DAYTONA MAGIC ARTICLES

ARTICLES

I grew up in Philadelphia, PA and was introduced to magic, at age nine, by a neighbor who's name was Bill Long. He and his wife Sadie became second parents to me as a young child. I idolized both of them and spent endless hours at their house practicing, making and doing magic. No matter how many times I showed them the same trick (with a different variation, so I thought) they had the patience to watch and encourage me. My first outing to a magic shop came when I was about ten, and Mr. Long, as I called him said, "Irvy save up your money and I'll take you downtown to buy some magic."

Now I was quite an entrepreneur and had many different ways of making extra money. One of my ways was to collect soda bottles. They were worth 2 cents each at the A & P and I started looking everywhere. All of my favorite places were combed for throwaway treasures. The Jewish Hospital, where the young medical students hung out behind the Emergency Room, to have a quick drink on a hot day, was always good for a few bottles. The car wash, where a lot of thirsty workers drank soda all day was a great place. There you had to be fast because they really didn't throw the bottles away. They only stored the empties on a cement wall for later redemption. I was a pretty fast kid and I could snatch a few, and be on my way with no more than a cuss from an angry worker. Fields and roadways were places that you could find a bottle or two. Ten days and two hundred bottles later I was a rich man. I had four bucks, enough for carfare, lunch and three dollars to spend on magic.

We were pretty lucky in Philadelphia in the early 1950's. We had four Magic Shops. Half way downtown at Broad and Erie there was the Abra-Kadabra Magic Shop. Downtown Philadelphia had three Magic Shops, Kantar's, Ben's and Jack Chanin's - all within walking distance. Mr. Long and I decided to bypass Abra-Kadabra and go straight downtown for a day of shopping, sightseeing, eating and fun. If memory serves me right, it cost in 1951 ten cents to ride the subway. From Broad and Olney to Market Street, where William Penn stood guard on top of city hall, it took about forty-five minutes of zooming under busy city streets. Looking out the front car of a subway train and pretending you were the driver was a wonderful way for a ten year old to start his big adventurous day. (Here is a Philadelphia joke: Why on the statue of William Penn, is his pointing finger only 11 inches long? Answer If it were 12 inches long it would have been his foot.) And you think my partner Harry Allen is the only one who can write jokes in a book. Enough... back to the story.

After checking out the toy department at John Wanamaker's - they had the greatest toy train displays, we began our trek west to buy magic. I was going to be very frugal with my budget of $3.00, so when we went to Kantar's Magic Shop, which was in an alley like arcade, I hid two dollars in my sock. I felt I would not be tempted to spend any more than a dollar. The change from my first dollar was certainly enough to get a grilled cheese sandwich, a coke and maybe a 1-cent banana split from McCory's. They had this deal where you burst a balloon and you paid from 1 cent to 39 cents for a three-scoop banana split with all the junk on top, depending on how much was written on a paper inside the balloon.

Mike Kantar was a pretty good egg. He made a lot of stuff in his back room and also carried everything from the major magic manufactures of the time. He introduced me to my first "purchased" magic trick, the Penny Block. We still sell this trick today; you know... it's where you turn a penny into a dime. I paid 50 cents and who ever heard of sales tax in 1951. Mr. Kantar had to get back to his back room so off we went to Ben's Magic shop. Now Ben's was more novelty shop than magic but here I met Harry Reed, who was kind and considerate to me every time I ever had dealings with him. Long after Ben's Magic Shop was a memory; I would see Harry at the Magic Conventions with his dapper little moustache. This guy never got older. I think he was a real magician who found the fountain of youth. My second "purchased" magic trick was the Ball and Vase. I think I paid 35 cents and remember buying 15 cents worth of Atomic Pearls. Today Atomic Pearls would be illegal. You could throw these things on the ground and they would explode. They came packed in sawdust. They really packed a wallop and sounded like a gunshot.

