Over twenty years ago at the Magic Castle, while watching one of the most inept cardsman to grace the Close-Up Gallery in ages, I leaned over to Larry Jennings and whispered,
"You know, after watching this guy, I have half a mind to go pro myself."
"That's pretty much what it takes", he deadpanned, then proceeded to explain to me why he had never given up his beloved plumbing business.
Nevertheless, I was determined. Armed with little more than a weathered copy of Tarbell's Volume One, a series of John Fedko instructional tapes and a trunk full of E-Z Magic props I'd accumulated since I was a child, I ordered a thousand business cards and hit the skids. Destiny would not be denied. My name would be recorded in all the history books alongside the likes of Harry Houdini, Blackstone and Dick Cavett. I was a professional magician. And Larry Jennings wasn't.
My first paying gig didn't go so well. I was hired to do a show for a group of convicted pedophiles in the mental ward of our local State hospital. I was a nervous wreck. I had visions of being abducted and held for ransom or auctioned off to the highest bidder on the misfit black market. I studied my patter tirelessly so as not to offend anyone. As luck would have it, my silk production opener went off without a hitch. My cups and balls routine was a big hit, thanks to Fedko. The zombie effect was cut a little short when a burley Paul Bunyan look-a-like jumped up and asked me for one of my business cards. But I was on a roll. Time to dazzle them with the pasteboards. I sauntered up to the first row and captured the assistance of my first volunteer, a shockingly thin man with hollowed eyes and a wrinkled brow who reeked of Hai Karate. The guy gave me the creeps.
"Pick a kid. Any kid", I said as I fan spread my newly broken-in set of Bicycles and thrust them within two inches of his face. My ears couldn't believe what my lips had just uttered.
The orderlies immediately ushered me out to my car. I think they liked my act. But there was this issue of my personal safety.
My next money gig went much better. Plus, I learned a valuable lesson about the importance of networking. Apparently, the guy I'd given my business card to at the hospital was also a magician of sorts. Since he was "prematurely indisposed" for the time being, he asked if I'd fill in for him at a children's birthday party in a very exclusive area of Pacific Palisades. I jumped at the chance! I was surrounded by the children of some of Hollywood's most celebrated actors, producers and directors. My big break was just a heartbeat away. I needed one, just one child, to run home and tell mommy or daddy about the wonderful magician they'd seen that day. The food wasn't bad either. Chilled Twinkies on a stick. Glazed apricot cupcakes. Caviar and animal crackers. After my act was over, I proudly took my seat of honor at the head of the kiddy table and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon. Except for that one obnoxious ten-year-old.
"So, Mister. Are you really a professional magician?", he asked.
"You bet", I said, thinking surely I'd gained a fan for life.
"My dad says he knows how to make a professional magician do a hundred card tricks".
"Really? How?"
"Simple. Ask him to do one".
I held my breath for ten seconds and resisted the temptation to inflict physical damage. After all, I was a professional magician. And his dad was Bill Cosby.
Through the intervening years, I continued to rack up more than my fair share of impressive, high profile appearances. The Bakersfield Potato Festival. Tori Spelling's Bat Mitzvah. Multiple Chuck E. Cheese grand openings. Who knows? Maybe you've seen me perform and don't even know it. For a time, I became known around the greater Los Angeles area as The Amazing, Magical Pizza Guy. Or was it The Magic Pizza Guy? Okay, so maybe it was just Pizza Guy. It was during those lean years that I perfected my best illusion ever... How to make a professional magician vanish! Just in case you're not familiar with the effect, I'm exposing the secret here for the first time ever. How do you make a professional magician vanish? PAY HIM FOR THE PIZZA!
I'm still a professional magician. I write and develop new effects. I produce customized marked cards for other magicians. I do some consulting gigs once and awhile. And I've been lucky enough to work behind-the-scenes on some of the most successful television series and motion pictures of the past three decades. But I rarely perform anymore, except for my long-suffering wife who always pretends to be amazed and mystified at my latest endeavor. That's a good thing. Cause I'm much too old to take up plumbing.
