to preclude the performer influencing the spectator's decision. It was, I believe, Clayton RawsoD, in the pages of the Jinx magazine, who eliminated the handkerchief. He called his handling, "The Force that Couldn't Be." In Rawson's version, the bottom three cards are reversed-the lowermost being the force card. The deck is held face down on the performer's left hand and the spectator is asked to cut off some cards and hold them "an inch or so" above the deck (fig.l). The spectator is again given the three choices. When he is satisfied with the cut, the performer raises his right hand, palm upward, about a foot to the right of the left hand and a few inches higher than the left hand (frg.2). TIvo things now happen simultaneously: (1) The performer says, "Put your '.-t \--
THp Cnam or MacIC L87 cards here." (2) The performer's left hand swings over and points to the outstretched right palm (frg.3). This larger action conceals the smaller action, which is the performer's left thumb going under the deck and tilting it to the right, onto the fingertips ffrg.4). As the spectator places his cards on the performer's right hand, the left hand swings back to its original position and the deck completes its halfturn so it now lies on the fingers rather than the palm. The left thumb immediately slides the card forward. The first finger presses inward on the end of the deck to keep the rest of the cards in alignment. I handle the clean up as follows. First, I get a break under the top (reversed) card of the deck. I take the spectator's cards and ask him to show his card to those present. Dropping his cards on top of those which I hold in my left hand, I retain the break. As he begins showing his card, I turn away (why not?), as if I wanted to be sure that I didn't also see the selected card. As I turn, my hands come together and I reverse the cards below the break. Al Baker added a really wonderful }ittle touch to this force in his book, Pet Secrefs. He called it "The Impossible Force" and I must confess that I have fooled many well-informed professional close-up magicians with it-all of whom were most delighted when I explained it to them. (And here I thought that all magicians had read Al Baker's books!) What Al Baker did was to provide a method whereby the cards could be spread both face up and face down before the force. He did this by setting the deck as Rawson set it, except he used only two cards face up at the bottom of the face-down deck rather than three. Baker now put an indifferent card at the bottom of the deck-facing the same way as the rest of the deck. Keeping these three cards together at the face of the deck, the remainder of the cards are spread face up. The deck is squared and turned over and spread face down-without, of course, flashing the bottom three cards. The cards are now given an overhand shuffle-the right thumb and frrst finger pinching the top and bottorn cards (fig.5), then running off some cards, and placing the remaining cards in the left hand on the boftom of those in the right. We are left with a face-down deck with two cards reversed on the bottom and the force may proceed. Al Baker introduced such a small touch, in one sense, and, in another, a quite wonderful one-which gives the performer the freedom to apparently show the deck as unprepared before forcing the card. This leads me to my next Proposition. While it is obviously important and of great value to think big if we are not to be trapped in the limitations of our everyday perceptions, there is also value to be derived if we think small<specially when it comes to performing style. I would say, in fact Proposition Tbo: Style is the sum of the details, the touches, the nu.ances, the little things. Let me discuss an effect which is usually credited to Milbourne Christopher. I learned it while still a teenager, performed it for a period, and then promptly forgot it. The problem was not, of course, the effect but
188 Eucpxn BuncER the fact that I hadn't put anything of myself ir;lto it. I simply read the book and did pretty much what the book said-which is a typical, though noncreative, way to approach one's magic. It was several years later when I returned to this effect and it was at that time that I started working with it-that is, putting thought into the effect, changing things around a bit, adding my own touches, and, thereby, making the effect "mine.'I call it T[luF[llsfialolt Let me explain the effect in a scenario which presents it in the most favorable setting.I mean by this that in the description which follows, the effect, as perceived by the spectators, seems to be thoroughly irnpromptu. It isn't impromptu, of course, since 10 second's secret preparation are required. The point, however, is that if I were to perform this effect, as I very often do, for friends in restaurants where I am not working but simply a patron, and begin by removing a matchbook from my pocket, the effect would play well. If, however, I were simply to pick up one of the restaurant's