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missing." Remember, that was 30 years ago. Mr. Vernon's sensitive fingers can tell the difference between a red card and a black card . . . there is less ink on the red cards, they feel thinner and are ..." "That is why", says Mr. Vernon, "Famous gamblers like Nick the Greek will cut for low card for as much as $10,000- but they won't cut you for high card. Low card numbers have less ink on them and hence separate more readily in the cut." I wish you could have seen the smiles on the faces of Paul LePaul, Art Buckley, and Paul Rosini as they read this article.
I'd like all new magicians and especially the young magicians, who hope someday to become living legends, to read the rest of the report. It's a lesson in how to become a publicity hound with out half trying. "Mr. Vernon is one of the few honest living men who can 'center deal' successfully— this means dealing from the center of the pack while apparently dealing from the top. That comes in very handy in crooked poker,'' the reporter continues. "Vernon learned the trick from an old Mississippi River - boat gambler named Kennedy, that he heard a-bout. He combed the valley region for that old gambler. Finally in Joplin, Missouri, he found a banker who knew him. Gamblers hate magicians so Vernon hired a Rolls-Royce, drove up to the little cabin where the old gambler lived, pretended that he was a Translantic gambler. Old Kennedy was so flattered he took Vernon into his confidence and showed him how to do the center deal. Vernon pressed and stretched his fingers for weeks to gain the suppleness necessary to do the center deal. —He finally mastered it. Kennedy had used that center deal to make a fortune - which he later lost. Vernon could use the trick to make a crooked fortune, but he doesn't gamble - doesn't even play bridge." The story sounds better with violin music.
I've never quite understood the ego of the man who calls himself 'magician'. It must be the connotation we attach to the word "magic". It implies a great celestial gift has been dropped on the halo encircled head of some deserver of divine gifts from that great Magic Place in the
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sky. If a tap dancer, a juggler or some other novelty act is panned by a critic he realizes he needs more practice and usually works to improve his act. Not so the Zeus blessed magician. He knows he's better than anybody. Haven't his disciples told him so ? His card says he is the world's greatest, his editor, if he has one, says he is the most knowledgeable man in magic, his publisher, when he gets one, says he is a magical genius so he screeches at his critics, "Who the hell are you to criticize me, The Great Flubbo?" Even the best doctor in the world calls his work a practice, not so the magician. No magician says, "I'm a practicing magician." As soon as he learns to pull a sarety pin lengthways thru a handkerchief, with out tearing it, he's a magician.
The thinness of a magicians' skin is commensurate with the thickness of his head. This is called Crandall's Law of Prestidigitorial Proportionates. In earlier days the true professional wasn't so touchy. Ted Annemann in the old Jinx would often reprint Variety reviews to "illustrate that critics in the trade generally put in straight language the dope on an act, giving it's good points a boost, and mentioning the weak spot in criticism." Mention the weak points in a magicians' work and these Xenophiobians climb on their wobbly one rocker hobby horses and gallop off in all four indignant directions at once. The following capsule reviews from Variety may give you an idea how critics expect a magician to excell or at least to entertain.
The March 20th 1937 Variety said, "Tommy Martin is another single on the bill. Early in the show with his sleight-of-hand work he does well until he gets around to the cigaretts routine. Works with coins, cards, handkerchiefs and manages all with quiet effectiveness, but his cigarette work which leaves him open for comparisons does not favor Martin. Has an excellent fan and egg routine which can be built up. He puts a small wad of paper in his mouth and wets it into a tiny ball. Dropping the ball on the fan he flips it up and down like a frying pan. Wad expands in front of the audience and becomes an egg, which Martin
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