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MAGIC
By
MISDIRECTION
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
We might see what these stratagems and artifices look like in action, now that we may recognize them for what they arc. And for this purpose I can think of no better trick than Stephen Shepard's glass trick. Usually it follows his vanishing bird cage routine, discussed previously.
A sheet of newspaper is molded about a tall iced-tea glass that has been inverted. A chair is placed upon a table and the paper-covered glass is positioned, mouth down, upon the seat.
Mr. Shepard stands behind the table and a spectator stands beside him at his left. Banging the glass down upon the chair repeatedly, Mr. Shepard explains that he intends to extract the coins from the spectator's pockets. Slamming his hand down heavily upon the glass again and again, the performer cautions that the glass must be handled carefully. Not only does he intend to extract the coins from the spectator's pockets, the magician continues, but he also intends to cause them to appear beneath the glass.
The spectator is asked to place his hand upon the bottom of the glass, firmly. Then Mr. Shepard makes passes in the direction of the spectator's pockets, alternately slapping the spectator's hand down upon the glass—the slaps being solid whacks.
Suddenly the magician announces that the coins have passed. He asks the spectator to remove his hand from the glass. Mr. Shepard picks up the glass and looks. The spectator—and the remainder of the audience as well—can see that the coins are not beneath the glass.
Mr. Shepard replaces the glass and asks the spectator to place his hand upon the glass again. Just as the spectator's hand is about to touch the glass, Mr. Shepard hits the spectator's hand a smart blow, knocking the paper flat upon the chair seat. The glass is gone! Then Mr. Shepard extracts the glass from the spectator's inside coat pocket.
I have always felt that this particular trick is one of the truly great masterpieces of misdirection. There is not a piece of apparatus of any kind involved. All that is necessary is the glass, the newspaper, the spectator and skillful and dexterous application of psychological deception.
In the first place, the true denouement of the trick is completely concealed. The spectators are watching for a move in connection with the coins. This is excellent diversion of attention.
The glass seems to be incidental and little attention is paid to it. But Mr. Shepard builds up its solidity and its presence by suggestion. He bangs the glass upon the chair heavily. He vigorously slaps the spectator s hand upon it repeatedly. After the passes toward the pockets, when the covered glass is lifted, all attention is away from the glass. It is upon the area which the glass has covered because the coins are expected to be there. Again, this is excellent attention diversion from the glass.
In this instant, holding the mouth of the glass toward his body, Mr. Shepard extracts it boldly—in plain view—with a single deft tossing movement of the right hand. Partly masked by the spectator's right shoulder, the glass is tossed from beneath its newspaper cover to the left hand. After catching the glass, this hand travels smoothly to a point behind the spectator's right shoulder where it appears to rest. The paper, of course, retains the shape of the glass.
Not all magicians have the poise, the experience, the skill and the showmanship to execute this trick successfully. But in Mr. Shepard's hands it is sensational.
Robert Madison fans a pack of cards in front of a friend. Smiling guilelessly, he says softly, "Take a card."
The spectator takes a card and, naturally, looks at it. Mr. Madison looks crestfallen. "Oh, I didn't want you to look at it."
Of course, the spectator looks up at him quickly, not having intended to spoil the trick. But Mr. Madison takes the card from his fingers and says, "We'll put this one on the table." He does so.
The spectator selects another card. As he does so a glimmer of suspicion steals into the mind of any magician who may be witnessing the incident. It is the old, old story. The second card selected is the one originally selected and noted. But it is so well done!
Mr. Madison uses just two hands, a pack of cards and the something else we have been investigating. It is all done with such ease, such utter absence of haste or anxiety, such absence of any sign of guile, that the spectator is completely disarmed—disarmed by the softness of the voice, by the complete naturalness of every movement.
To begin with, the spectator did not expect Mr. Madison to do anything tricky. Mr. Madison's every movement conveyed just the opposite. There was nothing in the movement of his hands to suggest skill. There was nothing in what he said to cause suspicion. His soft voice and his unhurried, confident manner rather implied artlessness and entire lack of deceit. He was calm, unexcited, unhurried, sociable, poised.
