Original publication: Genii Magazine, October 2001

My dear friend Harry Lorayne passed away on April 7, 2023, at the age of 96. Over two decades ago, Harry interviewed me for a feature story in Genii Magazine. I am posting the full article here as a way to memorialize his unique writing style. If you ever spoke with Harry, be sure to read this article in his voice – it will make more sense! I’m honored he agreed to the interview, and to write such laudatory words at the start of my career. Harry Lorayne was my North Star, and this early recognition lifted me higher than he ever knew. Now that he is gone, these words remain to soften the blow, and carry my heart. – SC

From September to the end of May, my wife Renee and I leave early every Friday, or late Thursday, weather permitting and when I’m not appearing somewhere out of town, and drive to our country home in The Hamptons (Long Island, New York). We drive back to Manhattan late on Sunday or early Monday. Most of June and July we mainly live there, not in Manhattan. Oh, I drive in for business when and if I have to, but not if I can help it. And in August we’re in Europe with Mel Brooks and Anne Bancroft. (Mel sang the first two new songs he’d written for his enormous Broadway hit, The Producers, to me four years ago in our cabana on the beach at the Lido in Venice, Italy.)

But, for many years (decades) before I became a part-time “country squire,” every Saturday (when I was in town) was spent with the “good guys,” the magicians who met (after Abbott’s, Holden’s, Flosso’s, Tannen’s closed) to eat and drink, talk, learn, watch and do magic, in what we always referred to as The Cafeteria. The venue changed periodically—right now, it’s Reuben’s at 38th Street and Madison Avenue— but it was always “I’ll see you at ‘The Cafeteria’.”

Magicians visiting New York City would show up on Saturdays to gawk at, talk to, listen to the “magic” sto­ries of, have their “handling” criticized by, perhaps see a move or an effect performed by, in those early days, the likes of Ralph Read, Paul Curry, Roy Benson, John Scarne, Mohammed Bey (Sam Horowitz), Joe Dunninger, Harry Dreilinger, Al Flosso, Dick Cardini, Cliff Green, Jack Miller, Henry Christ, Bill Nord, Al Altman, Willie Schneider, Sam Schwartz, Ed Balducci, Doc Daley, Francis Carlyle, Martin Gardner, Slydini, Dai Vernon (when it was pronounced day, not dye), and so many others. “Them were the good old days,” the world was young. The world grew older and so did I. Most of the above were gone, so by attrition, I guess, I became one of the “elder statesmen” of The Cafeteria.

And the ambience slowly changed. Really young people started showing up. Some so young they were brought by their parents, others 11, 12, or in their early teens. As time went by and because I couldn’t stop writ­ing magic books, I guess, I started to feel as if some of the “young’uns” were hanging onto my pant legs as I moved from here to there.

Many of these young people disappeared, moved out of town, found other interests, felt that they couldn’t keep up in the magic area—whatever. But others persevered—grew up, older, better—and some became “known” in the magic world. Really known. David Copperfield’s first (so far as I know) appearance in print was when I included a trick of his in Tarbell 7 (under his real name David Kotkin). He was thrilled; couldn’t thank me enough, and exclaimed, “Mr. Lorayne, if I ever make a million dollars in magic, I’ll send you ten percent!” (One happened; the other did not.)

Going back to the ‘70s and into the ‘80s many more now-known-to-the-magic-world people could be seen (and heard) on Saturdays among, and involved in, the palmed, located, forced, signed, stacked, peeked, nicked, side-stolen, glimpsed, waxed, lost, gaffed, crimped, marked, monte’d, cards—sleeved, hooked, double-sided, thumb-palmed, shelled, back-palmed, spinning, purse-palmed, folding, shimmed, Downs-palmed, spellbound, coins—strings, silks, balls, ropes, cigarettes, magnets, threads, rings and bills. And ducking coffees, Danishes, pies, donuts, cream cheese, sodas, sandwiches, soups and nuts. Oscar Weigle, Herb Zarrow, Sol Stone, Bobby Baxter, Jerry Deutsch, Ken Krenzel, Derek Dingle, Bob Fitch, Jeff Altman, Bob McAllister, your editor Richard Kaufman, Dennis Marks, Howard Schwarzman, Bob Elliott, Frank Garcia, Gene Maze, Persi Diaconis, David Roth.

