America's Foremost by Del Ray
America's Foremost by Del Ray
America’s Foremost
The Magician for His Time
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
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Del Ray
America’s Foremost
The Magician for His Time
John Moehring
David M. Baldwin
Robert A. Escher
William E. Spooner
Publishers
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
ISBN xx-xxxxxx-x
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Contents
Part One
Introduction........................................................................................... 9
Chapters 1 through 63
The story of the man whose magic was the only thing
in life that really mattered. . ...................................................... xx- xxx
Part Two
Eight Effects
A few of Del Ray’s favorite close-up routines explained.
Half-dollar Through Ring.............................................................. xxx
The Bet.......................................................................................... xxx
Blackjack Deal................................................................................ xxx
Computer Deck............................................................................. xxx
Gymnastic Aces.............................................................................. xxx
Final Aces....................................................................................... xxx
Card Stab....................................................................................... xxx
The Royal Assembly....................................................................... xxx
The Companion Video........................................................................ xxx
Acknowledgements.............................................................................. xxx
Index................................................................................................... xxx
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
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Part
One
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
8
Introduction
Del Ray would not like this book. It lifts the veil.
Secrecy was of supreme importance to Del Ray. Throughout his life, he
guarded the secrets of both his professional and personal affairs with a passion.
He constantly declined requests for interviews and preferred to have absolutely
nothing written in the literature of magic about his achievements. He was
steadfast in his refusal to discuss his magic or his ingenuity with anyone. He
led a magical life that was, even to his closest of friends, enigmatic.
Del Ray passed away on November 18, 2003, after experiencing over five
decades of unparalleled show-business successes. He was the magician for his
time. Secretly intermingling technology with traditional trickery, he performed
miracles of magic that were unique. He was considered the most innovative
magician of the 20th century.
Believing that the legacy of Del Ray should be perpetuated, three of his
friends — Dr. Robert A. Escher, David M. Baldwin, and William E. Spooner
— have published the volume that you hold in your hands. It is not an exposé
on how to do Del Ray’s magic or emulate his style. The book’s purpose is to
preserve the master’s work for you and future generations to admire, respect,
study, and hopefully learn from his secrets.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
The notion of publishing a Del Ray book came about soon after Bob
Escher, a retired orthodontist and Past International President of the Inter-
national Brotherhood of Magicians, discovered he was the recipient of Del
Ray’s magic collection. Before he died, Del had expressed his wishes that
Bob have everything in the magic room of his house at 2923 Pioneer Avenue
in Pittsburgh. This included all the props for Del’s stage and close-up acts,
all the magic that he’d built and accumulated over the years, his workshop
tools and electronics equipment, boxes upon boxes of motors and magnets,
his research library, the scrapbooks and albums stuffed with memorabilia,
and even the two harmonicas that accompanied Del on his long, lonely
drives across America. (His fondness for playing polkas on his harmonica was
a secret he kept from most.)
Several days after Del Ray’s funeral, where Bob Escher delivered the
eulogy, Bob returned to Pittsburgh to start packing and moving the magic
collection. It was at this time that he first met David Baldwin. Bob was more
than familiar with Dave, having heard Del talk of him frequently as “the
retired businessman and magic collector in New Jersey that I love to build
stuff for.” Dave had come to Pittsburgh at the invitation of Del Ray’s niece,
Patricia McDermott, who lived in the house on Pioneer Avenue and took care
of Del during the last months of his life. Pat told Bob that Del had been
insistent that his friend Dave have a “Butch,” one of the drinking bear
automatons he’d used in his stage and nightclub act. From the four radio-
controlled bears that existed in the collection, Bob was insistent that Dave
have the white Butch that Del was using for his final performances. It had
the most up-to-date electronics and special effects.
That evening, Bob, Dave, and Pat’s husband Bill, sat down to a won-
derful dinner Pat had prepared. The conversation, of course, was filled with
favorite Uncle Del stories, most of which had grown funnier and even more
incredible over the years of retelling. Amid the laughter and tears, Bob
Escher made the statement, “I want to write a book about Del Ray.” Dave
Baldwin chimed in, “I’m no writer, but if you want a publishing partner count
me in.” Bob admitted he was not a writer either, but together they should
be able to find one. The rest of the evening was spent exploring the possibili-
ties of a Del Ray book. Realizing that technical assistance would be needed
to archive the electronics in the Del Ray collection, Escher suggested they
give a call to his friend Bill Spooner, a retired science educator (and also a
Past International President of the I.B.M.). Having been a fan and friend of
Del Ray since 1958, Bill was more than eager to join in the book project.
The triumvirate conducted regular conference calls, discussing not only
how they’d get the Del Ray book written, but also what its content should be.
10
Introduction
They felt it should not divulge Del’s secrets. But at the same time, it should
reveal his genius. He was, in fact, the pioneer performer of magic with elec-
tronics. And there could not be a better place than their book to acknowledge
his miraculous inventions.
As the team continued what would become a two-year search for a writ-
er, their pursuits turned “archeological.” With Escher as the point man, the
Del Ray equipment was organized, photographed, and inventoried. Spooner
analyzed the electronics and summarized his findings in an eighty-page pa-
per titled The Magic of Del Ray. Baldwin sought out every frame of Del Ray
film and video existent, entering it into a computer database. When the team
did find their wordsmith, the research would be ready and waiting.
I didn’t have the opportunity to see Del Ray perform until late in his career.
He was sixty-six years old, and the occasion was the 1993 Magic Collectors’
Association Weekend, where he was the star of the convention’s opening
night show.
Naturally, my expectations were high. For years, I’d read and heard nothing
but praise for the incomparable magic of Del Ray. However, Jay Marshall,
who was sitting in the row behind me, forewarned, “You won’t be seeing the
Del Ray of yore; the man’s having issues with his health.”
Del Ray’s stage act ran a little ragged that night, yet it was marvelous.
The magic was impactful, actually stronger than the performer. Jay was
right. Del was not feeling well. His wheezing and gasping while performing
was disconcerting, and when we were told that he’d collapsed backstage
after he finished his act, I honestly feared we’d just witnessed Del Ray’s
final curtain. But, fortunately, that was not so. The man was resilient. De-
spite his chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, he would continue doing
shows and taking big curtain calls for five or six more years.
When I first heard of Del Ray’s death in 2003, I was working as the
editor of MAGIC magazine. Publisher Stan Allen came into my office and
gave me the bad news, saying that he guessed it meant we finally had “clear-
ance” to do a cover story on Del Ray. Stan explained by telling about a time
in 1994 when he had a discussion with Del about doing an article on him and
met with resistance.
“Our readers are interested in you,” Stan had told Del. “Come on, let us
do a story.”
“No, I don’t want a story,” was Del’s reply.
“Well, we’re going to do a story,” Stan said. “The question is, are you going
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
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I started work on this book in May of 2009.
Earlier that spring, I’d visited Bill Spooner at his summer home in
Blowing Rock, North Carolina, where he’d told me that the Del Ray book
project was at “somewhat of a standstill.” David Ben had agreed to write the
book, but had taken on the task with the understanding he wouldn’t have
to promise a completion date until he got involved in the project. Over a
year had passed and David hadn’t worked on the book enough to provide a
deadline. He said that he had too many other jobs, writing and otherwise, in
the works to give Del Ray his full attention.
“We’d reached the point where we simply had to have a deadline,”
Spooner said. “Bob Escher, David Baldwin, and myself wanted to see the
book written and published while the three of us were still alive.”
About a week after my visit to North Carolina, I got a conference call
from Bob, Dave, and Bill. They told me that they’d spoken with David
Ben and because he was still unable to give them a deadline, they had mutu-
ally agreed to terminate their deal. They asked if I’d be interested in writing
the book. I said yes.
In telling the Del Ray story I have relied heavily on the documentation of
his career that had appeared in the magic magazines of the time. The stories
and articles from such periodicals as The Linking Ring, Genii, and Hugard’s
Magic Monthly were supplemented with the numerous reviews that ran in
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Introduction
— John Moehring
July, 2010
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
14
Chapter 1
Chapter
1
The Roaring ’20s were in full swing when Del Ray was born November 28th,
1927. The spirit of this robust era was marked by a general feeling of discon-
tinuity associated with modernity, a break with traditions. Everything seemed
to be feasible through modern technologies — especially with automobiles
and radio, both of which proliferated the styles and trends of the times to a
large portion of the nation’s population.
By 1927 there were over twenty-nine million vehicles on America’s roads,
making virtually every village, town, city, and metropolis accessible. When
Ford slowed its production lines that year to change over from the Model T
to the new Model A, sales of the Chevrolet Series AA soared and Chevy un-
seated Ford atop the U.S. sales charts.
Radio’s airwaves were filled with hundreds of stations and transmitters
interfering with each other to the point that good reception was near impos-
sible. The Radio Act of 1927 was passed with the Federal Radio Commission
reassigning stations frequencies. Radio became a fully formed industry. Amos
an’ Andy ruled, as far as ratings went.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
The 1920s were years of innovation and prosperity. It was the first time
in history that middle-class Americans could buy things because they wanted
them, not just because they needed them. Then came the Stock Market
Crash of October 1929. The Roaring ’20s quickly gave way to the Great
Depression. Major economic and social changes were on the horizon.
At the time of his birth, Del Ray’s parents, Victor and Mary Konopka
Petrovic, lived in Hubbard, Ohio, a small town twenty miles east of
Warren, the county seat of Trumbull County. The Trumbull County Birth
and Records Department officially documents the name on his November
28, 1927 birth certificate as “Raymond (n) Petrovic” — the “(n)” signified
no middle name was given. His mother and father and brothers and sisters
simply called him “Ray.”
Hubbard is less than thirteen miles northwest of Youngstown, the coun-
ty seat of Mahoning County. Endowed with large deposits of coal and iron,
the Youngstown area once supported a thriving steel industry. Between
the 1920s and 1960s, it was an important hub of commerce with the massive
furnaces and foundries of such companies as Republic Steel and U.S. Steel.
It was within the various steel mills and plants of the Youngstown area
that Victor Petrovic, a maintenance mechanic by trade, found employment.
He also moonlighted as a jewelry repairman, maintaining a workshop in
his cellar. Mother Mary was a housewife who stayed at home and took care
of Ray — in addition to the seven other Petrovic children.
The Depression was wearing the Petrovic family thin. Victor had been laid
off, his part-time jewelry repair business was nil, and there was no feasible
way he could continue to put food on the table for a family of ten.
In 1931, when Ray was three years old, he and five of his siblings —
brothers Norman, Clarence, and Albert; and sisters Viola and Eleanor — were
placed in an orphanage, the Trumbull County Children’s Home in Warren.
Victor Jr. and Theodore, being old enough to help with household chores,
remained at home with their mother. A few months later, Ted left to enter
the seminary.
The decision to place the six younger children — who were actually
not orphans — up for adoption was a difficult decision for the parents
to make. However, Victor and Mary wanted their children to have a good
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Chapter 1
life, one they knew they could not provide in these troubled times. Of
course, it was near impossible for the six youngsters to understand the inten-
tions of their parents or the significance of the move.
The Trumbull County Children’s Home, built in 1919, was located on
a large tract of land on East Market Street, which is now the site of
Trumbull Memorial Hospital. The first floor of the main building housed
a spacious dining room, a kitchen, two activities rooms, and an office;
the second floor was the living quarters for the married couple that served
as the Home’s superintendent and matron. Two-story wings on the sides of
the main building housed from 80 to 100 children. One accommodated
the older boys and girls, each on a separate floor, and the other, the younger
children. Behind the house was a garage/barn structure with an attached
tool shed and workshop for maintenance repairs. The acreage that was once
the orphanage’s vegetable gardens and fruit orchard, as well as its baseball
and football fields, is now Memorial Hospital’s parking lot.
Once past kindergarten age, residents of the Children’s Home were re-
quired to attend a nearby elementary school. After class each day they were
shepherded back to the house to do their chores. Some worked in the
kitchen, cleaned toilets, scrubbed floors, or washed windows, while others
mowed grass, trimmed hedges, labored in the garden, sometimes shoveled
snow, or helped with furniture repairs in the workshop. The protocol was
Trumbull County Children’s Home in Warren, Ohio, where Raymond Petrovic grew up
and became the orphanage’s unofficial “resident magician” until he left in 1942.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
stiff. However, the children did sit down to three square meals a day, an
amenity that many people living through the 1930s did not have.
Friendships were few at the Children’s Home, and the friendships
that were developed could dissolve instantly, the moment a child was ad-
opted. Often, a family would take a child from the Home for a one-week
trial period, to determine if they wanted to make the adoption formal and
legal. Adoptions weren’t always about a loving couple looking for an ador-
able child; sometimes they were about ways and means to cope with
the Depression. A family living on a farm wanted a boy or a girl who was
big and strong enough to shovel manure or milk the cows. For this reason,
it was the older and more mature children who knew their chances were
greater for being placed in a new home. And those who were not adopt-
ed knew that eventually they would have to fend for themselves. Once a
child reached age fifteen, he or she was required to leave the orphanage.
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Chapter 2
Chapter
2
Young Ray Petrovic adapted well to not being adopted. He was placed in the
Trumbull County Children’s Home at age three and continued to live there
twelve years, until three months before his fifteenth birthday.
While the other kids complained about the hard work and their day-to-
day duties, Ray was able to focus on the benefits. Aside from being thankful
for the steady meals and a roof over his head, he looked forward to the after-
noons on the playing fields, where the children made friends with the neigh-
borhood kids and had football games and baseball tournaments together. He
enjoyed the two nights a week when the house matron would have the children
interested in music gather around the upright piano in the activity room for
sing-a-longs. It was here that Ray learned to play harmonica. And there were
the movie matinees: Robbins Amusements Company, owners of the Ohio
Theater on East Market Street, provided the kids with free movie tickets
every Saturday.
The Warren Rotary and Lions Clubs occasionally sent entertainers to per-
form at hospitals, convalescence homes, and orphanages around town. During
the Christmas holidays of 1936, one of the service clubs dispatched a pair of
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
magicians to perform at the Children’s Home. Don Lea and Nevin Hoefert,
two Warren, Ohio semi-pro wizards, had teamed up to produce a special chil-
dren’s magic show.
The 45-minute program was filled with wonder. Silk handkerchiefs changed
colors, a pitcher full of milk poured into a paper cone disappeared, and rabbits
and doves magically appeared from a little Chinese screen that was previously
shown empty on all sides. The kids shouted and laughed at the top of their
lungs as Nevin Hoefert bamboozled them with the Sucker Die Box. For the
show’s finale Don Lea had five playing cards selected by five different boys
and girls, and they returned their cards to the deck, which was thoroughly
shuffled. Then the magician stepped to the other side of the room and sud-
denly hurled the deck toward a golden star that sat atop his table. All the cards
fluttered to the floor… with exception of the five. The selected cards were im-
paled on the five points of the star!
Ray was as astonished as a nine year old could be. What he’d just seen was
20
Chapter 2
beyond belief. He decided then and there that he must become a magician. He
mustered up enough courage to talk with Lea and Hoefert after their show.
They offered Ray some words of encouragement, telling him that magic was a
great hobby for a boy to pursue, but no secrets were shared.
Six months after the Christmas magic show, Ray stumbled upon his first magic
secret. A drug store in Warren advertised a summer promotion: patrons who
made a $2 purchase that week were given a free magic trick — a pocket trick
where a borrowed penny magically appeared inside a little bag secured inside
a matchbox.
Ray didn’t have enough money saved up to make the $2 purchase, so
he talked his way into getting a free demonstration. He walked into the
drugstore and informed the clerk he wasn’t about to spend his hard-earned
cash without first seeing a performance of the trick. The clerk showed him
the trick, but when he took the matchbox out of his pocket something fell
to the floor with a metallic clunk. Ray had an “aha” moment. He went home
and figured out the secret and then returned to the store the next day to
show off his improved version. He had added more boxes and rubber bands
and cut a secret slit in his pocket that allowed the coin-slide gimmick to hang
concealed on a string inside his trouser leg. Ray’s early aptitude for inven-
tion and lateral thinking was apparent in this debut performance. He simply
reached inside his pocket after the coin was placed there and took out the
rubber-banded nest of boxes. The clerk was fooled and rewarded the budding
young wizard with a free trick.
Ray joined the Boy Scouts when he turned eleven. During a field trip
with his troop to the Trumbull County Fair, he had the opportunity to ex-
pand his magical repertoire. A pitchman on the midway was selling a package
of magic tricks. The envelope contained a Wonder Mouse, the Paddle Trick,
and the Buddha Money Mystery. The price was 25¢. The ever-resource-
ful Ray talked one of the concessionaires into letting him hawk peanuts in
the grandstand. He got to keep a penny for every bag he sold. He quit as
soon as he had sold enough to purchase the quarter’s worth of secrets.
While many beginners who purchase magic are disappointed by the sim-
plicity of the secret or taken aback by the amount of practice required to mas-
ter even the simplest of tricks, Ray was not. He treasured the deceptions. He
practiced relentlessly. Within a matter of days he had all the children at the
Home, and his teachers at school as well, completely bewildered with his per-
formances of the Paddle Trick and the Buddha Money Mystery. However,
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
22
Chapter 2
most, and because a pack of cards was a commonplace article at the Children’s
Home, or in any home for that matter, he could perform these mysteries at
any time or place. This was the beginning of Ray’s obsession with the ma-
nipulation of playing cards, a mania that would remain with him for the rest
of his life.
v
One afternoon while sweeping the floors of the workshop and the tool shed
Ray discovered another source for secrets. On the workbench was a stack of
back issues of Popular Mechanics. Curious as to what the magazine was about
Ray flipped through the pages of the August 1935 issue. To his surprise
he found a four-page, photo-illustrated article, “Impromptu Magic,” writ-
ten by Harry Blackstone (actually ghosted and contributed to the magazine
by Walter B. Gibson). The effects explained were quite elemental — tricks
with napkins, matches, and dollar bills — however, it was Blackstone’s opening
line that piqued Ray’s interest: “The best impromptu tricks require no special
apparatus and may be performed under any conditions.” That statement led
Ray to reason it would be awesome if all his magic — even the tricks he knew
that depended on apparatus and gimmicks — appeared to be impromptu.
Popular Mechanics is a monthly magazine devoted to science and technol-
ogy. First published in 1902 by H.H. Windsor, it has been owned since 1958
by the Hearst Corporation. While the magazine originally focused on automo-
tive, outdoors, hobby, science, and technology topics, it regularly featured ar-
ticles about magic and magicians. For example, the January 1936 issue
included an article titled “Money in Magic,” in which magician Thomas
Minnard wrote: “For those willing to devote time to its study there is money
to be made in magic. It helped pay my own way through high school and
college and it has made a living for me since.”
Needless to say, when 12-year-old Ray Petrovic read those words they
struck a chord. His notion to pursue magic as a profession might be a sound
one after all. Minnard went on to say: “It’s surprising how many outlets there
are for a young magician’s talent right in his own neighborhood. Church
social groups, parent-teachers’ associations, and businessmen’s luncheon
clubs are but a few of the many organizations looking for entertainment
features. Most of them are willing to pay money to the magician of merit.
Showmanship is the keynote of every magician’s success. Every trick must
be made as mysterious as possible. If you are uncertain about a trick do not
attempt to perform it in public until you have practiced it thoroughly.
Concentrate on a few stunts until you can work them to perfection instead of
trying to learn the whole repertoire at once. The more deft you are in putting
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
v
There was something else in the pages of those early issues of Popular
Mechanics that caught Ray’s eye. It was a two-inch, one-column-wide display
ad that ran month after month. “MAGIC BOOK SENT FREE!” proclaimed
the bold headline. The text beneath it read: “AMAZE AND MYSTIFY
YOUR FRIENDS. BE POPULAR. LEARN TO ENTERTAIN.” And the
fine print at the bottom advised: “My famous Book of 1000 Wonders now
sent free. Hundreds of tricks that require no skill. You can do them. This book
describes effects for pocket – parlor – stage – all easily learned. Write Lyle
Douglas, Station A-11, Dallas, Texas.”
A magic book for free? Ray found it difficult to believe that a book with
hundreds of pocket, parlor, and stage tricks was free. He carefully reread the
ad copy. The words “sent free” did appear twice. He decided to write for the
book. Yet even as he dropped his 3¢-stamped envelope addressed to Lyle
Douglas in the mail slot, he said to himself: “Nobody gives away a book called
The Book of 1000 Wonders for nothing. There’s got to be a catch.”