The spectator took the card. With the same calm, unruffled bearing, and in the same natural, quiet voice, holding the spectator s attention, Mr. Madison said, as he would if a mistake had really been made, "Oh, I didn't want you to look at it!"
Then things happened. In far less time than it takes to tell it, the critical part was over. As he said, "Oh," his eyes went to the spectator's. He took the card from the spectator's fingers and nudged the spectator's chest, with the same hand. He caught the spectator's eyes and held them as he finished the sentence. This hand moved right back to the pack and top—changed the card unhurriedly—about on the word "take"—as he finished the sentence. Then he held this hand still, holding the substituted card. Finally, he looked down at it uncertainly, as if wondering what to do with it. He reached over and dropped it upon the table.
The remainder is obvious.
The secret is simply naturalness, a disarming attitude, and unhurried, confident movements—plus superb poise. It appeared to be extemporaneous. But it was anything but that. Every movement was carefully planned, painstakingly executed with skill and craft.
Let us examine that old masterpiece The Cards To The Pocket. But let us examine it as I recall seeing Tommy Martin perform it some ten or twelve years ago. Mr. Martin's own version, published in THE SPHINX, December 1942, is somewhat different.
A packet of cards is picked up and counted as eleven, one more being taken from the pack with the words, "Let's make it an even dozen." The right trousers pocket is shown empty except for a single silver dollar that the performer replaces carefully after the pocket is turned inside out and tucked back in.
While the cards are held in plain view in the left hand, one card passes to the empty pocket. It is taken out. Then a second card passes. It, too, is taken out. The cards in the left hand are carefully counted. There are found to be ten.
When the third card is passed, the magician asks a nearby spectator to take it out of his—the performer's—pocket. But as the spectator withdraws the card the performer plunges his own hand into his pocket anxiously, asking, "You didn't take my dollar, did you?" He is relieved to find the dollar still there. This time he prudently puts it in his vest pocket.
He asks the spectator if he felt any other cards in the pocket, and upon receiving a negative answer, two are passed at the same time. They are shown, and the left hand is now found to be holding seven.
One more is passed and taken from the pocket. The packet in the left hand is counted. There are six.
The trousers pocket is shown empty again. The magician says. "I'll pass two cards." But when he reaches in his pocket, they have not arrived. The pocket is turned inside out, then tucked back into the trousers. "They didn't arrive" The performer feels around on his chest and shoulder. He reaches beneath his coat and brings out the missing pair. Immediately they are replaced on the shoulder. He pats the shoulder. They pass into the trousers pocket. from which they are taken.
One more card is passed. It is taken from the pocket without incident. The cards in the left hand are counted. There are now three.
Another is passed, but the magician winces, says, "I know that's a Spade. I can feel it digging in." He removes the Ace of Spades from beneath his vest, at the right side.
Two are shown to remain in the left hand. One passes. Then the other. He takes one from his pocket, "Here's number eleven." He brings forth the other, "And number twelve." He reaches into his vest pocket and brings forth the dollar. "And I still have my dollar."
Substantially, this is the way Mr. Martin's routine appeared to me, with the exception of the conclusion. As pointed out before. Mr. Martin's routine as published varies from this in several details. It is exceptionally effective.
This is the way I worked it out:
Three cards are rolled up and planted in the top of the right trousers pocket. A Spade is clipped beneath the lower edge of the vest, on the right side. Two indifferent cards are placed in the upper left vest pocket, backs out. A silver dollar is put in the right trousers pocket.
Light cards are picked up and counted as eleven. One more is taken from the pack with the remark. "We'll make it an even dozen." The planted cards are pushed to the top of the trousers pocket. The pocket is turned inside out and shown. The dollar is mentioned at this time, and it is returned when the pocket is tucked back in again.
Two cards are apparently passed to the pocket singly, being taken from the three planted there. The pack is false-counted as ten. When the third card is passed, the pack is counted before allowing the spectator to reach into the pocket. This is to permit the performer to palm off three more cards as the spectator takes out the third card.
With the three palmed cards, the performer's right hand plunges into the pocket. It leaves the cards and brings out the dollar. "You didn't take my dollar, did you?" The dollar is placed in the vest pocket.