And the ‘80s into the ‘90s: Doug Edwards, David Regal, Eric DeCamps, Peter Marshall, Wesley James, Harvey Cohen, Jonathan Townsend, Meir Yedid, Jeff McBride, Geoff Latta, and many more. All great, all wonderful.

And currently, some of the young people who show up on Saturdays (I’m there on rare occasions) are just so good. Some in their early to late teens or early to late twenties doing stuff that I never heard or dreamed of until I was in my forties. (Of course, when I was their age books teaching all that really good stuff didn’t exist – as they do now.)

Unfortunately some excellent, exceptionally creative, talented “cafeteria” people like Johnny Benzais and Mark Sicher left us too soon. (I ended an article I wrote for a book about Mark Sicher that was never published— “Mark, we hardly knew ya’.”) Most, fortunately, are here— performing and amazing. One of those is Steve Cohen. Steve and Mark were close friends and came to The Cafeteria together. They endeared themselves to me because they were rabid fans and followed me around mouths agape. But—they “endeared further” because, young as they were, they blew me away with their creativeness, humor, and performance skills.

I may have inspired some young people but, in fact, some of them also inspired me. One of those young people, as just mentioned, was, and is, Steve Cohen. You can see examples of his unique thinking in his effects, “The Missing Middle,” “In Any Case,” “Quart(Er)z Watch” (with Mark Sicher), “Mood Photo”—in, respectively, the March 1986, June 1987, April 1990, and December 1990 issues of Apocalypse.

Quite a few years sped quickly by. Years during which I didn’t see Steve or any of the other habitues of The Cafeteria. (I was edging into my “country squire” mode with a house in West Cornwall, Litchfield County, Connecticut, which filled my weekends.) Steve was a boy when I’d last seen him. Time warp through over a decade and Harvey Cohen, a friend of mine—and of Steve’s—calls to say that he and Steve want to take me out to dinner and, admittedly, “pick my brain.” Well, I don’t often turn down a free dinner!

Steve, of course, is no longer a boy; he’s a young man. He’s married to Yumi, and has a year-and-a-half-old son, Alex. And he does some great magic. He’d impressed me all those years ago; he continues to do so now.

I’m impressed by his magic, his down-to-earth demeanor, his educational background, and by the fact that he speaks, reads, and writes Japanese flu­ently. When I asked how (and why) he’d learned Japanese he told me that it was the late Shigeo Takagi who invited him to come to Japan for a magic convention. Steve says that that invitation “changed the course of my life.” (Shigeo was a friend, a fine gentleman; he was my host when I lectured in Tokyo quite some years ago. That’s another story.) Steve spent a month in Japan after graduating from High School and before attending Cornell University. During that time he met and made friends with many Japanese magicians, including Ton Onosaka and Hiro Sakai (you’ve read some of Hiro’s magic in Apocalypse and here in Genii this past July). To help him communicate with his Japanese friends he decided to learn their lan­guage. He started to do so when he was 18 years of age, considering it a challenge.

He studied Japanese at Cornell and then, during his junior year, studied in Japan (Waseda University) as an exchange student. During that time he worked for Ton Onosaka at Ton’s Magic Land, the best magic shop in Tokyo. That’s where Steve really learned to speak the language fluently, since all the customers were Japanese and all business was conducted in that language.

Steve graduated (with a degree in Psychology) from Cornell in 1993. He’d met Yumi Morishige at Cornell; she later became his wife. They lived in Tokyo for several years, where Steve worked as a Japanese/English translator and also did magic at private parties and at VIP events at one of Tokyo’s top hotels, the Park Hyatt Tokyo.

When he returned to the United States, Steve earned his living by doing both translating (the Japanese government had awarded him the high­est ranking “First Level” when he took the Japanese Language Proficiency Examination) and magic. Soon the magic income started to equal then surpass the translation income. The only “regular” translation work that Steve continues to do (he’s been doing it since 1997) is to translate all the Tenyo trick instructions into English. When you purchase a Tenyo item in the United States (and elsewhere) you’re reading Steve’s translation.

