Ideas and thoughts for the Student of Magic
The Ice Cream Bar Bit
On our lecture tours, many have wondered where to get an ice cream bar to use for the bit of pretending to bite the ice cream and putting the bar back in the pocket.
The original ones that Doc Eason and I bought were made of silicone and were $60 each.
We no longer have a source for those.
My friend, Michael Thornton brought this source of a similar item to my attention.
He bought one and is very happy with it. It is made of wood. Only $28.
Buy Direct Here:
FAKE FOODS
You can see the bit at the beginning of this routine:
Another version in resin is available here:
https://www.stevemyersmagic.com/store/p11/The_Ice_Cream_Bar.html#/
The original ones that Doc Eason and I bought were made of silicone and were $60 each.
We no longer have a source for those.
My friend, Michael Thornton brought this source of a similar item to my attention.
He bought one and is very happy with it. It is made of wood. Only $28.
Buy Direct Here:
FAKE FOODS
You can see the bit at the beginning of this routine:
Another version in resin is available here:
https://www.stevemyersmagic.com/store/p11/The_Ice_Cream_Bar.html#/
On Opening Lines
When transitioning between effects, it is important to be already introducing the new effect as the props from the preceding one are being put away, and the new props are being brought out for the second.
You want a smooth and seamless segue from one trick to the next.This avoids any perceived break in the routine, and keeps people from losing interest.
People tend to walk away in their minds whenever there is a break in the action. They are looking for a chance to stop paying attention.As an old street performer whose audiences would only stay as long as I could hold them spellbound–they were always on their way someplace else, I always want long routines and smooth changes.
This avoids any semblance of anything coming to an end and breaking the spell.
Even if my audiences today in theaters and chairs aren’t likely to walk away, I always feel that they are going to--at least in their heads.
The opening line of any trick is extremely important. I believe that the most important lines in a routine are the opening and closing.
Having these right will make it easy to move from one trick to another and makes it easy to do routines in a different order.
The opening line should create interest and carry the routine forward. “Would you examine this? Is it an ordinary knife?” would be confusing to the helper.
What is an ordinary knife? What should I be looking for?
Meanwhile, the rest of the audience is left just waiting for the answer and for the trick to start.
Much better is to use a line like “Does this look like a real, solid object to you?”First, this is a question that is easy to answer: “Of course!” But the suggestion is that it is not going to remain solid.
The audience leans forward wondering what is about to happen--is it going to become soft or disappear or something?
Why would the magician even ask a question like that?
A well thought out opening line should suggest the theme, arouse interest and carry the routine forward.
When magicians ask me about the importance of scripting a routine, I point to some of these things. It takes time and thought to develop lines such as these, and they don’t just happen spontaneously.
They need to be crafted.
You want a smooth and seamless segue from one trick to the next.This avoids any perceived break in the routine, and keeps people from losing interest.
People tend to walk away in their minds whenever there is a break in the action. They are looking for a chance to stop paying attention.As an old street performer whose audiences would only stay as long as I could hold them spellbound–they were always on their way someplace else, I always want long routines and smooth changes.
This avoids any semblance of anything coming to an end and breaking the spell.
Even if my audiences today in theaters and chairs aren’t likely to walk away, I always feel that they are going to--at least in their heads.
The opening line of any trick is extremely important. I believe that the most important lines in a routine are the opening and closing.
Having these right will make it easy to move from one trick to another and makes it easy to do routines in a different order.
The opening line should create interest and carry the routine forward. “Would you examine this? Is it an ordinary knife?” would be confusing to the helper.
What is an ordinary knife? What should I be looking for?
Meanwhile, the rest of the audience is left just waiting for the answer and for the trick to start.
Much better is to use a line like “Does this look like a real, solid object to you?”First, this is a question that is easy to answer: “Of course!” But the suggestion is that it is not going to remain solid.
The audience leans forward wondering what is about to happen--is it going to become soft or disappear or something?
Why would the magician even ask a question like that?
A well thought out opening line should suggest the theme, arouse interest and carry the routine forward.
When magicians ask me about the importance of scripting a routine, I point to some of these things. It takes time and thought to develop lines such as these, and they don’t just happen spontaneously.
They need to be crafted.
The Audience's Preconceptions
When we design a magic routine, we are creating a story for the spectator.
