ARTICLES
Catastrophes
By
Irv Cook
If you do magic, the time will come when you have a catastrophe. The way you handle it will separate you from your peers if you handle it correctly.
My first Catastrophe
I'm ten years old, I have my first paid job ($5.00 - big money in 1951) at the 10th and Olney Playground. I am hired to entertain at a summer program and I prepare my entire repertoire of magic tricks. I start with rope tricks, go on to paper ticks, then productions culminating with the appearance of my magic guinea pig from a dove pan. My parents would not let me have a rabbit because it would grow too big. I don't think they had the miniature rabbits back them, well at least not where I lived in the City of Philadelphia. I couldn't wait to tell the kids in the audience my famous joke. "If you hold a guinea pig up by its tail, its eyes will fall out." Guinea pigs don't have tails. I loaded the guinea pig into the load chamber of the dove pan and told the Recreation Director that I was ready to start the show.
I thought I was first in line to perform, but I was the anchor act. A little girl sang a song; three boys did a tumbling act; a kid played some kind of a flute and then... "Presenting our only paid act... Irv Cook... magician extraordinaire.
The show went good; I even shortened it a bit, because I was getting hot in my Red Jacket and gold bow tie. Time for my final effect... "I'm going to bake a guinea pig cake." I got all the ingredients together and the pan to bake it in. Egg and shell thrown into the pan, flour (I used a flower made from flash paper. I would never let my kid at ten use flash paper, but I was a savvy street kid that did not have a lot of supervision. I used to get my flash paper off of a bookie.) Water (alcohol) and light it all with a match. Pop the top on and produce "Pete," the guinea pig. One problem!!! Pete was in the dove pan too long and he expired. Yes, he assumed the temperature of his surroundings, which was pretty darn hot! I instantly learned the Rocky Raccoon move (long before Rocky was around) and wiggled the hot guinea pig a little and put him back in the pan. I was the only one who knew he was dead. I buried Pete at 12th and Clarkson Avenues, wrapped in toilet paper, neatly placed in a shoebox. Three of my friends and one of my sisters attended the funeral. The eulogy was short, but I did cry that night as I thought of the terrible death my friend had.
Onward to doves!
Pete II was a dove that lived for many years. He was a very happy dove. He would show his happiness by pooping almost every time I produced him. Pete did the Johnny Thompson routine! He just never knew it was funny. I did a show for underprivileged children in the gymnasium of Temple University. No sooner did I produce my dove did he takes off, way up into the rafters and then did his pooping act on the kids in the audience. He also dive-bombed a few kids, who by the way were shooting these little candies that came on a strip of paper through a soda straw. It was at this show, at about 16 years of age, that I learned to always go with the flow. I did that show for about three or four years, and the kids always wanted me to let the dove go like I did before.
I watched a magician and when a trick didn't work for him he threw it on the ground. Not a smart thing to do. Better to fluff it off with a remark like, "back to the drawing boards," and a chuckle. I performed where another performer died back stage. Talk about catastrophes. I ran the light and soundboards for the show "Oklahoma," at a community theater, and heard one hour before curtain that my father died. The show must go on. Catastrophe or not, the audience expects a performance. Learn to fluff off effects that don't work and to keep your personal life separate from your stage life and you will be a successful entertainer.