So, I’m impressed. I’ve been around much longer than Steve and I’m sure I’ve traveled to more countries. I can just about get by in French and Italian; a bit or Portuguese, Chinese, Swedish and Greek, and my knowledge of Yiddish (which I do speak fluently; Mel Brooks and I speak it to each other when we don’t want anyone to know what we’re talking about) enables me to understand and to be (somewhat) under­stood in German. (The extent of my Japanese is konnichi wa, komban wa, and sayonara.) But speak, read, write fluently in any of them? No way. If I took the time, I suppose I could figure out the basic modus operandi of any magic effect Steve did for me, but even if I listened to him speak and/or watched him write Japanese for weeks, months, he’d still better shout English at me if he needed help with an emergency!

But let’s get to the magic. How did it all start? Where did it all begin? Well, Steve agrees that there’s no great revelation or apocalyptic moment in that department. It’s pretty much how most of us got the “bug.” I, personally, saw a park counselor do a couple of card tricks on a dark and rainy day (yes, I can still visualize it) when I was six or seven years old. That did it. I’ve written about this before—I ran home and stole empty milk bottles to get the two or three pennies deposit until I could buy a cheap deck of cards so that I could figure out those two card tricks.

Same thing for Steve, just about. At six years of age he saw an uncle do “pocket tricks” for the kids at family gatherings. That did it for him. (No, he didn’t have to steal empty milk bottles!) Steve’s first magic book was The Expert at the Card Table by Erdnase; he was 10 years old. Other books, of course, followed. (By that time I was already into my own magic-book-writing binge.)

It was during his teenage years that he and Mark Sicher became friends, and visited—where else?—The Cafeteria every Saturday. Steve says, “Mark introduced me to people I’d only read about. Of course, I was most excited to meet Harry Lorayne.” Well, as always, glad to be of help, or to instigate an emo­tion. When asked who his inspirations were as he was growing up in magic, he invariably answers, “Harry Lorayne and Juan Tamariz.” I’m flattered, of course. (But who the hell is Juan Tamariz?!)

Steve attended Tannen’s Magic Camp for three or four years where he met other magicians who inspired him and from whom he learned. He also met and befriended David Blaine and eventually became a consultant for two of David’s television specials.

When I asked Steve what he would do for a living if he didn’t do magic his answer was a succinct, “I simply can’t imagine life without magic.” He is at it full time—table hopping, trade shows, corporate affairs, club dates, private parties. His list of testimonials is impressive; letters of praise for his work from people and places like Carl Sagan, Phil Donohue, Mrs. David Rockefeller, General Motors, Compaq Computer, Oppenheimer Funds, Robin Leach, JP Morgan, and more.

Steve’s favorite kind of magic? Cards, followed by mentalism. He is a superior card handler. Oh, he’ll fool you, he will. You won’t know or see how he knows or controls your card and you won’t catch the steal as he gets it out of the deck. Mindreading with cards? Sure. But he also does a very strong, very direct multiple book test. (Seven or eight books are handed out to seven or eight audience members so that he can read seven or eight minds in seven or eight different ways—without a nailwriter).

Utilizing these, and other, talents Steve has a specific goal in mind. He wants to do the kind of magic that makes people think that he was born with “special” gifts. And he wants to do it in a specific kind of venue for a specific kind of audience. His role models are Max Malini, Charles Bertram, and Johann Hofzinser because, aside from their magic, they appeared for high-level, sophisticated, up-scale audiences, includ­ing heads of state (and heads of countries, in the cases of Bertram and Malini). In Steve’s words, “Their performances were intended for an elite and moneyed clientele.” He’d like to open a “magic parlor,” as did Robert-Houdin and Hofzinser, in which to perform for just such audi­ences. And he’s taken a large step in that direction.

