Workin’ On the Rock Pile
“Life on the road appears to agree with you Sir.” Willard learned to always be polite and deferential to his Master. The old man’s demeanor was softened, almost considerate, so long as he felt proper respect was maintained.
“Yes. I do prefer seeing new sights. I’ve never been much of a homebody.”
Willard examined the man again. He did seem younger than when they had first met. There were fewer lines on his face which appeared a bit fuller as well; less like ancient parchment wrapped around a skull. He stood straighter too. And his hair was almost devoid of the gray which had so marked it before.
The Magician glanced sideways and appraised his boy for such a long time that Willard began to feel slightly uncomfortable under the force of his gaze. Then he spoke.
“You seem to be flourishing as well. Hard work has given you some strength of body and mind. Your eyes no longer have that dull expression most youth your age possess. I dare say you have become a man far older than your years.”
Coming from anyone else Willard would have taken this as a great compliment. Most teens experience a headlong rush to become adults. But here, with this man, the observation carried a sense of foreboding.
“I do think that perhaps now we may begin to perform at a larger assortment of venues. This shall mean far more work and greater rewards.”
“Huh?” said Willard in bewilderment.
“New places Willard,” he answered with a look of disappointment in his golden eyes. “So far we have only taken appointments at family shows. Your age made it difficult to find employment where the consumption of alcohol was a primary activity.”
DePraeco whipped off his cape and spun it in a flashing circle through the air, the black and gold satin shimmering.
His voice became fuller and excitement rang out in every word, “But now we can expand our horizons. Pursue our dreams. Fulfill our destinies.”
His mentor was correct about one thing: as they began to appear in Cabarets, Night Clubs and Private Associations the amount of work became almost unbearable. Willard was up before dawn and went to bed long after midnight. There were travel plans to make; props to care for and sometimes repair; lodging; meals; advertisements; correspondence and finally his own studies. They also took on more engagements. Rather than two shows a week they would perform every evening and twice on Sundays.
The audience also began to change. Larger and rowdier crowds filled the seats. Before they had catered to the more genteel society in upscale resorts, now any group of people with $20 in hand was invited. Nachton didn’t mind of course, he was still young and idealistic. Anyone who wanted to see first class magic was good enough for him.
The smallest kernel of resentment began to grow in Nachton’s heart about this time. Money was overflowing DePraeco’s wallet and precious little of it spilled into his own. He had been given more performing duties as well. Not only as an assistant but headlining a few smaller bookings while DePraeco watched from the audience. Surely it was unfair that he did all the work and gained little reward.
They travelled in a great looping path; east through Russia, the capitols of Asia and then back for a series of private shows before the ruling elite throughout Africa. Nachton grew ever more confidant in his skills while Willard sat fuming in the background, bitter and forgotten.
During this time DePraeco introduced several new illusions. Each involved that same mysterious yellow pebble in some way.
There was the modernized vanishing lady act. DePraeco would invite a beautiful woman from the audience to be the subject of the trick. With his prop securely held in the web between two fingers he showed the crowd his empty hands. Then accompanied by theatrical waves of his arms and the appropriate magical words she would suddenly be encased in a thin layer of pale yellow crystal, rising to just below her shoulders.
“I will now cause this lovely maiden to disappear. Do you believe that I can?” he would ask her. More often than not she would answer in the negative.
Then he would engage the audience in a history of the illusion and how people had done it for centuries. He spoke of mirrors and trap doors, the smoky clouds which hid secret panels. Meanwhile his captive would be rotating slowly so that her shadowy figure was visible through the wavy glass.
At first her jewelry would fade into nothingness. The diamond necklaces and heavy gaudy earrings were gone. Inevitably the Lady would reach to her throat, not believing this terrible event. Any rings on her fingers were similarly missing. Crowds from Bombay, India to Rabat, Morocco laughed as dozens of women accused DePraeco of stealing their treasures. But he was not within 20 feet of them at the moment of truth. How could he have taken them?
Always the Lady was chosen not only for her rapturous femininity but also for the bright alluring dresses worn with many accessories. This was crucial because each layer of clothing would disappear, one after another, in full view of the crowds. Eventually there would be nothing left on stage but DePraeco and the woman, clad only in her soft yellow semi-transparent cocoon.
It is an odd thing, but the more sophisticated the crowd, the more avidly they would stare at the victim, trying to discover her shame. Howls of laughter rained from the balconies whenever a refined social dame would try to cover her secrets after standing on her toes to look down and see exactly what everyone else now knew about her.
“Shall I go on?” he would query. “Do I bring back her modesty or send her beyond the void?”
Inevitably all calls from the gallery would be to continue the illusion. Nothing could please the bourgeois and the masses like seeing one of their own humiliated.
A careless wave of the hand brought the woman into a state of complete invisibility. After waiting for the well-deserved applause and shouts of disbelief, DePraeco’s helper would suddenly flash back into existence. More applause always followed. Then as a last gesture he would draw off the crystal like a cape to reveal the entire woman…with her clothes turned backwards.
Sometimes a performer needs a smaller bit, something to fill the time while larger sets are wheeled into place behind the curtain. One such piece that Willard devised, after learning about a very special skill of DePraeco’s, was simple in the extreme.
An enormous teeter-totter twenty feet in length was rolled on stage. He and the Illusionist would stand on opposite ends and simultaneously they would swallow bright yellow balls. At once Nachton began to grow, not in the sense of becoming taller or fatter, but in every direction at the same time. In seconds he was a perfectly proportioned version of himself but standing 10 feet tall. As a natural consequence of this, his side of the balance would drop. Just as quickly the process would reverse itself and he shrunk into a tiny but perfectly formed man. At the other end of the plank, Master DePraeco underwent similar changes but exactly opposite of Nachton.
There they stood, Giants and Dolls riding the children’s toy up and down while the audience cheered in dumbstruck amazement. Occasionally they would ask some intrepid young man or brave Socialite to stand on the center spot of the board and rock gently back and forth while proclaiming the authenticity of their magic.
But the final act, the one which brought them greater fame than any other, was The Mind Reader. Endless entertainers had performed variations of this standard since time immemorial. Gypsy fortune tellers, mediums, and street magicians were just a few who practiced the deception. For deception it was; most often accomplished by peeking at previously given information or a simple plant. DePraeco did not have a particularly novel take on it. What set him apart was the complete inability of other illusionists to discover his methods.
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