Two more cards are apparently passed together. They are taken from those just palmed into the pocket. The pack is false-counted as seven.
One more is passed and taken from the pocket. Then the six cards in the hand are correctly counted, their faces being toward the audience.
While the performer is squaring up these six cards, three of them are palmed off. The right hand goes into the pocket, deposits the cards and pushes them to the top of the pocket, and the pocket itself is turned inside out again. After it is tucked back in, the performer states he will pass two cards at once. But when his hand goes to the trousers pocket he pretends there are no cards there. Pushing the cards to the top of the pocket again, he turns the pocket out, then tucks it back in.
Feeling about his chest and shoulder, he apparently finds the cards stuck. He reaches under his coat, taking the cards from the upper vest pocket, and continues his hand on up to the shoulder, from which place he apparently brings out the cards. They are held backs toward the audience. Immediately they are apparently returned to the shoulder really being replaced in the upper vest pocket. The performer slaps his shoulder. Then he takes out two from the trousers pocket.
One more is passed and taken from the pocket. The cards in the hand are correctly counted as three.
When the tenth card is apparently passed, the performer pretends to feel it digging into his ribs. He turns his left side away from the audience to show the Spade being taken from beneath the vest. But one of the cards in the left hand is thumbed into the left coat pocket.
There are now two cards in the left hand. They are shown as such. But while they are being held up, and while attention is swung to the card in the left hand held toward the left side the performer holds the other card in his right hand, a few inches in front of his mouth. Thus covered, the performer moistens the back of the right-hand card with the tip of his tongue.
Now when the cards are put together they stick together. One more has apparently passed. But no attempt is made to take it from the pocket.
The double card, held as one, is apparently placed in the left hand from which it vanishes. The right hand, palming the last two cards, goes into the trousers pocket and slides the cards apart, bringing out one of them. This card is placed in the left hand. The right goes back to the pocket again and brings out the second, and last, card.
Note the many and varying applications of principles. Anticipation is used in planting the first three cards. The left hand, containing nine cards, simulates twelve. Dissimulation is used in turning the pocket inside out, even though the cards are there. Every time the cards are false-counted simulation is employed. A maneuver is used to palm off the three cards while the spectator takes the card from the pocket.
This acts as a diversion of attention from the hands while they are securing the cards. The presence of the dollar in the pocket makes possible the ruse of reaching into the pocket for it, thus covering the depositing of the next three cards. The left hand dissimulates as it palms off the next three cards from the six just counted. A ruse is employed when the hand goes into the pocket with the palmed cards, apparently to show the pocket empty. The failure of the next two cards to pass, and apparently finding them at the shoulder, diverts suspicion from the pocket. This variation is a combination of anticipation and simulation.
The finding of the Spade under the vest is the distraction that permits the card to be thumbed from the pack in the left hand. Showing the two remaining cards is a ruse to permit one of them to be moistened secretly. Dissimulation is employed in showing the two cards as one. Simulation is used in making it appear that the card is placed in the left hand. And the right dissimulates while it carries the cards to the pocket. Taking the cards out singly diverts attention from suspicion that they might have gone in there together.
There are many other examples of these stratagems present during the performance of this trick, examples brought into operation by posture, facial expression, the eyes, the hands, movements and the like. Constantly, the expert deceptionist must avail himself of these powerful weapons against the minds of the spectators. If he does not, he ceases to be expert. In fact, it is quite possible that he would even cease to be a deceptionist.
Notice that in the above three detailed examples nothing but the principles of psychological deception has been used. There has been no tricked apparatus of any kind.
But the psychological attack is fully as necessary with a completely mechanical trick as with one that is entirely nonmechanical.
A girl is hypnotized and placed upon a couch. Taking a position immediately behind the couch, the performer makes magnetic passes above her body. Slowly the body rises. Meanwhile the performer continues the mesmeric motions. The magician picks up a hoop and passes it back and forth, completely around the girl's body. Then the girl slowly floats back to the couch, and she is awakened.