matchbooks from the table and perform the effect, a far greater impact will be produced and the effect will be perceived by those present to be utterly amazing. We might state this as follows: The setting in which a particular magic trick is performed often counts in terms of the impact it produces. Here, then, is the scenario: You have frnished dinner in a restaurant and, after the coffee is served, you offer to show the group "something really unusual.' You explain that certain numbers are said to have mystical properties-especially the odd numbers. The number "5,' for example, is said to be the number that designates "return to wholeness"-ofben through " inuisible flight." At this point, of course, your friends will most likely be looking at you a bit incredulously. Undaunted, you continue, "I was skeptical, too. Here,let me show you. Picking up one of the restaurant's matchbooks that has been lying on the table, you proceed to remove some of the matches-until only five remain. You count them slowly, pointing to each with your right first finger and moving each slightly to emphasize the count. Removing one of the five matches, you hand it to a spectator with the comment: oHere, this is your match. This leaues four matches in tlu book." A'garn, the matches EIre counted. "To identify your match, why don't you bend it in half.'The performer closes the matchbook, places it on the table, and then takes the match from the spectator. He holds it up so everyone can see its bent condition. "To id.entify your match euen furthen I'm going to light it and blow it out." You light the match and then blow down your left sleeve (You are holding the match in your right hand) and the match goes out. This always gets a reaction. I usually smile and say, "I just wanted to see if you were paying attention."
THn Cnem op Mecrc 189 'Your match is now bent and burned. It would be uery easy to recognize again.'The match suddenly vanishes (I'll talk about that in a moment), and when the spectator opens the matchbook, he finds the bent and burned match attached as it was at the beginning. When I entered the restaurant, of course,I picked up another matchbook. Later, I excused myself to go to the men's room where I did the set up. I simply burned one of the front matches (I prefer one on the left side of center) and then bend it in half (fiS.l). Substituting this book for the one on the table is rather easy to do because it is done long before any evidence that I am going to perform. Moving an ashtray or lighting a cigarette (my own or for a lady present) and the matchbook is switched. The story about the numb er u5" is, needless to say, something I made up. If someone present were suddenly to prove himself to be a numerolory buff and challenge my "interpretation," f would simply respond with a truly man/elous line (given to me by T.A. Waters) "Oh, you must be talking about one of those published systems!" (Thank you, Thomas!) The pre-burned/bent match is concealed, of course, by the left thumb as it holds the open matchbook. I usually bend the cover back as well and hold it open between my first and second fingers (fi9.2). By removing all the matches except five, you allow the spectators some chance at visually comprehending what the effect is. To use more matches really is to invite visual confusion. Imagine doing this with L7 matches. The counting would be virtually impossible to follow for all but (perhaps) those sitting right next to you. But even for them, it would all probably be pretty much a blur. Using only five matches allows the spectators an opportunity to appreciate the effect. I think there are some lovely touches here. The bending of the match by the spectator, presumably to identify it, in reality sets you up to perform the "blowing the match out by blowing down the sleeve" stunt accomplished, as you no doubt already know, by simply twistirrg the bent match between your right thumb and first finger (figs.3 and q as you blow down the opposite sleeve. The fact that the match seems to go out magically is, perhaps, a small detail, but it is one that is always appreciated and remembered by audiences. About vanishing the match: I am holding the spectator's match in my right hand. It has just extinguished itself magrcally. I put it in my left hand, actually retaining it in my right. This is done, however, under the following larger movement: I put the match in my left hand so my right hand is free to move the matchbook (which is lyrng closed on the table) directly in front of the spectator-with the comment, "Please place your right hand flat on top of the matchbook and press down " (This latter direction precludes the spectator from opening the matchbook prematurely.) The movement of the matchbook is the reoson I put the match in my left hand: My right hand is u\ o