"You know, after watching this guy, I have half a mind to go pro myself."
"That's pretty much what it takes", he deadpanned, then proceeded to explain to me why he had never given up his beloved plumbing business.
Nevertheless, I was determined. Armed with little more than a weathered copy of Tarbell's Volume One, a series of John Fedko instructional tapes and a trunk full of E-Z Magic props I'd accumulated since I was a child, I ordered a thousand business cards and hit the skids. Destiny would not be denied. My name would be recorded in all the history books alongside the likes of Harry Houdini, Blackstone and Dick Cavett. I was a professional magician. And Larry Jennings wasn't.
My first paying gig didn't go so well. I was hired to do a show for a group of convicted pedophiles in the mental ward of our local State hospital. I was a nervous wreck. I had visions of being abducted and held for ransom or auctioned off to the highest bidder on the misfit black market. I studied my patter tirelessly so as not to offend anyone. As luck would have it, my silk production opener went off without a hitch. My cups and balls routine was a big hit, thanks to Fedko. The zombie effect was cut a little short when a burley Paul Bunyan look-a-like jumped up and asked me for one of my business cards. But I was on a roll. Time to dazzle them with the pasteboards. I sauntered up to the first row and captured the assistance of my first volunteer, a shockingly thin man with hollowed eyes and a wrinkled brow who reeked of Hai Karate. The guy gave me the creeps.
"Pick a kid. Any kid", I said as I fan spread my newly broken-in set of Bicycles and thrust them within two inches of his face. My ears couldn't believe what my lips had just uttered.
The orderlies immediately ushered me out to my car. I think they liked my act. But there was this issue of my personal safety.
My next money gig went much better. Plus, I learned a valuable lesson about the importance of networking. Apparently, the guy I'd given my business card to at the hospital was also a magician of sorts. Since he was "prematurely indisposed" for the time being, he asked if I'd fill in for him at a children's birthday party in a very exclusive area of Pacific Palisades. I jumped at the chance! I was surrounded by the children of some of Hollywood's most celebrated actors, producers and directors. My big break was just a heartbeat away. I needed one, just one child, to run home and tell mommy or daddy about the wonderful magician they'd seen that day. The food wasn't bad either. Chilled Twinkies on a stick. Glazed apricot cupcakes. Caviar and animal crackers. After my act was over, I proudly took my seat of honor at the head of the kiddy table and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon. Except for that one obnoxious ten-year-old.
"So, Mister. Are you really a professional magician?", he asked.
"You bet", I said, thinking surely I'd gained a fan for life.
"My dad says he knows how to make a professional magician do a hundred card tricks".
"Really? How?"
"Simple. Ask him to do one".
I held my breath for ten seconds and resisted the temptation to inflict physical damage. After all, I was a professional magician. And his dad was Bill Cosby.
Through the intervening years, I continued to rack up more than my fair share of impressive, high profile appearances. The Bakersfield Potato Festival. Tori Spelling's Bat Mitzvah. Multiple Chuck E. Cheese grand openings. Who knows? Maybe you've seen me perform and don't even know it. For a time, I became known around the greater Los Angeles area as The Amazing, Magical Pizza Guy. Or was it The Magic Pizza Guy? Okay, so maybe it was just Pizza Guy. It was during those lean years that I perfected my best illusion ever... How to make a professional magician vanish! Just in case you're not familiar with the effect, I'm exposing the secret here for the first time ever. How do you make a professional magician vanish? PAY HIM FOR THE PIZZA!
I'm still a professional magician. I write and develop new effects. I produce customized marked cards for other magicians. I do some consulting gigs once and awhile. And I've been lucky enough to work behind-the-scenes on some of the most successful television series and motion pictures of the past three decades. But I rarely perform anymore, except for my long-suffering wife who always pretends to be amazed and mystified at my latest endeavor. That's a good thing. Cause I'm much too old to take up plumbing.