He developed a show which he called, Mystery Salon. He originally presented it to an invited group in a friend’s (Harvey Cohen’s) plush Greenwich Village (New York City) apartment. Steve wanted to see if his idea of reviv­ing a “parlor-style” performance in “an elegantly-appointed salon would resonate with (appeal to) modern-day audiences.” Well, the audiences loved it. He couldn’t, however continue to invite people to someone else’s home every week. He became a member of the National Arts Club, the headquarters of which are in a lovely old historic-landmark mansion in the historic/chic Gramercy Park area of New York City. It’s adjacent to The Players (a club to which I belong), in the mansion originally owned by Edwin Booth and in which Booth lived and died. His office/bedroom on the third floor has been kept intact and protected.

National Arts Club members are patrons of the arts, corporate-level people, a sophisticated, intellectual, “crowd.” The front parlors of the building are beautiful, fine art lining the walls and original sculptures strategically placed throughout. Steve was offered one of the parlors, it seats about 35 people, in which to present his show. Perfect.

He molded and refined his performance, and changed the name to— Chamber Magic: A Demonstration of Modern Conjuring. He performs there, to great success, every week. I’ve seen the show. Steve “works” an audience well. He’s not a joke teller (and, important, he knows it) but does elicit laughs at appropriate moments. He doesn’t wear a tuxedo, as did some “years-ago” magicians, nor does he wear jeans and a tee-shirt. He dresses as do the male members of his audiences, as a business exec­utive would—suit, shirt, and tie. And, at the end of the show that I saw he received a standing ovation. He strives for realism. As I mentioned before, he wants to make his audience believe that he possesses “special gifts.” There is an inspiration for that concept which I’ll talk about in a moment.

He accepts advice and integrates it when his own sense tells him that it’s right. For example, he opens his show with a pretty card-rise effect—and a fooler it is. Three freely-selected cards rise on command, even when the deck is in a large drinking glass and covered mouth-to-mouth with another glass. He uses that same deck for an ensuing trick or two. He told me that at one performance someone said out loud— “I wish I had that deck!” “What,” asked Steve, “would you have done in that circumstance, Harry?” HL: “Is it a regular, ungimmicked, deck?” SC: “Yes.” HL: “Then I’d have immediately said to that person— ‘Sir, your wish has just come true!’ and given him that deck at the end of the effect.” SC: “Of course. I’ll just have another deck available for the other effects.” HL: “Sure. But, you know, I love the idea of giving away the deck at that point. It’s strong; it makes a specific statement, and you’re in posi­tion to do it. I would do it at every performance.” That’s what Steve does now. And he doesn’t need a stooge to say, “I wish I had that deck.” He just “reads someone’s mind.” As he comes to the end of that effect—third card rising—he points to an audience member, and says, “Oh, I just read your mind. You’re wishing that you had this deck, aren’t you? Well, your wish just came true—it’s yours.” And he approaches the person and lets him take the deck out of the glass himself. (I’ve written it, said it, so many times—it’s always stronger to use a borrowed deck, if you can borrow one, and if you can use a borrowed deck for that particular effect. If borrowing a deck is not feasible, the next best thing is to give a spectator the deck if, indeed, it is a regular deck.)

I don’t want to describe the entire show—you have to see it, anyway—but he magi­cally links three borrowed wedding rings, locates/reveals 15 ‘thought-­of” cards in different and entertaining ways, dramatically stops his pulse by power of thought, the “multiple” book test I’ve already mentioned, and more. He borrows a $1 bill from a woman, does a pretty under-your-nose bill switch changing it into a $100 bill—and no, he doesn’t change it back to the $1 bill; he gives the woman the $100 bill! Costs $99 but it cer­tainly gets talked about.

Mark Levy is a friend of mine. He’s the co-author of Magic For Dummies and the forth­coming book Tricks With Your Head (with Mac King). He’s a close friend of Steve’s, and is the creative director of Chamber Magic. He explained the “special gift” inspiration to me. Seems it derives from an early 1980s Peter Sellers movie called Being There. (Yes, I saw the movie.) The Peter Sellers character is that of a simple-minded gardener. He rarely speaks, and when he does it’s to make a simple, obvious, statement, like— “In the spring the flowers grow.” That’s all he can handle, simple and obvious thoughts and statements—nothing deep or even a bit complex like, say, metaphors or similes.