190 Eucnxp BuncER now free to move the matches. This is, I submit, much better than putting the match in your left hand "so it can disappear." After I move the matchbook, I pretend to squeeze the spectator's match in my left hand. At this time, I lap the match concealed in my right hand. I often perform this effect professionally at the bar as well. I sometimes introduce it in the following way. I will perform Matt Schulien's "Card in the Matchbook" with the prepared book. No one has euer commented that a match in the book was burned. Presumably, they just didn't notice the burned match because they are here discovering their selected, signed card in the matchbook-and this is a much more important fact in their perception. Sometimes, when I perform the effect on the outside of the bar, or at a cocktail party in a public place, I will get rid of the spectator's match by dropping it over the shoulder of a spectator on my right as I put my hand on his shoulder and gently pull him a bit closer: "Come a little closer-I don't want you to miss this!" Needless to say, I drop the match over a person's shoulder only in public places and not in peoples' homes. (Hostesses wouldn't appreciate the magician running around dropping matches on the carpet!) Proposition Three: Style is gouerned by restraint and exhibited in the performer's awareness and balance. This might seem a bit metaphysical, but it isn't. Let's begin with restraint. There is a relation between style and restraint that comes into play in two ways. First, restraint is necessary in knowing when first to perform an effect before an audience. I would propose this as a rule of thumb: When you think you are ready frrst to perform a new effect for your family or friends stop! Don't do it! Say to yourself,, instead: "I will wait one rnonth.I will practice this effect and rehearse it for on;e more month." If you follow this rule of thumb, your magic seems to be producing greater impact. Second, restraint is related to style in terms of the performer knowing when to stop rather than going on and on to less and less impact. "But he simply went on too long!" really is a devastating criticism. In at least these two ways, I would say that one's performing style is governed by restraint. I think a performer's style, further, is exhibited, in part, by his balancethat is, his ability to keep his balance amid whatever adversities the Fates place in his path-as well as in his awareness of what is happening. Allow me to give you a personal example of being unaware. When I was in high school, my best friend asked if I would do a magic show for a party his mother was gving. I agreed and, on the day of the party, we loaded his car with several suitcases frlled with props (!) and my newest pfize: a Grant "French Guillotine," the six-foot model wherein the blade drops about two-and-a-half feet-apparently directly through the spectator's neck! (Every teenage magician should have one, don't you think!) During the show (I admit that calling my endeavors in those days a 'show" is certainly giving myself the benefrt of considerable doubt; I think of those shows now more as exhibitions of items from various magic cat-
THp Cnart or Macrc 191 alogs,), I happened to notice a large lady sitting to one side. Being a fat teenager myself, I empathized with her-and even fantasized that she felt left out (because her size was really, well, right up there!) and, further, I imagined that she really wanted to be a part of the proceedings, that she wanted to be a participant. And, then I got the further idea that she'd be great for the finale, the Head Chopper! At the appropriate time, I invited her up, showed her and the audience the device, and then faced the frrst of several "problems"-getting this very large woman to her knees. Needless to say, it was pretty gruesome. The second, more substantial, problem was closing the stocks. In my excitement, you see, I just hadn't computed the size of the stocks in relation to the size of this woman's very thick neck. As it turned out, her neck was several inches too large for the stocks to close. In my own confusion and bewilderment (What should I do!) , I pushed down on the stocks and the woman made these gurgling sounds.I pushed and she gurgled. Everyone else became uery quiet-as the reality of the situation became clear to them. Finally, a quiet voice from the back of the room, the woman's husband, almost apologetically, said "Maybe you should use me." He came up and together we hoisted his wife to her feet. The room seemed to get even quieter. She sat down and he got into the Head Chopper and, on that occasion, the second blade got stuck and didn't come down-and the program ended on the oflbeat note of my inelegantly reaching up into the lower stocks, grabbing the blade, and pulling it down! One needs to be aware, during one's performance, of what is happening. "Will the neck frt in the stocks?" It really is a pretty basic question, isn't it? When the performer demonstrates that his own awareness of what is happening is defrcient, any sense of style goes down the drain. Much the same is true of the performer's ability to keep his balance amid adversity. My friend, Steve Weikal, a