Professional Documents
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Famous Tricks of Famous Conjurers
Famous Tricks of Famous Conjurers
Learned
Pig
Project
One of the most popular tricks of modern times has been "The
Magic Kettle." It created quite a sensation a few years ago, but I
fancy that most magicians were rather displeased with it, for it
was more of a scientific toy than a trick. The chief effect
consisted in making the kettle boil water when it was standing on
a block of ice.
Magic kettles being all the rage, I, naturally, had to have one; but
I was determined that my magic kettle should be a little different
from anybody else's. Therefore I borrowed an idea from a very
old trick--the inexhaustible bottle: a bottle from which the
conjurer can pour any drink asked for by the audience. In place of
the bottle I used a kettle, and from it I poured spirits, wines,
liqueurs, and milk and water (in separate glasses; my milk was
the real thing).
I nearly had a terrific failure with the magic kettle. The trick itself
never failed me, it was just a little too good for the audience. The
trouble occurred at Leicester. The trick had been well advertised
all over the town, and a large balloon, in the form of an elephant,
floated over the Temperance Hall, in which I was to perform. The
name of the hall ought to have been a warning to me, but it was
not. At the last moment I was prohibited by the proprietors from
doing the magic kettle because of the intoxicating drinks it
produced. It appeared that the man who built the hall had given it
on the condition that no intoxicating drinks were consumed on the
premises, and there was a clause in my agreement telling me of
this condition, but I had overlooked it.
What was to be done? I could not possibly break faith with the
public, for the kettle was the leading item in my programme. I
hurriedly decided to make the kettle a total abstainer for the time
being and to cause it to produce only temperance drinks: tea,
coffee, cocoa, milk, lemonade. Some people marvelled at the idea
of having hot lemonade served to them; but I did not, for I knew
that it was beyond the powers of my trusty kettle to serve a hot
drink one moment and an iced drink the next, and so on.
Now for the sequel to that story. I have performed only twice out
of England, and on both occasions in Vienna. During my second
visit to Vienna--twenty-five years after the first--I wanted to do
the kettle trick, but I found that there was such a very large
variety of non-temperance drinks in Vienna that I could not
possibly remember them all. To offer to produce any drink named
by the audience was out of the question altogether. So I fell back
on the old idea of making the kettle a total abstainer, and found to
my joy that hot lemonade was a regular drink in Vienna. The
audiences thought that I had paid them a compliment by
remembering that they liked their lemonade hot, and it was with
great difficulty that the audiences were prevented from mobbing
me and the kettle as I rushed about the hall pouring out any drink
I was asked for. Never has the kettle made a bigger success than it
made in Vienna, and I take this opportunity of thanking the
proprietors of Temperance Hall, Leicester.
Some time after de Kolta's death I tried to go one better than "The
Vanishing Lady." I wanted to make the lady vanish without
covering her up, and after many experiments I produced "The
Mascot Moth." A lady took the part of the moth. On a fully
lighted stage, without covering the lady, I just picked her up in
my arms and she disappeared.
Buatier de Kolta invented several tricks which have made the
name of more than one magician. One of the tricks was "The
Disappearing Birdcage." The cage, with a bird inside it,
disappeared from the inventor's hands. Another of his famous
tricks was the production of vast quantities of paper flowers from
a sheet of paper which he twisted up into a cone-shaped bag. This
trick baffled conjurers for a long time, but one evening a draught
on the stage caught one of the flowers and blew it into the
orchestra. The secret of the trick was given away, and it is now
known to every conjurer.
Conjurers are also indebted for some of their tricks to the bogus
spiritualists. Dr. Slade, the famous medium, provided conjurers
with an excellent slate trick, but the conjurers simplified his
method. The conjurer shows a clean slate and produces on it any
writing--figures or words--which he requires.
The "spiritualists" have one very effective trick which they use to
prove the presence of spirits. The medium allows someone to tie
one end of a cord round his wrist in any way he pleases and to
seal the knots. Having done this, the assistant holds the other end
of the cord in his hand. The lights are lowered for a few moments;
when they are turned up the assistant sees a knot in the middle of
the cord. How does the knot get there? One end is tied tightly
round the medium's wrist, the assistant holds the other end. The
knot must be spirit-tied. But it never is.
The drawing-room performer of today has improved on that trick.
He will have a piece of string tied tightly round both his wrists
with about a yard of string between them. The knots may be
sealed. The conjurer borrows a ring and retires behind a screen
for a moment. When he emerges the audience sees that the ring is
not only on the string but tied on it, and the knots on the wrists
have not been tampered with. No, it is not done by spiritualism!
And the knots are perfectly fair, including the knot that ties the
ring in its place.
The Davenport Brothers, the famous mediums, made the name of
more than one conjurer, for they originated some excellent ropetying tricks. I rather fancy that my friend, Mr. Harry Kellar,
America's most famous magician, owes his celebrated "Kellartie" to an idea of the Davenport Brothers. In Mr. Kellar's expert
hands it is a most mystifying trick. He has his hands tied together
behind his back by a member of the audience. In a second he is
ready to shake hands with his volunteer assistant, for his hand is
free. Is it? Mr. Kellar turns round instantly, and shows his hands
still tied tightly together in their original position. Then just as the
assistant is wondering if "seeing is believing" he is startled by
being patted on the back by Mr. Kellar. He looks round. Mr.
Kellar's hands are still tied behind his back. Let me add that this
bald description does not do justice to the splendid effect Mr.
Kellar produces with his "tie," for which every magician has a
profound admiration.
that if he looked at them closely he would see how the trick was
done. The assistant would take the parcel and open it. The six
envelopes had been restored to their original state--the cover of
Tit-Bits. This was one of Bertram's best tricks and he certainly
improved upon the trick as it was originally invented.