Malini and his Magic

Was there ever a more outrageous and magical character in the history of magic than Max Malini? Although Malini emigrated to the United States at a young age, it was not young enough to ever shed (by chance or choice we may never know) the thick accent that, along with his eccentric speech, guttural voice, short and broad stature, and unassailable self-assuredness, would help to set him apart in the annals of conjuring.

It was, after all, Malini who traveled the world, performing shows and collecting gifts and baubles from the crowned heads of European royalty, American presidents, and even a penned portrait by Enrico Caruso. It was, after all, Malini who accomplished this by mostly performing in private settings or in posh hotels, with shows comprised primarily of small magic with playing cards and ordinary objects (although the Oriental segment of his full show did require a few more elaborate items, there was never anything that could truly be described as comprising large apparatus). Passing two tumblers through one another, causing a butter knife to adhere to his fingers, biting off and restoring a spectator's button ... such small delights were Malini's stock in trade, along with a few classics like the "Egg Bag," the "Cups and Balls," and the "Bill, Lemon, and Egg," and of course his superb sleight-of-hand card magic, featuring such trademarks effects as the "Blindfold Card Stab."

It was, after all, Malini who garnered fees of a thousand dollars in the early part of this century. It was, after all, Malini who, when he arrived for such a show at a high society home, and was asked by a dumbfounded hostess, concerned about Malini's meager briefcase of props and his apparent lack of apparatus, where indeed his show was, drew himself up to his full height of barely five feet and exclaimed, "Madam—I am the show!" It was, after all, Malini who stabbed a knife into an expensive antique table belonging to another such society hostess, and who, when asked about the damage, advised that the offended party could now and forever proclaim to the world that it was none other than the great Max Malini who had left that mark.

It was, after all, Malini who cheekily addressed King Edward as "Royal Mister." It was, after all, Malini who fooled magicians time and time again, and who mystified Dai Vernon by producing a block of ice under a hat, where no opportunity ever presented itself to obtain the ice. It was, after all, Malini whose business card declared "You'll wonder when I'm coming, you'll wonder more when I'm gone"—and it was a baffled Cardini, then a magic demonstrator at Gamages, who discovered that very business card on his counter after the little man had amazed him with a card vanish, and then disappeared into the streets of London.

How did Malini accomplish all this and more? With a personality as unique as this, we are compelled to admit that we will never fully know or understand. But no one brought us closer to such insight than Dai Vernon, who lionized Malini and assured, with frequent mention and eventually Malini and his Magic, ghost-written for Vernon by Lewis Ganson, that the little magician's name would forever be remembered and revered. It is commonly said that Malini eschewed the company of magicians, although this seems an exaggeration at best; I recall Milbourne Christopher once showing me, in his home, a beautiful award that a British magic club had presented to Malini—signed by Houdini, no less!—and it seems he was likely more comfortable with other magi than legend holds. However, he was a busy working professional, and this invariably limits the time one spends with one's artistic colleagues, and it does seem that Malini, sociable or not, was secretive about his methods. So much so that despite Vernon's longtime fascination with Malini and having produced this book, in fact Vernon was never particularly close to Malini. It was Vernon's friend and colleague, Charlie Miller, who was far closer to Malini and probably privy to many more of his secrets; Miller also often performed many of Malini's trademark effects, from the knife adherence to the tumbler penetration to, famously, the "Malini Egg Bag" (which he eventually passed on to John Thompson, acknowledged as today's finest performer of this effect).

Hence when Vernon set out to recount Malini's magic, it seems that he mixed at least some degree of speculation with his facts. He also relied extensively on a letter—briefly mentioned in this volume but not reprinted—from Eddie McGuire, and written to T. Nelson Downs. McGuire, first and foremost a self-promoter, managed Malini for a time and used the opportunity to get next to Malini and gain access to some of his secrets. Many years later the letter was published in The Linking Ring and subsequently released by Karl Fulves, and it makes for a fascinating read for any serious student of Malini. One can also see how much Vernon and Ganson drew from the letter's many pages. The fact is, many of Malini's secrets remain unpublished—and a few may have accompanied him to the grave.

Malini's printed legacy, Malini and his Magic, has recently been reprinted. It seems silly to examine at length the tricks and methods contained in this book since books such as this one are not about tricks, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

That doesn't mean there aren't great tricks, and many timeless and useable ones, contained within its pages—there are, and no magician should bypass them. There is Malini's work on the Side Slip, the Color Change, the ThinkaCard, the Peek, and more. There is the Copper/Silver in a spectator's hand, and a wonderful subtlety clearly diagrammed on page 53 that accidentally became known as the Kaps Subtlety and should be called the Malini Subtlety (I was the first to point out the original source). There is the Blindfold Card Stab, which today remains a masterwork in the hands of the inimitable Bob Sheets.

But when I was a youth and studied this book, it was the character and style and humanity and—magician-ness!—of Max Malini that hypnotized me. I found myself reading it over and over and over again, dreaming, conjuring in my imagination, all but reconstituting the man himself right up out of the dog-eared pages and back into very existence! Faucett Ross is quoted here as saying that Malini possessed "an avalanche of talent," and it was more than enough to carry him through a lifetime and engraved his image into legend.

L&L Publishing has done a fine job of reproducing this, as part of their republication of the Vernon/Ganson/Stanley line. (Copies of the second printing by Supreme, in its original size and typography, are still available from Magic Books by Post in England.) As with previous volumes, L&L has reduced the size slightly for consistency with their own versions, and added a lovely dustjacket. The reproduction quality is good, although they have disappointingly elected to dispense with the glossy stock of the original Stanley edition and of their own other Vernon titles. Unforgivably, they have reduced Lewis Ganson's identification in this work by excluding his name from the dustjacket, shamefully minimizing this critically important writer's efforts, no doubt out of concern that young readers will be unaware of the Ganson name, and trying instead to capitalize on the Vernon name without distraction. It would be so nice if they would show just a tad more respect not only for creators such as Ganson but moreover for their audience.

Nevertheless, the book waits for you now, waiting to conjure little Max Malini back to life in your imagination. Are you ready to be inspired? How could anyone delay, why would anyone decline? It would be foolish to further recount any more of the stories and the tricks—and a fool's task to try to talk the unknowing into purchasing this most invaluable—inspirational!—of books.