fine, young performer from Michigan, wrote me a letter some months ago which included the following story. He was performing at a table at the University Club of Michigan State University. He began his Finger Chopper routine by saying that this device was an old family heirloom which he got from his father who, in turn, had received it from his father. Not wanting to use his own frnger to demonstrate, Steve asked one of the men at the table if he might use his. The man agreed but, rather than raising the hand which was lying on the table, raised the one which was below the table's surface, t)ne one which was rninus seueral fingers and a thumb!For a brief moment, Steve was stunned. Everyone at the table, all of whom already knew the condition of the man's hand, enjoyed watching the magician's discomfort. Steve, however, went on to saue the situation "Oh," he said, "I guess youte seen my dad work!" The performer who is completely thrown off balance, who is zzable to save the situation, Iike the performer who simply isn't aware of what's happening ("Hold this sponge ball, if you would, oh, you don't have any fingers!") is a poor candidate for having much style. Style, rather, is exhibited in a performer's ability to flow with t}ne unfolding situation; it is seen
L92 EucBNn BuncER in his ability to maintain his balance in relation to the surprises, and even crises, that might suddenly appear. Proposition Four: The most commercial close-up style is not simply the performer doing his tricks; it is an interaction< relationship between persons. Please notice the word "commercial" in the above proposition. I am not sayrng that non-interactive styles can't be amazing and even entertaining. I am saying, rather, that when we consider the kinds of places closeup magicians are employed, together with the physical closeness of their audiences, an interactive or relational style seems to me to be the most commercial. I very rarely perform anywhere that I am not asked questions and encouraged to talk with spectators. The truth is that people do enjoy talking to the magician-perhaps even more if you appear benevolently strange. 'Arelationship between persons."What does this mean?What does it imply? It means, to me, that spectators, when asked to assist the magician, really are quite vulnerable. It implies, among other things, that I always give people a chance to say, "No, thank you,I don't care to see any magic just now" Spectators are vulnerable. They can so easily be embarrassed and even humiliated. It is so easy to induce a group of people to laugh at one of their own number. But, I think, it really is too easy-at least for gentlemen and women. The practical application is that you might find you get a lot more mileage with your magic, that it suddenly seems to produce much gteater, more positive impact. If you start treating spectator volunteers with some respect-might I suggest, even kindness? They are, after all, really quite vulnerable-even fragile-when called upon to assist the magician. I certainly do grve people the opportunity to say "No." No doubt, I hold to this policy because of an experience which took place during my first month as a full-time magician. I completed a show for a group of people sitting at the restaurant's bar. It had gone extremely well and several of the people had said some very kind things. It is easy, of course, for one to get high on compliments-which is what happened to me.In any event,I left this group and went over to a young couple, sitting some distance away at the bar and rather exploded into their space, suddenly appearing and just beginning this card trick. I was several sentences into the routine when the young man, with a look of pained disbelief on his face, said, "Please! Don't you see we're talkingl" For me, it was one of those moments when I wanted to press the magic button and disappear. Really. Instead, I learned a lesson ofextraordinary value and one that I doubt I shall ever forget. It is simply this: Don't be rude. Try some rnanners please! To grve these strangers an opportunity to say, "No, thank you," isn't simply a question of manners (at least in the sense in which that word is usually used), it is a matter of seeing, acknowledging, and accepting this spectator's person-hood. (Read Paul Tourniefs The Meaning of Persons,if you haven't;it might suggest new sensitivities in dealing with spectators in a close-up magic setting.) To accept these spectators as persons is to give them the chance to say "No." To do otherwise, is to seek to dominate