Well, there was a catch. The Book of 1000 Wonders was not a book. It was
a catalog. It was the 112-page, fully illustrated descriptive price list for Lyle
Douglas’s successful mail-order magic company (which by the 1940s would
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Chapter 2
25
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
26
Chapter 2
Position in the Pack of Any Card Named by the Audience” to “The Card and
Egg Mystery” to Thurston’s pièce de résistance, “The Rising Cards.” Of the lat-
ter, Thurston wrote: “I feel that this little volume would be incomplete were I
not to include this experiment; therefore, I take great pleasure in acquainting
my readers with the full modus operandi of the Rising Cards trick, as I have
presented it in the principal theatres of the world, including six consecutive
months at the Palace Theatre, London.”
The Rising Cards inspired Ray. He became intrigued with the notion of
combining a piece of mechanical apparatus — in this case, a reel — with
sleight of hand to accomplish an effect of a miraculous nature. He couldn’t
afford a Petrie Utility Reel (which was listed in the Douglas catalog for $2),
but this didn’t stop him from dreaming up his own method for accomplishing
the effect. Some of magic’s most inventive magicians have followed a similar
path. Of greater importance, Ray was realizing that he would never be disap-
pointed if he relied on his own ingenuity.
For a teenage magician like Ray who might need encouragement, the last
page of Howard Thurston’s Fifty Card Tricks offered some sound counsel: “My
advice to the amateur who has serious thoughts of adopting conjuring as his
mode of livelihood is that he should, in the first place, obtain an engagement
— letting the question of salary be of secondary importance — with some
small show or concert company. This will help him considerably to give
him an idea of how to present his tricks to the audience. The best trick in
the world would lose nine-tenths of its effect unless exhibited in the proper
manner. Above all, never copy another performer. Witness all the magical per-
formances possible, and then go home and try to improve on what you have
seen; or, if you see through any particular trick, try to work out a new trick on
the same principle.”
Ever since that evening at the Children’s Home, when Ray watched
magicians Don Lea and Nevin Hoefert perform, he had made up his mind
he wanted to be a magician. Now, after reading and studying Thurston’s book
he knew he’d made the right decision.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
28
Chapter 3
Chapter
3
While December 7th, 1941, with its infamous attack of Pearl Harbor,
was a defining moment in history, the date was also remembered by Ray
Petrovic as the day he got his first professional booking. After supper at the
Children’s Home that evening, a handful of the boys gathered around a
crystal radio set out in the workshop to tune in KDKA in Pittsburgh. As
they listened to the War news the superintendent joined them. After a few
minutes, he whispered to Ray that he’d like to speak with him in private.
Ray feared he might be in trouble of sorts, because it was he who had
built the crystal receiver, winding copper wire around a broken baseball
bat to form the tuning coil. He followed the superintendent back to the house
and sat down in his office.
Ray was informed that there had been a call from Mr. Halsey Taylor,
who served as the president of the Warren Rotary Club. The club was plan-
ning on sponsoring an entertainer for the Trumbull County Children’s
Home’s upcoming Christmas party. However, the magician they wanted
to book was unavailable because he’d temporarily shelved his magic act to
work in an Army ammunition plant. Mr. Taylor wanted to know if Ray
29
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
30
Chapter 3
over the tip of the spindle. And, sure enough, when the switch was pressed
to engage the turntable, the thread slowly wound back onto the spool as the
music played. It was now a matter of timing his sleight-of-hand maneuvers
to perfectly match the cycles of the concealed mechanics — a procedure Ray
would be perfecting for the rest of his life in magic.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
32
Chapter 4
Chapter
4
Ray left the Trumbull County Children’s Home in early September of 1942.
He returned to his hometown of Hubbard, Ohio and moved in with his
father, Victor, who was living with his mother (Ray’s grandmother) in a two-
bedroom house at 941 Woodland Avenue. Ray’s mother, Mary, had separated
(and was perhaps divorced) from Victor.
At some time during Ray’s absence, during the twelve years he resided at
the Children’s Home, his father legally changed the family name of Petrovic
to “Petrosky.” The reason for this surname change is not known. However,
it’s presumed it occurred not long after President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed
the Social Security Act into effect in 1935. The name on Ray’s birth certifi-
cate was not changed and would remain as “Raymond Petrovic.” The name
that is listed with the U.S. Social Security Administration, with the Internal
Revenue Service, and ultimately on his death certificate is “Raymond Petrosky.”
On Ray’s second day home, his father showed him the corner in the
cellar where he kept his jeweler’s workbench. Ray had a familiarity with tools
from his workshop experience at the Children’s Home, but he had never
33
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
seen such an array of “wee tools,” as Victor Petrosky called them. While Ray
wasn’t too keen on learning the jewelry and watch repair trade, he did pay
close attention as his father explained how to use a jeweler’s saw, needle-nose
pliers, a precision drill press, and the Boley jewelers lathe with its flexi-shaft
motor and tiny cutting, grinding, and polishing attachments. Skills with these
tools could come in handy for a magician.
His father’s sideline jewelry repair business was slow, but Ray was curious
about the one job that he did have on the workbench. Victor was fixing a bro-
ken cigarette case music box. When a smoker lifted the lid of the small silver
box to get a cigarette, it was supposed to play “My Old Kentucky Home.” But
several of the pins on the little cylinder that plucked out the tune on a steel-
tooth comb had broken off, and Victor was in the middle of the tedious task
of replacing them.
The thing that interested Ray most about the music box was the size of
the Swiss motor that turned the cylinder; it was small enough to fit inside a
cigarette pack or a playing card box. He noted that when the spring motor was
wound tight, the cylinder would make twelve revolutions, which equated to
a linear movement of nine inches — about the length of three playing cards.
And the clockwork motor was noiseless. Those four or five observations were
filed in the back of his magical mind for future reference.
Ironically, Victor was not as keen on persuading his son to enter the
jewelry repair business as he was on encouraging him to continue his educa-
tion. Ray had completed eight years of grammar school while at the
Children’s Home in Warren. His father warned that was not enough and told
him he would never get a decent-paying job without a high school diploma.
The 1943 Hubbard High School yearbook lists Raymond Petrosky as a
member of its freshman class. He also appears in group photos of the foot-
ball and baseball teams and is listed as a member of the Hubbard Hi-Science
Club. Even though Ray was occupied with schoolwork and sports activities
that year, magic was still his primary interest. He spent his afternoons, eve-
nings, weekends, and any moments of spare time he had studying and practic-
ing magic. However, he was forbidden from doing this at home.
Ray’s grandmother was a devout Catholic. She believed cards and dice
were playthings of the devil. She thought those small parcels containing feath-
er flowers, sparkly thimbles, and celluloid eggs that arrived at her doorstep
from faraway places like Douglas Magicland in Dallas and Kanter’s Magic
Shop in Philadelphia were instruments of voodoo or witchcraft. If the postman
delivered them while Ray was at school, she simply threw them in the ashcan.
Ray needed to find some place to keep his magic. Fortunately, his father’s
brother, George Petrosky, had the safe haven.
34
Chapter 4
Uncle George owned and operated a SOHIO gas station at 101 Main
Street in Hubbard. He wanted to help his talented nephew and literally let
him take over his backroom office. George gave Ray the key to a spacious
storage closet that had plenty of room for keeping the magic tables and
props he’d built while at the orphanage. An extra office desk was cleared
off, giving Ray a dedicated surface to practice and perform his dice stack-
ing and card tricks. In addition, he was given the opportunity to earn some
spending money by doing odd jobs around the station, washing cars and
assisting with auto repairs. Naturally, almost every dime he earned went
toward more mail-order magic.
By 1943, World War II had taken its toll on the American economy. Attempt-
ing to stem inflation, President Roosevelt put a freeze on wages, salaries, and
prices. Everything from meat and dairy products to shoes and paper goods
to tires and gasoline were rationed. To support the War effort, young men
who were not yet of age to enlist in the armed services were urged to work in
the factories, learn a trade.
That summer, Ray had the opportunity to learn the trade of welding.
He got a job at the Powell Press Steel Company in Hubbard, working as
an apprentice to an arc welder named Charlie Altier. It only took a few
days for Ray to learn all he wanted to know about arc welding. He quit
before a week was up. But it was through Altier that he learned of an
organization called the International Brotherhood of Magicians. As it turned
out, Charlie was an amateur magician and a member of the I.B.M. He was
impressed with Ray’s prowess with a pack of cards and told him about the
Youngstown Magic Club, suggesting he contact the club’s president, Charles
Zeliff, for permission to attend a meeting. Ray called Zeliff and received
an invitation. A new world was about to unfold.
35
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
36
Chapter 5
Chapter
5
The International Brotherhood of Magicians was formed in 1922, as a fra-
ternal organization of hobbyist magicians, by a trio of correspondents: Len
Vintus, Gene Gordon, and Don Rogers. By 1926, when the I.B.M. sponsored
the first magic convention ever at W.W. Durbin’s Egyptian Hall in Kenton,
Ohio, membership had grown to 1,400. The I.B.M. has a number of local
clubs, known as rings, located throughout the world. Each ring was numbered
in sequence, based on when that respective local group received its charter
from I.B.M. headquarters (in St. Louis, Missouri). By the turn of the 20th
century there were over 240 active I.B.M. rings.
The Youngstown Magic Club, originally founded in 1917 by amateur ma-
gician and millionaire industrialist Gus A. Doeright, received its charter as
I.B.M. Ring 2 in 1938.
The club met the first Friday of every month at the Youngstown Y.M.C.A.
When Ray attended his first meeting that summer, he had no idea of what
to expect. He was nervous. But it was a small gathering, the weakest turnout
for the year, and he was heartily welcomed by Charlie Zeliff. He was
introduced to Nevin Hoefert, and it was then and there that he realized Hoefert
29
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
was the magician who had performed at the orphanage seven years before.
Ray was not the only non-member present that evening. There was another
young man, perhaps a year younger than Ray, who was introduced as Bob
Filips from Youngstown.
Bob and Ray took seats on the back row as the proceedings were called
to order. After a business meeting and a discussion of plans for the upcoming
annual banquet show, the members did what they liked to do best, namely
do magic for one another. Following a round of member performances, presi-
dent Zeliff turned to the newcomers and asked if they would like to do some-
thing. Bob Filips came forward for a quick trick: he took a packet of paper
matches, tore one out and magically changed the color of the tip from blue
to red. Ray, however, preferred to pass, saying that he didn’t know he would
be asked to do a trick and did not bring anything with him.
After the meeting broke up, Bob and Ray walked across the street to a
tavern to get a soda. Bob could not understand why Ray refused to perform;
he’d seen him at the back of the room before the meeting began, toying around
with a deck of cards, executing some fancy cuts, fans, and flourishes, so he
knew he had some skill. Ray confessed that he could not bring himself to per-
form because he thought he was in the presence of professionals, and he did
not want to embarrass himself. Bob shook his head in disbelief, telling Ray
that he was better than half the magicians in attendance.
Ray loosened up a little, and as the two continued to talk about magic
he started removing articles from his pockets — decks of cards, thimbles, hand-
fuls of coins, a brass ring, and several pairs of dice — and started performing
with them. However, after an hour or so it was closing time at the tavern, and
they were forced to leave. But not before Ray confessed that he still had a bou-
quet of feather flowers concealed in each sleeve.
Bob Filips recognized that while Ray Petrosky may have lacked polish and
poise — there being nothing remarkable about his appearance or his manner
of presentation — he was extremely skilful for his age. And he had potential
because he was eager to learn everything he could about magic. Ray appreci-
ated Bob’s candor and respected his opinions. A friendship was formed.
Attending the magic club meeting had been a good move. Ray was more
confident about his magic now. He had been so consumed with his regimen
of practice that he didn’t realize how good he’d actually become. And his
newfound friend Bob Filips was right — he was better than half the magicians
at the meeting that night. Perhaps it was time to stop thinking of himself as
30
Chapter 5
an amateur. He should be getting paid for those party shows he was doing
as favors for friends of the family. He needed to be charging for his occasional
performances at the American Legion posts in Hubbard and Youngstown —
even if it was just passing the hat. After all, how else was he going to earn
enough money to order a “Zombie,” the new floating ball trick that was listed
in the latest Kanter’s Magic Shop catalog?
Ray continued to show up at the Youngstown Magic Club meetings
regularly and, after a year or so, joined the I.B.M. He signed up primarily to
receive The Linking Ring, the organization’s monthly magazine that featured
numerous new tricks, the latest news about magicians and, of utmost inter-
est to Ray, pages of advertisements from the top magic dealers and suppliers.
Cleveland magic dealer George Snyder Jr. and local magician Claude Bawden
sponsored Raymond Petrosky’s application for membership, which was an-
nounced in the August 1945 issue of The Linking Ring.
The members of the magic club became extended family for Ray and
provided him an opportunity for mentorship. The club’s president Charlie
Zeliff, who had always encouraged young members, took an interest in both
Ray and Bob Filips. Charlie’s day job was that of a meter reader for Ohio Edi-
son, but he was also a semi-pro performer often called on for his clever work
as a magical master of ceremonies. Charlie invited Bob and Ray to visit his
home at 143 East Judson Avenue to talk about magic at least two nights a
week. The focus of the sessions was on presentation and routining, rather than
learning new tricks or sleight-of-hand techniques. This was exactly what Ray
needed if he was serious about going pro.
Ray had a burning desire to feature comedy in his magic act. Some of
the first get-togethers with Charlie were devoted to developing humorous
patter for Ray’s Chinese Sticks and Hippity-Hop Rabbits routines. Charlie
also felt that Ray’s stage persona was too somber and, as he said, “too hard,”
and he went to great pains to soften him up, encouraging him to smile and
say something funny when the magic happened.
Because two nights a week of discussing magic was not enough for Ray,
he became a frequent visitor at the Filips’ home. Ray would show up to talk
with Bob about a trick he was thinking about ordering, or come over to dem-
onstrate a new routine he was working on, or stop by to get an opinion of what
looked better — a “push off” or a “strike” Second Deal? And Ray always arrived
when least expected, never calling ahead. He came and went as he pleased.
Fortunately, Bob’s mother took a liking to Ray. Bob had told her about
his situation at home and how Ray was essentially motherless and how his
grandmother had banned magic from the house. And he told her about a
recent incident that had left the Petrosky household in total despair.
31
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
One Sunday afternoon, Ray called Bob and told him to come to the
house as quickly as he could. His brother, Theodore, was home from the semi-
nary, he had finally been ordained into the priesthood, and they were having
a party for him. Bob stopped what he was doing and headed for Hubbard.
However, by the time he arrived at the house on Woodland Avenue, there
was an ambulance in the driveway and everyone was gathered in the
backyard. Ted had hanged himself in the chicken coop. Ray told Bob that
nobody knew why. Ted celebrated his first mass that morning, showed up for
the party, and went outside and committed suicide. The family was devastated.
Knowing of the misery Ray had to be experiencing, Mrs. Filips told
him that she was there to listen anytime he wanted to talk about problems,
especially those problems that only a mother could solve. And realizing that
Ray’s father was forever facing financial difficulties, she always made sure
he was fed. Reflecting back, Bob Filips said with a grin, “My mother treated
Ray more like a son than she treated me.”
32
Chapter 6
Chapter
6
When Ray began his junior year at Hubbard High School in 1945, the
only sport he signed up for was baseball. He didn’t have time to play
football that fall. He had signed agreements for five paid shows in the
months of October and November, with his fees ranging from $5 to $12
a show. He was now booking himself as “Del Ray The Magician.”
Stationery with “Del Ray The Magician” printed on the top line had
the address of “101½ North Main St., Hubbard, Ohio” printed on the two
lines below. Uncle George’s SOHIO station was at 101 North Main; and
apparently, adding the “½” was done so the postman would know to
deliver Del Ray’s mail to the back office where “The Magician” maintained
his practice space and had a closet for prop storage.
Why and how Raymond Petrosky adopted the stage name of Del Ray
would remain one of the best-kept secrets of his magical life. Over the
years, numerous friends and acquaintances claimed they were told “Delbert”
33
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
was his middle name, and when he dropped Petrosky he merely flipped his
first and shortened middle name to arrive at Del Ray.
Certain members of his family perpetuated the story that he came up
with the moniker after seeing a magazine article about the vacation destina-
tion of Delray Beach, Florida. They said he liked the way the beach’s name
sounded, but split the one word into the two because Del Ray looked
better on paper.
Del Ray didn’t mind if people called him Del; but for sure, he did not
like to be called Delbert. Once, when his good friend Bob Escher used the
name in a casual conversation, Del Ray reacted strongly, saying, “My name
is not Delbert, and I don’t know where people are getting that from!”
His best friend Bob Filips never asked about the origin of the name
Del Ray, and he never ever called him Del. Bob met him as Ray and called
him Ray all his life.
Working professionally as Del Ray was paying off. Before his 16th birthday
in November of 1945, he had saved enough money to buy the Zombie
trick he wanted and a car, which he now needed to get from gig to gig.
The Zombie floating ball trick cost $7.50; the automobile, if it could be
called that, was $75.
Uncle George arranged for the purchase of the car that was perhaps
best described as a “hybrid.” It was made of the engine and body parts of
a wrecked 1939 Plymouth and a ’37 Chevy sedan. The hood was sprung
and tied down with a piece of rope. There were no windshield wipers, and if
it rained the spark plugs got wet and the engine stalled. The only seat was
the driver’s, and metal milk crates were in the other three places for passengers
to sit on. Half of the floorboards were missing, the wheels needed aligning,
and the only thing on the car that didn’t make noise was the horn. Still,
the vehicle provided Del Ray with a degree of independence.
Del Ray’s attendance at affairs of the magic club became stellar. Now
that he had wheels, he had no excuse for missing a Ring 2 meeting because he
couldn’t get a ride. At ten minutes ’til eight on the first Friday night
of every month, he was parked in front of the Youngstown Y.M.C.A.,
prepared to participate and perform. And he had no qualms about driving
distances to attend more than one magic club meeting per month. Del
Ray was becoming a welcome guest at Ring 13 meetings in Pittsburgh, 67
miles away, and Ring 23’s meetings in Cleveland, a 150-mile roundtrip
drive from Youngstown.
34
Chapter 6
On November 2nd, 1945, Del Ray was one of the three magicians
with cars who volunteered to drive a dozen members of the Youngstown
Magic Club to Columbiana, Ohio to see the McDonald Birch show. Birch,
like Thurston, was a native son of Ohio who achieved fame with his
full-evening show of grand illusion. Attending the show and getting to meet
Birch proved to be an enlightening experience for Del Ray and the other
magicians, as reported in the December 1945 Linking Ring: “Birch is the first
‘big show’ magician to play near Youngstown in several years, and it was a treat.
He is a grand performer and even though he must have been tired
from the show and the long drive over, he stayed around and talked to all
the fellows after packing up his show — too bad more traveling magicians
are not as friendly as Mac.”
The report continues: “At our November 9 meeting plans were finalized
for our club show to be held in Newton Falls, Ohio on December 2.
Vice president Claude Bawden is in charge of this show, which will be
sponsored by the Kiwanis Club, and he has lined up the following acts: Fred
Jones, Ray Petrosky (Del Ray), J. Arthur Snyder, Wm. Steward, Charles
Zeliff, and Claude Bawden. This is the first time in several years that the club
has sold a show unit of this sort and everyone is plugging along to make it a
bang-up affair.”
The “bang-up affair” in Newton Falls was where Del Ray debuted
the Zombie routine that he had been rehearsing daily for the past month.
He opened his ten-minute act with the Walsh Cane, performed by
wrapping the walking stick in a piece of newspaper, and then upon
unrolling the newspaper with a snap, the cane vanished. He crumpled up the
paper and produced some colorful silks and streamers. He then produced and
manipulated lighted cigarettes, followed by a multiplying thimbles routine.
His closer was Zombie. It was performed perfectly. So convincing was the
floating effect that the magicians in the audience swore Del Ray was using
something other than Karson’s ball-on-a-stick trick that most of them had
back home.
Bob Filips was in the audience that evening. He agreed that the
Zombie routine was perfect. He said that it was indicative of how Ray learned
his magic. He took practice to an extreme until a routine was 100% perfect.
When he was first learning the Zombie ball moves in Bob’s living
room, he used a Turkish bath towel instead of the usual silk foulard.
Manipulating the gimmick beneath the heavy towel was painful, but Ray
said that it made his finger strong. After a couple of weeks of this torturous
exercise, the towel was swapped for the silk scarf. Voila! The ball seemed
lighter than air. Or as Ray told Bob, “It floated like a feather.”