It is a story that he or she can tell about what happened to them when they saw “this magician.”
We want them to think the story is worth retelling, and we want them to be able to defend their story from those who might try to diminish it–“He probably just made you take that card.” “It must have been a trick bottle.” “He probably had it hidden in his hand.”
If the spectator is not prepared for that, he may feel stupid, and not have an answer–“I hadn’t thought of that.” This will ruin the story for him and he will never tell it again.When the spectator can say, “Of course not, I thought of that…” or “No, it couldn’t be that because…” the story becomes much stronger and more fun to tell. Whenever the subject of magic comes up they will tell their story.
They may even begin to exaggerate the story as they keep telling it, to make it big enough to create the same reaction on their audience as your performance had on them.In creating a magic routine, it is often useful and fun to acknowledge the possibility of commonly known magic ruses such as palming or forcing a card, or putting something up the sleeve.Even kids have at least heard of these things.
The magician can respect the audience’s intelligence by admitting the possibility and then either disproving that that could be the method, or turning the supposed method into an effect itself–as when the coin actually does go up one sleeve and down the other.You show that you recognize the audience is too smart to be taken by the old tricks, and then take them with those very same ruses.
You also help them to remember these things so when they tell the story later, they can defend it:
“I looked for that!”
“It couldn’t have been a force…”
“He showed his hand empty, he couldn’t have palmed it.”
They then feel much smarter when they tell the story: “I thought maybe he forced a card on me, but…”
It is a story that he or she can tell about what happened to them when they saw “this magician.”
We want them to think the story is worth retelling, and we want them to be able to defend their story from those who might try to diminish it–“He probably just made you take that card.” “It must have been a trick bottle.” “He probably had it hidden in his hand.”
If the spectator is not prepared for that, he may feel stupid, and not have an answer–“I hadn’t thought of that.” This will ruin the story for him and he will never tell it again.When the spectator can say, “Of course not, I thought of that…” or “No, it couldn’t be that because…” the story becomes much stronger and more fun to tell. Whenever the subject of magic comes up they will tell their story.
They may even begin to exaggerate the story as they keep telling it, to make it big enough to create the same reaction on their audience as your performance had on them.In creating a magic routine, it is often useful and fun to acknowledge the possibility of commonly known magic ruses such as palming or forcing a card, or putting something up the sleeve.Even kids have at least heard of these things.
The magician can respect the audience’s intelligence by admitting the possibility and then either disproving that that could be the method, or turning the supposed method into an effect itself–as when the coin actually does go up one sleeve and down the other.You show that you recognize the audience is too smart to be taken by the old tricks, and then take them with those very same ruses.
You also help them to remember these things so when they tell the story later, they can defend it:
“I looked for that!”
“It couldn’t have been a force…”
“He showed his hand empty, he couldn’t have palmed it.”
They then feel much smarter when they tell the story: “I thought maybe he forced a card on me, but…”
To become a great performer, you must be prepared to deal with the spectator assistant who fights with you, contesting every procedure. One must design a routine to be ready for the combative spectator.
Actually, conflict increases the stakes emotionally, and makes an effect play much stronger by making the story more interesting.
Protagonist tries to show a card trick, Antagonist wants to contest every procedure: conflict! Protagonist finds card anyway: Resolution!
Every magic trick is a little play. We should look for the places where an intelligent, well informed person might want to object to a procedure and make sure you can handle what they throw at you–make sure you have strategies and outs so that no matter what they do you are okay.
When you are prepared, you can relax and enjoy the exchange, and intensify the emotional conflict. Let them see you sweat. Let them see you tread water. Let them see you a little ticked off. Let them watch how you handle conflict. Let them share in your victory, without making your assistant look bad.
A good actor does this by going through the play of the routine one step at a time, playing the part and honestly reacting to what is happening.
Such conflict is your friend and can greatly enlarge your audience reactions. It is not about having the skill to think and respond on the spot; it is about planning and preparing for everything in advance. What gives magicians the seeming ability to go with the flow and respond with unflappable aplomb to anything that happens really comes more from experience and pre-planning.
The Chicago Surprise is a powerful sleight of hand card routine that can even play on stage because of its thoroughly engineered design.
Actually, conflict increases the stakes emotionally, and makes an effect play much stronger by making the story more interesting.
