Magic News

New Reality TV: Magicians – Life on the Streets
Tis a Pity

Lest anyone think the world of magic is all fun, games, and neat props; The Dallas Star-Telegram gives us the depressing nit and grit of the working magician’s life.

We usually refer you to the stories we find but this one may be too intense. Please, do not read the article if you have any doubts about your role in the fun world of Magic. Even then, read it with a buddy so you can thwart any attempts at self-injury or worse.

The article purports to be a profile of the working magician in these times of video magic. It is not an upper.

We are introduced to three magicians working and working it. One of the three is changing his name to fit his new character. James Veltrop is a salesman at Dallas’ Magic Etc. and is quoted as saying he hasn’t met someone working magic full-time in his eight years at the shop.

Performers change their names to fit market niches that may or may not exist in a desperate attempt to be booked. The reporter notes:

Names are ephemeral in the incredibly shrinking community of working magicians. Professor Moon, who also goes by Gran-Da-Dee, knows he has to be willing to change his name, his act and his whole approach to magic to appeal to kids in the Age of Harry Potter. The 72-year-old Arlington native has tried to make a full-time living as a performer ever since he left Tandy Corp. in 1985. But it hasn’t been easy.

“Not too many can manage that, and we all do just about anything legal,” Earl Warren says, chuckling. “When I have to, I even do singing telegrams. At various times I have as many as 15 agents looking for business for me. You really have to be constantly on the lookout for work. It doesn’t just come to you.”

Okey Doke. Hang on while we get this noose fixed up good and tight.

The blame lies not on magicians per se; but the world in which we practice. At least that’s the article’s hook.

For a generation of kids raised on Harry Potter and David Blaine, sophisticated special effects and video games, not to mention TV specials that spell out how tricks are done, the old-time magician is becoming as pass? as, well, pulling a rabbit out of a hat. The fraternity of dyed-in-the-wool magicians is being forced to change with the times — or simply fade away.

And yet, amidst the nuclear winter, a flower grows. The article describes with what seems to be a pitying tone Ken Stewart’s decision to go into magic full-time.

“A couple of months ago, I had something almost like a revelation,” he says. “I’ve worked as ‘Uncle Ken & Topper’ — Topper is my bunny rabbit who lives in a top hat — and I thought, ‘Uncle Ken doesn’t have any punch.’ Working here, I’m around wigs and costumes, and I started trying on hats. I thought I’d remake my act to have a different hat for each trick. I’ll be ‘The Magical Glad Hatter.’ ”

Stewart plans to market himself by visiting…

Tis a Pity

Lest anyone think the world of magic is all fun, games, and neat props; The Dallas Star-Telegram gives us the depressing nit and grit of the working magician’s life.

We usually refer you to the stories we find but this one may be too intense. Please, do not read the article if you have any doubts about your role in the fun world of Magic. Even then, read it with a buddy so you can thwart any attempts at self-injury or worse.

The article purports to be a profile of the working magician in these times of video magic. It is not an upper.

We are introduced to three magicians working and working it. One of the three is changing his name to fit his new character. James Veltrop is a salesman at Dallas’ Magic Etc. and is quoted as saying he hasn’t met someone working magic full-time in his eight years at the shop.

Performers change their names to fit market niches that may or may not exist in a desperate attempt to be booked. The reporter notes:

Names are ephemeral in the incredibly shrinking community of working magicians. Professor Moon, who also goes by Gran-Da-Dee, knows he has to be willing to change his name, his act and his whole approach to magic to appeal to kids in the Age of Harry Potter. The 72-year-old Arlington native has tried to make a full-time living as a performer ever since he left Tandy Corp. in 1985. But it hasn’t been easy.

“Not too many can manage that, and we all do just about anything legal,” Earl Warren says, chuckling. “When I have to, I even do singing telegrams. At various times I have as many as 15 agents looking for business for me. You really have to be constantly on the lookout for work. It doesn’t just come to you.”

Okey Doke. Hang on while we get this noose fixed up good and tight.

The blame lies not on magicians per se; but the world in which we practice. At least that’s the article’s hook.

For a generation of kids raised on Harry Potter and David Blaine, sophisticated special effects and video games, not to mention TV specials that spell out how tricks are done, the old-time magician is becoming as pass? as, well, pulling a rabbit out of a hat. The fraternity of dyed-in-the-wool magicians is being forced to change with the times — or simply fade away.

And yet, amidst the nuclear winter, a flower grows. The article describes with what seems to be a pitying tone Ken Stewart’s decision to go into magic full-time.

“A couple of months ago, I had something almost like a revelation,” he says. “I’ve worked as ‘Uncle Ken & Topper’ — Topper is my bunny rabbit who lives in a top hat — and I thought, ‘Uncle Ken doesn’t have any punch.’ Working here, I’m around wigs and costumes, and I started trying on hats. I thought I’d remake my act to have a different hat for each trick. I’ll be ‘The Magical Glad Hatter.’ ”

Stewart plans to market himself by visiting administrators of schools, day-care centers, churches and virtually anywhere else someone might be willing to pay $150-$165 for a 40-minute show, plus another 15 minutes or so of “walk-around magic.”

He’s quick to add he’ll negotiate his fee: “I don’t want to price myself out of the market.”

Maybe it’s just us. Maybe we’re depressed anyway and just didn’t know it. But the author of the article makes it sound pathetic to be a magician performing public shows in a magic shop in exchange for discounts. We never looked at it that way. In fact, we sort of feel like any audience is a good audience and any gig is a good gig.

Picture the end of the article in cinematic terms. The camera gives a close up of the young Mr. Stewart contemplating his decision to enter magic full-time. Perhaps the focus becomes sharp and the lighting drains the color from his face. The voice-over provided by the writer is:

“Stewart will spend the next weeks working especially hard. He’s having fliers printed touting his new “Magical Glad Hatter” act and plans to personally distribute them “anywhere there might be an opportunity to perform.” He’ll know by Christmas, he thinks; whether he can make a full-time go of magic.

The film quick cuts to Mr. Stewart handing out fliers to indifferent strangers. It cuts one last time to the silhouette of Mr. Stewart with fliers in his hand walking into the early dusk.

We don’t think it’s all that bad. We doubt Mr. Stewart is a clueless, delusional waif hoping for the impossible while ignoring his hunger pains and blistered feet.

Like we said, don’t read this without a buddy. It isn’t reality; it’s just presented as reality.

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