Brian Gillis and Sisuepahn Devastate Crowd

 

We have been justly accused of being too devoted to Brian Gillis and Sisuepahn. Sure, that’s probably right. But the way we figure it, if Johnny Carson considered Mr. Gillis his favorite magician, we’re in good company.

The Villages Daily Sun covered the dynamic couple’s latest demonstration of impossible things at the beautiful Savannah Center’s Scarlett O’Hara Theater. Bottom line to the article: the reporter joined the rarified company of Johnny Carson and Inside Magic. The subhead tells it all: “Psychic magicians leave Villages audience spellbound.”

Mr. Gillis did his trademark effect: eight folks peek at a card in the deck and he correctly names each card and associates it with the correct volunteer. We’ve seen him perform this several times and while we have too much pride to say it baffled us, it did.

Sisuepahn performed an incredible combination of telepathy and mathemagic. Here’s the paper’s description:

One audience member thought of a two-digit number and Sisuepahn started writing down random numbers on a large sheet of paper. The number was 46, which didn’t appear at all, but when you added up the numbers going down, across, diagonally, in groups of four, and in the four corners, they all added up to 46.

The detail in which the reporter described the act is testament to how quickly he must have lost his journalistic objectivity. He became a devotee even before the lithe Sisuepahn performed her version of the Georgia Magnet. She must weigh little more than the combined weight of the spotlight and her flattering dress but the strongest of the audience were unable to lift her.

Just as you would expect from a fan-magazine, the article turns to a complete biography (almost a hagiography) of Mr. Gillis and Sisuepahn. It traces Mr. Gillis initial interest in magic — not as a child but as a junior high school teacher — how the committed petty larceny against his public library by stealing (or at least “not returning”) the book How to Entertain Small Children with Magic.

Mr. Gillis and Sisuepahn learned from the best. Mr. Gillis studied under Eddie Fetcher (for whom FFFF is named). Sisuepahn learned one of the best two-person telepathy methods ever perfected by working with Eddie Fields. If you have a chance to see this couple perform, you will see a true classic in their telepathy routine. We have seen no couple come close to their expertise and presentation.

Even if no one agreed with our assessment of this incredible couple, we’d not retreat from our high opinion. It is nice, though, to be joined by Johnny Carson and converted newspapermen. Visit their web site — it is more popular than Paris Hilton’s, if only among magicians.

Harry Blackstone, Jr. used to introduce his Floating Light Bulb illusion with the statement, ?As long as you live, you will never forget . . . .? The same could be said about Mr. Gillis and Sisuepahn’s presentation. It is more than breath-taking. It is…
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Ralph the Great Metzler in First Person

 

Ralph the Great

The Washington Post runs a neat column featuring a first-person perspective of a local celebrity or newsmaker. This week, Ralph “The Great” Metzler took the spotlight and set out a nice narrative of his life in magic.

The article begins with his introduction to our art when he was 16. His brother-in-law taught him a few tricks and, more importantly, took him to meet Al Cohen and visit Mr. Cohen’s famous magic shop.

Mr. Metzler hit the same conundrum we all confront: should he do magic for a living? He asked Mr. Cohen.

About a year after I started, I went back to Al’s Magic Shop, and I asked Al if I should do magic full time or join the Air Force. He said, “Very few people can perform full time; it’s really hard . . . you should join the Air Force.” At the time, that was great advice.

Mr. Metzler’s column is wonderful if only for the resonance with every magician’s story. He discusses his first public magic show after completing basic training in San Antonio.

It was hot, loud, and busy on the fairground. He reports he couldn’t even tell if the audience “was clapping or laughing, or anything.” He ended the show and assumed it was not only his first but also his last.

Then a little girl came up and tugged on my vest and said, “Mr. Ralph, you were great. I loved your show.” And I just melted. I realized if that ever happened again, it would be worth everything. I decided not to sell all my magic stuff.

We have been in the same position as Mr. Metzler and maybe you have as well. We’re convinced our great patter isn’t getting past the first row — and even they aren’t laughing. The only honorable and logical thing to do is hang up the wand and hat. We gave it a go and failed miserably.

Then, as with Mr. Metzler, someone offers a word of encouragement and we are renewed. It is like the golfer who plays horribly but for one wonderful shot. After that perfect drive, putt, or chip, he returns to play terribly for the remainder of the course; but it is that one shot, that perfect-feeling, the wonderful sight of the ball going where it was intended to go, that keeps the golfer coming back each weekend to try again.

Check out Mr. Metzler’s article in today’s Washington Post and tell us if you haven’t been exactly where he was and is now. While you’re at it, check out his webpage as well. His Pro-Kids show seems like a great idea and he is clearly reaching many kids with the message of encouragement we all need.

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