Dimensions: Panel: 14.5” x 34” • Lithographer: Unknown. • Date:circa mid-1915s • Nielsen Rating: Unique
Four United States presidents and three English kings were among the international celebrities and heads of state who comprised the audiences of the remarkable Max Malini. Now, more than a half-century since his death, it’s reasonable to assume he’s almost unknown among younger magicians, and practically forgotten by the rest.
Few magicians ever got to see Malini perform. He never appeared at magic conventions, rarely visited magic shops, and he didn’t spend time with other magicians. Because most of his performances were private (he didn’t work in vaudeville), he was seldom seen by professionals or amateurs.
Two magicians who did get to know Malini well, Dai Vernon and Charlie Miller, spoke with reverence about his skills. Vernon, with the help of Lewis Ganson, wrote Malini and his Magic in 1961, the only book ever written about this amazing character. In doing the research for this piece, it occurred to me that I may be the last magician alive who ever saw Max Malini perform. It happened fifty-seven years ago in the back room of a restaurant where a meeting of the Seattle Magic Ring took place.
Malini, on his way to Honolulu, stopped over in Seattle for a few days and, probably needing money, uncharacteristically agreed to do an hour of close-up magic for the members. His show that night was surely the last one he ever did in the States. He died a few months later in Honolulu in 1942, at the age of sixty-nine.
Max Malini was simply one of the most extraordinary magicians who ever lived! Born in Poland in 1873 with the name Max Katz Breit, he moved with his family to New York City at a young age. By fifteen, he was earning a living performing magic in a Bowery drinking establishment. Within a few years, he was a full-fledged busker and saloon entertainer. From these rugged performing venues he took a quantum leap, bypassing traditional music hall and vaudeville stages to begin delighting wealthy, so- phisticated, and titled audiences in private clubs, mansions, and palaces.
He did it all himself. With no help from booking or press agents, this uneducated, non-aristocratic-appearing little man with a gruff voice and thick eastern European accent launched an incredible career on the world’s most intimate and prestigious stages.
In 1942, I was fourteen years old, too young to be a member of the Seattle Magic Ring. But occasionally a member would invite me to attend as a guest. So when Bill Bowman called to tell me Max Malini would be performing, I didn’t need any urging. The club met in the back room of a restaurant with twenty or so members sitting around a few large tables. Malini’s reputation had preceded him, so there was great anticipation of his arrival.
Malini arrived dressed in a fine suit and vest with an elegant gold watch and chain. But he had no bag of props with him. In those days intimate magic was not called close-up. It was referred to as “pocket tricks.” Fittingly, all the miracles he was to do for the next hour came out of his pockets. In an age in which magicians depended much more on apparatus, Malini, whether working in
close-up or parlor style, didn’t rely on magician’s mechanical par- aphernalia. He depended solely on small, familiar items, with an ever-present cigar as his magic wand. In the 1940s, a magic show was performed on a stage or platform, or at least standing in front of a seated audience.
Nobody did a close-up show (with the exception of a few close-up table workers like Bert Allerton and Dr. Jaks). The kind of informal show Malini did for us was the way he performed for small groups in the bars of exclusive private clubs, which often resulted in lucrative private engagements.
It all seemed spontaneous. On this occasion, we all sat or stood around one table where Malini alternated between sitting and standing. From the moment he began, you were struck by his personality. The magic was marvelous, but he was more so. His charming accent, the amusing way he used the language, and his infinite wit, captivated us all! Malini’s remarkable personality almost overshadowed the magic. After all these years I can see him vividly while I’ve forgotten details of the tricks. He started by borrowing a deck of cards. With his tiny hands you wondered how he could do any serious sleight of hand. We quickly learned this was no handicap. He had eight cards selected by different people and then found or revealed them in unique, surprising ways. This is done regularly today, but back then we had never seen anything like it done so well.
He did more impressive card magic followed by amusing sleight of hand with borrowed half dollars. (Then they were as common as quarters.) Next, he pulled out of his pocket a small black cloth bag of obviously fine material and proceeded to knock our socks off with the Egg Bag. I and every other magician worthy of the name owned an Egg Bag and a set of Linking Rings. But the Egg Bag routines we did bore no resemblance to Malini’s. I couldn’t believe the secret was basically the same as that of my larger, plaid woolen bag with the wooden egg. I was not to see it done as well for decades, until I saw Johnny Thompson’s superb handling much later.
As good as the Egg Bag, card, coin, and other tricks he did were, the best was saved for last. Picking up a newspaper and three heavy restaurant glass tumblers, he proceeded to wrap them with paper. From his pocket came three corks made by cutting wine corks in half. What followed was a cup and ball routine like no other I’d seen before or since. The corks rapidly multiplied, changed in size, traveled to spectator’s pockets, and transformed into lemons and shot glasses filled with whiskey. All this was accompanied by his inimitable patter.
We were too stunned that night at the Seattle Magic Ring to leap to our feet. But I knew I’d seen a monumental magician. I’ve never forgotten him.
Excerpted from “The Truly Legendary Max Malini,” by Dick Newton, copyright 1999 by The Genii Corporation. All Rights Reserved. Used by permission.