Somewhere in this issue is a force by Don Diavolo, complemented with an unusual climax. My trick cannot approach Mr. Diavolo’s conception for originality, but it DOES amaze people because of its backwardness. I must emphasize the presentation. It should take the audience through sincerity of purpose, maddening suspense, lack of confidence, despair of success, and finally, a grand climax as perfect for the performer as for the spectators.

It’s a trick with cards best introduced in a program where cards otherwise are absent. The performer opens up a deck (obviously new) with the statement that he will attempt a feat ascribed to the greatest of magicians. He is a bit bombastic. Especially sure of himself. His attempt at shuffling is pathetic. With relief he gives the cards to a nearby person for mixing, and, during this, asks someone else to come forward.

The deck is taken back, and the performer hands it to the volunteer. “Lay it on the table, please. Cut it into two parts.” The performer steps up, completes the cut half way, and says, “May I have another helper? Someone else from among you to make sure that I’m not trying to deceive you with trickery!”

This assistant stands to the performer’s right. The magician turns back toward the cards and asks the first man to pick off the upper part of the cut. Then he is to look at the next card, remember it, and shuffle the entire deck.

The deck in hand, the magus peers through it – he’s obviously wandering – and then, one after the other, he picks out cards, shows them to the selector and audience, saying “Your card? No!” As he rushes through this part, he makes apparent his loss of ascertainment. It must be done slowly at first and then speeded up to almost a ludicrous attempt to find the card. In fact, it does become ludicrous.

Finally, the performer has but one card in hand. He’s exhausted. He appeals. “Look, – (at the cards all over the floor) – I have tried every card but one. What IS your card’s name?” It is said. On the verge of wilting, the performer turns the last card over with a plenty visible sign of relief. It is IT! “Perhaps,” finishes the tired trickster, “I shouldn’t do card tricks. I’m 51 times worse than the experts who can find your card the first time!”

I’ve spend most of this space in building up the effect. That’s all that counts in the long run — what the audience sees and realizes. In an otherwise cardless act, the trick registers.

If the spectator’s shuffle, the card to be forced must be palmed on, or be a short card in the deck which can be cut to the top while the first man comes forward. The cut? The performer completes it half way by putting the lower half crossways of the original top half. It is here that he misdirects by asking for the second helper. Then, turning back, he has the first man remove the upper (crosswise) half and note the card below. It is the forced card, of course, and, being a short (or locater of some sort) card, can be found easily enough after any amount of mixing. The effect fits perfectly any act NOT USING CARDS OTHERWISE. The performer, with cards, is a dud, but he muddles through.