Protagonist tries to show a card trick, Antagonist wants to contest every procedure: conflict! Protagonist finds card anyway: Resolution!
Every magic trick is a little play. We should look for the places where an intelligent, well informed person might want to object to a procedure and make sure you can handle what they throw at you–make sure you have strategies and outs so that no matter what they do you are okay.
When you are prepared, you can relax and enjoy the exchange, and intensify the emotional conflict. Let them see you sweat. Let them see you tread water. Let them see you a little ticked off. Let them watch how you handle conflict. Let them share in your victory, without making your assistant look bad.
A good actor does this by going through the play of the routine one step at a time, playing the part and honestly reacting to what is happening.
Such conflict is your friend and can greatly enlarge your audience reactions. It is not about having the skill to think and respond on the spot; it is about planning and preparing for everything in advance. What gives magicians the seeming ability to go with the flow and respond with unflappable aplomb to anything that happens really comes more from experience and pre-planning.
The Chicago Surprise is a powerful sleight of hand card routine that can even play on stage because of its thoroughly engineered design.
Looking for Conflict
Every magic trick is like a little play, with the magician as the Protagonist, and the assisting spectator as the Antagonist.
The magician has a card chosen, the spectator wants to put it back anywhere he wants, or otherwise creates Conflict.
The magician wins, creating Resolution.Along the way are complications.This is how a routine is developed–by filling in the details of plot and character. Conflict and complications are the easiest ways to enlarge on the plot.
If you ask someone to take a card, and they want to put it back some place different than you suggested, this is a great moment of conflict that can be manipulated into the routine and provide engagement and emotion.
Whenever there is an emotional exchange between the performer and his spectator assistant the audience is galvanized; what is going to happen? Nothing engages interest as well as conflict and emotional drama.
The more the magician can express surprise, worry, slyness, anger or joy, and the more he can set his little play us to make the spectator respond with emotion, the more fun and exciting the presentation.The magician should seek out such complications and use them to add to the interest level of his little drama.
The magician has a card chosen, the spectator wants to put it back anywhere he wants, or otherwise creates Conflict.
The magician wins, creating Resolution.Along the way are complications.This is how a routine is developed–by filling in the details of plot and character. Conflict and complications are the easiest ways to enlarge on the plot.
If you ask someone to take a card, and they want to put it back some place different than you suggested, this is a great moment of conflict that can be manipulated into the routine and provide engagement and emotion.
Whenever there is an emotional exchange between the performer and his spectator assistant the audience is galvanized; what is going to happen? Nothing engages interest as well as conflict and emotional drama.
The more the magician can express surprise, worry, slyness, anger or joy, and the more he can set his little play us to make the spectator respond with emotion, the more fun and exciting the presentation.The magician should seek out such complications and use them to add to the interest level of his little drama.
The Routine for the Blind
"...I had somehow stopped pulling this thing for many years, until one night in the summer of 1980 something happened that forced me to resurrect this routine in an entirely new way, and with a surprising twist.
Overnight, The Impromptu Card Code became The Routine for the Blind.
I was working in a restaurant in Long Beach, California called Marie Callenders. As I went around the tables, I came up to a table with two couples. It was obviously a twenties-something couple and the parents of one or the other. I asked them if they would like to see some magic, and they enthusiastically agreed.
As I started the performance, I had the elder lady take a card and then turned to the younger lady and said, “And would you take a card…”
She did not react at all, so I repeated the request. She said, “Are you speaking to me? I’m sorry. I’m blind. I didn’t know.”
At that moment I realized that she had a seeing-eye dog lying quietly next to her.
“No, I’m sorry. I tell you what. This trick may not mean so much to you, so I will let someone else take the card and finish this one. Then I would like to try something special with you. Is that okay?”
She said fine. I finished the trick thinking all the time, “What am I going to do for her?”
Once before, in a retirement home I had attempted to do the sponge balls for a blind man, thinking that he would enjoy feeling them seem to grow in his hand. What I didn’t count on was that he couldn’t see what I was doing, so every time I tried to put something in his hand he wanted to feel and check it out. I couldn’t get away with anything. He was real proud of himself. He said, “It’s harder to cheat a blind man that you’d think.” This made me laugh really hard.