Cutting to the chase, he is eventually thought of as a “mysterious genius.” The way it’s plot­ted in the movie, some powerful political people with whom he becomes involved mistake his rare simple observations for quiet wisdom, deep philosophical thoughts. That idea, that mis­take, simmers and grows. At the end of the film some Washington, D.C. power brokers con­sider nominating the gardener for president of the United States!

This does not mean that Steve Cohen is anything like the simple-minded gardener! No.
The point or concept is that the idea, simply left alone, simmers, builds, grows. That’s what I mean when I say that Steve presents his kind of magic in a way that makes people think he has “special gifts.” He never says he has special gifts; he also never denies them. The idea, the thought, simmers in the audi­ence’s collective mind. And it seems to be working for Steve; his audiences believe that he has “special gifts.”

Hey, he’s almost got me convinced!

The post Harry Lorayne Interviews Steve Cohen appeared first on Chamber Magic.

MALINI-ESQUE IMPROMPTU MAGIC IN GARDNER’S ENCYCLOPEDIA

[Published in Genii Magazine, November 2015, page 67]

In the early twentieth century, Max Malini made his reputation performing impromptu tricks for members of the upper class. He sidled up to socialites and policy-makers in upscale hotel lobbies and presented a cascade of off-the-cuff miracles that compelled them to visit his ballroom show.

As I’ve modeled much of my own career after Malini (he too performed at New York’s Waldorf Astoria), I often hunt for quick Malini-esque tricks and stunts that make a strong impact on discerning crowds. Martin Gardner’s Encyclopedia of Impromptu Magic is full of such items, and I’ll share a few that have served me well.

The Jumping Cigar Band has been in my repertoire for decades – it’s quick and visual, and audiences of all ages are surprised when the cigar band (or borrowed ring) jumps from your first to second finger, and then back.

Malini’s “Three From One” is sensational – you borrow a coin, split it into two coins, and then split one of those again into two coins.

The Magnetic Cigar that clings to your fingers is wonderful (with two methods given, but I prefer the one with the straight pin), and the impromptu methods for Torn and Restored Bill, when combined together in the style of Leipzig, form a healthy routine.

Finally let’s not forget the Malini “Button Biting” effect. I keep a case full of various styled buttons, with different colored thread, in my close-up kit for when I spot a matching button/thread combination.

The post Malini-esque Impromptu Magic appeared first on Chamber Magic.

Steve Cohen, The Millionaires’ Magician

Interviewed by Richard Kaufman

Genii: Why do you call yourself “The Millionaires’ Magician?” Doesn’t that turn some people off? It sounds kind of snooty.

Cohen: Nice way to start the interview!

Genii: It’s my prerogative: I remember teaching you and Mark Sicher how to shave when you were both kids.

Cohen: So you did. To answer your question, an upscale magazine in New York City wrote a feature story about me, and that was the headline: “The Millionaires’ Magician.” I’m at The Waldorf Towers every Friday and Saturday night for my show Chamber Magic. But the other five days of the week I travel around the world to perform at people’s mansions and private islands. They pick me up in luxury cars and put me up in fine hotels in Switzerland, London, Paris, the Caribbean, Boca Raton, Aspen, all over the place.

Genii: You’ve clearly figured out a great niche for yourself.

Cohen: To be honest, there are at least three million millionaires in America, and in my geographic region—New York City—it seems like everyone I know is a millionaire. So when I call myself “The Millionaires’ Magician,” it’s simply a description of my market. Now, I find myself contacted only by people—event planners, corporate groups, and individuals—who can afford my current rates. They kind of know what they’re jumping into when they call me, so there’s no sticker shock when they hear my prices.

Genii: How many shows per year do you perform?

