Note to Readers:

ATTENTION—NEW NOTE TO READERS:
If you'd like email notification of the new posts, let us know at gulliver.initiative@gmail.com.

2—The Vanishing Bird Cage



If I had to pinpoint the exact moment I began to believe in magic, it would be that day back in 1949 when my parents took me to see Blackstone the Magician at the old Nixon Theater in Pittsburgh.


I was seven and expecting someone like the man with the wrinkled suit and top hat at my   friend’s birthday party. He stood behind a table and did tricks with cards and scarves and paper flowers. Then for his big ending, he made a rabbit disappear from his hat, which seemed very magical until we went into the dining room for cake, and I saw the rabbit in a black pouch hanging off the back of his table. 

Blackstone, however, was like magic itself. He came striding onto the stage in a black tuxedo with a bright white shirt and tie and a great shock of wizardly white hair. He greeted the audience in a large friendly voice. Then with his mustache curving up like a sly smile, he removed his white gloves, threw them up in the air, and they turned into a dove.




Window Card



Cover of Genii (1957)
The Floating Light Bulb
From all-about-magic.com



















Blackstone didn’t work behind a table to hide his magic. So it was both wonderful and mysterious when he put a torn ribbon back together, sent a handkerchief dancing across the stage, lit up a bulb without a plug, and made a woman float in the air. But even when he strapped a woman face down on a table and ran a whirring round metal saw through her without causing a scratch, I knew it was all like the rabbit in the pouch. Once you knew the secret to the trick, there was no such thing as magic. Or so I thought until I became part of it....



This happened when Blackstone brought out a live canary inside a small wooden cage and invited all the children onto the stage. After gathering us into a tight group around him, he asked those closest to put their hands on all sides of the birdcage. When the cage was secure in our hands, Blackstone suddenly raised his arms and  POOF!  the cage and bird were gone.

Usually on the way home in the car, I went to sleep. But being part of the magic had made me a little scared, like when my grandfather died. He was just there one day talking to me at his workbench, then gone out of his body the next.

For a week, I tried not to think about things disappearing but finally my mind became too worried to think of anything else. I asked my mother what it was like when her sister Agnes was three and died. My mother said Agnes had an infection called peritonitis and was in such terrible pain that she couldn’t lie still. But then she became quiet and peaceful. I asked if I could get peritonitis. My mother said even if I did, we now had medicine to cure it. I asked her where people go when they die. My mother said she didn’t know but agreed with me that the idea of heaven as fluffy clouds and people in white robes did not seem true. I asked her if God is like a magician making people disappear. She said the world is full of magical things and that I should enjoy them and not worry. She then took me for a walk to the store. 

At the end of our block, we stopped by the giant oak tree that covered Mrs. Colcord’s yard and reached out over the sidewalk and street. My mother picked up something from the sidewalk. It was small and round and about the size of a marble with a tiny wooden hat. My mother said this was an acorn and that oak trees grew out of the seed inside. Then we saw some squirrels eating acorns. I asked her home come the acorns inside the squirrels don’t burst out into trees. And my mother said food turns into whoever eats it. After we got home with our food, my mother showed me how to cut an apple sideways so the seeds formed a star.

                                                                                                •••

When I was nine, I bought a book on how to do magic tricks. I found a thin round stick about the size of a ruler beside my father’s workbench and turned it into a magic wand by painting it black then dipping it in gold sparkles. After practicing ten tricks, I organized a carnival with my friends in our garage and made my magic act the star feature. We cleared $3.72 from admission and lemonade. However, I was very nervous in my performance, and everyone could see how the tricks worked. Realizing tricks were different from magic, I threw my wand and instruction book into the trash.

                                                                                             •••                                                                                                    

I would eventually find my magic as a high-school English teacher. But I still had a lot to learn about the world of illusion.


Next: “Nothing Up My Sleeve” 

But first—I hope you'll take a moment to experience the magic with Blackstone’s son Harry Blackstone, Jr. and the Vanishing Bird Cage.

And here's a glimpse at Blackstone himself and his contemporaries on YouTube.

No comments:

Post a Comment