Magician

Even a savage knows that the world is a place of magic; he wonders what huge invisible hand draws the sun down into darkness, with what inaudible, dark charm a man is taken, suddenly and forever, out of the world, into an unreal place. This last trick puzzles even people who know just how all the others are accomplished. When someone dies whom they have known, they may go to witch-doctors called mediums who pretend that by saying hocus-pocus or by going into a trance, they can make dead people say things to people who are living. This is false magic; humbler fellows who are content to imitate the mysteries of life and death with 52 cards, a white handkerchief and a tailcoat, are annoyed by such lying fakers; they delight in demonstrating their absurdity. Famed Harry Houdini did it before he died. Famed Joseph Dunninger does it now, the same way, by wagering that he can duplicate the miracles of any supernaturalist by using the mechanics of a stage magician.

Last week, having shamed several mediums who nibbled at his bets, Conjurer Dunninger performed his stunts for benefit of press. Trussed up in a leather harness, his hands encased in mittens that were sewn to his sleeves, tied to a chair by a rope of which the knots were sealed with wax, concealing no instruments, he was placed behind a curtain. In front of the curtain was a table on which were placed a pail of hot paraffin, a bucket of water, a pencil and a sheet of paper with three names for identification. When the room was darkened, Conjurer Dunninger caused the paper to be snatched away and returned it with this phrase inscribed upon it: "A word from Houdini." Then there protruded from the curtain a "spirit hand" which the magician later admitted to be a paraffin sheath. Conjurer Dunninger said he would make the ghost of Houdini come; at this a spectre mewed at the newsmongers. Two slates bound together were found to have on their previously blank surfaces silly messages purporting to come from Rudolph Valentino, from Harry Houdini. A sheet of paper bearing identification marks was locked in a tin box; reporters selected a name from the telephone directory; the tin box was opened and the sheet of paper was taken out of the box with the name they had chosen scribbled on it.

The reporters were absolutely bent, baffled, and bewildered. They said that Famed Conjurer Dunninger was the legitimate successor to Harry Houdini. One man who had watched the exhibition of miracles was disgusted by them. He was Charles E. Davenport, the manager of Nino Pecoraro, a medium who had issued a challenge to Dunninger for a "phenomena producing" contest. After watching the things which Dunninger did, Davenport withdrew his challenge because Mr. Pecoraro was alleged not to be in the right psychic condition.

For Mr. Dunninger, psychic condition meant nothing. In a biographical sketch which he contributed to Science and Invention Magazine the publication which sponsored his most recent strange doings, he calmly remarked: "Good 'patter' speeches well studied, and a smiling personality, spell success in magical performances."