35
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
36
Chapter 7
Chapter
7
If Del Ray had any other ambition other than to be a professional magician, it
was to be a major-league baseball player. He was a good catcher and played
two seasons on the Hubbard High School team. In early 1946, he was
invited to a try-out camp for one of the Brooklyn Dodgers’ minor-league
teams. The coaches and scouts were so impressed with Ray’s catching and his
ability to play the game that they offered him a position on a Dodgers farm-
club team. He was excited about the possibility, but felt that starting a career
in baseball at this point in his life would interfere with the momentum he was
building with his magic act. He turned the offer down. And it wasn’t for the
reason that he didn’t want baseball to be a part of his future any more. It
was because he had decided to join the military.
v
Del Ray enlisted in the U.S. Navy on March 5th, 1946 as Raymond
Petrovic. Undoubtedly, he registered using the older, now jettisoned fam-
ily name because it was the one still on his unchanged birth certificate. He
was immediately shipped off to the Naval Training Center at Camp Peary,
37
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Virginia, near Williamsburg. As it turned out, Ray was one of the last
recruits to receive training at Camp Peary, as it was shut down three months
later and became a Virginia state forestry and game reserve for five years.
When re-opened as a military facility it would become known as “The Farm,” a
facility where Central Intelligence Agents were reputedly trained as assassins.
After basic training, Ray was transferred to San Francisco, where he was
named a “transportation specialist” and learned to drive just about every
vehicle in the motor pool. He didn’t bring any tricks or props with him to put
on magic shows, but he always carried a deck of cards and, at the drop of
a sailor’s hat, pulled them out for an exhibition of nonstop card wizardry.
When classified as a Seaman Second Class, Ray was deployed to Saipan,
the second largest of the Mariana Islands in the western Pacific Ocean.
Saipan had become an important military post just two years earlier when the
United States fought to seize it from Japan and ultimately bring an end
to World War II. Ray was assigned to work in the naval supply depot there.
During the twelve years Ray spent at the orphanage in Warren, Ohio
and the two years he lived in his grandmother’s house in Hubbard, he
was forever searching for isolated places to practice his magic. Now that
he found himself living securely and comfortably on a remote Pacific
island that was 5,625 miles from San Francisco, 3,092 miles from Sydney
in Australia, and 3,300 miles from Honolulu, what more could he ask
for? How about the airmail package that arrived from the U.S. Playing
Card Company in Cincinnati, a box containing his order for two-dozen
brand-new decks of Bee Playing Cards. He was the cardician in paradise.
v
When Del Ray received his honorable discharge from the Navy on March
7th, 1947 he set sail for the mainland on the USS Bayfield, for a
voyage that took two weeks and two days. He then had a 24-hour layover in
San Francisco before embarking on his 45-hour train trip back to
northeastern Ohio.
The first thing he did after finding a hotel room in San Francisco
was look through the phone book for magic shop listings. The Golden
Gate Magic Company at 583 Market Street was only four blocks away, so
he was out the door. But first he had to find a bank. He needed to cash his
$180.98 discharge paycheck.
Golden Gate Magic was off the street and up one flight of stairs. Glass
display cases full of colorful magic props lined three sides of the cozy
showroom. Behind the display cases were shelves with books and more
38
Chapter 7
39
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
mechanical ingenuity with sleight of hand, as did the Card Sword, which
he also bought for $16.50. The other big purchase of the afternoon was a
Break-Apart Rabbit Vanish, a small wooden chest decorated with painted
dragons that cost $12.50. After adding the two new Stars of Magic booklets
(“Triumph” and “Cutting the Aces”) and the latest Genii magazine to the
stack, it was time to check out and pay up. Dethlefson packed everything in
a cardboard box, tied it tightly with cord, and attached a wooden dowel
handle so that Del Ray could, rather than check it as baggage, carry his new
magic on the train.
As Del Ray was leaving the shop, Tom reminded him that showtime
was 7:30 sharp and told him he should plan on hanging around after the
show. Some of the local magicians were getting together with Blackstone at the
Empress of China restaurant. He said it would be a great chance to meet
“Mr. B.”
40
Chapter 8
Chapter
8
A full half-hour before curtain time, Del Ray was ensconced in his seat
at the Geary Theatre, reading and rereading the show program. Few
magicians, past or present, had the profile accorded to Harry Blackstone.
After decades of arduous touring, he had built up a stage extravagance that
was surpassed only by the showmanship with which he presented it. The
venerable Saturday Evening Post had recently given him the well-deserved
title of “America’s Number One Magician.” The show program (with most
of its copy written by Harry himself ) designated Blackstone “The World’s
Super Magician.”
After the overture, the orchestra played a fanfare and the curtains
parted to reveal a drawing room setting with the cast attired in Louis XIV
period costumes. Blackstone entered wearing white tie and tails, a long in-
verness cape, and white gloves, which when tossed into the air changed into
a white dove. Two bouquets of flowers appeared at his fingertips and a
whirlwind of effects followed: more flowers, more doves, a fiesta of flowers,
a cage of doves, the tambourine of plenty, silken fantasy, a girl vanishes,
a rose bush grows, another girl gone, another giant rose bush, and a magic
41
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
fountain, which appeared from beneath a foulard, spraying high above the
enchanted garden that filled the stage. As the curtains closed, Harry stepped
forward acknowledging a hearty round of applause.
A small trick that impressed Del Ray was something Blackstone listed
in the program as the Flight of the Canaries (actually invented by
Hofzinser as the Migrating Canaries). Two canaries were removed from a
birdcage held by an assistant and placed in a paper bag. At a pistol shot, the
bag was torn open and seen to be empty. The birds were fluttering about in
the cage.
The master magician then requested “the loan of a gentlemen’s white
handkerchief,” signaling it was time for the Dancing Handkerchief, one of
the “signature pieces” of the Blackstone show. Effects such as the Dancing
Handkerchief, the Vanishing Birdcage, and the Floating Light Bulb were
the tricks people thought of when they thought of Harry Blackstone. These
signature pieces were performed throughout the show to counterbalance the
big illusions.
The Levitation of the Princess Karnac, Girl and the Automobile Tires,
the Jungle Mystery (Cargo Net), Disembodied Princess, the Hindu Rope
Mystery, and Light Bulbs Through Girl were but a half-dozen of the big il-
lusions performed in the 33rd anniversary edition of the Show of 1001
Wonders that Del Ray witnessed that evening. Blackstone’s version of Saw-
ing a Woman in Half was the showstopper. Where many magicians had
placed a hapless young woman in a box to cut her in half, Blackstone em-
ployed a terrifying, ear-piercing buzz saw to visibly divide the lady in two. And
amazingly, even after her blood-curdling scream, when the blade whined
to a stop, she rose dazed but smiling from the table. Harry hyped the
mystery in his advertising and in the souvenir program as “The Lumber
Saw — The Most Sense-Confounding Problem on the Stage Today.”
The dramatic power of Blackstone’s illusions enthralled Del Ray,
but it was Harry’s style that made the lasting impression on him. He was
in awe of the master’s voice, stentorian yet soothing, and his ability to
blend scholarly sounding elocution with a roguish sense of humor.
When introducing the Buzz Saw, Blackstone informed the audience, “It has
been written that in the far reaches of the Himalaya Mountains, doctors use
hypnotism to stop the flow of blood during certain surgical operations…”
Then, donning a huge white cowboy hat, he would add, “I shall now cut
the little lady in two, so help me!” Harry’s patter was laced with harmless
innuendos and dreadful puns. He wheedled and teased his audiences and
onstage volunteers, but they loved it — it made them an integral part of
each illusion or magic trick he performed.
42
Chapter 8
Del Ray was intrigued by the fact that Blackstone didn’t always play
by the rules. For example, when he walked onstage carrying the Vanishing
Birdcage, he would say, “I will make this cage and the canary disappear
from the tips of my fingers — and you will not see where it goes.” This
was a violation of the number one rule in magic: The magician never tells
his audience what he’s going to do. But, poof! It was gone. Harry would then
proceed to break rule number two: The magician never repeats a trick,
by saying, “If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll step into my office, get another
cage, another canary, and I’ll do it again.” He’d return with a cage and a
canary, however, instead of vanishing it instantly, he’d invite a dozen or so
children from the audience to come onstage. They’d place their hands on
the sides, the front, back, top, bottom, and the edges of the cage, holding
tightly as they could, so there was no way for it to… Poof! Gone again! The
kids got to check out Harry’s sleeves and found nothing there. They were con-
vinced the birdcage had disappeared, all except one boy who was caught lifting
the Great Blackstone’s coattail, taking one last look and getting a whole lot of
laughs from the audience. Harry’s stage whisper had cued the kid. It was a
wonderful bit of stage business that created an immense amount of fun at the
expense of no one.
Blackstone’s perennial “Who Wears the Whiskers?” was the final illusion
sequence of the show. The fast-moving switcheroo starts with an assistant
disguised as a bearded man firing a pistol at Blackstone, who ducks behind
a banner and changes into a gorilla, who dances with the bearded man,
and, after some masterful misdirection, the gorilla removes its head to reveal
he’s actually the assistant, while the man wearing the whiskers turns out to
be Harry. The entire company returned to the stage for the grand finale,
a production number called “An Array of Color,” with the cast wearing lav-
ish costumes in the tradition of the Ziegfeld Follies. The two and a half hour
performance garnered a huge ovation, with Blackstone taking three curtain
calls that evening.
It was at least an hour after the show before Harry arrived at the restau-
rant; he had to stay at the theater to autograph programs and photos and
then change clothes. This gave the group of twenty-two magicians who’d
gathered in the back dining room, plenty of time to try to out fool each other
with their latest pocket tricks. Del Ray was doing his share of the
fooling with his well-rehearsed card magic.
Socializing with the local magicians and taking part in their late-night
sessions had become a way of life on the road for Blackstone. No matter
what the town or city, and regardless of whether he’d done a matinee and
an evening show and perhaps a promotional appearance or two that
43
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
day, Harry just could not refuse an invitation to get together with the
boys. Blackstone was a workaholic, yet when it came time to play, he was
indefatigable. The party at the Empress of China went until two a.m. Del
Ray got to sit down with Mr. B a couple of times and show him some
of his card tricks. Harry was apparently impressed with the young man’s
capabilities, because before year’s end, Blackstone would be asking Del Ray to
join his Show of 1001 Wonders.
44
Chapter 9
Chapter
9
The long train ride back home to Ohio gave Del Ray plenty of time to
ponder the future and consider the directions his magic career could and
should be taking. While Blackstone’s show had both astonished and inspired
him, he had few if any aspirations to become the next grand master of a
touring illusion show. Besides, Harry was sixty-one; he was eighteen.
Del Ray was fascinated by the growing number of magicians who
were experiencing success working nightclubs. The Genii magazine he’d picked
up at the magic shop featured a cover story on Card Mondor, a twenty-
four-year-old Seattle-based nightclub magician, who was enjoying long
runs at such exotic-sounding venues as the Trocadero Room of the
Cortez Hotel in Reno, Nevada. Elsewhere in the magazine, other nightclub
magicians were mentioned: Cardini was at the Florentine Gardens in
Hollywood, Paul Le Paul was working the Walton Roof in Philadelphia, Gali-
Gali was booked for the Statler in Detroit, and Frakson was at The Glass
Hat in New York City’s Belmont Plaza Hotel. While Del Ray had not seen
a single one of these acts work, he knew of them by reputation. He knew
they had worked hard to achieve the success they were experiencing.
45
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Their artistry inspired him. But if the truth was known, it was the image of
the nightclub magician — the sophisticated man of mystery dressed in
formal attire who created miracles in pantomime — that really inspired him.
It was this style and manner of performing that he would choose to emulate.
For the next two days and nights, Del Ray spent every single one of
his waking hours aboard the train practicing and planning and thinking about
his new act. And, no doubt, when he did doze off for a few hours, he
was dreaming about the act. He knew for sure that he wanted to replace
the comedy magic he’d been doing with pantomime magic, and he made
notes on changes he could make: “Do thimble manips instead of Chinese
Sticks,” “Swap Hippity-Hops for Zombie as a closer.” There were lists of music
and songs he wanted to use, and there were notations on the lists: “Notice
Blackstone had sheet music for orchestra,” “Ask Nick Yahn where you buy
arrangements,” “If no band, do you use records?” He had pages of notes
about tricks that he wanted to perform but knew he needed to talk at
some point in the routine, one was the Card Sword: “You must ask somebody
to select a card, then tell them to remember it, then tell them to call out the
name of the card before the stab.” Another was the Vanishing Birdcage: “Do
Birdcage with patter like Blackstone until figure way to do it pantomime.” By
the end of his first twenty-four hours of train travel, his to-do list had forty-
plus entries. The top three: “Buy tails and/or tuxedo,” “Have publicity photo
made,” “Write or visit agents – Youngstown, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, maybe
Philly and NYC.”
Del Ray had to change trains (Union Pacific line to the Pennsylvania
Railroad) in St. Louis. When he boarded the new coach car he found there
were only a dozen or so passengers occupying it. There were plenty of empty
seats. He moved to a row of facing seats at the back of the car, and because
there were no people sitting in the adjacent seats he could practice in privacy.
He used the empty seat across from his seat as a padded surface to work on
his Bottom Deals, Second Deals, and False Shuffles.
He unpacked the Copenetro apparatus and laid it out on two empty seats.
Tom Dethlefson had shown him the basic routine when he bought
the trick, but as always, Del Ray was thinking of improvements. He didn’t
like the crude bent-nail release for the springs that shot the coins into the
glass. And he thought it awkward that the magician had to handle the thick
wooden base each time a coin vanished and appeared inside the glass. On
his notepad he sketched out a way to automate the spring releases. It was a
method that eliminated the suspicious-looking base. All he needed was one of
those little music-box motors that he’d seen on his father’s workbench.
He added “Fix Copenetro” to his to-do list.
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Chapter 9
Del Ray’s first promotional photo was shot when he got out of the Navy in 1947.
Del Ray did not call ahead to let his family know he was coming home. When
he arrived at the train station in Youngstown at noon on a Sunday, nobody
was there to meet him. He used a pay phone to call his friend Bob Filips to
see if he could pick him up and give him a ride to the house in Hubbard.
47
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
But he found out from Mrs. Filips that Bob was still serving in the Marines
and wouldn’t be home for two months. So he called his Uncle George, who
said he’d be there in half an hour.
Ray couldn’t believe his eyes, but his ears let him know what he was
seeing was real. Uncle George showed up at the train station driving Ray’s
old rattletrap. And it seemed to be running as good as it did the day he’d
left town. George had kept the car covered with a tarp and parked safely
behind his gas station the whole time Ray was gone.
As they drove to Hubbard, George brought Ray up to speed on Petrosky
family affairs. Ray’s younger brother, Al, was going to be studying art at
Youngstown College that fall. His older sister, Viola, was engaged and
getting married soon. It was rumored that his mother had moved to
Pennsylvania, but no one knew for sure. Now that the war was over, his
father’s jewelry repair business was picking up and he might be looking for
some help. And Ray’s magic club friend, Charlie Zeliff, had called, wanting
to know if he could perform on a public show they were staging in Boardman,
Ohio next Friday night.
The first thing Ray did when he got to the house was call Charlie
Zeliff and let him know that he was eager to be on the show. It would
provide an excellent opportunity for him to audience test the new nightclub
act he was working on. The next thing he did was call every brother and
sister and aunt and uncle that lived in Hubbard or Youngstown and tell
them that he was home and wanted to take them all out (Grandma included)
for a big Italian dinner. He realized he had a myriad of things to do to get
the act ready, but all of that could wait until tomorrow. Tonight was the
time to eat, drink, be merry, and listen to Ray’s war stories (and watch his
latest card tricks).
The next morning when Ray reviewed the to-do list that he’d started on
the train, he knew right away that the priorities of the things-to-do had
to change. He had exactly five days to get his act together. He figured two
days to build props and three days for practice and rehearsal. After moving
“Fix Copenetro” to the top of his list, he asked his father for some technical
assistance.
When Ray explained his idea for modifying the Copenetro mechanism
and using the Swiss music-box motor as a triggering device, Victor thought
it was a feasible concept and suggested they order the motor right away.
He called his supplier in Pittsburgh, the motor was in stock, it sold for
$2.50, and they could send one out on the next Greyhound bus. It would be at
the Hubbard bus depot by three o’clock that afternoon.
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Chapter 9
With the motor on the way, Ray removed the spring-loaded coin
chutes from the Copenetro base and installed them beneath the top of his
magic table. He then replaced the bent-nail catches with small pin-lock catches
he bought from a local cabinetmaker.
Victor fabricated a metal disc that would revolve beneath the tabletop and
at 15-second intervals trip the pin-catch on each one of the coin chutes
(causing its coin to shoot up to the bottom of the inverted water glass and
drop down into the shot glass). When the music-box motor arrived, he
started building a gear assembly that insured that the disc, just like the
sweep hand of a clock, made exactly one revolution per minute — a relatively
simple task for a master watch repairman such as Victor was.
Even Ray’s grandmother got involved in the act. (She must have been
convinced her that the coin contraption being built in her cellar wasn’t
a satanic coin sorter.) She hemmed an attractive black velvet drape with
a white braid trim that wrapped around the tabletop and completely hid the
secret apparatus. It was now time for Del Ray to practice and rehearse his
routine and synchronize his sleight-of-hand maneuvers with the new clock-
work mechanism.
When Ray priced tuxedos he discovered that the style he wanted was
about $25 more than he had budgeted. His father suggested he go see a
friend of his at Kelly Rob Funeral Home, where he knew they rented
formal wear. Maybe he could rent something just for the show. Ray tried on
an outfit he liked. It consisted of a dark gray cutaway coat, pinstriped vest and
trousers, with a high-collar shirt and white tie included. He could rent it for
$10 or buy it for $30. Because Ray wanted to sew in secret pockets and make
alterations to the coat, he bought it.
Finally, he needed to find a rabbit for his new Break-Apart Rabbit
Vanish. A call to his friend Nevin Hoefert was all it took. Nevin had just
weaned a litter of four Netherland Dwarf rabbits and was so eager to get rid of
one that he delivered it to Ray’s house.
Nick Yahn, an accomplished amateur magician and member of the
Youngstown Magic Club who also played piano, had offered to provide
musical accompaniment for the acts on the show. On the afternoon of
the performance, Del Ray packed up his props, his wardrobe, and the bunny
and drove to Boardman, where he met with Nick at the auditorium for
a talk-through music rehearsal. What music was played was pretty much
dictated by whether or not Nick knew the tune or had the sheet music with
him. Del Ray was happy that Nick knew “Every Little Movement Has a
Meaning All Its Own,” a song that he’d heard Blackstone use in his show and
49
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Del Ray poses with ticket sellers at a Youngstown Magic Club I.B.M.
Ring 2 public show.
50
Chapter 9
a novelty cartoon act, ‘As Others See Us.’ Frank Zaccone did an
original creation called ‘Balloon.’ Claude Bawden closed the
show with ‘Magical Moments.’ Charles Zeliff was master of ceremo-
nies; Claude Bawden, production manager; and Nick Yahn,
musical director.”
After the show, a gentleman named George Thomas came up to Ray and
complimented him on his act. He told Ray he was the orchestra leader at the
Willowbrook Inn in New Castle, Pennsylvania, which was twenty-one miles
east of Youngstown. The owner of the supper club had given Mr. Thomas
the responsibility of finding local acts for the Willowbrook’s weekend floor-
shows. He asked Ray if he’d be interested in showcasing his act next Friday
night. Ray wasn’t sure what “showcasing” meant, but when Thomas said,
“We’ll pay your expenses and it could lead to steady work,” he said yes.
The Newcastle News for Friday, April 5th carried a three-inch display ad for
the Willowbrook Inn: FLOOR SHOW TONIGHT. 3 GREAT ACTS.
Stanley Evans “Direct from Cities Service on NBC,” Del Ray “Comedy
Magician,” Thelma Kay “Tap Artist.” Plus George Thomas at the Piano with
His Orchestra for Dancing. For Reservations Call 9392 NOW!
