Arthur Tivoli

The following is a true story — substantially true — used to prove, logically, that Rick Carruth, editor of Street Magic Info, Street Magic Bullets, and the eZine eMagic Deluxe, is actually four people. 

Our story unfolds just a few days ago in a community center not unlike other community centers . . .

One of our great local magic clubs, Ring 22 of Detroit held its Thumb Tip Night last week.

(As many of you remember, until December 31, 2004, Michigan law prohibited ?Thumb Tip Nights? or ?Vernet Days? if the event was to be held within ten miles of a ?high school or vocational school woodshop.?  The law made sense back in the day when any woodshop teacher worth his salt was missing a digit.  The law sought to protect the feelings of these often under-paid instructors by not allowing magicians to display fake digits for any purpose.  Thanks to the advent of OSHA and union demands for safer shop tools, the amputation numbers have dropped dramatically).

Each member was to offer some innovative technique or effect with a thumb tip.  Doug Mac George took the stage and began demonstration of a bill switch.  As he neared completion of the all-important third fold, his thumb tip popped from his hand, bounced off the table, and rolled on the floor beneath him.

We all felt badly for the poor guy.  We also felt relief that we weren?t him.

Then Mr. Mac George did something strange.  We thought maybe he had lost his mind; that he was so embarrassed by dropping the thumb tip, he didn?t realize he wouldn?t be able to complete the effect.

Oh, poor Mr. Mac George.  He was a figure to be pitied.

He continued to fold the bill for a final time and when most magicians would expect the bill to be momentarily obscured for a switch to be made, he left the bill in plain sight.

Of course he cannot obscure the bill.  He has no reason to do it.  There is nothing to switch.  Oh, dear.  So sad, this man.

It was like a car accident, though.  I couldn?t help but look.  He began to unfold the bill and show that it had indeed transformed without props or a hidden move.  The first bill had also vanished and Mr. Mac George showed both sides of the new bill and demonstrated that his hands were empty and free of appliances.

Gulp.  I became gaseous.  My internal organs were shutting down to allow my trembling body to enter into the sleep of the undead.  One of my defense mechanisms when I witness a witch or some voodoo doer is to act like I have become a zombie.  Witches and voodooers will rarely cast a zombie spell on someone who is already in suspended animation.

I fought to keep my eyes open.  I ordered my lungs to take in deeper breaths and my heart to beat slightly faster than coma-level.  That?s how good this was.  I was willing to be made into a true brainless creature of the night just to see if there was a logical explanation.

Mr. Mac George said nothing more.  He did not explain how the transformation was accomplished.  Everyone in the room was silent; this made my gaseous condition more evident and embarrassing.

At the conclusion of the thumb tip-arama, I sought out Mr. Mac George.  I was clutching my crucifix made from compressed garlic as I approached him.  Fortunately, I was able to see a reflection of the man in a nearby window.  That ruled out a vampire.

?How did you do that bill switch??  I asked hurriedly.

He told me how he learned it but wouldn?t tell me how it was done.  He said a magician asked him to translate the instructions from French to English.  The English and French translations were on the web.  He gave me the website address and apologized for feeling he should not disclose the secret.

I faked a laugh and said I understood.  I really didn?t.  I needed to know and I needed to know it now.  How can one do a bill switch without appliances and without the momentary but apparently necessary covering of the bill?

?Ha, Ha,? I said as if I was really enjoying the joke.

It wasn?t a joke, though.  Mr. Mac George is one those principled magicians who believe inventors should get the credit for their work ? even if they are willing to give away the secret for free.

I rushed back to Mystic Hollow, Michigan.  Normally, this is an hour-long ride ? assuming one is traveling in a car.  I was hitch-hiking so I figured it would take a little longer.

A trucker picked me up at the intersection of I-75 and I-696.  My thumb tip increased the visibility of my hitching hand.

?Where you heading?? he asked.

