The Calypso singers, Trinidad troubadours now quite the Broadway rage
have a coffee color complexioned leader actually named Houdini. This form
of lyrical singing is as new as the handcuff and lock breaking era started by our
own Houdini back in the 1890’s. — Memories : When Bill Larsen wrote Jr.
after his name; when Ben Erens was the Mickey MacDougall of his day around
NYC; when the address on the ads read Blackstone Magic Co., Percy Abbott,
Mgr.; when Edgar Bergen used to be on the SAM shows and the writeups never
mentioned the name of his dummy; when The Sphinx had 480 pages to the year
and 175 pages of advertisements during the same 12 months.
A rather belated suggestion comes along that magi picket theatres showing
expose pictures such as Eternally Yours. The only fault with that idea is that the
professionals are too busy or not in a position to do it, and the average amateur
in a community just wouldn’t do it. Besides, people generally want to see
something that’s unfair, taboo, etc. It’s human nature. The only way we can help
things along is to convince the “big shots” that they are hurting another phase of
their own game – entertainment.
Sid Lorraine uses his January TOPS column to take both Bob Weill and myself
apart. I’ll withhold comment re myself and the Ramsay-Albenice bead trick
for I want to expound to greater length on such doings in a week or so. (Maybe
you haven’t got an answer ? Ed.) Bob gets “the needle” for his activities in the
new Genii review spot. Sid makes out a good case for the prosecution (or is it
in defense ?) and it jibes in with what we wrote a few weeks ago, and also ties
in with our 7 person reviewing staff we tried to get going several years ago.
One person CANNOT review all books and tricks and do justice to each of
the different types. All material for review should be sent directly to the editor,
marked “For review” and he should turn each book or trick over to the person
who uses that type of trick or material and therefore is the best judge of its value.
Even the editor shouldn’t try to value everything that comes in. And if that’s a
crazy idea I’ll be seeing you at the nearest asylum for I truly believe in it.
James Holmes shames us by informing that the BAM BOO ZALEM title for the
English magic revue we recently asked about deciphers itself if you say it fast
with accent on the BOO. — In every collection should be the prospectus that
Carl Jones has published re the merits of the tome Greater Magic. It’s a 5×8
booklet of 40 pages (yes, 40 pages) and if you don’t own a copy of the book,
the prospectus will make you run, not walk, to the nearest checkbook. — Bob
Reinhart, of erstwhile Variety fame (Jinx #31-32) gave out the statement to the
press recently in regards to his magic engagements “I’m not playing club dates,
tho,” he stated, “these things are soirees.”
5
The Swami Brahma picked up plenty of Detroit news space before Xmas when
the gendarmes stopped his blindfold drive as a traffic menace. They also took he
and his gal hypnotic assistant to the station house when he buried her. Authorities
couldn’t find where a permit was needed to bury a person alive so the stunt went
on to more publicity. — Sam Grossman had a nice photo and interview in NY’s
Daily Mirror for Dec. 16. Cutest line, in his tirade and scoffing against fortune
tellers and such ilk was “A crystal ball is an 8-ball. Those who believe in the
fakirs are not in front of it, but behind it.”
Bad news for West coasters. Dale (Dai) Vernon is at the One Park Avenue
Cocktail Lounge in NYC every afternoon from 5 to 8 while you are reading this.
— I hope we haven’t told you this one before but even so it’s worth reminding.
Bruce Elliott, who, with Dr. Van Deusen of Finger, Finger (#65) acclaim,
knows the Lexington Avenue (N.Y.) beer circuit from A to Suds gives bartenders
one of those fake glasses of beer you buy in novelty shops and the bartender
puts it on ice. When the frosted glass is set before a person after his umpteenth
experiment the fun reaches high points as his nose bends around the phoney
foam.
A recent column about Heywood Broun’s passing dwelt at length on his
insistence in putting his name on anything and everything he wrote, whether it
be a race bet slip, a Communistic sounding article, or his Nutmeg publication
which made use of columns the paper wouldn’t accept. He believed in what he
wrote or said and didn’t care who knew it was he who wrote or said it. It made
us think of C.T., Unknown, and Phantom, those current magical nonentities.
Bill Larsen lately said that C.T. had “something on the ball” the other copyists
(copyists of what, oblivion ? Ed.) didn’t have. The only thing any of them have
on the ball is the concealment of their identity which isn’t as obscure as they
would like to have you believe. Besides, a ball is sort of a silly and risky place
on which to have anything, that is, unless you’re a trained seal.
If any magic magazine needs a good cartoon idea they can have this one free. It’s
a stage door scene and a poster can be viewed announcing a magical convention
show. In the alley is a line of magicians, each with a piece of rope hanging out of
his pocket, and at the head of the row is a scissors grinder busily at work.
The other day we saw a copy of a playbill issued in 1793 by the Theatre Royal,
Kilkenny, Ireland. It made us realize that we of today might be in worse
condition. It advertised an interlude of sleight of hand tricks by the celebrated
surveyor, Mr. Hunt. It continued, “The value of the tickets to be taken (if
required) in candles, butter, cheese, soap, etc., as the manager wishes in every
particular to accommodate the public. No person will be admitted into the boxes
without shoes or stockings.” Paste that at the entrance of the Rainbow Room,
Beverly-Wilshire, or Dorchester Hotel ! GABBATHA !