Cohen: I do 20 Chamber Magic shows a month (five shows each weekend) at the Waldorf, and between six and 10 private or corporate shows per month on top of that. So I’m working a lot—roughly 300 shows a year. Which is good, since I have two small kids and we live on the Upper West Side in Manhattan—not exactly a neighborhood known for bargain-hunting. But, it’s not only about the money for me. I feel extremely lucky to live my childhood dream.

Genii: Speaking of money—and please be frank here—do you charge more for your show when you are performing for, say, a billionaire?

Cohen: Nobody likes to be taken advantage of, especially the ultra-rich. I do have a premiere rate that I present as an option to my high net-worth clients. To justify the higher fee, I customize parts of my show to meet the interests of the individual client.

In my proposal, I explain that I’ll create two to three new tricks specific to their event. In many cases, this is easy—just a matter of changing patter to an existing trick in my repertoire to fit the person. But I also enjoy challenging myself to develop something truly new—like the violin string penetration (for Anne-Sophie Mutter) and the loaf of bread (for Martha Stewart). Mark Levy and I work together to come up with one-off presentations that the audience clearly knows was created just for them.

Some of my long-standing clients even suggest that I bring my family along when the events are held in resort areas. To me, this is like a bonus—a chance to vacation with my family while working.

You have to understand, one of my aims is to not simply be a “hired gun,” but to become part of the clients’ family circle. I’m a real person to them—we stay in touch throughout the year, sharing personal notes and gifts. If they have guests visiting New York City, I comp them into my shows at the Waldorf. I take care of them.

In return, they take care of me. And that’s because I’m sincere in my dealings with them.

Genii: What is your relationship with the Waldorf-Astoria?

Cohen: When I began working with the Waldorf, the staff had no idea that I would be there for an extended period of time. I’ve now presented over 800 performances of Chamber Magic at the Waldorf, and the staff considers me a permanent resident. The hotel has become overwhelmingly supportive of Chamber Magic: The concierges recommend the show to in-house guests; They feed me dinner after the show; They send wine, cheese, and fruit amenities so that I can entertain VIP guests who stay after the show to talk; They invite me to perform for VIP events for celebrities and royalty who are staying at the hotel.

Each of these items was attained by baby steps, over the course of many years.

I now live at The Waldorf Towers every weekend, and then uptown at my apartment the rest of the week. My suite at the Waldorf is much larger than my apartment at home—about 4,000 square feet.

I perform in the living room area, with three or four rows of chairs.

Genii: And the show is now sold-out several months in advance …

Cohen: When I first started, the hotel was not at all supportive in promoting Chamber Magic. I had only one or two executives who championed my cause, and everyone else seemed to think that I was just another guest, holding just another event there.

The Waldorf Towers hosts important events every day, from the United Nations General Assembly to the NASCAR award show, to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. Richard Branson stays there, Brad Pitt stays there, and every U.S. President since 1931 has stayed there when they visit New York City. A magic show by an unknown magician was not on anybody’s radar.

In the beginning, I invited my friends and family, and told them to bring their friends—just to fill the seats. After about six months, I’d used up all my friends, and attendance started to dwindle. I lied to my wife, and told her that our business was breaking even, but in reality I was losing money every week.

This continued for two and a half years. Then, with an immense amount of effort, and relying solely on word-of-mouth, I was finally breaking even. In order to keep the room looking full, I gave out complimentary seats to anybody who asked, and even “papered the room” several times with members of ticketing clubs who wanted to see free shows in Manhattan.

Fortunately, New York City is a media capitol, and media people started showing up at Chamber Magic. A reporter from CNN came one night with a film crew and did a long profile of the show on CNN. She told Anderson Cooper and Paula Zahn about it, and suddenly I was on the map. The media feeds off of other media, and shortly after, a reporter from the Associated Press showed up. After his article appeared in hundreds of American newspapers, there was suddenly some interest in my little show at the Waldorf.

Genii: You’ve talked a lot about marketing and your business. I’d hate for my readers to think that you are merely a businessman and not a real student of magic. I know that you are, of course, because you were doing tricks for me when you were 14 years old, but my readers don’t.

