I recently spent a day in the library of a legend. His scholarship on the history of magic is profound and thorough. He and his lovely wife entertained myself and the sapient pig for an afternoon. When I say entertained, there was no performance. All of us relaxed, shuffled off our desire to ‘perform’ and settled into more sedate pleasures.

He showed me such wonders. His collection extends all through a five bedroom house in Hull, and he knows it so very well. His study, where he writes monthly for the magic circular, contains three walls of shelves double stacked with rare and interesting books. I’ll keep the details to myself, but one of the lovely little joys for me, was reading a book only semi-rare. It is called Elliot’s Last Legacy, and it is by Houdini. Actually it was largely written by a friend of his, and he swooped in to put his name on it.

None-the-less it contains a dream-like description of one of Dr. Elliot’s performances. I was swept up in the simplicity of form, and feel compelled to share it with those of you who still read this site.

This is a paraphrasing, rather than direct quotation, because I wrote so many things out by hand. Some of them contain small errors in grammar, and thus the text will not be exact. Without further ado…

He entered from the left side of the stage, attired in an evening dress, crush hat, and carrying a cane; stood the cane (which had a knob handle) at right front of stage where it remained upright. Removing hat he placed it over the handle of the cane thus making an improvised ‘table’, which he completed by spreading a silk pocket hand-kercheif over the crown of the hat. From his upper right hand pockethe then produced a glass of water, upon drinking which and drying the glass, he placed it on top of the handkerchief and hat. Elliot next made a bare armed production of a full deck of cards, from which he had six selected and marked by choosers and then returned to the deck. He then caused three cards to rise from the glass on the ‘table’ and the other three cards to slowly float up from the deck to his hand. Each of the six cards, as it rose from the glass or deck, was scaled (v.tr 4) out into the audience.Elliot then removed the pack from the goblet and with a tossing movement, caused the deck to vanish; by a similat tossing movement the goblet melted away and finally, the silken pocket handkerchief by slow rubbing between the palms. He then finished by removing hat from cane, placing it on his head and removing cane from floor. Then carrying cane in right hand walking to the left side of stage, he doffed his hat and made exit. Next, holding the deck in the left hand and using that hand only, Elliot would bring any card selected to the front of the deck; in fact the cards called seem to appear on the face almost instantaneously. Finally, after working a series of other fine card effects, followed with the remarkable manipulative work with a two and one half inch billiard ball. Elliot then removed the pack from the goblet and with a tossing movement, caused the deck to vanish; and by a similar tossing movement the goblet melted away, and finally the silken pocket handkerchief by slow rubbing between the palms. He then finished by removing hat from cane, placing it on his head and removing cane from floor. Then, carrying the cane in his right hand, walking to the left side of stage, he doffed hat and made exit.

I’ve been broken. I’m hobbling around the house with a back injury and a little stash of painkillers in my pockets. The details of my affliction are very boring, but there’s a little comedy everywhere. Yesterday, such an accidental comedy, leapt from the lips of  my doctor while he was unaware.

He said to me:

“Your return to work is simply an issue of pain management. You can go back as soon as you can handle the agony.”

What a Wilde-esque statement!

Regular readers know of course, that I don’t like to indulge so much in personal particulars, and that I hope each post is worth reading on its own years after it is written. I feel lately I’ve been failing in that respect and thus I am taking the time to write a few painstaking words for you. Also, at the end a little gem of wonder in our usual tradition.

I also notice, I have neglected my most beloved medium: pasteboards. You see cards are wonderous things. Most people believe that card tricks are the lowest form of magic, but then most people haven’t seen what I have seen.

There’s a quotation in card magic often attributed to Dai Vernon, or Hofzinser, but ultimately the truth is intact, who so ever was the first to utter it.

“Cards are the poetry of magic.”

If you have the chance to see one of the masters, you will know what I mean. Take for example this gentleman. He is performing a card trick I hate most in the world. The idea of a card returning repeatedly to the top of a deck leaves me cold.

However, I’d like you to witness the elegance he gives to the effect. In him, such a mundane trick is redeemed for me. It is self evident proof that it is the singer, and not the song.

They cheat in ways you cannot conceive of. They’ve devoted their lives to it.

Haven’t you always wondered why they become deceivers…

Witness here the inception of deception. The birth of a trickster. The turn card.

400 years ago he might have been a coney catcher, or gull groper. Perhaps he would have been light fingered, or fleet of foot. A faker of injuries, maybe, or the infuriating bait in a blind alley mugging.

You wouldn’t have had the chance to witness the introduction of a deceptionist to cozenage then but here in this strange digital realm, you do.