Ray may have augmented his pantomime act with some patter tricks to
merit the “Comedy Magician” billing in the newspaper ad. He may have had
to revert to doing the Vanishing Birdcage and Hippity-Hop Rabbits
to fill time. But whatever it was that he performed that evening did not
“lead to steady work” at the Willowbrook. Ray was not invited back. He
received an envelope with three $1 bills to pay his expenses. And he learned
what a showcase was — an audition for the owner of the nightclub before
a packed house of patrons paying a $3-a-head cover charge.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
52
Chapter 10
Chapter
10
The C.A. Leedy Award was officially announced at the April 4th, 1947 meet-
ing of the Youngstown Magic Club I.B.M. Ring 2. The trophy, which would
be given annually to recognize achievements of excellence by a member,
was named after Charles A. Leedy (1871-1945), one of the club’s most promi-
nent members. In his heyday, Leedy had been a minstrel show and vaude-
ville performer who juggled guns and rifles while tossing witty asides. Known
as the “Best Joke Writer in America,” and claiming to have written over 100,000
jokes over the course of 30 years, he also wrote a regular humor column for
the Youngstown Telegraph and Vindicator.
The inaugural Leedy Trophy would be presented at the annual banquet
and show in October to the Ring 2 member who amassed the most points
over the next six months. One point would be given to a member for each
meeting attended, a second point for each meeting at which they participated,
two bonus points for the best presentation at each meeting, and two additional
bonus points for performing the best trick — old, if dressed up, or new. The
members would vote at each meeting to determine who would be awarded
points for the best presentation and the best trick. Extra bonus points were
53
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
54
Chapter 10
work over a year ago when he drove to Cleveland to attend a few Ring 23
meetings. Ray heard that Neal was now working as a demonstrator at
Snyder’s Magic Shop in downtown Cleveland, and he thought it would be neat
to show up at the shop and buy a copy of the book directly from the author.
As it turned out, the three-hour roundtrip drive to Cleveland ended
up being a three-day stay-over. Ray not only got a signed copy of At the Table,
he received personal instruction from Neal on just about every item in the
book. (The one-hand cuts and shuffles learned would become mainstay moves
in Del Ray’s nightclub act for the next five decades.) Because Ray was not
especially predisposed to learning sleight of hand from books, he asked if he
could get a little help with some of the more difficult sleights explained in
Hugard and Braue’s Expert Card Technique. Neal obliged and became the first
cardman who could claim to have been one of Del Ray’s teachers.
Bob Filips returned home from his stint in the Marine Corps in late May.
Before he could unpack his bags Del Ray was knocking on his front door.
The two friends had not talked with each other or even exchanged a post-
card in over a year. Ray had lots of new magic to share, as well as his share
of tales to tell.
Ray told Bob all about seeing the Blackstone show, getting to meet Harry,
and doing card tricks for him. He showed Bob the trick that he was pretty
sure he’d fooled Blackstone with. He told him how he’d rebuilt the Copenetro
trick, automating it with the music-box motor, and how he thought the trick
was good enough to be the closing effect of the new nightclub act he was
working on. Ray told Bob that that was part of the “good news” and there
was more, but first he had to tell him about what he called the “scary news.”
While Ray was in the Navy he became quite adept at Three Card Mon-
te, having learned “the ancient and honorable game” exactly as it’s taught in
the pages of Erdnase’s Expert at the Card Table. [Three Card Monte is gener-
ally performed by magicians as a demonstration of the cardsharps’ con where
the dealer bets the spectator that he cannot keep track of one of three cards
— usually an Ace or a Queen — as they are tossed onto the table in a dazzling
but seemingly fair manner.] Ray admitted to Bob that while he had fun do-
ing Three Card Monte for the boys on the base — “teaching ’em a lesson about
gambling” — when he did it for the islanders on Saipan, he played it for real
and won a considerable amount of money. He then told Bob that since he re-
turned home he’d been making some good pocket money “tossing the cards.”
However, it had turned into what he called “a pretty risky business.”
55
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Youngstown and Hubbard were steel mill towns. Every spring, the steel-
workers’ unions staged picnics and parties for their members and their fami-
lies in various neighborhood parks. For the past few weekends, Ray had been
scouting out the parks and showing up at the picnics with the largest crowds.
He would park his car nearby, take one of his metal milk crates (the ones that
served as car seats), drape a blanket over it and use it as a makeshift table.
After explaining to potential players how simple it was to win the game, he
would launch into the Three Card Monte, letting a few people win before reel-
ing them in.
On a couple of weekends Ray drove to different towns within a twenty-
five-mile radius of Hubbard and found he could work as many as three
picnics in one day. Everything was going beyond his wildest expectations —
until last Saturday. When a burly steelworker laid his $20 bill on the card
that he was absolutely sure was the Ace and it wasn’t, the man raised a 28-
inch steel crowbar in the air and yelled, “This guy’s a cheat! Let’s get him!” Ray
claimed that the man had not actually caught him cheating, saying, “He
was just highly suspicious of what I was doing.” Whatever, Ray grabbed his
crate, forgot the cards, and ran like hell. He told Bob if he hadn’t made it to
the car and floor-boarded it out of there, he would have been beat to a pulp.
Bob was mildly shocked that Ray was sitting there in his living room
telling how he’d been swindling the townspeople and how he came near get-
ting killed doing it. It was unbelievable. It was definitely a dark side of his
friend that he didn’t know of.
The dialogue got lighter and brighter after Bob’s mom fixed them
supper, and Ray started telling Bob about his plan to go into the magic-man-
ufacturing business. He had decided to sell a mechanical deck that would
cause three selected cards to rise out of the pack one at a time. While
magicians had used external motors to pull threaded cards from the pack, to
Ray’s knowledge, none had concealed the motor within the deck itself.
His father had ordered twelve of the music-box motors that were used
to customize his Copenetro. With some help from his older brother Albert,
Ray spent several days carefully razoring out the center portions of play-
ing cards, which were discarded. The remaining window-frame pieces were
glued together to make the shell packs that secretly housed the wind-up mo-
tors. When the first two prototypes were assembled and both worked near
perfectly, Ray decided to send one of them to Philadelphia magic dealer
Mike Kanter to see if he’d be interested in selling the item. The trick was of-
ficially named “Del Ray’s Master Card Rise” and retailed for $17.50. Not
only did Ray receive an order for four units, Kanter told him he would be
listing the trick in his ads in The Linking Ring and The Conjurors’ Magazine
56
Chapter 10
for the next few months. Max Holden, who had magic shops in New York
and Boston, also got on the bandwagon and stocked the trick and included it
in his advertising as well. To top it off, Del Ray took out a half-page ad in
The Linking Ring, advising that other dealers could order his Master Card
Rise from his 101½ N. Main Street address in Hubbard, Ohio.
57
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
construction since Del Ray’s return from the Navy and know that it is fine
quality workmanship and will do all its inventor claims it will. The really
magical part of the Rise is the fact that its maker can sell it for the low price
of $17.50, including all accessories, ready to present. Check your Linking Ring
for July and see the ad for this item, as it is really good.”
When The Linking Ring finally reviewed Ray’s trick in its August issue,
it was not quite as glowing: “Del Ray’s Master Card Rise ($17.50) is the stan-
dard one in which three cards are selected and subsequently rise from the
pack, which has been dropped into an unprepared glass. There are no attach-
ments to the pack and the action may be started whenever the performer
desires. Since it is obvious that the effect must be practically self-contained
and since the basic principle is not a new one, I have no hesitancy in voicing
two criticisms: 1) The pack dropped into the glass looks a trifle ‘fat,’ and 2)
the cards rise too slowly to suit me. However, these opinions may not be held
by others and, after all, the cards do perform as advertised.”
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Chapter 11
Chapter
11
“Pittsburgh is Magic Heaven in ’47” was the ballyhoo slogan for the June 17-
19 International Brotherhood of Magicians convention. With an array of
top talent including Okito, Dai Vernon, Dr. Jacob Daley, Harlan Tarbell,
Silent Mora, and Jack Gwynne and His Royal Family of Magic, as well as
thirty-two magic dealers demonstrating their latest wares, the conference at-
tracted 900 delegates to the William Penn Hotel in downtown Pittsburgh.
Seventeen members of the Youngstown Magic Club made the 67-mile
trek over to Pittsburgh. Bob Filips and Nick Yahn rode with Del Ray,
and because of the constant rain and Ray’s problematic windshield wipers,
the trio barely made it to the hotel ballroom in time to see Seymour
Davis and his comedy piano act close the first evening’s show. Afterward,
they walked the streets until one a.m. locating an affordable room, and
then ended up talking and doing magic with other magi until four
o’clock. They were up at nine to be the first through the doors when the
dealer room opened.
One of the first dealer booths Del Ray approached was that of Kline
Kraft Magic of Indiana, Pennsylvania. Its owner Bob Kline was the manufac-
59
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
turer of Copenetro, the coin trick that Ray had purchased three months
ago (and had dramatically enhanced the effect by improving the method).
Bob offered to demonstrate the trick, but Ray smiled and said that it
wouldn’t be necessary as he already was “a happy Copenetro owner.”
Naturally, that comment led to an introduction and a handshake, a string
of questions and answers, and the start of a friendship.
Warren Robert “Bob” Kline was a high school art and crafts teacher
who, since 1929, had enjoyed success performing for service clubs,
schools, banquets and parties, nightclubs, and trade shows throughout
Pennsylvania and Ohio. He had always built his own props and, by the
mid 1940s, after he married his wife Billie, Kline got into the business of
making and selling his magic to other magicians.
In William E. King Jr.’s book, The Artistic and Magical Life of Bob Kline,
Kline writes: “When I started making two or more items at a time, I asked my
father if I could use the barn on our family farm and replace the dirt floor
with wood. He agreed, so I moved my shop equipment and tools into the un-
heated barn… Later on, Billie and I moved to 1122 Washington Street in
Indiana, a house which had a large basement, and that is where I did all
my manufacturing until the 1970s.”
Bob Kline was surprised to learn that Ray had acquired his Copenetro
as a consequence of Kline Kraft Magic’s first advertising promotion.
Before the trick came out, Bob’s friend E.J. “Ernie” Moore suggested that rath-
er than advertise Copenetro in The Linking Ring and other magazines,
he should deal with the dealers directly. Ernie told Bob he had only sold
six of his Instanto Ropes (the first rope trick with magnets) through his
full-page Linking Ring ad, but dealers had sold over six hundred. So Bob did
as Ernie recommended and picked out ten of the leading magic dealers
and sent them a sample Copenetro, advising of the dealer cost and how
much it should sell for. “It was the best marketing advice I ever got,” writes
Kline. “It took off, dealer orders came in, and hundreds were sold.” The
Copenetro that Ray purchased was the sample Kline had sent to Golden
Gate Magic.
Ray told Bob about his Master Card Rise and how he’d used a similar
strategy to get orders from two dealers, Holden’s Magic Shop and Kanter’s
Magic Shop. Both were exhibiting in the dealer room, and Ray’s next stop
was their booths. He wanted to see if they’d brought his trick to sell at
the convention.
Both Holden’s and Kanter’s had the Master Card Rise displayed on their
tables. And both asked Ray if he would stop by their booths from time to
time to demonstrate his effect. He did and, sure enough, by the second day
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Chapter 11
61
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
“I’ve been thinking about that card trick you did for me in San Francisco,”
Harry said, as he quickly shook hands. “You stymied me with a Stripper Deck,
didn’t you?”
Del Ray smiled and replied, “No, sir, it was something else, actually a
sleight-of-hand move I came up with… I’ll show you what it was if you’ll hire
me to work on your show.”
The quip about the card trick’s secret was made in jest; but the request
for a job was made in earnest. Del Ray still took stock in Howard Thurston’s
sage words written in his Fifty Card Tricks book, where he advised aspiring
young magicians to “obtain an engagement with a small show or concert
company to gain experience.” Blackstone’s production was certainly not a small
show or a concert company, but Del Ray knew that Harry relied on young
men to both assist with the presentation of the big illusions and help with
the heavy lifting. If he was serious about gaining stage experience and learning
about showmanship, he knew that he must work with a master magician, and
Blackstone was that master.
When Blackstone took Del Ray aside and had a short meeting with him
about his upcoming 1947-1948 tour, their conversation would become Del
Ray’s third and most significant convention highlight. Harry was candid
with Ray about the difficulties of keeping a good cast together, explaining his
“never-ending hiring procedure.” By midsummer, most of the assistants from
last season would be showing up at Blackstone’s summer headquarters in Co-
lon, Michigan, ready to start rehearsals. Naturally, there would be some no-
shows and Harry would have to get out what he called his “potential-assistants
list.” The strenuous five weeks of practice and rehearsals would scare off some
of the new cast members and Harry would again have to call upon his poten-
tial-assistants list. Then after the show was up and running, Blackstone would
be going to his list regularly to fill the voids created by assistants who dropped
out of the show, usually because they grew tired of the rigors of the road or
found better paying jobs in one of the towns or cities the show played.
Blackstone took out his little black leather pocket address book and asked
Del Ray for his phone number and mailing address, which he wrote down on
the page headed “Potent. Assists.” Harry did not indicate if or when or from
where he might be calling Ray. He simply concluded the conversation by stand-
ing up, shaking hands, and saying, “Your hat’s been thrown in the ring.”
Del Ray returned home from the Pittsburgh convention firmly vowed to im-
prove his magic and direct his attention to a more immediate goal — capturing
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Chapter 11
Ring 2’s C.A. Leedy Trophy. He had three more meetings to do it.
While only eleven members attended the July meeting, every member pre-
sented a magic effect. Bob Filips received bonus points for his performance of
Merv Taylor’s Card Houlette. Ray won the other two bonus points with his
tried-and-true presentation of Zombie.
At the August meeting, nearly every member did a trick. Once again, Ray
won bonus points, this time for his “showmanship and skill while manipulat-
ing cards.” With one final meeting to go, Ray was in second place, one point
behind Ernie Schuller. Charlie Zeliff was in third place, two points away from
the top score.
Ray pulled out all the stops for the September meeting, which was at-
tended by twenty-three members. A report in The Foulard, described Ray’s
routine: “He opened with a Vanishing Cane in a newspaper in such fashion
that it would fool the pants off Russ Walsh. Then to really create a masterpiece,
from the same paper he used to vanish the cane he produced a dove — a real
live dove. Was he satisfied? No! He then put the dove in a box, from which
he vanished said dove. What magic! What presentation! From there he went
into ‘Bev’ Taylor’s Block Thru Glass effect, which really cinched everything.
Magic apparatus in the hands of Del Ray becomes miracles. Is he a master of
magic? You bet!” It was announced that Ray won the competition, beating
Schuller by three points. The C.A. Leedy Trophy would be presented to him at
Ring 2’s annual banquet show at the First Reformed Church on October 18th.
Meanwhile, members of the club had the opportunity to see another
grand showman, The Great Virgil. On September 11th, a dozen or so ma-
gicians, Del Ray included, drove to Ashtabula, Ohio to see Virgil perform
his full-evening show.
Bob Filips described the experience for the readers of The Foulard:
“Virgil is indeed a master magician, as any of the five hundred people who
also saw his show will verify. It would take one whole Foulard to describe
Virgil’s show. Since space is limited, I will only tell you about a few of the out-
standing tricks... In my estimation the most outstanding effect was the levita-
tion of his wife, Julie. I don’t think I will ever see this trick presented in such
a perfect manner. Next was Sawing a Woman in Half a la Thurston. After
sawing three-quarters of the way, the audience was allowed to view the body
of his assistant. The effect was tremendous. There was a good Substitution
trunk effect called ‘Meterialization.’ Much credit must be given to Virgil’s clev-
er wife for making this illusion the great success it was. The transformation
took but a couple of seconds. I could go on and on, but there is not enough
available space. All I can say in conclusion is that it was indeed a night well
spent. Ask Del Ray.”
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
When the newsletter mailed out and Ray received his and read the
review, he called up Filips and said, “Bob, instead of ending with, ‘Ask Del
Ray,’ all you needed to say was ‘Virgil wasn’t Blackstone, but he still put on a
tremendous show.’”
64
Chapter 12
Chapter
12
Blackstone and his Show of 1001 Wonders hit the road for the 1947-1948
season without the services of Del Ray. Traveling by train, the troupe arrived
in Buffalo, New York on August 18th and underwent three days of rehears-
als at the Erlanger Theatre before opening on the 21st. Naturally, Del Ray
was disappointed he hadn’t received a call from Mr. B, but he was happy he
wasn’t involved in the first-week hassles of the new production.
One of the new illusions Blackstone had added to the show was the
“Mystery of Delhi,” where the master magician was lashed to the mouth
of a cannon, from which he vanished in a blast of smoke, only to reappear
elsewhere. This illusion alone took a full day of rehearsal. Other replace-
ments of illusions and additions of new people demanded a rearrangement of
the program and reassignment of parts for the assistants, some taking over
new jobs and helping rehearse the newcomers in the parts that they them-
selves had played the year before. “Opening night was ragged due to so many
new assistants, but things smoothed out later in the week,” reported Buffalo
magic dealer Gene Gordon in his column in The Linking Ring.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
After Buffalo the Blackstone show officially opened the theatrical season
in Boston on September 15th with a two-week engagement at the Shubert
Theatre, then took a long train ride to Montreal for a one-week run there,
followed by engagements in Toronto, London, and Hamilton in Ontario.
Next it was on to Utica, New York for a three-day stint.
On Saturday morning of the Utica run, Blackstone had to resort to
his potential-assistants list and make a phone call to Hubbard, Ohio. One
of his male assistants was forced to leave the show because of an automobile
accident. Harry told Del Ray he needed him to join the show immediately,
informing him that his company manager was wiring him money for his
train fare to Philadelphia. The cast would be taking a Sunday night sleeper
to Philly, arriving there on Monday, October 6th for a big two-week
engagement. Del Ray was to meet Harry’s brother, Pete Bouton, on Monday
at eight a.m. at the Walnut Street Theater. Blackstone told Del Ray that
he could help with the load-in that morning and learn his part in the show
that afternoon.
Tour operations of Harry Blackstone’s Show of 1001 Wonders depended
solely on Pete Bouton. Doing it this way, Harry knew that the packing of
the show, the movement of the tons of equipment from the double-length
railroad baggage car, the loading into the theater of everything, and the
equally strenuous packing out, needed no thought or concern on his part.
Pete made it all happen. Doing it this way, Harry could devote himself to
being the man in the spotlight, the star who made personal appearances, pro-
moted the show, and filled the theaters with ticket holders.
Pete’s first assignment for Del Ray on that nippy October morning in
Philadelphia was to assist with the unloading and hauling of equipment from
the baggage car at the railroad yard to the theater. He wanted Del Ray to ob-
serve how systematically the train car was packed. The heavy canvas bags with
the curtains and drops, along with the crates containing the illusions that
took a lot of time to set up — the Kellar Levitation and the Buzz Saw, for
example — had been packed on the car last, so in the next town played they
could be unloaded first and rushed to the theater to be assembled. The Levita-
tion alone took over three hours to rig and set up.
Also loaded onto the baggage car last, so that they could be unloaded
first, were the animals. In addition to a burro and the small horse that
vanished nightly, there were ten white ducks and a gray gander, a dozen white
doves and as many yellow canaries, a bantam rooster, and at least twenty-
five white rabbits that were continually being replenished because of the
“Bunny Matinee” giveaways. As Del Ray loaded the cages of creatures onto
the truck he was told of the Blackstone show’s tradition of having an “Ani-
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Chapter 12
mal Boy.” When a new male assistant was hired on he automatically became
the Animal Boy, the guy who took care of the animals, and he would retain
that position until a newer young man came onboard. So starting that Mon-
day, Del Ray officially assumed the mantle of Animal Boy and cleaned the
cages, changed the sawdust, and put out new hay, food, and water each and
every day. The only thing about the job that Del Ray looked forward to was
the day Mr. B would need to hire a new male assistant.
After a lunch break Del Ray reported to Pete’s wife, Millie Bouton, who
was the show’s wardrobe mistress. He had to be fitted for the six changes
of apparel that were worn during the two-and-a-half-hour show. The Louis
XIV period costume for the opening production was the most elaborate —
a pastel long coat with wide, turned-back sleeves, waistcoat, high-collared
silk shirt with lace cravat, tight-fitting knee breeches and long stockings,
and a white periwig. Del Ray was lucky that the assistant he was replacing
wore the same clothing sizes. The shirts and coats fit nicely and only three
pairs of trousers needed alterations, a task that Millie said she would have com-
pleted by showtime.
“On-the-job training” took on new dimensions as Del Ray assumed the
responsibilities of a Blackstone assistant. An hour before curtain, the girl
assistants walked him through the blocking of the opening number and the
finale. Once the show started he stood in the wings awaiting his prompts
— “Carry this birdcage out and wait until Mr. B removes the canaries and
puts them in a bag.” — always hoping he was wearing the correct costume
when he walked onstage.