Cohen: Magic is all-consuming for me. I love to practice difficult card sleights: Earnest Earick’s One-Handed Bottom Palm, Ascanio’s handling of The Diagonal Palm Shift, “Raise Rise,” and so on. I also work constantly on the Classic Pass. Derek Dingle was kind to praise my Shift when I showed it to him repeatedly in New York. That memory will always remain one of my magical highlights.

I also love to read all of the biographies and treatments of great magicians of the past: Karl Germain, Chung Ling Soo, Roy Benson, Al Baker, Robert-Houdin, Hofzinser, David Devant, Charles Bertram, Max Malini, and Nate Leipzig. These are the magicians who have influenced me in a direct way, through the printed page. I read constantly—hunting for the good stuff.

Genii: This must have helped when you began to put together Chamber Magic.

Cohen: For me, the effect is always the thing. How will this appear to the layman? When I was choosing material for Chamber Magic I was tempted to put together a show full of knuckle-busting sleight of hand. But I ultimately decided that the show is not aimed at magicians. Nobody is going to applaud a flawless Multiple Shift, or something that magicians would call clever. Lay audiences care about the dramatic voyage—the introduction into a world where magic might really take place.

The Waldorf-Astoria building itself helps me put people into that mindset, even before the show begins. The audience enters through a marble lobby, and gets whisked upstairs in a special elevator. By the time they enter my suite, they’re already expecting to see things they’ve never seen before.

The material I chose is entirely effect-driven, and I include a lot of classics: Any-Drink-Called-For, the Rising Cards, and the Malini hat routine. In the mentalism section of my show, I do a Question & Answer routine. To magicians, this may seem to be standard stuff. But when combined with compelling presentations, they take on a different character.

Mark Levy worked hard with me to pick strong material that can be easily described by audiences. Like Vernon said: “A good trick needs to be described in a single sentence.” For every trick that makes the show, there are probably 12 tricks that didn’t. Mark would always say, “Maybe they knocked the audience on their ass lightly … but we’re hoping for black and blue marks.”

Genii: What are your guidelines when choosing tricks?

Cohen: I don’t mind going the extra mile to really fool the audience badly. Michael Close wrote about this in his book Workers Five. He calls it the “Too Much Trouble” assumption. Audiences would never imagine that a magician would go to such trouble (like memorizing an entire deck of cards) simply to fool them. That assumption is what slays them. I am willing to spend years preparing for a trick that takes only a few minutes to perform. The audience really has no chance—it’s a ridiculous disadvantage.

My performance of “Think-a-Drink,” for instance, requires an hour of set-up before the show, and another hour of clean-up afterward. I can’t just pack up and leave. It’s not like a club date where you have your props in a briefcase or trunk, and you need to be able to break down the show and hop in your car.

But it’s exactly that extra effort that provides an unforgettable experience for the audience.

In addition, at The Waldorf Towers, I have total control over the environment, including the entrance hall, waiting room, and performance space. I’ve built props that look like ordinary items and objects that are meant to be in those rooms.

The show appears to have very few props, when in fact there are many. They just blend into the environment—nobody even realizes they’re there. This approach is based on Dunninger’s statement that each time a mentalist takes out a prop, his price goes down. At the end of the show, I want people to remember me as a personality. The way I chose to accomplish this is to perform tricks that are personality-driven, not prop-driven.

Genii: That’s what makes the tricks yours …

Cohen: That, I feel, is one of the real secrets of magic. To make the tricks yours. I tie in so much of my personal history, family stories, and other such elements that it rings true. It doesn’t feel artificial. I try to connect with Chamber Magic audiences on a personal level so that they feel like they know me.

Genii: What’s the most interesting thing one of your high-falutin clients ever said to you?

Cohen: One of my best clients in Boca Raton gave me the following quote: “A master in the art of living leaves others to determine whether he is working or playing. To himself, he always seems to be doing both.” That sums up how I’m living my life right now. I’m making an enjoyable living for my family, by playing.

The post Guest author: Genii Magazine interview by Richard Kaufman appeared first on Chamber Magic.

The Red Car Trick

by Mark Levy

Besides being a business consultant, I’m also a magician. I invent illusions, design magic shows, write instructional magic books, and position performers.