THp Cnam op MecIC 193 them in the very negative sense of "making them your slaves." Your approach to strangers in professional close-up magic is tremendously important. Your very first words, how you appear, what you are wearing, your manner, your bearing, your attitude are all of tremendous importance. To start off your show by intercupting a serious conversation about marriage, divorce, the children, business (the list goes on), is to invite an audience that will have all the sympathy and interest of your average firing squad. Far better to be performing because these people have said *Yes," and, consequently, have shown this minimum level of interest. I am saying, in other words, that, at its most commercial, acting in the close-up setting is interacting.The magician is, indeed, an actor playrng the part of a magician. For the close-up performer, this acting is inter-acting with people-people the performer (hopefully) considers persons. Let me give you a concrete example of this by explaining a routine which is one of my personal favorites, and one that has resided in my billfold for the past four years, ready to go. It is perfect as a piece of seemingly impromptu magic. Essentially, this is my handling and presentation for Grant's "Slow Motion Bill Transposition" found in The Tarbell Course in Magic, Vol. 3). $hwfioliuB]ll 0flilgo The small circular "5" is cut from the front (portrait) side of the bill-the lower, smaller "5" being used. Cut away the white oval border (fig.l). This piece is attached to a one-dollar bill with soft magician's wax. A very small amount smeared on the back of the ,.5" is fine. In this way, should anyone ask to see the bill, the (5" can be slid off with the left thumb. Attach the ,.5)' to the lower-left side of the front of the bill (ftg.2). Fold the bill in half with the ,.5" on the inside-and place it in your billfold. You are ready to go. Borrowing a five-dollar bill, I fold it once with the face inward on the shorter side, and lay it on the table. "Since you haue been generous enough to kick in an entire fiue-dollar bill, I see no reason why I, personally, shouldn't put in a one." So saying, I remove the grmmicked bill from my billfold, fold it once along the short side with the face inward, and set it next to the spectator's frve. The two bills sit side-by-side like two long, narrow tents (fig.3). "What I didn't mention is that this is a con-garle. Now, there are con-gatnes and there are con-garnes. There are con-garrcs where people go to jail and it gets rather rnaudlin and then there are the con-ganxes that are more like practical jokes but you still lose your money."
L94 EucnNp BUnGER I look at the lender of the five dollar bill and smile. Sometimes he smiles too. "I'm going to fold these bills into smaller packets." The five-dollar bill is folded three times-two times the long way and once the other way-so that the numbers are folded into the inside and, therefore, are not visible. The one-dollar bill is folded so the numbers do show-the "1" on one side and the fake "5" on the other (frg.4). This bill is set on the table (or, if I am standing without a table, onto an assisting spectator's outstretched palm, fig.5) so that the "5" side is down, resting hidden on the performing surface/palm. "Hold your right hand out, palm u.pward," I say to a different spectator, usually a man. As I say this, I pick up the two bills: The real five on top of the gimmicked one and, placing them both on the spectator's palm, I turn them over (fi9.6). The fake "5" is now on top. I close the spectator's frngers and hold them closed. "Here's your question: Without looking, how much money, totolly, do you think you haue in your hand?' The spectator will invariably answer, "Six dollars." I smile, look at the other spectators, and say, "That's fabulous: it's ex,actly what I would haue said!" I reach over and remove the fake bitl (with the K5" showirg, fig.7) and turn the spectator's hand over. This prevents him from opening his hand prematurely and spoiling the surprise. I continue: "If I took the fiue, how much does that leaue you?" The spectator will reply, "One dollar." (On rare occasions, a spectator will smile and say, "Fiue dollars!" I pause, then smile, too, and say, "YoLt must be an accountant ... or a banker!") 'And how much haue you giuen me?' I ask-showing the fake *5" but keeping the bill in motion-not fast or jerky, but slight movement as I gesture with my right hand. The spectator will reply "Five dollars." I smile and-as if this were the point of the proceedings-say, 'And then the con-mon says, 'Thank you uery much, sucker!"' This is said lightly-not as an insult. I allow them a moment to process this very old joke before continuin g "No, tuo, I'm not a con-rnan. I'm going to show you the fastest trick you'ue euer seen. Watch!" Holding the fake bill with the '(5" showing between the thumb and first finger of my left hand, I extend my right hand palm upward. I do this slowly, dramatically, as if it were all terribly important. I place the bill on my right right first finger bill (the fake K5" palm and begin to close my right fingers. I position my urtder the bill, and my right second finger on top of the side) (fi9.8). I move the bill right under the spectator's