It took Del Ray a week of shows to learn his individual cues and their
presets. But he was a quick study, and once he was shown a bit of stage busi-
ness or tricky timing he could be depended on to execute it flawlessly. Before
the Philadelphia run was over, Harry insisted that Del Ray be his primary as-
sistant for the presentation of the complex and dangerous Buzz Saw illusion.
The last Walnut Street Theater performance of the Blackstone show
was on October 18th, the same evening that the Youngstown Magic Club’s
Annual Banquet Show took place. The gala affair in Ohio attracted 107
folks, with a two-hour-and-forty-five-minute show that featured the acts
of Ernie Schuller, Harry Tutter, Charles Zeliff, J.E. Wheeler, Jay Larsen,
Charles Smith, Larry Sallade, and Claude Bawden. At intermission it was
announced that Del Ray was the winner of the C.A. Leedy Trophy, and
because he was trouping with the Blackstone show the award was received
in absentia by his brother, Al Petrosky.
During the week of October 20th, the Blackstone show played a series
of one- and two-nighters in Pennsylvania — theaters in Reading, Lancast-
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Del Ray (peeking from behind Buzz Saw) assisting on the Blackstone show,
during the 1947-1949 seasons.
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Chapter 12
climbed to the top of the grid to do his thing. He was assessing how filthy
the fly loft was when his flashlight spotted “THURSTON WAS HERE”
painted on the brick wall. Undaunted, he went about the laborious task of
bolting the pulley system to the grid and three hours later shimmied down
the ladder to find Pete. Del wasn’t seeking approval for a job well done. He
was looking for a bucket of orange paint. When he found it he climbed back
up to the fly loft and painted: “BLACKSTONE WAS BETTER!”
As big and grand as the stage of Pittsburgh’s Nixon Theatre was, the
house was extremely intimate. It was acoustically perfect for Blackstone, who
rarely, if ever, used a microphone when working theaters. Harry’s rich bari-
tone came from deep within and always projected to the farthest of back rows.
Del Ray, being quiet and reserved, admired this attribute, and had ever since
he first witnessed Blackstone’s show in San Francisco six months ago. Now,
he found it hard to believe that he was hearing Blackstone’s voice night af-
ter night, show after show, giving him the opportunity to study and under-
stand how important it was to be heard and understood by your audiences.
It gave him cause to reconsider his decision to perform his nightclub act in
total pantomime.
Del Ray’s co-workers on the show considered him a taciturn and private
person, totally engrossed in his magic. The only times he socialized with them
was when they went out to eat after a show, and even then, everything revolved
around magic tricks.
Adele Friel, a dancer who had also joined the show in Philadelphia, often
dined with Del Ray. Her memory of an outing in Pittsburgh on the evening
of October 29th is preserved in a letter she wrote to her mother: “Wednesday
night after the show, Dora, Jack, Bill, Del, and I went to eat at Thompson’s restau-
rant, and Del did his card tricks for us. He’s better than Blackstone at cards, and
he’s only 19 years old! After eating, we went to a little novelty store and Del
bought me an ‘Imp Bottle.’ You’re supposed to make it lay down on its side. You
know, I was up till 4 a.m. trying that trick and, to this very minute, I can’t do it!”
Del Ray was shy, but he was also sly.
After the successful week in Pittsburgh, the show trekked to Jamestown,
New York; Erie, Pennsylvania; and Youngstown, Ohio. During the November
6th through 8th run at the Park Theater in Youngstown, at each performance
Mr. B would take a moment from the scripted flow of the show to tell the
audience that he was proud to have the talented Mr. Del Ray, “Youngstown
and Hubbard’s Favorite Son,” working as an important cast member in his
Show of 1001 Wonders. “In fact, before Del Ray joined the show,” Harry would
say with a chuckle, “it was the show of only a thousand wonders.” Following
the Saturday night performance, the Youngstown Magic Club held a party for
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Blackstone and his troupe at Nick Tecau’s Little Casino. Blackstone usually
liked to do his card tricks at these affairs, but that night he sat back, relaxed,
and let Del Ray do the entertaining.
Immediately after fulfilling a November 10th-11th engagement at the
Colonial Theater in Akron, Ohio, the Blackstone tour shut down. The upcom-
ing November 16th through 22nd date at the American Theatre in St. Louis
was canceled. The abrupt closing was not entirely unexpected. For the past
month, Harry had been suffering from a sinus condition that worsened due
to the colder weather. He decided it was time to go straight to the Mayo
Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota for treatment. The cast and crew were issued
severance checks and sent home. It was announced that the tour would reopen
December 29th in Columbus, Ohio.
Two weeks later, an Associated Press release dated November 25, 1947,
broke the news that it would be much longer before the show would go out
again. Harry’s doctors at the Mayo advised the only thing that would relieve
his severe asthma was a prolonged rest in Arizona. The tour was put on hold
for nine months. It would not resume until next August at the Royal Alexander
Theatre in Toronto.
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Chapter 13
Chapter
13
A parcel-post package from Abbott’s Magic Novelty Company in Colon,
Michigan was waiting for Del Ray when he arrived home. He had ordered
a Vanishing Birdcage, having now decided it was going to be the opening
effect for his nightclub act. His new plan was to come out and talk to the au-
dience and do the trick with comedy patter as Blackstone did. The rest of the
act — his card and thimble manipulations, dove production and vanish,
Zombie, and Copenetro — would be performed in pantomime with music.
Back when the magic club threw the party for Mr. B at the Little Casino
in Youngstown, Del Ray had met a booking agent (his business card
proclaimed him a “theatrical agent”) by the name of Eddie Iodice. Del
Ray called him and said that because of the unforeseen closing of the Black-
stone show he was now available for any work he might have, theatrical
or otherwise.
Iodice said he could possibly book him into the Merry Go Round, a
nightclub in Youngstown that featured big bands and jazz artists (Ella
Fitzgerald was currently appearing there). He told Del Ray to send over a
couple of his 8x10s, saying it would help sell his act to the club’s manager.
Del Ray said okay, hung up the phone and called a photographer.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Portrait shot by Redmond Studio in Youngstown after Del Ray’s first season
with the Blackstone show.
It took two hours for a studio in Youngstown to turn out some portrait
shots he could use; it took two weeks for the agent to convince the nightclub
to use Del Ray as their opening act for Capitol Records recording-artist
Pee Wee Hunt and His Orchestra. The Merry Go Round contract was for
two weeks, and while the money wasn’t that great ($52 a week), Iodice
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Chapter 13
followed up with a booking at The Pines Supper Club and then a job
for the week between Christmas and New Year’s at the Victory Club in
Wampum, Pennsylvania.
Del Ray had become so prominent on the local scene that he made
the front page of Nite Life, Youngstown’s where-to-go, what-to-do, what-to-see
tabloid. “Our cover this week displays one of the cleverest manipulators in the
business,” wrote Nite Life editor Jimmie Gentile. “His name is Del
Ray. He has been with Blackstone and is scheduled to return with him
again next season. He was recently awarded the Charles Leedy trophy, a
yearly award for the most outstanding magician in the Mahoning valley.
This good-looking and neat-dressing performer can handle a deck of cards
with slickness that will leave you dazed. Del, we hope you keep going over
great at the local clubs as you are at present.” On another page, it was
mentioned that Del Ray could be caught performing his close-up magic
at the Moose Club, Fridays and Saturdays from 11 p.m. until 2 a.m.
Performing card manipulations in front of the Pee Wee Hunt Orchestra at the Merry
Go Round in Youngstown, Ohio.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
In early 1948, Del Ray received a call from Syl Reilly, the director of the
Magi-Fest, an annual gathering of magicians that had been held at the
Neil House in Columbus, Ohio for the past sixteen years. Word was out that
Del Ray was going places with his award-winning act, and Reilly, always
eager to showcase new professional talent, invited him to perform at the Janu-
ary 30th-31st convention. While they didn’t have a budget to pay a perfor-
mance fee, they could provide him with a hotel room, his convention
registration, and reimbursement for his travel expenses. Del Ray had
nothing on his calendar that particular weekend, so he called his friends Bob
Filips and Nick Yahn and told them he had a free hotel room if they wanted
to go with him to the Magi-Fest. Of course, they did.
Many are the travelogues that have started with the line, “Getting there
was half the fun.” However, it’s not a line Bob Filips considered using when
recounting the journey to the 17th Annual Magi-Fest:
“When Nick and I went down to Columbus in Ray’s old car,” Bob
recalled, “the trip turned out to be a riot. When we left Youngstown it was a
nice January day. It was cold but it was nice. There was no heater in the car, but
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we could handle that. What we couldn’t handle was when we got near
Wooster, Ohio it started to rain. Now remember there were no floorboards,
no windshield wipers, and the hood wouldn’t latch on this car, so about
every ten or twelve miles it would stall. We’d have to get out and use some
rags that Ray kept in the trunk to dry off the spark plugs, so he could get
the car started again. But he couldn’t see to drive because it was raining so
hard. We’d stick our heads out the window and yell to Ray which way
to steer the car or tell him how to stay to the right of the centerline. This
was dangerous and Ray decided to stop in the next town, which was
Mt. Vernon.
“We went into a Woolworth’s store and found a children’s cleaning set,
which consisted of a little mop, a broom, and a dustpan. We also bought
some dishtowels that we wrapped around the broom and the mop, tying
them up with some string Ray had. When we got back on the road, Nick
and I took turns leaning out the passenger-side window, dragging the
towel-wrapped broom back and forth across the windshield. We went
some fifty miles doing this until it finally stopped raining and we didn’t
need our manual windshield wipers any more.
“We didn’t notice it at the time,” Bob concluded, “but because there
were no floorboards the tires were spewing rain up into the car. We were
drenched. Our trousers were soaking wet. It turned out to be the worst
drive you could imagine and, at the same time, one of the most enjoyable.
Ray kept us in stitches with tales about the Blackstone show, the people
he met, tricks he was learning, and tricks he was doing. There was never
a moment of silence in the car nor a complaint about the ride.”
Del Ray performed on the Friday night show staged in the grand
ballroom of the Neil House. It was an eight-act show emceed by
Philadelphia magic dealer Jack Chanin and headlined by vaudeville
veteran E.J. Moore, “The Talkative Trickster.” Nick Yahn provided musical
accompaniment for Ray’s act. Bob helped with the set up, and he would
later say that the Vanishing Birdcage with the verbatim Blackstone patter
was “not good at all,” and it drew negative comments from the other magi-
cians. Yet when Ray performed his close-up later that evening and Saturday
afternoon as well, the thing that had everybody talking was Del Ray’s
presentation. They raved about how “naturally funny” he was when he
did his miraculous close-up sets. Elwood G. Spring, who wrote reviews
of the 17th Magi-Fest for both The Linking Ring and The Conjurors’
Magazine, said of Del Ray: “This young man was quite evident at all sessions
of the Fest with his swell magic and is destined to go places.”
Del Ray did indeed take his “swell magic” to another convention. He
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
managed to get himself booked at the May 31st – June 3rd International
Brotherhood of Magicians convention in New Orleans. He performed on
the second evening’s “Modern Magic Show,” sharing the stage with Nardini,
Merv Taylor, H. Adrian Smith, Eddie Hudson, Frank Cole & Peggy,
Frances Ireland, Senator Crandall, and Frank Werner; he appeared on the
“Stars of Close-up Magic Show”; and he entered the I.B.M. Originality
Contest and took fourth place with an effect he called “Half Dollars to
Glass” (his variation of Copenetro). He received kudos for this twelve-minute
spot of “brilliant” card work on the close-up show. But his stage act with the
copycat Blackstone Vanishing Birdcage met with disapproval by many, and
one critic would literally shoot him down.
The following bullet-points review by Bruce Reynolds would appear in
the July 1948 issue of The Conjurors’ Magazine: “Del Ray, the Blackstone
protégé. Clever manipulator. Cards, thimbles, coins, Zombie. Presentation
and personality can stand enormous improvement. (Is he playing Hamlet?)
His voice is gravelly, diction atrocious, and entire performance stiff.
These drawbacks can be overcome. Diction lessons. A conversational tone.
Gentlemanly mannerisms. Keep fingers out of mouth. To repeat: He is an
exceptionally good performer.”
Even though Reynolds’ review, harsh as it was, could have been construed
as constructive criticism, Bob Filips would attempt to hide it from his friend.
The day that Ray returned home from New Orleans, he went over to Bob’s
house as usual, telling how things went at the convention, showing a couple
of effects he’d learned from the Slydini lecture, and saying that he
understood a write-up of the shows would be printed in the next Conjurors’
Magazine. Ray didn’t subscribe to the magazine, but he knew Bob did,
and he asked him to call as soon as he got the July issue — he was eager to
hear what might be written about his act. When the magazine did arrive
and Bob read how Reynolds “unmercifully ripped Ray apart,” his initial reac-
tion was to “throw the damned thing away.” But he didn’t.
“Did it come yet?” became the question of the day for the first week
of July. Bob lied and said no every time Ray asked; he did not want him
to see it. Finally, on the Friday of the Youngstown Magic Club meeting,
Ray confronted Bob and said that he knew the magazine was out, so if
he wasn’t going to let him see it, someone at the meeting that night
would. Reluctantly, Bob handed him the magazine and watched as he read
the review. Ray was distraught. Bob said it was the first time he ever saw
his friend cry.
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Chapter 14
Chapter
14
Two things happened during the summer of 1948 that caused twenty-year-
old Raymond Petrosky to return to his original intentions of making the Del
Ray nightclub act a sophisticated pantomime act. One was, obviously, the
magazine review that denounced his dramatic speaking endeavors at the New
Orleans convention. The other was meeting Randolph (G. Randolph Baus-
man), a Cleveland-based magician who, during the first two weeks of July,
appeared at the Gray Wolf Tavern, a nightclub on Ohio Route 422, just out-
side Youngstown.
Billing himself as the “Silent Knight of Magic,” Randolph performed a
pantomime magic act with his wife, Mary, as “The Randolphs.” Represented
by the Music Corporation of America since 1945, the act played such top
nightspots as the Vogue Room of the Hollenden Hotel in Cleveland, Pitts-
burgh’s Nixon Restaurant, the Monteleone in New Orleans, and Louisville’s
Brown Hotel.
Del Ray showed up for The Randolphs’ opening night at the Gray Wolf.
He was captivated by Randolph’s smooth style, blending cigarette and card
manipulations with then-standard effects such as the Blooming Rose Bush,
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Jumbo Rising Cards, Card Sword, and the Vanishing Radio. He admired
Randolph’s impeccable appearance: dressed in white tie and midnight-blue
tails, he looked like a model for the latest Nelson Hahne magic-catalog illustra-
tion. Randolph became Del Ray’s new idol.
After the floorshow, Del went backstage and introduced himself.
Randolph was cordial and they chatted for five or ten minutes before he
had to excuse himself. He’d been requested to perform close-up magic for
some of the patrons. “Randy” (as he liked to be called by his magician
friends) told Del that he was welcome to observe as he went from table
to table, doing mostly card tricks. He also invited him to hang around for
the second show, saying that he had a nifty card trick he’d like to show
him afterwards.
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Chapter 14
Naturally, Del stuck around for the midnight show. Actually, he stayed
at the Gray Wolf long after the tables and chairs were stacked, the floors
mopped, and the two magicians were forced to move their session into the
dressing room. The “nifty card trick” that Randolph shared was a gambling-
theme, four Ace assembly called “McDonald’s $100 Aces,” so named
because the secret was allegedly sold sub rosa for a hundred bucks by
its inventor, con man and one-armed magician Jon A. “Mac” McDonald.
The trick was soon in Del Ray’s close-up repertoire (and would remain there
until 1953, the year he learned Brother Hamman’s Final Aces, a trick he per-
formed in almost every close-up show he ever did for the rest of his life).
Del Ray had high regards for Randolph’s artistic pantomime act. But
he also admired the fact that Randolph had a talking act, too, a separate
show that gave him the opportunity to perform the genre of magic he
enjoyed most — close-up magic. And it was lucrative. Randy told Del that
the tips and gratuities he received working the tables after the floorshows
often exceeded his paycheck for doing the silent act. And he didn’t have to
pay agents any commissions on the pocketfuls of cash.
Randy admitted he had adopted a performance pattern established by
legendary close-up artist Paul Rosini (1902-1948), when he played the
Empire Room of Chicago’s Palmer House in 1936. When Rosini opened at
that elegant nightspot, his debonair act was featured as part of a five-act floor-
show. Because Paul liked to mingle with the guests after the show,
performing close-up magic at their tables, he suddenly found himself in
demand by the patrons. Word spread that Rosini had an “extra show,” and
people were slipping their waiters $10, $20, and $50 bills to persuade the
magician to come do a show at their table. Management decided to make the
procedure more democratic and put out table-tent cards informing that
the maître d’ would arrange for Mr. Rosini to entertain at your table (and
assuring that Paul got all of the tip money). Paul Rosini’s popularity soared and
his original four-week contract was extended another four weeks. He
was eventually held over for 21 weeks, a Palmer House record no entertainer
before or after Rosini ever broke.
Del Ray was grateful to Randolph for sharing his nightclub knowledge.
It was not until that night that he realized how a polished stage act could
become the vehicle to sell your close-up talents. As he left the club, Randy
told him he was welcome to come back any time he wanted. The hospitality
was accepted sooner than Randy might have expected. Del’s car could be
found parked on the back row of the Gray Wolf parking lot practically
every night of the two-week run.
The Randolphs performed an effect in their act that had Del completely
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Once the decision was made to concentrate on a pantomime act, Del Ray
had Redmond Studio shoot this captivating photograph.
baffled. At the end of their routine with the Sympathetic Silks (where
knots tied in a set of three silks held by Randy magically untied and passed to
another set of silks held by Mary), Randy reached within the folds of
the silks and produced a cup of hot coffee. It happened mid way in the act,
in the middle of the dance floor, away from any props or tables, and even
though he knew it was coming it fooled Del every time he saw it. He
never asked (and Randolph never volunteered) the modus operandi, but the
trick inspired Del to start working with Jack Miller’s Holdout and come
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81
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
82
Chapter 15
Chapter
15
Harry Blackstone had a habit of staying in touch with his “handsome boys”
and “gorgeous girls” — the show’s male and female assistants — via postcards.
Two cards Del Ray received during the spring months of 1948 were
postmarked TUCSON, ARIZ and had handwritten notes: “Feeling better
and ready to get back in the game,” and “A rest is all I needed. See you soon!”
By the start of summer, the postcards were stamped COLON, MICH and
Harry was writing: “We open in Canada in August,” “Be in Colon July 27
for rehearsals and fun,” and “Cast party July 27th! Steaks on the grill! Bring
swim suit!”
When the cast and crew gathered on “Blackstone Island” (actually not an
island, but a large tract of land facing the St. Joseph River that was surround-
ed by three little creeks) near Colon, Michigan, the first couple of days were
filled with fun activities like swimming, boating, and fishing, barbecues
and corn roasts, and late-night parties. But the next two weeks were com-
pletely devoted to the hard work of building, repairing, painting, sewing,
staging, rehearsing, and the putting together of the multifaceted parts of
the 35th edition of the Show of 1001 Wonders. One of the new showpieces
under construction was the “Elusive Moth,” an illusion Blackstone created
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
86
Chapter 15
night of our one-week run at the Erlanger Theatre in Buffalo. So, come Thanks-
giving, you’ll probably want to start making up ninety-eight more.”
A railroad spur connected Colon with Battle Creek, Michigan and the
main line of the New York Central. When it came time to load out the show,
a baggage car was brought to the siding in Colon at no charge. Blackstone
had discovered long ago if you bought thirty or more passenger tickets, the
railroad would supply a seventy-foot baggage car for free. So, even though
there were only twenty-four people traveling with the show, he always pur-
chased tickets for thirty.
The show traveled to Canada and loaded into the Grand Theatre in Lon-
don, Ontario during the week of August 23rd. After three days and two
long nights of tech rehearsals and two additional evenings of preview perfor-
mances, the show trekked to Toronto, where the 1948-1949 season officially
began at the Royal Alexandra Theatre, on August 28th. The two-week en-
gagement occurred during the same two-week timeframe of the Canadian
National Exposition. Despite the competition, the Blackstone show packed the
1,400-seat Royal Alex for twenty-one performances. The months of September
and October found the show touring Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, and Mis-
souri. Most of November was spend playing theaters in Ohio. In December
the show trouped east through Pennsylvania and into New York.