There is psychological deception applied before the levitation begins. The couch, which conceals a steel cradle and gooseneck arm, is disguised to appear quite guileless. When the girl is hypnotized of course, this is merely sham hypnotism—it is a ruse to disguise the real reason why the subject must lie rigid. Also, hypnotism suggests some abnormal power at work.
The performer disguises the real reason he stands behind the subject. Apparently he stands there in order to make the mysterious motions which seem necessary to accomplish the levitation. Actually, he is there to conceal and cover the presence of the steel shaft that comes up through the floor and engages the gooseneck arm. This gooseneck arm, now quite familiar to most magicians, is attached to the lifting shaft, sweeps closely around the body of the magician, and is affixed to the cradle upon which the girl lies.
Certainly the mysterious waving of the hands is not necessary. The girl would rise, providing the mechanism were operated, without the passing movements of the performer's hands., As a matter of fact, if the girl were to shoot up in the air some two or three feet, remain there while the hoop was passed over her body, then drop back to the couch again, deception would fly apart. The spectators would know that some mechanism, even though cleverly concealed, was hoisting the girl about.
But that mysterious waving of the hands suggests and induces a power more intangible than mere mechanics. Even the slowness of the movement of the rising body simulates a magnetic-like attraction. Notice that the direction of the force is suggested. The hands seem to be pulling her up. If the force were a repellent one, the hands would have to be below the girl's body. This diverts attention from the real direction of the actual force.
The magician dissimulates when he passes the hoop across the floating girl. He dissimulates to conceal the fact that the movement of the hoop is restricted. He diverts attention from the hoop sufficiently to prevent the spectators from realizing that its passing is not completely natural.
And at the end, attention is diverted from the couch, where a considerable portion of the mechanism remains. Attention is diverted to the girl while she is apparently being brought from her trance.
Any normal intelligent human is capable of acquiring the dexterity necessary to execute even the most difficult of sleights in a technically flawless manner. This is merely a matter of correct training and sufficient practice. The backhand palm and the side steal are no more difficult than any other feat of jugglery. All possess that dexterity to a certain degree. It is merely a matter of habit, rhythm, timing and certain physical movements for which proficiency has been developed. Such moves are puerile compared to the dexterity necessary in becoming a good pianist, or particularly, a good violinist,
Operation of any mechanical trick is simple in the extreme. There is a certain procedure and routine of action necessary. If the necessary things are done, with the proper objects, at the proper time, the mechanism of the trick will work, except for accident or mechanical failure. Operating a mechanical trick is not as difficult as operating an automobile. Both are mechanical. But the operation of the automobile, through the hazards of encountering other cars, through the split-second timing necessary, through the emergencies, which constantly arise—often with financial loss, injury, or even loss of life at stake—presents a much more difficult and exacting skill.
But executing a sleight and operating a mechanical trick are but the essential elements required prior to embarking upon deception. Those acts—the sleights and the operation of mechanical tricks—do not, and cannot, deceive. The psychological expedients and stratagems added to them cause the deception, not the sleights or the mechanical devices.
Show me the sleightster whose misdirection is not better than his sleights and I will show you a poor magician. Show me the performer whose misdirection is not more profound than the secrets concealed in his apparatus and I'll show you a poor deceptionist.
I have one more example of misdirection I would like to discuss. We used it in The International Magicians In Action. It occurred in Murder In A Telephone Booth. The trick is fully described in SHOWMANSHIP FOR MAGIClANS.
It was necessary to exchange the performer playing the part of the judge for another person. The whole illusion was one of transformation of identities. The judge was attired in wig and robe. When he took his place, he picked up a newspaper, spread it open and proceeded to read it. During rehearsal someone thought of substituting a sheet of comics, which was better.
During the action a girl had been followed by a thug. The girl fled to a telephone booth. The thug followed her and, opening the door just far enough to admit his arm, he stabbed her repeatedly. But the body was not seen. The only evidence the audience had been given was her repeated screams as the thug committed the crime.
Since we had to divert attention from the judge in order to make the exchange of people, we used the moment the telephone booth door was first opened after the murder as the diversion for effecting the change. So when the door was opened, the substitute judge, who had crept behind the judge's bench, took the newspaper in his hands—it was being held in front of the judge's face—came up behind it, while the original judge sank down out of sight.
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