He was a normal sized man ? assuming you lived in the land of giants and freakishly proportioned humanoids.  His head was bald but not shiny.  His beard ran down from his cheeks and chins like a group of scared Brillo Pads trying to seek cover in is lap.  (I don?t know why I wrote that.  It was scary, though.  I can?t analogize when I am scared).

His hands were as big as donut boxes and his shoes were donut boxes tied tightly around his feet with white string.  His teeth were rotted from his mouth ? I was guessing a steady diet of donuts did them in.  There was donut dust all over his Brillo Beard, donut glaze coating his steering wheel.

I gulped.

?I?m heading to Mystic Hollow,? I sputtered.

He shifted the big rig into some gear other than neutral and we slowly came up to speed ? heading due west.

?My name is Chris Pea,? he said without taking his hands from the wheel or his eyes off the road.

I laughed.  ?Oh, I get it.  Donuts, Krispy Kreme? Chris Pea?  That?s a good one.?

He wasn?t laughing.

He said nothing for a while.  He seemed to forgive me and demonstrated this by offering me one of the donuts that were stacked erratically up the length of the truck?s shift stick.

I knew I should take one or risk again hurting his feelings.  Clearly donuts meant something to Chris.  The problem, though, was that the top donut was disgusting.  It was covered with cocoanut shreds and chocolate sprinkles.  I hated both toppings.  I suggested he take the first one and I?d grab the second one.  It looked better, just a plain glaze donut.

?Why?? Chris asked.  ?They?re all the same.?

?Oh, no,? I stammered.  ?I just don?t really like cocoanut or chocolate sprinkles, that?s all.?

He stroked his long beard and shook it.  ?Them aren?t cocoanut or chocolate,? he said as I watched the mini-snowfall from his beard towards the donut stack.

?This is my stop,? I said.  I pointed outside the cab as if I meant it.

He looked puzzled.  ?You want to get out on the middle of a highway overpass??

I nodded.  He slowed the truck and I jumped from the cab to the very narrow shoulder.

I watched the mighty truck pull into the night and I continued my trek towards home.

Mystic Hollow is West of Detroit, South of Lansing, North of Toledo, and East of Chicago.  I was not sure I whether I was oriented North, South, East, or West of my home now.

I thought about hitching another ride but decided against it.

It began to snow as I tried to work my way safely along the shoulder down the steep overpass to the main road some 200 feet below.  The snow made the walk dangerous and it didn?t help that I was wearing my clown shoes.  ?At least I don?t have donut box shoes,? I thought.

As if to punish me, the forces in the universe caused me to lose my footing and I slid rapidly down the overpass towards the traffic and road below.  There was nothing I could do to stop.  I knew the odds of skidding across five lanes of traffic safely were probably not in my favor.  I had plenty of time to analyze the situation, though.  It was a long slide and I was still accelerating as the ice became more substantial.

?You shouldn?t have made fun of Mr. Mac George for dropping his thumb tip,? I said.  ?That?s why this is happening to you.  You made fun because he dropped his thumb tip, then you thought he was a zombie-making netherworld figure, and then you resented him for keeping the bill switch method secret.?

I tried to argue with myself but it was useless.  You cannot argue with logic.  You just can?t.

My slide was about to move from vertical to horizontal.  My body smacked the lower road with a ?smack? sound.  Amazingly, I remained sitting upright but still moving quickly across the icy five lanes of traffic.

I could tell that the authorities had recently salted ? my jeans were tearing in neat longitudinal patterns from my lower thigh to my buttocks.  The salt pellets didn?t slow me, just made it hurt more.  I crossed two lanes of traffic before the first car nearly took me out.  Through clever driving, the mom and her family of twelve caused the mini-van to careen out of control and narrowly miss me.

There was not traffic in the fourth lane but to my right, I could see the high mounted lights of a big rig.  I hoped to pass under its bed and land in the snow bank just 17 feet in front of me.