THp Cnarr or MacIC 195 mouth and say, "Blow on it!" fn the process of this movement, however, the right fingers are extended and the bill is turned over-so the ,.1" is now visible-right under the spectator's nose (fig.9)! Needless to say, I am in direct eye contact with the spectator as I move the bill toward him. Invariably, he will be in eye contact with De, too. What he perceives, then, is a most startling transformation of the c(5" on my palm into the (L" under his nose. Very effective. Immediately, I ask, And what do you haue?" The spectator is told to open his hand and discovers the five-dollar bill. I open the bill in my hand and drop it on the table, fake"5" side down. It is important that this be done without apparent concern. It's just a one-dollar bill, after all, and you're done with it. Focus your attention on the five-dol- f lar bill in the spectator's hand. Once the change has registered, l]} I pick up the one-dollar bill from the table, and, as I put it away, I - I say to the spectator, 'You had better put the fiue away before I get it!" I say this with a laugh because I often do. This routine really is an exercise in interaction. It is played lightly throughout-without hurniliating the assisting spectaton There are, I sometimes think, two basic, underlying attitudes which close-up magicians might have. These attitudes, in turn, tell us a gteat deal about their respective performing styles. There are, first of all, performers who perform obviously for themselves, to make themselves happy, for their own ego gratifrcation. On the other hand, there are those performers who appear to be performing not simply for themselves but, rather, for their audiences, to make their audiences happy. These latter performers may, of course, be experiencing equal (ifnot greater) ego satisfaction as the others. It's just that they don't show it in the same obviousand often, offensive-way. It is more hidden. What is not hidden is the concern they demonstrate for their audiences; their apparent interest in their spectators; their courtesy and bearing toward other people. These are things which audiences see and experience and to which they positively relate. How could it be otherwise?
196 Eucnxp BUnGER [ 0olril$aliu I l|sll ailaPro$lilttlo Bulwgutl a Prolussioml fiagiuiil il [na[uu, PM: Magic is a fascinating art! A: What makes this hell for me is that we're not alone-that Boots is here with us ... an outsider. I'd rather we were alone so we could talk freely about t}:re real secrets of magic. PM: You'll close your eyes, won't you, Boots, So we magicians can talk shop? P: That's the thing about being a prostitute, people sometimes treat you in really awful ways. "Just close your ss1s"-31d pretend that you're not even there. But I am there! I'm here! A: Here are the cards. They really meant that stuff about the "Deuil's Playthings"-1vfis would have ever thought? PM: Ah, yes! But "Playthings" that can hold people spellbound. I've seen audiences gasp, almost as a body when the selected card was revealed. I've seen spectators'mouths drop open in complete bewilderment. What I want to know are the secrets of producing this astonishment, this impact. How do we turn magic tricks into really amazing effects? A: But what I don't understand is your method for doing that side steal, or whatever it is. PM: Oh, that! It's not very diffrcult. A: Is it yours? PM: I don't know. I've done it so long that I guess it's mine now. A: No. I mean, did you inuent it? PM: Was I the very first to hold and maneuver the cards in this way? I can't imagine that I was. You know folks have been messing around with playrng cards now for centuries. These card moves probably get reinvented every 375 years. A: What a cop out! You're just too lazy to keep up with the literature! Here do it for me-slowly-if you don't mind. PM: Sure. Give me the cards. A: Boots! Do you have to watch too? Can't you respect our space? P: At least you used my name. I like it better when you use my name. PM: Here, just give me the cards. Ignore Boots! P: Treat me like a heckler. I like it when you talk dirty to me. PM: The move goes like this. A: Do it again a little slower. I'll just lay down here on the floor so I can look zp at your hands. PM: Sure, whatever you want. I'll do it again, a little slower.
THp Cnem or IVIacIC L97 A: A ha! Just as I thought! That's just Presto's "Angle-Proof Bottom Placement." You're using the "Tilt Option." Presto published it in 1953- but it was in his dated notebooks in the late 1930s. PM: WelI, that's what Ite always used. I guess I'Il use it through all eternity. A: But I thought it was something new. That's old!In fact, several major improvements were published in the 1960s. If you only would keep up with the literature. PM: But what I'm doing really works. What did you say it was called? P: A "Bottom Placement with a Tilt Option." Sounds Like my kind of a trick! PM: Magic is a fascinating art! A: What makes this hell for me is that we're not alone, that Boots is here with us-an outsider. I'd rather we were alone so we could talk freely about the real secrets of magic. In the vening By the side of a crystal pool, I sit in silence To quiet The po sonous dragon In me. Wang Wei (699-759)