Harry Blackstone and Del Ray shared an obsession. Card magic. Both of them
lived for and savored the moment they could either hear or say, “Take a card.”
If there was an I.B.M. ring or a S.A.M. assembly in a town or city where
the Blackstone show played, there was invariably a dinner party or a celebra-
tion of some sort thrown for Mr. B. He relished the attention and enjoyed
attending these social events to share his card magic with the club members.
“Harry was happiest when he was in the midst of fellow aficionados,”
wrote Dan Waldron in Blackstone: A Magician’s Life. “He was always ready to
perform. It usually was a new card trick or an eye-popping baffler done with
whatever objects were at hand. He never disappointed.”
By late 1948, Blackstone had developed the habit of showing up at the
parties and magical affairs with Del Ray in tow. The old master had reached
a point in his career where he didn’t care to be the cardman on call all the
time, and he was content to tout Del’s remarkable talents (which at this time
were virtually unknown to most magicians).
Del Ray became an anomaly. He was possibly the only magician that Har-
ry ever shared the spotlight with. For decades, Mr. B had enforced a policy
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
that nobody working on the show did magic outside the theater but him. The
many assistants who had joined the show because they had dreams of becom-
ing professional magicians were always told to leave their props at home. For
this reason, Del Ray put his nightclub act on hold when he joined the tour.
But he couldn’t leave home without bringing his suitcase full of playing cards.
And it turned out to be something Mr. B was most appreciative of.
When the show played Pittsburgh the week of Thanksgiving, the dates
coincided with Ring 13’s November 24th-27th Pittsburgh Magic Conclave.
Naturally, Blackstone was invited to the four-day convention and kicked
off the festivities in grand style when he attended the night-before party. Del
Ray’s presence was mentioned in The Linking Ring by I.B.M. Secretary Dr.
A.L. Baldwin: “There was much magic done far into the night, not the least
of which was that of Del Ray, who is with the Blackstone show and was also a
Conclave special surprise. Give Del Ray a table and he is a show all his own.”
Harry took pleasure in presenting Del Ray as “one of my boys who’s
going places,” and conversely, Del took advantage of going places with Harry
to meet up with the top cardmen across the country. For example, at an after-
show party in St. Louis he befriended expert card manipulator Paul Le Paul;
while in Cleveland, he spent four days with his first teacher, Neal Elias; and
in Philadelphia, he sessioned with his friend Jack Chanin.
When the show played Buffalo, Del had the chance to work with Eddie
Fechter, as reported by Martin C. Els in The Linking Ring: “With Harry Black-
stone in town for ten shows at the Erlanger, the whole town was magic con-
scious. There were informal meetings of Ring 12 every day at Gene Gordon’s
magic emporium, with all the boys packing the shop to welcome the princi-
pals on the show, including Neil Sweet, chief technician for Blackstone. Del
Ray of Youngstown, Ohio Ring 2 is also with the show. His daily exhibi-
tion of adept handling of anyone’s deck was something to write home about.
With Del and our own dexterous Eddie Fechter handling the pasteboards at
Gene’s, we saw a real magic show of high caliber every day. Meet both of these
cardmen whenever you have the opportunity — they are clever and congenial.”
After the Blackstone show finished its December 16th-18th run at The
Auditorium in Rochester, New York, the cast was given a Christmas break,
with notice that the tour would resume December 27th at the Colonial The-
atre in Boston. While most of the folks headed home for the holidays, Del Ray
took off for New York City. He frequented the magic shops of Louis Tannen
and Max Holden (where he was invited to go to lunch with John Scarne). He
visited with his friend Slydini who was giving lessons at The Magic Center. At
the Flosso-Hornmann Magic Shop he met the owner and legendary Coney
Island Fakir, Al Flosso, who took him to the Magicians Guild of America’s
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Christmas party (and later saw to it that he received an invitation to join the
exclusive professional society). And on his way to Grand Central Station to
catch the train for Boston, Del Ray stopped by the magic roundtable at the
Dixie Hotel, where he left the boys agog when he did a one-hour solo show
of his card magic.
The exhilarating week in New York City put a bit of a damper on going back
to work for “The Old Man” (as Del now tended to call Mr. B). The show had
become drudgery, and while it had been a great learning experience trouping
with the world’s greatest magician, he began to wonder if it was time to turn
his energies toward furthering his own career as a magician.
In a letter to his friend Bob Filips, dated January 16th, 1949, Del Ray
wrote: “Everything is just fine, although I may be leaving the show. I’m getting
fed up with this bull and I got in a little trouble with the Old Man. So I don’t
know for sure. I’m just thinking it over these next couple of days.
“We were 3 weeks in Boston and I spent a whole lot of time with Tony
Kardyro. I got some nice stuff from him. I spent 2 days in Philly with Slydini.
He was doing a lecture for the S.A.M. He gave me some nice stuff. I fooled him
with my knife through the deck trick.
“We were playing Pittsburgh when the Conclave was there, and I did a lot
of work there for the boys – dice and cards. Why didn’t you come to Cleveland
with Al [Del Ray’s brother] when we were there? You should have. Al tells me all
my tricks are being done in Youngstown – wine glasses, etc. I was kind of sore at
first, but the way I feel now I don’t give a dam about nothing.
“I’m with Chanin every night. He’s teaching me a coin routine. Are you still
going to school? Are you doing many shows? If you’re not, get on the ball you lug…
Tell your Mother I said hello. Till I hear from you, your pal always, Ray.”
Del Ray got a new roommate when the Blackstone show returned to the
Walnut Street Theater in Philadelphia, January 18th through 22nd. On
the day before the load in, a rehearsal was held in the ballroom of the Ben
Franklin Hotel and the cast and crew were introduced to nineteen-year-
old Nick Ruggiero, the show’s newest assistant and soon-to-be Animal Boy.
Mr. B had hired Nick, who hailed from Springfield, Massachusetts, on the
recommendation of magic builder and dealer Joe Karson.
That afternoon, the boy and girl assistants gave Nick the usual crash-
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course of stage directions. He learned about his pre-sets, his cue assignments,
and his Animal Boy responsibilities, which, in addition to the care and feed-
ing of the creatures, included the showtime duties of loading the livestock into
their myriad secret hiding places.
As the two new roomies walked to a restaurant after the rehearsal, Del
told Nick that the hardest part of learning the show was yet to come. “The
dirty work begins tomorrow morning,” Del said, “when you get to help load
in, set up, and rig the Levitation. Be sure to wear something you don’t mind
getting trashed.” With that admonition, Nick suddenly realized why the
boys were paid $15 more per week than the girls were. It was the six male as-
sistants who basically set up the entire show.
After dinner and back at the hotel, Nick was listening to Del’s stories
about the wild and crazy things that had happened backstage during the show,
when Del abruptly paused and asked, “Nick, what sort of magic do you do?”
“I’m a cardman,” Nick said.
Looking back and reflecting on that answer, Nick said, “I know now that
was the dumbest response I could have ever made in my life. But I remember
on that first night Del didn’t know who I was, and I didn’t know who the
hell he was. Card magic was my number one interest at the time. (I wanted to
be the next Dai Vernon.) And although I did very little card magic in my act,
I told him that I was a cardman.”
All Del did was say, “So you do cards... That’s good. Show me something.”
Nick performed what he said were “my two or three best close-up card
tricks.”
“That’s good,” Del said. “Not bad at all.”
Nick then asked, “What do you do, Del?”
“Well, I fool around with a deck of cards,” he said as he asked Nick to give
his own deck a couple of good shuffles.
“He took my shuffled deck and held it by a bottom corner with his thumb
and two fingertips,” Nick recalled, “and not in a dealer’s grip. He displayed the
deck from all angles, so I could see there was no place to take a break. Then
as he riffled through the top corner he said, ‘Tell me to stop, Nick.’ I did.
‘Remember the card,’ he said, as he carefully showed me there was no way he
could hold a break. ‘Fair?’ he asked, as he immediately tossed the deck to the
table. He then picked up the deck, shuffled the hell out of them and, of course,
found my card.
“He did it again, and I was watching as close as I could, and asking myself,
‘What the hell’s this guy doing?’ I had no idea. Over the years, I never found
a cardman who could tell me what they thought he was doing. Del was good.
Very good.”
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He was very good because, as Nick would soon discover, Del Ray practiced
incessantly. He was never without a deck of cards. He practiced on the train
when the show was traveling. He practiced in the mornings when there wasn’t
a load in or set up, in the afternoons when there wasn’t a matinee, and in the
evenings after the show was over. One night when a performance ran fifteen
minutes past the traditional two and a half hours, he jokingly complained,
“The Old Man’s show of wonders is cutting into my practice time.”
Later on, Del told Nick about a little ploy he used while in the Navy
to pick up some extra practice time: “I was on a ship and they had me on
deck day and night doing all these odd jobs, and I wasn’t getting my usual
hours of practice. I needed some time alone to learn some new card tricks,
so I got myself thrown in the brig.” He involved a couple of sailors in a game
of Three Card Monte, and when he won their money they got angry and ac-
cused him of “gambling while on duty.” It was a minor charge, and Del hap-
pily gave the losers their money back in exchange for three days (and nights)
of quiet prison time to practice.
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Vermont; and Newark, New Jersey. In March, the troupe found them-
selves performing to capacity houses in Richmond and Norfolk, Virginia;
Indianapolis and Evansville, Indiana; Louisville, Kentucky; Nashville and
Memphis, Tennessee; and Atlanta, Georgia.
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Skull of Balsamo; and he demonstrated how the roll of a pair of dice could
be influenced by switching the polarity of an electromagnetic field. It’s un-
likely that Del completely understood the technical lingo Dodson was talking;
but there’s no doubt he comprehended the power that these technologies
could bring to magic.
Dodson’s basement workshop was cluttered with all sorts of motorized
mechanisms, battery-powered gadgets, and wind-up toys. Del was curious
about a singing bird automaton he saw on a workbench. Bill told him he’d
bought four of the Swiss-made cages to rebuild as remote-controlled units.
Dell O’Dell, the successful nightclub magician who was also a good friend
of Dodson’s, had asked him to rig one so she could make the bird sing on com-
mand before and after the cage was produced from a Square Circle prop.
Del Ray teasingly said, “Bill, you sell me one a those birds I can secret-
ly start ’n’ stop singing and I’ll teach him how to do card tricks.” Little did
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
A Bill Dodson-built Singing Bird, controlled by Dodson’s Secret Invention. The unit
pictured here was built for Dell O-Dell and is in the collection of Chuck Jones.
Del know when he made that statement that it would only be a matter of
months before Dodson would deliver a radio-controlled singing bird to Del.
However, it would take Del every bit of three years to live up to his end of
the deal.
Del Ray’s tenure with the Blackstone show was about to end.
After completing two engagements in Tennessee — March 16th at Nash-
ville’s Ryman Auditorium and March 18th-20th at Ellis Auditorium in Mem-
phis — the tour unexpectedly shut down on March 24th. It was on the first
day of a supposed one-week run at the Tower Theater in Atlanta, Georgia. Ear-
lier that afternoon, Del and Nick Ruggiero had assisted with the load-in and
then, after returning to the theater to double-check their presets, awaited the
master’s customary thirty-minutes-before-curtain arrival. As Harry was walk-
ing from his hotel, which was only two blocks to the theater, he suffered a
severe asthma attack and collapsed. Fortunately, bystanders took him to a
nearby hospital.
“All of us backstage knew nothing of the emergency,” Nick recalled. “The
orchestra kept playing the overture over and over, until we finally got orders
to cancel the show.” The pages of Nick’s journal for the dates March 25th,
26th, 27th, and 28th all indicate “No show/still sick,” as the cast waited for
Mr. B to recover. Written on the page for the 29th is “Got paid off and
sent home.”
Nick went back to Springfield, Massachusetts to work at Joe Karson’s
magic shop until September, when he would report to Colon, Michigan for
rehearsals to go out with Blackstone’s tour again. Del returned home to Hub-
bard, Ohio and when offered steady work at a Youngstown nightclub, he
had excuse enough to not go back with the Blackstone show.
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Chapter
16
Few people, Del Ray included, knew that George Petrosky owned the
SOHIO gas station in Hubbard with a silent partner. At some point in
time while Del was on the road with the Blackstone show, Uncle George
had a falling out with his partner. They couldn’t get along anymore and
agreed that one should buy out the other. But neither had enough cash to
make a suitable deal. So they decided to flip a coin. Uncle George
lost. However, his former partner, perhaps feeling remorse, steered him toward
a good-paying job at the Jungle Inn, a nightclub located two miles outside
of Youngstown.
Around 1945, when James “Blackie” Licovoli, a mob boss with the
Cleveland Syndicate, decided he wanted a share of the lucrative Youngstown
steelworker gambling market, he found a tavern just across the Trumbull
County line (outside the jurisdiction of Youngstown and Mahoning County
law enforcement) and turned it into the Jungle Inn. In an effort to duplicate
the success the mob enjoyed with the Lookout House in Newport, Kentucky,
the new nightclub featured a sprawling casino with roulette, dice and card
games, and over seventy-five slot machines; a showroom with big bands and
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
headline entertainers; and a fancy restaurant with a rather large lounge and
bar. Starting in early 1949, George Petrosky took the job of managing the bar,
which on some nights produced revenues that surpassed those of the casino.
In its heyday, the Jungle Inn attracted close to a thousand patrons a night, mak-
ing it one of the most profitable illegal gambling operations in Ohio.
George had often mentioned Del Ray’s name to Mike Farrah, the night-
club’s general manager, suggesting that his nephew’s magic would be a great
attraction for either the showroom or the lounge. Farrah always put him
off, saying, “Booking talent’s not my bailiwick… have the kid send his
photos to MCA, our talent agent in Cleveland.”
Farrah changed his tune the night he saw Del perform. Del had driven
out to the Jungle Inn to show his uncle a new car he’d just bought, and as
they stood in the parking lot admiring the two-year-old dark green Plymouth
coupe, George told Del that he ought to come inside, meet the general
manager and show him a trick or two. Del did, and was glad he did. Farrah
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loved his close-up magic with cards and dice and persuaded him to “stick
around a few minutes and show some tricks to some of my friends,” which
included a table full of local politicians he was schmoozing. The “few
minutes” turned into a few hours, but it was time well spent. Before he left,
Del Ray had become part of Farrah’s “bailiwick” — he was hired to perform
his close-up magic Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights in the lounge,
for the next nine weeks.
In all its years of operation, the Jungle Inn was never raided or forcibly
closed by any law enforcement officials. Even though the casino was linked
to charges of racketeering, political payoffs, mysterious disappearances, and
even murder, the police and the F.B.I. always left the place alone. But then
in August 1949, when a state fire marshal peacefully entered the premises
and cited Farrah and the Cleveland Syndicate with fourteen fire code viola-
tions, the Jungle Inn was finally shut down.
Once again, Del Ray was out of a steady job.
Del’s summer gig at the Jungle Inn, because it had been weekends only,
allowed him plenty of time to work on his nightclub act, something he’d
neglected for almost a year because of his involvement with the Blackstone
tour. He had sketched out a design for a new table. The single-leg table
he’d been using since he got out of the Navy wouldn’t hold (and hide) the
effects he was developing for the act. He wanted to be able to segue from
trick to trick as Randolph did in his smooth nightclub turn, but he didn’t
have a partner like Mary (as Randy did) to bring props on and off stage.
Del needed a roll-on table that would serve as his silent assistant.
He called his magic-builder friend Bob Kline to see if he could help.
When Del told him about some of the effects he wanted to incorporate
into his new table (among them a Floating Balloon, a remote-controlled
version of the Rising Cards, a special Vanishing Birdcage), Bob said, “You
can take a look at my table I call the ‘Modernare Roll On’ to see if we could
modify it, but it sounds like you need me to design and build you a
custom table.”
Del agreed with Bob’s assessment (primarily because he liked the
notion of having a table that was an original and unlike any other). The
next day he made the ninety-five mile drive over to Indiana, Pennsylvania
to visit Bob at his workshop and hammer out a plan (and a price) for
Kline Kraft to build the table. It was agreed that Bob would construct the
“basic shell” within the next month, and over course of the next six or seven
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months he’d assist Del with the fabrication and installation of the individual
effects. And knowing how secretive Del Ray was with his magic, it’s assumed
the two had a confidentiality agreement of some sort.
Youngstown agent Eddie Iodice continued booking Del Ray’s act into
the Pines Supper Club, the Merry Go Round, and the Tropics. But Del
had come to realize that while these venues were good proving grounds,
he should be playing to audiences beyond his own backyard. It was time
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to reach out to the more powerful agents in Pittsburgh who booked the
higher-end nightclubs and hotel showrooms across the nation. Armed with a
new 8x10 shot by prominent theatrical photographer James J. Kriegsmann
in New York, Del started driving to Pittsburgh two or three times a
month, calling on the city’s many “artists representatives,” as the agents there
liked to be called.
Perseverance was one of Del’s long suits. By September of 1949, his
self-solicitation efforts had begun to pay off. Two talent bookers, the Joe
Hiller Agency and Anne King Productions, were filling his calendar with
good-paying show dates — so many that in October he decided to move
to The Steel City.
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Chapter
17
Del Ray was already a familiar face on the Pittsburgh magic scene. He’d at-
tended I.B.M. Ring 13 meetings on a frequent basis since getting out of the
Navy, and he’d made a measureable impact on the membership when he
showed up to perform his close-up miracles at the last Pittsburgh Magic
Conclave. So when he announced that he was relocating to their fair city, he
was welcomed with open arms.
Del responded by volunteering to provide the program for Ring 13’s
November 9th meeting, which was reported on in the December issue of
The Linking Ring: “Del Ray entertained with his wonderful sleight of hand
in a three-hour lecture/demonstration that had the boys standing on chairs
and gasping. His patience and willingness in repeating the tricks and moves
has endeared him to the members. We wholeheartedly recommend him for
your ring’s educational features. He’ll show you how to do everything he
knows (and that is a lot) except the color-changing dice routine and dice
switching which was given to him with the promise that it be never shown
or published.”
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SHOWTIME
9:30 p.m. – Overture
Music by Joe Schafer’s Orchestra
C.K. Koontz – Introduction
Jay Seiler – Master of Ceremonies
introducing
Bob and Jeanne Allen – Harmonica Stylists
Del Ray – America’s Foremost Magician
Jay Seiler & Miriam Seabold – Inzanity on Skis
Herb and Betty Warner – Original and Exciting Song Revue
The Six Staneks – Hungarian Teeter Board Sensations
Acts provided by Anne King Productions, Pittsburgh, Pa.
The first major nightclub job that Del Ray received through Anne King Pro-
ductions was a two-week engagement at The Vagabond in Miami Beach,
where he opened the show for impressionist Babe Pier. When he re-
turned home, he was booked for two weeks at the Ankara nightclub, then
another two weeks at Dore’s Supper Club. The reviews were good, the
club owners were happy, and mid way through the run at Dore’s, Del got a
call from Marge Nelson, the agent who shared the office with Anne King,
advising that he’d been booked for the month of February at the Copa
nightclub in Pittsburgh. He needed to stop by the office and sign the contract.
As many times as Del had visited the Anne King Productions office on
the third floor of the Jackson Building in downtown Pittsburgh he’d never
met Anne. But this time he did.
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Del performing Paper Balls Over the Head on an Anne King Productions
show in 1949.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Several Pittsburgh magicians went to the Copa to see Del Ray perform. One
of them was Ralph Schugar, a friend of Del’s who was quite surprised by
what he saw. During the two years Ralph had known Del he had only seen
him perform his close-up magic; he had no idea that Del was working on
a pantomime act.
After the show Ralph told Del that he admired what he was doing, but he
thought the act was badly in need of some direction. Ralph felt that he had
copied too much from Randolph’s act, and he told Del that he should elimi-
nate these elements and keep only the magic that was original and unique to
him. Ralph told Del if he agreed with his assessment and wanted to “make
some fixes before it was too late” he would help.
Ralph Schugar was a well-to-do mortician whose funeral home
served Pittsburgh’s Jewish community. He was a serious semi-professional
magician (and card-carrying member of the American Guild of Variety
Artists) who had a profound interest in magic’s past, present, and future.
He had served terms as presidents of both Ring 13 of the International
Brotherhood of Magicians and Assembly 18 of the Society of American
Magicians in Pittsburgh. Ralph possessed an extensive library of antiquar-
ian and contemporary magic books, a collection of classic magic apparatus
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valued (at the time) at more than $35,000, a workshop outfitted with the
latest power tools, and he had a 100-seat fully equipped Chinese-decor
theater built into his home. Schugar offered to place all of these resources at
Del Ray’s disposal if he’d let him coach his act.