I wasn?t going to make it, though.  The truck was slowing down and my speed wasn?t changing.  The driver no doubt thought he was trying to save my life by slowing but really he was just positioning the front of the cab for a perfect intersection with my rigid body.

I closed my eyes.  I said an Act of Contrition for my offenses against Mr. Mac George and the Mr. Pea.

I was hit hard but it didn?t feel like the steel, reinforced bumper of a Mack truck.  It felt like a big hand.  Like the Hand of God grabbing me up in one fluid motion.  In a blur, I was back inside the donut truck.  Mr. Pea saved me.

He said nothing but again offered a donut from his stick shift.  He had apparently eaten the disgusting one and the donut offered to me was pristine in its glazed state. 

?What were you doing in Detroit without a car?? he asked.

I finished gulping my donut and looked ahead as we drove on through the snow.

I told him about the Thumb Tip night meeting.  He said he thought such events were illegal.  I explained the change in the law and he nodded.

He didn?t ask but I went on to tell him about the bill switch and Mr. Mac George.

He remained silent but smiled.  Actually, because he had no teeth, he just separated his chapped lips a bit to expose his gums.

?So you don?t know how it?s done?? he asked as he pulled up to my home.

I shook my head.  I was amazed how he knew where I lived.

?Hey,? I said.  ?How did you know where I lived??

I realized for the first time that I was likely in the presence of one of those urban legends.  A lone truck driver who saves hitch-hikers and then vanishes into the night. 

I would likely tell people about the experience and they would then look at me with eyes as big as ashtrays.  ?Why, Tim.  That?s impossible, Chris Pea was killed in a horrific truck accident on a night just like this.  Powdered sugar from a donut got in his eyes and he drove blindly off an overpass.?

He smiled ? in his own special way ? and said, ?You left your wallet in the cab when you jumped out back there.?

?Oh,? I said.

I climbed down from the truck and started to walk up the snow covered walk to my double-wide.

?Tim,? he yelped from the cab.  ?Did the trick look like this??

He performed the effect perfectly.  The bill wasn?t obscured, no appliances were present. 

He dropped the transformed bill from the window as he pulled away.

I crunched through the snow to the dropped item.  It wasn?t a bill; it was a gift certificate for a dozen donuts.

When I finally got my computer started and on-line, I received my email and read Mr. Carruth?s eMagic Deluxe Newsletter.

It was too much of a coincidence. 

Mr. Carruth’s latest newsletter had information about this incredible bill switch and gave the url address for the video and instructions.

I watched as the Tivoli webpage came up and my mouth opened in horror. 

The image of Mr. Tivoli almost matched the image of Chris Pea ? assuming Mr. Tivoli had no teeth, had a lice and dandruff filled beard made of Brillo Pads, and had mutated to look like some creature from a land of freaks. 

Actually, when you take into account the physical differences between the Donut Driver and Mr. Tivoli, they look nothing like each other ? except in the eyes.

Am I suggesting that Mr. Mac George, Mr. Pea, Mr. Carruth, and Mr. Tivoli are all the same person or share some sort of cosmic unity?

You be the judge. 

But I warn you, you cannot argue with logic.  You just can?t. 

The facts add up in only one way.  Ask yourself why you have never seen these four men in the same place at the same time?  Take away their physical appearances and concentrate only on what they can do with a bill and a couple of un-obscured folds.

It?s spooky.

Visit Mr. Carruth?s Street Magic Info site at http://www.streetmagic.info.  Join his eMagic Deluxe newsletter at the same site.  Finally, you can see the Tivoli Bill Switch by following a link from Mr. Carruth?s other website/blog Street Magic Bullets here http://streetmagic.info/blogger.html.

I am sure you would like me to tell you how the trick is done or even the url.  But this trick is worth nearly dying to learn; so it is certainly worth visiting Mr. Carruth?s websites.