Now what could I do with this blind lady? As the card trick seemed to finish on its own, I turned to Lynda and sat down next to her. Reaching for a long shot, I asked, “Do you believe in ESP?”
She said, “I don’t know.”
“You know it has been sometimes theorized that people who have lost one faculty often make up for it in others. That blind people might be more sensitive to other influences for example. I’d like to do something here just for fun. I want to test your ESP. It will be really easy. You are going to do things that will make everyone else at the table wonder. I have a deck of cards in my hand. Do you play cards?” She nodded.
“Good. I will spread the cards out facing me with their backs to you. I’m going to pull a card out one at a time, and you are going to call it either ‘red’ or ‘black.’ Since there is a fifty-fifty chance that you will call it correctly, we should expect you to get about half right. If you could do a lot better than that—and if we establish a certain rapport I think you can—this would explain a lot about you to your family here.” As I talked, I squeezed her forearm reassuringly. Then I said okay, here’s
what’s going to happen. I’ll pull out a card and you will call it either ‘red’ (I pressed her foot lightly once) or ‘black.’ (I pressed her foot twice). Got the idea?”
She could barely repress her smile. She said, “Got it.” Well, we went through the deck and she named the cards red and black perfectly through about twenty cards. She didn’t need to see the looks on her parents faces, she could hear them gasping and hyperventilating. When she called the suit and then the value, Lynda’s mother said to her, “I’m never going to play cards with you again!”
Lynda just laughed. I told her, “Let’s keep going…” By this time I had the deck set up for Out of this World. I’m going to put one card on the table face up here to your left, and another card face up to the right. I placed her hand on one, then the other.
“This is the red card, and this is the black card. I’m going to hand you the deck face down, and I want you to put the top card to your right if it’s red, and to the left if you think it’s black. Go by your first impression. Trust me, you are going to do really well.”
I false shuffled the deck and handed it to Lynda. She did as instructed, but without the same self-confidence as before. At the reveal, I said, “Now Lynda, you won’t be able to see how you did, but you will certainly hear how you did as I show everyone the cards. You were perfect! You didn’t miss one card!”
Now the parents and her husband were visibly shaken. Lynda was having a good time. Luckily, I always carry Brainwave Deck when I am working close-up.
“Lynda, it’s the strangest thing. I had a dream last night that a mysterious lady came up to me and handed me a card. I dreamt that I took the card and hid it in a deck of cards that I always kept by the bed. When I woke up, I put the deck in my pocket. I’ve carried it around all day, and this is it. Lynda, what is the name of the card that the mysterious lady gave me?”
Lynda smiled. “Jack of Hearts.”
I said, “You are not going to believe this, but as I go through the deck very slowly so that I can’t do anything sneaky, one card is face-up in the pack. You can tell it’s the Jack of Hearts by the applause. But look! The Jack of Hearts is from an entirely different deck! It must have come from that mysterious lady.”
Two weeks later Lynda and her husband sent me a deck of Braille playing cards and a nice note. Her parents were still nervous around her. This was one of the most fun magic shows I have ever done, and it still warms me to think about how cool it was to fall into cahoots with a perfect stranger and pull a fast one on her family—just for fun.
I put this routine and story in my lecture notes in 1982, and it has been a part of my lecture ever since. Twice in the last twenty years similar situations have arisen in my close-up performing. This routine played perfectly each time. Over the years more than a dozen magicians have told me how well this has worked for them, and what a great way it is to handle what would otherwise be a difficult situation.
This past summer (2001), my good friend Brian Gillis brought down the house in the Parlor of Mystery at the Magic Castle with the Routine for the Blind. He and his partner Sue have one of the most incredible two-person mind reading acts around. On this night, a blind man was sitting on the front row with a group of friends. It was Stevie Wonder. The Parlor stage is level with the first row of the audience.
Brian was able to walk up to Wonder and enlist him in the gag because the front row of seats hid their feet from the rest of the audience, and the people sitting on the front row were looking at their two faces.
When Stevie Wonder named the value of the last card, the audience cheered as he stood up and turned around and took a prizefighter’s bow.
This story of the blind girl and the magician was reprinted with my permission in a book on public speaking with magic.
The author’s version of the story was a bit fanciful—he had this take place with a little blind girl named Wendy, for example—and his description of the method did not include all the psychological principles that were necessary for it to work.