For the next twelve months, any time Del wasn’t performing, he was
working under the bright lights of Schugar’s stage, practicing and reworking
and rehearsing the act. Ralph would sit in the darkened theater — as an au-
dience of one — and critique. As the routines evolved, hours upon hours
of 16mm color movies were shot. The films were screened and studied to
make adjustments and corrections. As Del added new touches and fine-tuned
each effect, more movies were made and analyzed.
When one considers what is accomplished nowadays with digital video,
Schugar’s approach to coaching via 16mm film seems primitive. But realizing
it was done in 1951 — two decades before the availability of home video
cameras and recorders — it was a remarkable endeavor.
Once the twelve-minute act was set, Ralph hired Harold Rouse, a
Pittsburgh magician and musician who was the president of the Theater
Organists Society, to record some fitting musical accompaniment. The best
takes of Del’s routines were edited, spliced together, and synched with the
soundtrack. The “undertaker turned filmmaker” was so proud of his work
(which he titled The Magical World of Del Ray) that he asked the photo lab
to add an end credit: “Produced & Directed by Ralph F. Schugar.”
In an interview that appeared in The Linking Ring (June 1958) seven years
after the film was made, Del Ray said of Schugar: “This is the man I give a
lot of credit to for my success… It was Ralph who gave me the confidence
to go big time.”
Ralph ended up having a copy of his film made for Anne King to send
to Marlo Lewis, the co-producer of Ed Sullivan’s Toast of the Town show. The
effort would result in a booking on the popular Sunday night television
program and, as it would be with other performers of the era, the Sullivan
credit on Del Ray’s resume would become a key to opening many important
show-business doors.
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106
Chapter 18
Chapter
18
The very first I.B.M./S.A.M. Combined Convention, held in Chicago May
27th through 30th, 1950, was a rousing success. Over 1,100 magicians
from around the world showed up — including John Ramsay from Scotland,
Geoffrey Buckingham of England, Cedric from South Africa, and Sorcar of
India — to perform and/or lecture. Among the American wizards in at-
tendance were Harry Blackstone, Paul Le Paul, Jack Gwynne, Marvyn Roy,
Richard Himber, Percy Abbott, Wallace Lee, George La Follette, Karrell
Fox, Clarke “The Senator” Crandall, and Dr. Stanley Jaks.
Del Ray had been offered a performance spot on one of the shows
but turned it down. He elected to join up with his friends Bob Filips and
Nick Yahn, who’d driven over from Youngstown, for a relaxing four-day
Memorial Day weekend of fun and magic. However, Bob told a story of
how Ray (Del’s given name that Bob always used) managed to make the
first two days of his stay at the convention anything but “relaxing.”
“On the first day, after we registered, got our convention programs and
looked over the schedule,” Bob recalled, “Ray headed straight for the room
where they were having the eleven o’clock ‘Close-up Session.’ Everybody
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
was doing card tricks and he watched a fellow named Carmen D’Amico do
a trick that he was selling. It was called ‘A Devilish Miracle.’ Ray was totally
taken by the effect, and he talked D’Amico into teaching him how to do it.”
The booklet describing Edward Marlo and Carmen D’Amico’s Devilish
Miracle originally sold for $1.50 when it was released to the magic frater-
nity in 1947. Marlo’s succinct description of the effect appeared with most of
the advertising: “A selected card vanishes, reappears, and transposes itself with
another previously selected card.”
“As soon as Ray felt that he knew all of the mechanics of the trick he
went back to our hotel room,” Bob said. “Nick and I spent the rest of the
afternoon at a lecture, we watched most of the originality contest, and then
walked around the dealers room. When it came time for dinner we went up
to the room to freshen up, and there was Ray sitting at the desk with a deck
of cards, practicing the Devilish Miracle.
“I said to him, ‘Ray, Nick and I are going out to get a bite to eat, and
then we are going to go catch the evening show. Put the cards away and come
with us.’
“He said, ‘No, you two go on. I have some work to do on this trick.’
“We could not convince him to take a break. So we went to eat and see
the show. When we came back to the room at twelve o’clock, Ray was still at
the desk, cards in hand, still working on the Devilish Miracle.
“We tried to talk with him about the great show we’d just seen, but he
would not look up and just kept going through the moves. I finally said,
‘Ray, we’ve got to get to bed. Can you please turn off the light?’
“‘Go ahead and go to sleep,’ he said. ‘The light shouldn’t bother you.’
“Well, I had already set my travel alarm clock for six a.m., so I threw the
covers up over my head and dozed off. Of course, when the alarm went off
at six, Ray was still at the desk and still working on the card trick. As Nick
and I got dressed, I said, ‘Ray, we are going downstairs and get breakfast.
Certainly, you are going to join us, aren’t you?’
“He said, ‘No, I’m not quite where I want to be with this trick yet.’
“After breakfast, we were off to the dealer show and then a lecture,
and around one o’clock we went back up to the room. Ray was still there
wearing the same clothes, and because he hadn’t shaved he now had a beard.
We pleaded with him to stop and join us for lunch. But no, he said that he’d
catch up with us later.
“Nick and I went to eat, watched the afternoon show, went to another
lecture, hung around the dealers room some more, and came back to the room
at six o’clock. Ray was on the bed fast asleep. I shook him and said, ‘Let’s go
get a bite to eat, you haven’t eaten in two days.’
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“He said, ‘Okay, but first let me show you a little routine I’ve been work-
ing on. It’s called A Devilish Miracle…’ He sat up and performed the trick
as if he’d been doing it longer than Carmen D’Amico or Ed Marlo had.
We then went to dinner and the big show. But for those first two days,
nothing had mattered but the perfection of that one trick. That was how
Ray learned his magic. It was all or nothing.”
The rest of Del Ray ‘s free time at the convention was spent at Sena-
tor Crandall’s booth in the dealer room, where he huddled with Crandall
and Ed Marlo, learning everything he could about dice stacking and
dice switching.
Once perfected, the Devilish Miracle became a regular part of Del Ray’s
card-magic repertoire.
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110
Chapter 19
Chapter
19
Anne King believed in the power and the glory of the variety performer.
At a time when other theatrical agents and talent bookers blamed televi-
sion for killing vaudeville and the future of variety acts, Miss King went into
the business of show business to prove them wrong. Joining forces with
fellow agent Marge Nelson, she chartered Anne King Productions in 1947.
Within a year, the two-woman operation had become a leading supplier
of top variety talent — be it song stylists and dance teams, jugglers and
magicians, or acrobats and equilibrists, and monologists and comics.
Like many agents, Anne King got her start in show business as a perform-
er. Born in Pittsburgh on August 7, 1907, she spent most of her childhood
years singing and dancing in minstrel shows. As a teenager she enjoyed fame
as a flapper, dancing the Charleston in ballrooms and dance halls around
the city.
The year she turned twenty-one, Anne and her dance partner, Tommy
Nolan, won the 1928 World Charleston Championship at New York’s
Madison Square Garden. The victory led to contracts for the dance team
of “Tommy & Anna” to work various nightclubs in New York, Boston,
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Philadelphia, and Atlantic City. The couple was engaged and on the verge of
getting married when, in 1932, Tommy died unexpectedly.
No doubt distressed and unsure of the direction she should take with her
dancing career, Anne took a job as the line captain and choreographer for
Palumbo’s, a nightclub and entertainment complex in South Philadelphia.
She eventually went back to dancing, and for almost ten years appeared in
nightclub revues and stage shows across the Midwest and the Northeastern
United States.
When World War II broke out, she danced in a few USO shows that
played YMCAs and military bases, before joining the producing staff for USO
Camp Shows, Inc. By 1947, Anne had completed her move to the other
side of the footlights by opening her own agency. Under the banner of
Anne King Productions, she would continue to provide variety talent for not
only nightclubs and hotels but also corporate events and private parties for
the next fifty-two years.
Del Ray’s personal life, much like his professional life, was filled with secrets.
One of the best kept of his personal secrets was when, where, and why he
proposed marriage to Anne King.
When Del started dating Anne in the fall of 1949, many people were
surprised to learn there was a twenty-year difference in their ages: he was
twenty-two, she was forty-two. So, when certain people received invitations
to the couple’s wedding in the summer of 1950 they were somewhat startled.
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Anne’s friends and relatives were taken aback because years ago, after
the death of her beloved dance partner and fiancé, she vehemently asserted
she would never marry.
Del’s family and friends were stunned to find out he had a personal interest
in anyone other than a magician.
“I was really surprised when I heard he was getting married,” said Bob
Filips. “In all the years I knew Ray, he never showed an interest in women.
For example, if an attractive lady was walking our way and I’d say, ‘Check out
the legs on that girl,’ he would never even look up. His only interest was his
magic. I have to stress that Ray was not gay. As many times as we were to-
gether in hotel rooms or dressing rooms there was never any indication that he
was other than heterosexual. So it always bothered me when he got married,
because I knew that magic was the only thing in his life that really mattered.”
Raymond Petrosky and Anne King were wedded in a Catholic church
in Pittsburgh on Tuesday, July 18th, 1950. Anne’s niece, Patricia McDermott,
who was the flower girl in the wedding ceremony, recalls, “Even though their
ages were twenty years apart, you would swear that they were teenage newly-
weds.”
To celebrate the occasion, Del bought a new Chevrolet Styleline
Sport Coupe, and the couple drove to Daytona Beach, Florida for a one-
week honeymoon.
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114
Chapter 20
Chapter
20
Del Ray’s offer for an appearance on the Toast of the Town show was made
in April 1951 via a telegram from Ed Sullivan’s talent coordinator Mark
Leddy. Apparently, Leddy and the show’s co-producer, Marlo Lewis, had
viewed the 16mm film of Del’s act that Anne King had submitted, they liked
what they watched, and Lewis was in the position to offer $300 for a five-
minute spot on the June 24th program.
When Anne called Leddy to accept, he told her that he had booked Del
into the Blue Angel for a two-week run before his Sullivan show appearance.
He advised that he was taking a gamble booking a magic act into the posh
New York City nightclub that never used magicians. But he told Anne that
he liked Del Ray’s magic. It was different from the other magic acts out there.
“Your boy’s got edge,” Leddy said, “and the tails and the white gloves are the
finishing touches those sophisticated snobs at the Angel will love.”
While it was Ralph Schugar’s coaching that had given the act “edge,” it
was Anne who was responsible for adding the “finishing touches.”
Del Ray’s friend Bob Filips said, “Ray owed a strong portion of his early
success to Anne, and it wasn’t for the top shows and bookings she got him,
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but the attention she gave him with respect to his personal appearance. For
example, Ray’s complexion was far from perfect, and she showed him how to
use pancake makeup. He had the hands of a Youngstown steelworker (even
though he didn’t work in the mills), and Anne got those nails cleaned up and
manicured, so that when he worked close-up, dirty hands or nails never dis-
tracted people. She taught him how to dress and spend a little extra money to
get a tailored set of tails.”
Anne transformed her husband into that fashion plate of a nightclub magi-
cian that he’d dreamed of being since he was a teenager.
v
There could not have been a better venue for Del Ray to make his New York
debut than the ritzy Blue Angel. During his first week, he shared the stage
with legendary jazz singer Mildred Bailey; a twenty-three-year-old crooner by
the name of Andy Williams, who, after singing four years in a quartet with his
brothers was making his solo debut; Eddie Mayehoff, a character actor who
served as emcee; and the Ellis Larkin Trio.
Del Ray’s turn at the Blue Angel garnered him industry recognition in the
form of a review in Variety’s “New Acts” column:
“Del Ray is a smooth magico, highly adept at palming, card manipu-
lations and scarf work. He opens with a few throwaway tricks, such
as disappearing knots in the scarves, and then segues into sleight of
hand. He works rapidly and skillfully. Appearance of lighted cigarettes
and filled wine glasses keeps the customers mystified. Most of Ray’s
tricks are standard, but he adopts a pantomimic style that gives his
tricks a comedic effect. He’s garbed in formal attire for acceptance in
the plush spots.” — Jose [Variety columnist Joe Cohen].
Bruce Elliott, editor of The Phoenix, a bi-monthly magazine for magicians,
came to see the show and ran the following review in his June 15, 1951 issue:
“Del Ray at the Blue Angel proves that magic, while it may have the
blind staggers at the moment, is still not quite moribund. Oddly in-
teresting to us was the success of Del Ray at the Angel. This bistro, is,
as you may or may not be aware of, the most chic of the East Side
nighteries. Therefore, we were pleasurably amazed to find Del Ray,
who does fine, straightforward baffling pantomime magic, being ex-
ceedingly well received by even the blasé devotees of the Angel.
“As far as we know, Del Ray is the first magic act as such that has
ever been presented in these plush surroundings. Jay Marshall when
he played there was, after all, presenting satire and humor, not magic
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per se. Del Ray, who was at one time the number one boy on the
Blackstone show, makes them gasp and applaud. As a matter of fact,
he fooled the masters at our table on opening night when we caught
his act. He has a penetration of a napkin by a wine glass and sub-
sequent vanish of said glass that made us take off our specs and rub
them well. Nicecard sword with selection found in a floating balloon,
and disappearance of caged canary for a finale. His close-up work
with cards is as fine as his stage work.”
The run at the Blue Angel ended on the Saturday night before his Sun-
day evening, June 24th appearance on Toast of the Town. On the previous
Thursday, Del had reported to the Maxine Elliott Theatre (an old Broadway
house on West 39th Street that CBS transformed into a television studio)
for a pre-show meeting with Marlo Lewis. It was the co-producer’s responsibil-
ity every week to coordinate the rehearsals of the singers and dancers, set the
acts’ running times, work with orchestra leader Ray Bloch to get all the musi-
cal arrangements ready, and see that the scenic designers got their work done;
in short, it was Marlo Lewis’s job to mount the show. Co-producer and host
Ed Sullivan would not see it until dress rehearsal on Sunday afternoon.
Having already viewed the movie of Del Ray’s twelve-minute act, Marlo
had notions of which tricks could be cut to get the running time closer to
the five-minute spot they had for his act. He wanted to eliminate the Ris-
ing Cards and the Card Sword because of the time required to go into the
audience and have cards selected, and he wanted to cut the Zombie routine
because six weeks prior Kajar had performed the trick on the program.
Del had brought along his props and Marlo had his stopwatch. As Del
performed what was basically the front part of his act — his cigarette ma-
nipulations, dove production and vanish, wine glass productions, and
his card fanning routine — Marlo timed it. Four minutes, thirty seconds
on the button. Marlo asked Del if thirty seconds was enough time to do
his Vanishing Birdcage. When Del said yes, it was decided that the Birdcage
would be his final trick. At this point, Ray Bloch’s piano player sat down
and sketched out a lead sheet for the arranger. Del was told to return to the
studio Saturday afternoon, when he could walk through his act as the band
rehearsed his music.
Del was blown away when he first heard his music played by an eigh-
teen piece orchestra. He really liked the way all three of the tunes he had
requested — “Every Little Movement Has a Meaning All Its Own,” “It’s Mag-
ic,” and “The Waltz You Saved For Me” — were scored together. The only
problem was when the band played through the charts, they finished before
he got to his final trick. Ray Bloch told Marlo Lewis they could “stretch” the
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music if needed. Marlo said no, and he told Del to pick up his pace. Or cut
something. And he had less than twenty-four hours to figure it out.
There was always a packed house for the one p.m. dress rehearsal on Sun-
day. Sullivan lived to do the audience warm-up. He would always step on-
stage and ask, “Anybody here from out of town?” When most of the audience
members raised their hands he’d say, “No wonder us New Yorkers can’t get
a ticket for the show.” After bumbling through a few more placid stabs at
humor, he’d tell the audience they were there to have a good time and be sure
to smile, “especially when the cameras look at you,” adding, “It’s not for me
but for those folks back home who paid for you to get here.”
What the smiling dress-rehearsal audience didn’t realize was they were
about to be part of serious piece of show business. How they reacted would
determine the shape of the live show at eight. A comedian who didn’t get
laughs from the one o’clock audience was usually out of the lineup for
that evening. A singer who sang a song that either Sullivan or the dress-
rehearsal audience didn’t like would find herself learning a new song. A
trained-animal act that didn’t seem to fit in with the mix of the show would
be paid off and sent home, even if the trainer and his beasts had been flown
all the way from Europe. In addition to cuts, Sullivan would take time
from an act and add it to another, and almost always he would rearrange
the order of performance. “That was his true talent,” said Mark Leddy, who
worked with Sullivan from the first show in 1947 till the final broadcast in
1971. “Ed could take a line-up that was shit vaudeville in the afternoon and
reshape it into a jewel of a show by that evening.”
Del Ray’s spot on the dress-rehearsal show went okay. Sullivan was hap-
py with the way Del’s magic drew “oohs” and “aahs” from the studio audi-
ence. However, Marlo Lewis was concerned that Del’s act was now running
seven minutes — two minutes too long. Ray Bloch told them he’d stretched
the music by repeating the chorus of “The Waltz You Saved for Me” three and
a half times! Marlo, Sullivan, Leddy and Bloch huddled over the matter.
Finally, Ed told them Del Ray could have six minutes. He said they could
“take a minute from the dog-and-monkey act and give it to the magician.”
Del borrowed a stopwatch and went to his dressing room with intentions to
hone his routine down to 360 seconds.
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Appearing with Del Ray on the program were William Warfield, baritone
from the 1951 movie Show Boat; baggy-pants, slapstick comedian Pinky
Lee; violinist Maria Neglia; Smith & Dale, a popular vaudeville comedy
team that performed together for seventy years; The Szonys, a brother and
sister ballet team; Baudy’s Greyhound & Monkey, and the Toastettes (June
Taylor dancers).
Del was the second act on the show. Pinky Lee, who’d become a regu-
lar on Sullivan’s Toast of the Town that season (eleven appearances), opened
with a comedy skit involving Ed and a couple of character actors. Upon
returning to his usual stage-right post, Sullivan uttered: “Now from Pitts-
burgh, another act for you youngsters and your parents, Del Ray. So let’s have
a nice welcome for Del Ray...”
As the orchestra played an eight-bar fanfare, Del briskly walked on-
stage wearing top hat, tails, white gloves, cane under arm, a lit cigarette in
his mouth, and carrying a Break-Apart Dove Vanish on a three-fold stand,
which was placed downstage near a nightclub roll-on table. As the music seg-
ued to “Every Little Movement Has a Meaning of its Own,” Del puffed on
the cigarette, tossed it to the floor, and then reached out and produced an-
other lit cigarette, before transforming the cane into a silk handkerchief.
A smaller silk handkerchief was pulled from his breast pocket and bundled
with the first one. When a puff of smoke was blown onto the handkerchiefs
a dove appeared.
A girl assistant (one of the Toastettes) walked onstage and Del trans-
ferred the dove from one hand to the other. He took the cigarette from his
mouth and tossed it to the floor, and then not speaking but silently forming
the words, “There’s another one out there,” he reached high into the air and
produced another lit cigarette at his gloved fingertips.
The cigarette was put between his lips and the dove was placed in the box.
Then with a clap of his hands and a puff of cigarette smoke, the box was
taken apart piece by piece, handing the pieces to the assistant. Three-fold
stand was revolved and folded flat to show that the dove has disappeared.
As the music segued to “It’s Magic,” Del removed the cigarette from
his mouth, tossed it into the air, watched it fall to the floor, and stamped
it out with little dance steps. Then mouthing the words, “There’s one,” he
reached out and produced another lit cigarette.
Del picked up a large patterned silk scarf from the table and wound it
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
ropelike, grasped it by the center, and after removing the cigarette from his
mouth and tossing it to the floor and stamping it out, he made a one-
handed knot. He then untied the knot and silently mouthed the words,
“Let’s try it once more.” The scarf was again twirled ropelike and another knot
was tied. After causing this knot to disappear, he covered his right hand
with the scarf. With his left hand he made a gesture of tipping an imaginary
glass to his lips. “Ah, yes.” He slowly pulled the scarf aside to reveal that his
right hand was holding a glass of wine.
He made a toasting gesture toward the audience and drank the wine,
tossing the empty glass (into a servante) behind the tabletop. He transferred
the handkerchief that was held in his left hand to his right hand and pro-
duced another glass of wine. Another toast was made as he sipped the contents
and tossed the empty glass aside.
The handkerchief was quickly brought forward and draped over his right
hand and when it was whisked away, he was holding a third glass of wine.
This glass was larger than the first two produced. The camera followed Del
as he carried the glass offstage and out into the studio audience.