Let this serve as a warning to would be gamblers, and would be cheaters. If you keep rounding my table, I’ll put a thumb down your back. That’s all the warning you’ll get.

There are generations upon generations behind the cons, and pulling back the curtain for a peek is a dangerous game. You might start to believe you know the game, you might get wise, find the office, have been around the block a few times. In your heart though you must admit that any one of us can be taken for a sucker.

This upstart is only 15. Imagine how invisible he’ll be at the table in 15 more.

He won’t be the loud-mouth, he won’t have an ego.  He’ll have no need to show off his skills. That’s a weakness some of us don’t indulge in…

We’ll tell him about our history:

The Bleeding Heart in DC, The Amphibians in Las Vegas, The Akula club in NY. Yellow Kid Weil, Titanic Thompson, Victor Lustig, Arthur Furgusun, George C. Parker. He’ll whisper things to other deceptionists that make them brighten their eyes or turn their hearts to ice.

He’ll never need to cheat.

He’ll know ‘the right way to do wrong’.

He’ll entertain.

You can sheer a sheep many times, but you can skin him only once.

Toast of the Town Episode #17.19 (1964). That was the inflection point. It was the rise of rock and all electric and the fall of variety and music hall. That show has so many stories running through it, I’ll have trouble giving you all of them.

I’ll try though, I’ll try.

First let’s hear it first hand. Let Charlie and Mitzi tell you. They’re a priceless act themselves.

Act one, starting at 6:30 min.

Now you know the story, you’ll want to see Frank on that epic show.

You haven’t forgotten that magician though have you. I recognized his voice instantly from TAL. Take a guess before you look up the line-up.

Now that leaves us two of the other great acts to find. Unfortunately, I can’t find all of them, but then maybe this post will help you bring them to me.

Let’s look at that guy doing card tricks…

Not just any guy. A legend.

Who else would do a card trick and screw it up so perfectly? Planned mistakes, and comedic accidents. Rumor has it he was a magician of the old school…not just on stage, but he would hang out with the amateurs afterwards. There’s definitely not many of those left.

Which finally brings us back around to the title of the post and a woman who could entertain people with an empty paper bag. She was that good.

See for yourself…a little taste of Tessie.

Now the Beatles are stuck in my head. To be fair, they were pretty good too.

People with skills don’t always reveal them.

“An artist is one with the skill to provide more and the will to refrain.” A lesson I had forgotten.

It takes time. And so I spend time…

…and I try to spend it well.

Time is ice in the hand. You have to be a real, cool, customer.

Sometimes you have a streak of rotten luck. You give away your skills for free. You give them to people who you think deserve your time. Then you never hear from them again. They pass their time, and their judgements, idly.

Its my fault, really. I confuse people’s enthusiasm for a free performance with real, lasting, friendship. I make friends fast. Too fast for some, I suppose. Yet sometimes, I even make fast friends.

I wouldn’t be anyone else, and how could I be. Indeed, how could anyone be anyone else? I’ll waste time with thousands of people, just to find those with skills.

Just to find the others.

Other times, you find you are at home in a place you’ve never been. Your family is sitting round the dinner table, but you’ve never met half of them before. The dinner table is a crate of beer, or a pub table. Dinner is on the house. You know everyone’s street-name, and their real names too. They know they’re in good company, and you sense you’re with ‘good people’. ‘Joe hep’ is nowhere to be found.

That’s when skills get revealed, lasting memories are made, epic moments of beauty and laughter illuminate your life. I had one of those moments this weekend. Though I was little tipsy when it happened, I was there when the ‘curse of wales’ was under the glass. I was there, and it wasn’t in my deck in the morning.

“The art is in concealing art.”

I saw someone graceful and brave this weekend. He dealt out three rows of seven cards and still fooled a roomful of jaded magicians. His friends were a testament to his character, and I was glad to be with them. I wouldn’t have been anywhere else on earth.

As I was in England, I couldn’t help thinking…

“We few. We merry few.”

I, in turn, took my turn. I was not as good as the rest, or as well rested. I made some schoolboy errors, and I felt the awkwardness I haven’t known since childhood.

“The dye is cast The dice are rolled I feel like shit you look like gold.”

I made new friends, and swore with old ones. I drank, and I laughed, and I was in awe of their skills. Their camraderie is odd, but it is never boring. Many people say they don’t want a boring life, but they do not seek these pieces of strange.

On the plane I found a torn piece of newspaper was tucked into my copy of The Expert at the Card Table. It held a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson. I don’t know where it came from and I probably never will, but then, I’m not afraid of not knowing…

“To know even one life breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have suceeded.”

My friend, you have succeeded. Many, many, times over.