This would be a problem for anyone who tried to perform the routine from this description. For one thing, I would rarely try this with a blind child, or a very old blind person.
The communication skills required and the concepts being communicated are subtle. Any misunderstanding will spoil the whole thing, and it is probably difficult enough to communicate with a stranger secretly in front of others—especially a blind person—without having to deal with the distractions and conceptions of a child, or the focus of a very elderly person.
"...Later the author submitted his version of the story to Chicken Soup for the Soul #3 without checking with me. The method was tipped along with the story. I was very miffed, and when the television series Chicken Soup for the Soul wanted to present this story, I insisted that it be done in a manner that did not reveal the secret. They were able to do this, and magician/actor George Tovar played the part of the magician."
~from Street Magic, by Whit Haydn
Overnight, The Impromptu Card Code became The Routine for the Blind.
I was working in a restaurant in Long Beach, California called Marie Callenders. As I went around the tables, I came up to a table with two couples. It was obviously a twenties-something couple and the parents of one or the other. I asked them if they would like to see some magic, and they enthusiastically agreed.
As I started the performance, I had the elder lady take a card and then turned to the younger lady and said, “And would you take a card…”
She did not react at all, so I repeated the request. She said, “Are you speaking to me? I’m sorry. I’m blind. I didn’t know.”
At that moment I realized that she had a seeing-eye dog lying quietly next to her.
“No, I’m sorry. I tell you what. This trick may not mean so much to you, so I will let someone else take the card and finish this one. Then I would like to try something special with you. Is that okay?”
She said fine. I finished the trick thinking all the time, “What am I going to do for her?”
Once before, in a retirement home I had attempted to do the sponge balls for a blind man, thinking that he would enjoy feeling them seem to grow in his hand. What I didn’t count on was that he couldn’t see what I was doing, so every time I tried to put something in his hand he wanted to feel and check it out. I couldn’t get away with anything. He was real proud of himself. He said, “It’s harder to cheat a blind man that you’d think.” This made me laugh really hard.
Now what could I do with this blind lady? As the card trick seemed to finish on its own, I turned to Lynda and sat down next to her. Reaching for a long shot, I asked, “Do you believe in ESP?”
She said, “I don’t know.”
“You know it has been sometimes theorized that people who have lost one faculty often make up for it in others. That blind people might be more sensitive to other influences for example. I’d like to do something here just for fun. I want to test your ESP. It will be really easy. You are going to do things that will make everyone else at the table wonder. I have a deck of cards in my hand. Do you play cards?” She nodded.
“Good. I will spread the cards out facing me with their backs to you. I’m going to pull a card out one at a time, and you are going to call it either ‘red’ or ‘black.’ Since there is a fifty-fifty chance that you will call it correctly, we should expect you to get about half right. If you could do a lot better than that—and if we establish a certain rapport I think you can—this would explain a lot about you to your family here.” As I talked, I squeezed her forearm reassuringly. Then I said okay, here’s
what’s going to happen. I’ll pull out a card and you will call it either ‘red’ (I pressed her foot lightly once) or ‘black.’ (I pressed her foot twice). Got the idea?”
She could barely repress her smile. She said, “Got it.” Well, we went through the deck and she named the cards red and black perfectly through about twenty cards. She didn’t need to see the looks on her parents faces, she could hear them gasping and hyperventilating. When she called the suit and then the value, Lynda’s mother said to her, “I’m never going to play cards with you again!”
Lynda just laughed. I told her, “Let’s keep going…” By this time I had the deck set up for Out of this World. I’m going to put one card on the table face up here to your left, and another card face up to the right. I placed her hand on one, then the other.
“This is the red card, and this is the black card. I’m going to hand you the deck face down, and I want you to put the top card to your right if it’s red, and to the left if you think it’s black. Go by your first impression. Trust me, you are going to do really well.”
I false shuffled the deck and handed it to Lynda. She did as instructed, but without the same self-confidence as before. At the reveal, I said, “Now Lynda, you won’t be able to see how you did, but you will certainly hear how you did as I show everyone the cards. You were perfect! You didn’t miss one card!”
Now the parents and her husband were visibly shaken. Lynda was having a good time. Luckily, I always carry Brainwave Deck when I am working close-up.