If you read Seth Godin’s recent post about Steve Cohen, “The Millionaires’ Magician,” you’ve seen my work in action. Steve has been my client and friend for a decade. I positioned him, and co-created his two Off-Broadway shows, “Chamber Magic” and “Miracles at Midnight.”

Steve and I have invented several tricks I think of as theatrical. I’d like to tell you about one.

Years ago, when “Chamber Magic” was getting off the ground, Steve gave me a call. He said a New York newspaper reporter had been in the audience, was impressed, and asked to meet Steve later in the week for an interview. If the interview went well, the newspaper would devote nearly a page to the story. Steve and I took this as a challenge. An article in a New York paper was worth thousands of dollars of publicity.

During a fast brainstorm, I hit upon an idea. We drafted an email and shot it off to the reporter. The body of the message read something like this:

“Steve Cohen here. Thank you for offering to interview me. Let’s meet tomorrow in Manhattan at noon at the National Arts Club. And, if you’re game, I’d like you to participate in an experiment.

“On your way here, keep a running tally of every red car you see.

“Don’t, however, write down or mention the final figure to anyone. It should remain a secret until we meet. Just keep it fixed in your mind.

“A few additional points:

“You told me you live in Brooklyn, which is six miles from where we’ll be meeting. You have a few routes you can travel. Perhaps you’ll take the Brooklyn Bridge. Or, the Manhattan Bridge. Or, the Williamsburg Bridge. You also have the choice of dozens of avenues and streets.

“What’s more, you have several transportation methods you can use.  You can walk, cycle, rollerblade, drive, grab a cab, board a bus, ride a horse, take a helicopter, or mix and match. Each method will likely alter your route some. That’s fine. It’s your choice.

“Then, there are the cars. You decide what constitutes a ‘red car.’ It can be completely red or have just a red detail. It can be moving or parked. You can count red trucks and SUVs, too, or you can ignore them. Follow your impulse.

“Again, make sure you’re not making your counting obvious. No fingers or pads of paper. And, take precautions that you’re not being followed (check the foot traffic, the autos, and the air).

“See you tomorrow.”

The next day, Steve was waiting as the grinning reporter walked in and said: “I couldn’t sleep last night. I have a feeling you’re going to tell me how many red cars I’m thinking of.”

“Did anyone follow you?” asked Steve.

“No,” said the reporter.

“Did you see red cars?”

“I did.”

“Did you write down how many you saw, or share that figure with anyone?”

“No.”

“But you have the number safely in mind.”

“I’m thinking of the number, yes.”

“You’re not going to change it, will you? I mean, you’re a reporter and are sworn to the facts and the truth.”

“I promise I won’t change it.”

Steve picked up a business card, scribbled a figure on it with a pencil, and held the facedown card out to the reporter.

“How many red cars did you see?” asked Steve.

“61.”

When the reporter turned the card over and saw a penciled “61,” he punched and kicked the air, shouting, “Man! This almost makes me believe in real magic!”

Steve got his article.

Why did I tell this story? I told it because, well, it’s a damn good story. It’s got an intriguing premise and action that unfolds on the streets of Brooklyn and New York. It’s also got a big city reporter who’s so affected by the experience that he lies awake in anticipation and nearly starts believing in miracles. What could be better?

Stories are what remains long after the show has been packed away. They’re evidence that miracles occurred.

When Steve and I come up with an illusion for him, we simplify it until we believe it’s easy for audiences to remember and talk about. If they do talk about it, great. If they don’t, we pull it from the show and start over. Everything we invent is based on the memories it provokes.

Doing tricks that lead to stories is forceful marketing. The audience acts as missionaries and carries word of the show with them.

If you dare to take the same approach in your business, you may see miracles happen there as well. Once you’ve completed a project and are heading home, ask yourself “What will remain? What will clients talk about? What will they be excited by?  What won’t they be able to forget? What will they share?”

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For more Mark Levy blog posts and updates about his upcoming book Accidental Genius (revised edition), visit: http://levyinnovation.wordpress.com/

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