And now for the crème de la crème, a walk to Jack Chanin's, the man with the golden hands, and me with two bucks to spend neatly tucked away in my socks. Visions of buying either three or four pocket tricks or even a stage trick, like a $2.00 Milk Pitcher danced in my head. You entered the store and there was magic everywhere. It seamed chaotic but like my bedroom at home, my mother thought it was a mess but I knew where everything was, and the Tastykake wrappers under the bed didn't bother me, Mr. Chanin seemed to be able to reach into the pile behind the counter and produce anything a customer wanted. "A Walsh appearing cane? $4.50, I've got one around here someplace." Mr. Chanin's big hands reached into the pile and satisfied the customer in front of me. Appearing Canes sell for about $80.00 today. Investing in a bunch of these would have been better than the stock market.

Mr. Long introduced me to Mr. Chanin and the first thing he said was, "How much money you got kid?" My mistake was showing him the two dollars in my sock, but I said, "I think I want to get more than one trick." Jack reached into the "enormous pile" and produced a long length of rope. He then entertained me for about ten to fifteen minutes with at least a half dozen rope tricks. He threaded a make believe needle using the rope, cut it in four pieces and restored it, made knots disappear and reappear, changed the lengths. I was mesmerized. "How much for all that," I shouted! "Two bucks kid!" came out from behind the cigar that stuck from his smiling face.

I contemplated for a few minutes, I thought how I would start my show by changing a penny to a dime, do the Ball and Vase trick, show some of the paddle tricks I made from Popsicle sticks, do some card tricks Mr. Long taught me, and end my performance with a 10 minute rope bonanza, straight from the files of Jack Chanin. "I'll take it!" I shouted. Jack then quickly showed me how to thread the rope through the needle loop on my thumb. He said, "Go home and practice this... When you learn it you will be ready for your next trick." "What about the other stuff you did," I asked. "Oh that!" he said, I was just entertaining you, those tricks are too hard for a little guy like you." I left the store, like a puppy dog with his tail between his legs. I think I even cried a little, but wouldn't show Mr. Long I was being a wimp. I didn't finish my grilled cheese sandwich at McCory's and couldn't bring myself to try for a one-penny banana split.

My sadness turned to anger as I thought of all the bottles I collected to buy a piece of cloths line, 36-inches long, with no instructions. I didn't set foot in Chanin's Magic Shop for at least five years, but on future trips, every time Mr. Long went inside, I waited on the pavement trying out my new trick from Kantar's or Ben's.

I think it was at a meeting of the Houdini Club that I began to talk again with Mr. Chanin who I now referred to as Jack. He was a fantastic magician, and I grew to love and respect him, as did most other Philadelphia magicians. But, deep in the recesses of my mind I knew that some day, somewhere, some how, I was going to GET EVEN.

Fast-forward about 25 years. I'm now a Magic Dealer living in Florida and attending Magic Conventions selling my wares. I was working at Tannen's Jubilee when who comes in the room... an old, gray, but still feisty Jack Chanin. "Hey Cook!" he yells across the room "I got a great deal for you." "What do you got Jack?" I asked. I thought to myself, this guy has been out of business for ten years. What's he going to do? Try to sell me one of his old routines. FLASHBACK!!!! I remember the rope; it still loomed as a giant snake in the back of my mind; its fangs ready to strike at my juggler vein. Now was my opportunity. I would take him on a roller coaster ride; let him think I was going to buy thousands of his rope routines and cancel at the last moment.

All he wanted to do was sell me some plastic 4" x 6" bags, that he found in his basement from his manufacturing days. He wanted $10.00 a box, and considering each box had at least 1000 zip lock bags it was a great deal. I looked at the box and told Jack I would only give him eight bucks. He asked, "What are you nuts? These are worth $20.00 a box, at least!"

Well I think every dealer at Tannen's bought at least one box of bags from Jack. It was Sunday morning when he came over to me and said that he only had one box left. "I'll still only give you eight bucks Jack." "OK, I don't want to carry them back to Philadelphia," he shouted. I got my two bucks back! The score was even! Justice was served. I took Jack to the coffee shop and bought him some breakfast and told him my story, which by the way, he denied and said, "I would never do that to a kid."

That story has come to my mind almost every time a kid comes into my shop and buys a rope trick. If it is a sleight of hand trick, I always tell the kid that he is only buying a length of rope and some instructions, but some day he might be as great as the famous Philadelphia Rope Magician... Jack Chanin. The kid usually looks at me like... who the heck is this old guy talking about???