“Lynda, it’s the strangest thing. I had a dream last night that a mysterious lady came up to me and handed me a card. I dreamt that I took the card and hid it in a deck of cards that I always kept by the bed. When I woke up, I put the deck in my pocket. I’ve carried it around all day, and this is it. Lynda, what is the name of the card that the mysterious lady gave me?”
Lynda smiled. “Jack of Hearts.”
I said, “You are not going to believe this, but as I go through the deck very slowly so that I can’t do anything sneaky, one card is face-up in the pack. You can tell it’s the Jack of Hearts by the applause. But look! The Jack of Hearts is from an entirely different deck! It must have come from that mysterious lady.”
Two weeks later Lynda and her husband sent me a deck of Braille playing cards and a nice note. Her parents were still nervous around her. This was one of the most fun magic shows I have ever done, and it still warms me to think about how cool it was to fall into cahoots with a perfect stranger and pull a fast one on her family—just for fun.
I put this routine and story in my lecture notes in 1982, and it has been a part of my lecture ever since. Twice in the last twenty years similar situations have arisen in my close-up performing. This routine played perfectly each time. Over the years more than a dozen magicians have told me how well this has worked for them, and what a great way it is to handle what would otherwise be a difficult situation.
This past summer (2001), my good friend Brian Gillis brought down the house in the Parlor of Mystery at the Magic Castle with the Routine for the Blind. He and his partner Sue have one of the most incredible two-person mind reading acts around. On this night, a blind man was sitting on the front row with a group of friends. It was Stevie Wonder. The Parlor stage is level with the first row of the audience.
Brian was able to walk up to Wonder and enlist him in the gag because the front row of seats hid their feet from the rest of the audience, and the people sitting on the front row were looking at their two faces.
When Stevie Wonder named the value of the last card, the audience cheered as he stood up and turned around and took a prizefighter’s bow.
This story of the blind girl and the magician was reprinted with my permission in a book on public speaking with magic.
The author’s version of the story was a bit fanciful—he had this take place with a little blind girl named Wendy, for example—and his description of the method did not include all the psychological principles that were necessary for it to work.
This would be a problem for anyone who tried to perform the routine from this description. For one thing, I would rarely try this with a blind child, or a very old blind person.
The communication skills required and the concepts being communicated are subtle. Any misunderstanding will spoil the whole thing, and it is probably difficult enough to communicate with a stranger secretly in front of others—especially a blind person—without having to deal with the distractions and conceptions of a child, or the focus of a very elderly person.
"...Later the author submitted his version of the story to Chicken Soup for the Soul #3 without checking with me. The method was tipped along with the story. I was very miffed, and when the television series Chicken Soup for the Soul wanted to present this story, I insisted that it be done in a manner that did not reveal the secret. They were able to do this, and magician/actor George Tovar played the part of the magician."
~from Street Magic, by Whit Haydn
A magic routine is a journey on a roller coaster of emotion and surprise.
It should unleash the performer's love for the game of magic, and share with the audience the joy of performance.
If the performer is having a good time and sweeps the spectator assistant along--the spectator needs to trust the Magic Character as well as the Trickster behind him--they will follow along with the play.
The idea is to let the spectator know he can feel safe and play along without fear of being embarrassed or belittled--we have to make a safe place for them to play, one in which they know they can lean on us for guidance on what to do and how to do it.
This gives them freedom to be silly, to be playful.
They are more easily able to enter into this improvisational game imaginatively and with a feeling of spontaneity.
The heart of magic is in the joy of performing it.
As we share this joy with our audience, they will hopefully begin to understand what we see in it.
It should unleash the performer's love for the game of magic, and share with the audience the joy of performance.
If the performer is having a good time and sweeps the spectator assistant along--the spectator needs to trust the Magic Character as well as the Trickster behind him--they will follow along with the play.
The idea is to let the spectator know he can feel safe and play along without fear of being embarrassed or belittled--we have to make a safe place for them to play, one in which they know they can lean on us for guidance on what to do and how to do it.
This gives them freedom to be silly, to be playful.
They are more easily able to enter into this improvisational game imaginatively and with a feeling of spontaneity.
The heart of magic is in the joy of performing it.
As we share this joy with our audience, they will hopefully begin to understand what we see in it.