This effect is of the type outlined in Jinx #21, under the title Triple Coercion. Comment was made in the description of that version, that since anyone could remember, without much trouble, the numbers of colours named by the audience, it was unnecessary to make a note of them, and, consequently, such note taking might arouse suspicion.
Recognizing this difficulty, and unwilling to abandon such a valuable device as the note taking pretext undoubtedly is, I adopted, some time ago, an absurdly simple means of overcoming the obstacle. Instead of asking the spectator to name a color or number below one hundred, I asked that he read the serial number of one of the bills in his pocket, or for a list of ten letters, spoken at random. Obviously, these had to be written down. Here is my routine.
The effect is begun with a few casual remarks about echoes. The audience is surprised and somewhat skeptical when informed that an echo exists not only after a sound has been made, but also before. To substantiate this claim, the performer offers to make a note of a few of the echoes that are now floating around the room, waiting for a sound to give them life. He takes from his pocket a calling card, and has someone initial the printed side of it for later identification. On the blank side of this he then begins to write, pausing impressively at intervals so that he may have a varied collection of the choicest echoes in the room. This card is then sealed in a small coin envelope and two persons asked to initial the sealed ends.
Prepared pencil. One rubber band is given about a dozen turns to hold the pencils tightly together. The pencils should be sharpened at the same time, so their strokes will be uniform.
The performer then asks someone to take a bill from his pocket and read aloud the serial number. This is written on a borrowed business card, the sealed envelope being used as a rest for it. Next, someone calls out about ten letters of the alphabet. (I’ve been getting a laugh lately by asking someone for his Social Security number.)
Four single digits, supplied by four different persons, are now written in a column and added. The envelope is then placed to one side, well out of the reach of any curious cuss who may wish to examine it. The business card with all the numbers and letters is now handed to one of the audience, and that favored gentleman formally invited to act as secretary for the remainder of the performance. Someone now shuffles a deck of cards and selects one. Its name is written on the business card by the secretary. The performer then asks the audience for the name of an automobile, and “Ford V-8” is noted on the card. After a brief recapitulation of the main points thus far, the performer takes up the envelope, produces a pair of scissors, and permits the one who signed his initials first to snip an end off, reach in, and withdraw the card.
The original signature is on the card and identified, and the numbers, letters, etc., are of course identical with those on the card held by the secretary. The envelope is then cut in half, and the persons who signed the ends permitted to retain the halves as souvenirs. Thus, everything used in the mystery is left with the audience, with the exception of the pencil.
And now, the inevitable accounting. The envelope used has, across its center, a slit wide enough to permit the card to pass through easily.
After the card is initialed, the performer writes at the bottom “Ford V-8” and above that the name of the card which he will force later. (Before starting, I have this card in my pocket. When the deck has been shuffled, I palm it onto the top of the pack, and use the So Simple force of Lynn Searles, as described in the 1936 JinxSummer Extra.)
The performer then stalls a bit, and pretends to write more, frowning something like Rajah Raboid. The card is now slid into the envelope, guided from beneath through the slit, and the flap is sealed. After sealing it is placed face down on a book, and held there firmly by the performer’s thumb while the ends are signed.
Someone is asked to read out the number of a bill, and, as an afterthought, the performer borrows a business card so that the number may be noted. While writing, the performer retires to a safe distance so that the slit envelope may not be seen. The borrowed card is placed with its edge half an inch below that of the card in the envelope, and the writing done with a pencil gimmicked in the following manner.
To the sharpened end of a regular sized pencil, the stub of pencil (about two inches from point to end) is fastened by means of a rubber band. The small pencil is arranged so that its point is about a quarter of an inch behind that of the long pencil. Every performer will, of course, arrange it to suit his own manner of writing. Using this pencil to write the same thing on two cards simultaneously will seem a bit strange in the beginning, but it is much easier than learning to use a thumb writer.
It will be found on experiment that only two sets of double lines may be written across the top of each card by means of this pencil.
In order to have sufficient room on the card in the envelope to write the second line without cramping the letters, start the first line at the very top of the outside card with the bottom pencil. This may sound like Einstein talking in his sleep, but the idea will become apparent after a few trials.
After the serial number has been written on both cards by means of the double pencil, move the pencil down a step and you will find no difficulty in writing the double row of letters as they are called out. Before starting this writing though, move the outside card slightly to the right. This will cause the line-up of numbers and letters to be varied slightly on the two ends. It is a small point, but the two cards might be compared later, and this will make them seem different, even though the formation of the letters and figures are individually identical.
The procedure for the column of figures is slightly different. After the letters have been recorded, slide the outside card to the right, so that its left edge is about half an inch from the left edge of the card in the envelope. As the single numbers are called out, they are written in the following manner.
Turn the pencil slightly to the left, so that the upper lead is resting on the card in the envelope, and the lower lead on the outside card. You will find it a simple matter to mark the figures in a column, one under the other. Again, this column is in a different position on each card, a fact that someone may notice. Draw a line and add the column, putting the sum down. The pencil is now returned to the pocket, the envelope placed back outward in a conspicuous but safe place, and the card, together with another pencil, handed to the new secretary.
Up to this point, the performer has (or should have) acted sublimely indifferent to the numbers and letters given to him.
This attitude is maintained in the selection of the card, so that no-one may have the suspicion of a force. The performer then addresses the audience at large, and asks for the name of an automobile. He should move his gaze from one to another as he makes this request, and undoubtedly at least two will answer. One of these, and probably more than one, will answer “Ford”. If anyone at all mentions “Ford”, direct the secretary to write down “Ford V-8”. In the rare event that no one does, ignore the names suggested, and continue talking. Say that you do not want merely manufacturer’s name, but the motor type also, as for example “Studebaker Straight Eight.” If no one then suggests “Ford V-8”, it is because you have put them to sleep and they can’t hear you.
I must admit that I can vouch for the certainty of this force only in New York City, as I have never tried it elsewhere. Ford is practically a household word here, and I think it is safe to say that not one woman in a hundred knows how to designate the engine type of any car but a Ford. Anyone who doesn’t care to risk this part, may substitute a standard color or book test force, the effect, however, not being the same.
After the card and auto have been forced, take the envelope, slit side down, and allow one of the signers to clip the end. He is then directed to reach in and remove the card. Take the card and the scissors from him, read the letters and numbers aloud, and after each is called out, ask the secretary to corroborate it. Hand the card to the one who signed it. While he is acknowledging his initials, cut the envelope in half, along the slit, and hand out the halves.
At the start of the performance, have the prepared pencil in the upper left vest pocket, double end up. Next to it is a plain pencil, similar to the long one. This is used to write on the first card and for signing the envelope. It is replaced in the pocket while the business card is being borrowed. The double pencil is then taken out and the prepared end concealed behind the envelope. With ordinary caution, there is no danger of detection. Do not use a pencil with a rubber tip. For obvious reasons this cannot be used to erase an error. If you think it necessary, carry a small eraser in your pocket. The distance between the pencil points (and consequently the written lines) can be increased by wrapping a strip of paper around the stubby pencil before fastening it to the longer one.
EDITOR’S NOTE : In trying this problem out, I found it to be more subtle if you write only the one column of figures on the outside card. Then draw the line, and when you add and mark down the total, write it on both cards.
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