I would add that conmen learn their craft through imitation. They usually take a small role as a shill in the gang's shenanigans until they have the whole picture in their head of how the thing works. They learn the parts of all the people involved, and how each participant operates under the various spontaneous situations that arise.

Gradually, they can take a turn at other parts until they are competent enough to play the inside man or the outside man, the two most difficult and important roles. By the time they can do these effectively, they can run their own scam and train their own shills in any of the parts. That's how the real three-card monte mobs were passed down. That is why so many of the scams are so similar in operation. I read in Professor Maurer's book, The American Con Man, a section on the scam the "Smack."

The script was from a 1940's gang and was almost word for word the same as the "rube act" for three-card monte described in 1886 in George Devol's "40 Years a Gambler on the Mississippi," in Morris's "Wanderings of a Vagabound" (1873), in "Mason Long, The Converted Gambler" (1884), and in "The Autobiography of Frank Tarbeau" (1930).

Once an effective script was learned from imitation, it was put to use in many different types of scam. But the basic form of the script, and many of the lines were handed down from con man to con man from the 1840's to the present. Some of them may go all the way back to Spain in the 1500's, where the gypsy swindlers were known to "play the peasant."

Frank Tarbeau talks about the first time he participated in the rube act on a train in the 1870's. The whole thing was so funny to him he could barely restrain his laughter:

"It’s the funniest act in the world to look at and I nearly died laughing when I first saw it. In fact, I laughed so hard that my pals told me I’d have to shut up or get out, as I’d spoil the game. This gyp should be seen and heard to appreciate its artistry."

The manipulation of people in a con game requires the participants to understand not only the lines, but the tones of voice, the character to be played by each, the physical positioning and mannerisms, the reassuring pats to the sucker, the emotional qualities and the various subroutines that would be invoked by objections or actions of the victim. This is a lot of complicated stuff--truly improvisational theater--and can only be learned by participation.

Magic needs to use the same kind of manipulation and audience handling that the con man does. It is best learned the same way--through imitation.

Well said, Whit. Coming originally from a musical background, before I became a magician, I appreciate what you are saying here. You have to learn how the tune goes before you can play variations on it. And you have to learn many tunes before you can compose your own. Even Mozart, who was composing at a very early age, learned other people's material first -- a lot of it, in fact.

But once the kid started composing, you couldn't get him to stop!

Hi, Bill. Good to hear from you. Actually that kid Mozart did stop. Now he is decomposing.

Paul:

You said

"Not all the masters were so original, either. Vernon comes to mind. His genius was not in the creation of original material, it was in his thorough understanding of the underpinnings of his craft, and his keen and incisive mind. Vernon knew how hone an effect, to develop, not create, clean and elegant handlings of classic plots. And he had good taste - an unerring eye for a good trick. You are right, creativity is not all-important."

I think that is an excellent example. Vernon had a keen knowledge of the craft, and also an interest in con games and gambling mechanics. I remember him talking very excitedly about Soapy Smith the famous shell game operator and con man. He understood the nature of magic as a swindle and as a performing art, and had very great understanding of magic theory. He used to constantly chide Larry Jennings for not understanding the meaning of "effect."

One of the things that stands out in your examples and the discussion is the mention of masters and teachers. Our society has lost a lot of the master/student culture which was a part of our herritage. I regret this loss. A teacher provides guidance, but also limits. A teacher demands emulation for technique, while pointing out where a student wanders into pretension. When the teacher declares the student ready, they probably are.

Most of us today are self-taught by purchasing books, videos and equipment. Few of us have a trusted individual, a master, who demands things of us, and provides us with guide posts in our work.

To me, magic has a greater need for this than any other art because so much of our art is hidden. A painter or a musician can see much of the technique they need to learn. A good magician reveals little of his technique through his performance, until you become a trained observer. Thus a student watching a pro, only knows to copy the most obvious surface qualities. The subtleties are overlooked.

If this was simply creating a garage full of hideous paintings, or annoying the animals with lousy drumming it wouldn't matter. But magic requires an audience to be realized. So the unguided wonder-worker stumbles into the public eye, with nary a soul to tell him where he went wrong.

How does one draw the lines between productive and unproductive imitation? What do you think about the student's access to a master?

I think the student is best served by having an experienced teacher. I think everything you said argues for that very well, and I couldn't have said it any better. The teacher is the best guide to what is productive and unproductive.

Where did the teachers go? I don't find them in the magic club!

Hi Whit,

My wife, Debbie, and I saw you perform at the Magic Castle several weeks ago but didn't get a chance to say hello. It was great to finally have a chance to watch you perform some of your signature routines for a live audience.

Most of us came to magic because we saw someone do something that we wanted to be able to do. I recently read James Curtis' biography of W.C. Fields and that's how Fields as a shy teenager became obsessed with juggling.

I think the desire to "be like" our models and mentors is one of the stations along the road to mastery. Like you point out, it's necessary. Eventually this copying transforms into an influence.

Our culture places a high premium on being original and creative. I think it's important to know and acknowledge our sources and inspirations. For me, coming back to magic in late mid-life, I have been concerned with just being a "good" performer. When I do a routine for someone who has never seen it before I want them to be amazed, to have that same feeling I had as a kid. I will try my best to do what it takes not to fail the audience.

Magicians have been doing variations on themes for thousands of years. I think the tradition is bigger than all of us. "Something new" is always being rediscovered and extended. .

By the way, I am still working on my presentation of Chicago Surprise, as you taught it to me. It is one of those routines that have enormous impact. Recently, someone told me that the card changing in the spectator's hand was one of the "spookiest" things she had ever seen.

Thanks.