A second camera picked up a shot of a man sitting on the front row tak-
ing the wine glass, and then drinking its contents as Del stood by waiting for
the empty glass. Del returned to the stage, ditching the glass as he walked
behind his table. Then from the handkerchief he’d been holding by his left
side he produced another one of the smaller glasses of wine.
The “handkerchief of plenty” was dropped on the tabletop and exchanged
for a white paper napkin, which was used to cover the glass of wine still
held at the fingertips of his left hand. The top rim of the wine glass was
carefully poked through a small tear in the center of the napkin. Del mouthed
what looked like the words, “Now you see it…” Then with a blink of his
eyes, the glass suddenly zipped out of view, and he gently crumpled the
napkin into a ball and tossed it upward and to the floor. He showed both
sides of his gloved hands to prove the wine glass had vanished.
He picked up a playing card box, opened the flap, and made a wrist jerk-
ing motion, as if trying to shake the deck out of the box. But nothing came
out. When he took the box in his other hand, a flash and a puff of smoke
shot out, and he produced a small white silk handkerchief from the cloud.
The music segued to “The Waltz You Saved for Me,” as the hank was
twirled ropelike, and after another tying-and-disappearing knot move it was
simply tucked into the top pocket of his coat.
Another card box was picked up and this time a fan of cards came out.
Diminishing card fans were made, followed by more fans, one-hand cuts,
a one-hand riffle shuffle, and a few more fan flourishes.
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Del then pantomimed the actions of rolling an invisible cigarette and plac-
ing it in his mouth. A matchbox was picked up from the table and brought
up to his face, and when he lowered it to remove a match, a cigarette was
seen in his mouth. The match was struck to light the cigarette. After a couple
of puffs, it was thrown away and another was produced at the fingertips.
The cards were picked up again to perform more one- and two-hand
fans. This short sequence ended with half of the pack being cascaded into the
servante; the other half was produced as a fan (from back-palm position)
and dropped into the servante.
Still puffing on his cigarette, Del took off his gloves one by one, then
removed his top hat and threw the gloves into it, placing it on the table.
The cigarette was taken from his mouth, thrown to the floor, stamped on
and, of course, another appeared at his fingertips.
Another large silk scarf was picked up, twirled ropelike, and used for the
Serpentine Silk (which got nice applause). At this point, Del paused for a
second or two to reach into his right sleeve with his left hand, obviously
feeling for something. After a Silk-Through-Ring Penetration, he repeated
the Serpentine Silk. Then there was a full five-second dig into his right
sleeve, groping around his arm and wrist with his left hand (until he located
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in supper clubs, but the nasty old camera concentrated attention where
it should not have been.”
It is conceivable that Ed Sullivan ridiculed Del Ray’s canary trick be-
cause he was not pleased with Del’s performance — specifically, the length of
Del’s performance. He had let his act run considerably over the time he
had been given. Ed had extended his time to six minutes; Del took a full seven.
When it came to making every minute count, Sullivan was a taskmas-
ter and ran his show with an iron hand. Once, when Dinah Shore wouldn’t
cut a chorus from a song she sang at dress rehearsal, she was told to go
home. A well-known comic who added a thirty-second joke to his Sunday
night routine was never invited back. Whether or not Del Ray got the cold
shoulder from Ed that night would never be known.
Several years after he’d done the Sullivan show, Del told magician friend
Harry Riser that, at the time, he knew his act was going to run over time
and “really didn’t care.” He got “rattled” when he lost his hook-up for
the Vanishing Birdcage pull. He impulsively repeated a sequence of card
fans while he was trying to “figure out in his head” how he was going to
finish the act. Luckily, after his second on-camera sleeve search Del found
the gimmick and placed the cage on his hand, which was the bandleader’s
cue for the closing drum roll. And when that cage with the canary finally
did make its disappearance, it would be its last.
On the drive home to Pittsburgh that night, as the birdcage blunder re-
played itself over and over in his head, Del Ray came to the conclusion that
the Vanishing Birdcage would no longer be a part of his nightclub act.
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powered flasher inside the playing card case, Del Ray’s magic was accom-
plished with skillful sleight of hand and the clever utilization of traditional
principles. His steals and productions of lighted cigarettes were bold, off
beat, and lightning fast. The wine glass productions and the deceptive vanish
of the glass from beneath the paper napkin showed his mastery of the use
of Hold Outs and pulls. (Del’s unfortunate Sullivan show mishap with the
Vanishing Birdcage pull showed just how risky this sort of work can be.)
The animated table and the flashes of fire — special effects that would
within the course of less than two years become signature with Del
Ray — were still in the works. There was no singing bird that divined se-
lected cards. No tippling teddy bear to share drinks with. Nor were there
rising cards that ascended from the pack when commanded to do so by a
magician standing in the middle of the audience. These marvelous machi-
nations were waiting in the wings and they would not become part of Del
Ray’s innovative brand of wizardry until 1953.
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Chapter
21
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
126
Chapter 22
Chapter
22
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Del Ray’s engagement at the Palace marked the first time the famed
vaudeville house offered first-run movies with an eight-act stage show.
For the record, in 1950 there had been a revival of traditional vaudeville
at the Palace Theater, which had been operating as a straight motion-picture
house since 1935. The 1950 return to a live-show policy was successful. Then
in 1953, the Palace decided to bring movies back and instigated a format of
continuous-run feature films combined with eight-act vaudeville shows.
The following write-up and review of the first film/vaude show appeared in
the May 9, 1953 issue of The Billboard:
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
“Now that the N.Y. Palace has switched back to flickers and eight acts
we can look forward to a goodly share of sorcerers. First on the switch-
back was Raymond Petrosky, whose nom the prestidigitation is Del
Ray. Attired in evening clothes with tall hat he presents a fast panto-
mimic act with the accent on sleight of hand. He uses the most tricked-
up table since Fabian. I understand it rolls on by itself, but the show I
caught it stalled in the wings. Periodically, the table shoots out flashes
of fire. Cards and cigs are manipulated. First applause is the produc-
tion of a dove; next, when a glass of wine appears. You’ll like the van-
ish of a wine glass. Finish is with canaries. Four are in a cage on his
table throughout. He took out three, and one flew offstage. The three
were tucked under a silk in his top hat on a stand. The fire-belching
table shot off a large flare. Zip, the hat and silk were empty, and the
three birds are back in the cage.
“His tricks dovetailed too fast for applause, and the flashes, while
spectacular, were distracting. They could be used much more wisely
to build climaxes. Originality was evident throughout the routine and
for this he rates cheers. However, the tricks had no clear-cut termi-
nations and the applause was only a fraction of what it should have
been. As a magic fan, you’ll enjoy the act immensely. Show-wise it
needs lots of work.”
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Early in his career, Del developed a habit of keeping family and friends advised of his
travels via postcards.
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Chapter 23
Chapter
23
From the Palace Theater engagement onward, Del Ray’s scrapbooks are filled
with pages upon pages of clippings and reviews of his nightclub triumphs.
The earliest paste-ins are the now-yellowed newspaper ads from the Barclay
Hotel, where Del opened for movie star Mickey Rooney, and ads for
the Elmwood Casino, where Del was a featured act in Al Siegel’s All-Star Show-
boat Revue.
There is also an article clipped from Toronto’s daily paper, The Star, which
indicates Del Ray’s close-up work was becoming as popular with patrons as
his pantomime act. In his “Fun Fare” column, Ken Johnson wrote:
“Joey Poster, the rotund agent said, ‘I’ll bring him over to your table
and he’ll do some card tricks for you.’ The gentleman of whom Joey
spoke that evening in the Barclay Indigo Room was Del Ray, billed as
‘America’s Foremost Magician.’ We are not the type to argue with such
a statement.
“Sure enough, Ray came around — a strongly-built, fair-haired
gentleman. He carried a case containing two decks of cards, some
dice and a stout leather cup he had picked up in Japan while serving
in the U.S. navy. The usual formality of handshaking was followed by
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Chapter 24
Chapter
24
More than five hundred magicians and their families and aficionados of the
art checked into Philadelphia’s Bellevue Stratford Hotel, June 11th through
13th, 1953. The I.B.M.’s Thursday-through-Saturday convention was packed
with stage shows, close-up shows, a carnival game night, an auction, two deal-
ers shows, contests, and lectures that ran from nine in the morning till past
midnight. In addition, there were showings of General Electric’s “House of
Magic” attraction and a preview screening of Paramount Films’ soon-to-be-
released Houdini, starring Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh.
“There were so many events that only a pair of twins could see everything,”
wrote Milbourne Christopher in Hugard’s Magic Monthly. “Memorable were
the elegance and slickness of Channing Pollock, the lectures of Fred Keating
and John Mulholland, and the ingenuities of Del Ray.”
Del Ray was not scheduled to perform until the last day of the convention.
The souvenir program listed him appearing on the Saturday afternoon close-
up show called Miracles and that evening’s Farewell Stage Spectacular. This was
not to say that Del had to wait until the last day to show conventioneers his
latest feats of card conjuring. Ever since Thursday, he could be found hang-
ing out in the Card Room on the 18th floor of the hotel, were he was part
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By the time of the Philadelphia IBM convention, Del Ray had replaced Dodson’s Swiss-
made birdcage with a larger radio-controlled Singing Bird of his own devising.
J.G. Thompson’s assertion that Del Ray had “devoted four years to per-
fecting his mechanical canary” supports the assumption that the prototype
for Del’s singing bird was the Swiss birdcage automaton he’d purchased
from Bill Dodson in 1949 (which would have been four years prior to the
Philadelphia convention). Del had reinstalled the Secret Invention’s re-
ceiver into the base of a larger rectangular birdcage automaton (possibly of
German make), but in all probability little of his time was spent modify-
ing the remote-control technologies that Dodson had already developed.
Instead, his creative energies were devoted to perfecting a “learned bird” routine
that was distinctively original.
Del Ray’s talkative canary was much like the infamous Learned (pro-
nounced lern-ed) Pig of the early 19th century — a creature that seemed
able to count and intelligently answer questions. But instead of being a barn-
yard animal trained to respond to secret verbal or gestural cues, it was a me-
chanical bird that was secretly controlled by radio frequencies. Hidden in
the base of the cage was a receiver that actuated the spring-wound motor,
which animated the bird and caused it to start and stop singing. The
transmitter was concealed on Del Ray’s body and was operated by a toe switch.
Remote controlling a mechanical device via radio frequencies was no
great mystery in the 1950s. People were more than familiar with radio-con-
trolled model airplanes, garage door openers, and guided missiles for example.
However, if radio control was used in a subtle manner, so that the notion
of technology was not associated with the cause of an effect, it had the potential to
create mystery.
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What made Del Ray’s birdcage effect a mystery was not how he disguised
the method for controlling the bird; instead, how he controlled the artificial
intelligence of the bird. It appeared that Del Ray could read the bird’s mind
and, in turn, the bird seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. It was
about brainwaves, not radio waves. Del Ray’s Singing Bird routine was a mod-
ern-day Second Sight act.
Though the Singing Bird had made auspicious appearances with Del Ray
in early 1953 — when he worked close-up at the Ankara nightclub and at
Jackie Heller’s Carousel in Pittsburgh, and at Leon & Eddie’s in New York
City — the Philadelphia I.B.M. convention that summer was the first time
the routine was unveiled for audiences of magicians only.
When Del Ray was introduced to an audience he had a disarming yet
disconcerting way of keeping his head down and averted. He avoided eye-to-
eye confrontation with the people clustered around the close-up table and
focused his attention on getting his props in place before uttering a word.
He unlocked a walnut-stained wooden box from which he removed an
eight-inch-high gilded cage containing a small feathered bird.
He tossed a pack of playing cards onto the table and rather than ad-
dressing the audience he asked the bird, “Do you want to show these folks a
little trick?”
The bird ruffled his feathers and chirped three times.
“He says he does.” Then turning to the bird Del said, “You got to remem-
ber to always keep your tail up.”
The bird cocked his head, quickly pointed his tail upward, and chirped
twice.
“Now he says he’s really ready.”
Two cards were picked. One of them was removed from the deck and
hidden in a spectator’s pocket. The other was a card that was merely thought
of (actually peeked at). As two fans of cards were shuffled together with a
flourish, the bird was challenged to reveal the card’s identities.
“It’s your job to find the cards. Do you understand?”
Two warbles and a chirp emanated from the cage.
“He says no problem.”
The uncanny antics of the bird were getting laughs, but it was Del’s
unique manner of expression that had the audience thoroughly amused. He
had the husky voice of a longshoreman. His diction was far from polished and
reflected his working-class background. Yet there was warmth and charm in
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his deliberate humor. And from the way he talked, Del Ray was the last
person on the planet you would suspect of employing technology to trick you.
Del then removed a $50 bill from his pocket and told the audience, “If
the bird doesn’t find your card fifty dollars comes your way, compliments
of me.”
Packets of cards were cut from the deck and fanned in front of the bird-
cage until the bird broke into a short singsong. “The bird thinks the card’s in
this part of the deck.” Then Del told the bird, “That’s my fifty dollars that’s on
the line, but remember, Buster, it’s your neck.”
The bird turned his head, raised his tail, and chirped loudly. “He says
it was a red card.” More chirps. “A Heart? Yeah?” Another prolonged chirp.
“The bird says you are thinking of the Queen of Hearts.” The spectator took
the card from his pocket. It was the Queen.
The other chosen card was found when a dozen or so cards were spread
faces down on the table. “Point to the backs of the cards one at a time and
the bird will tell you when you touch your card. And, remember, if the bird is
wrong, the fifty dollars is yours, compliments of me.”
The spectator put her finger on the backs of the different cards until the
bird sang out. “Hold it! Keep your finger right there.” More chirps. “Keep
in mind… if the bird misses, he’s only human.” The bird whistled loudly.
“He’s telling me you peeked at the Three of Clubs.” The card was turned over
and it was indeed the Three of Clubs. There was a chirp of glee from the
cage, to which Del Ray replied, “Thank you.”
He gave the deck a couple of flourishy shuffles (“Don’t ever try this in
a game… it might arouse suspicion.”) and went into a two-card transposi-
tion where the $50 bill again came into play. No matter which of the two
cards a spectator placed his “bet” on it was the wrong one. “This fifty-dollar
bill is getting a little shabby… I’ve had it eleven years.”
Del’s four-Ace routine, which was a hybrid derived from McDonald’s
Aces and Brother John Hamman’s Final Aces, confounded the cognoscenti, as
both of these effects were not published or on the market yet.
A razzle-dazzle routine of dice stacking was next. Four different colored
dice were tossed onto the table. Del inverted a leather dice cup and proceed-
ed to sweep up the dice one at a time with the mouth of upside-down cup.
When the cup glided to a stop on the tabletop and it was lifted, all four
dice were balanced one atop the other. The spotted cubes were swiftly picked
up by pairs, then by colors called for, and always when the cup was lifted
they were neatly stacked four high. Del asked a spectator to call a number
between one and six. The dice were rapidly swept into the cup, and when
it was lifted, on the face of the top die was the very number chosen. Dice
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then started penetrating the tabletop one, two, and three at a time, and just
when everybody was sure the dice were rattling around underneath the cup
they all disappeared. “No dice!”
Del produced a fresh pair of ivories and gave the bird a chance to get
back into the act. Handing the dice to a man on the front row, he asked the
bird, “Can you tell us what number this gentleman is going to roll?” The bird
turned his head and chirped. “He says it’s nooo problem.”
Then, by responding to Del’s questions the bird not only predicted
the number that would be rolled — a five — but also predicted the combina-
tion of the spots — a two and a three — that would make up the five. And
the bird even let another spectator pick how many times the dice would be
rolled out — four times — before the spots on the dice would total five.
Sure enough, on the fourth try the gentleman rolled out a two and a three.
And the bird continued to know exactly what numbers would come up when
a half-dozen other rollers tried their hand at winning the $50 bill.
For his final effect Del Ray announced, “Somebody will get a chance to
win the singing bird, the birdcage and the wooden carrying case, and fifty
dollars, all compliments of me.”
Del put the cage with the bird in the wooden box and counted out six
keys, telling the audience that only one of the six keys would open the lock. In
other words, there were five “bad” keys and only one “good” one. He asked
a lady on the front row, “Try all the keys on the lock. Put the bad ones aside,
and when you come to the one that opens the box keep it separate.” Once
the good key was found it was dropped into a glass. Then Del asked her to
add all the bad keys to the glass and mix them up. “Remember only one of
them works… Dump them all out on the table... Whoever picks the right
key gets a chance at the bird, the box, and the $50 bill... compliments of me.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you I get a chance too,” Del said with a grin.
He informed that after five people had selected a key, the sixth key that
was left would be his. And, as they picked their keys, any one of the partici-
pants could switch keys with one another or with Del, and they could switch as
many times as they wished.
Once everybody was satisfied with their picks, Del’s leftover key was
dropped into the glass and pushed to the center of the table.
One at a time, each person tried his or her key. And one at a time, each
could not open the lock. Finally, Del asked someone to take his key from
the glass and try it. It opened the box.
“Hey, I won the bird!” Del said with a coy smile. The audience jumped
to their feet and gave Del a rousing ovation. “You made that little bird
very happy… Me, too,” he said as he furtively gathered up his props and
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Del Ray was given the penultimate spot on Saturday’s Farewell Stage Spec-
tacular at the Philadelphia convention. The other performers on the two-
and-a-half-hour show were Fred Keating, Johnny Giordmaine, Henri, Doris
Faye, Nivelli, The Mystics (telepathy act), and A’ree.
In his review of the show, Genii editor Bill Larsen Sr. wrote: “If all I
said was that you missed the best magic show that was ever assembled, I would
be telling the truth and no one who was present would doubt me. Fred
Keating emceed and sparked the show right along with Del Ray stealing
the thunder from all the acts from all of the shows. He has the most mod-
ern and most unusual magic act that you or anyone will ever see. Mark my
words, Del Ray’s act will be the most imitated and copied act in the busi-
ness within five years. Why? Because Del Ray has given his act plenty of
thought and built it right. I say it is the magic act of tomorrow!”
“Mark up a real hit!” wrote Milbourne Christopher in his Hugard’s Magic
Monthly review. “Del Ray worked smoother than he did a few weeks ago at
the N.Y. Palace. His many original touches and novelties knocked the boys
for a loop, including emcee Keating, who gave him a glowing testimonial. Add
to the Palace review from two months ago a strong–selling Rising Cards
feat, with Del Ray in the audience and the cards on his table on the stage.
Top notch!”
Distinguished magic writer John Mulholland, who had lectured at the
convention on the first day, would never have the opportunity to review
or comment on Del Ray’s performance in The Sphinx, the prestigious
magic magazine he’d edited and published since 1930. That was because
Mulholland had announced, “As of June 1, 1953, publication of The Sphinx
was suspended.”
However, some months later Mulholland would tell Jay Marshall that
he considered Del Ray to be “the Robert-Houdin of the 20th century.”
Beginning in the 1840s, Eugene Robert-Houdin (called the “Father of Mod-
ern Magic” by John Northern Hilliard) had employed electrical mecha-
nisms and electromagnets to actuate trigger releases in his Shower of Coins,
Crystal Casket, and the Light and Heavy Chest. He also used an electromag-
net to operate his Spirit Bell, which would ring out answers to questions.
Mulholland marveled that Del Ray had eliminated the concealed electrical
wires that were necessary in Robert-Houdin’s day by making use of (then)
modern vacuum-tube radio control technologies.
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How much of the credit for Del Ray’s “ingenious, mechanical inventions,”
as Hugard described them, should have gone to Bill Dodson? This was a
question posed after the Philadelphia convention and one that continued to
crop up throughout the 1950s, as Del Ray began his meteoric rise toward
becoming the most successful nightclub magician ever.
The only piece of electronic magic that Bill supplied for Del was the
modified Swiss birdcage automaton, which was radio controlled by the Secret
Invention that Dodson marketed through Nelson Enterprises. However, the
concept of a Second Sight act with a mechanical bird that could divine
selected cards, predict the rolls of dice, and even read the minds of an
audience was entirely Del Ray’s — as were the other electronic and electro-
mechanical effects in both the close-up and nightclub acts that he debuted
in 1953.
Three years later, Dodson would corroborate this claim when he deliv-
ered a lecture on “Electronics in Magic” at the Indianapolis Ring 10 Jamboree
in 1956. When speaking of how electronics were employed to animate
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Swiss birdcages, Dodson stated: “Del Ray builds his own radio controls. He
is well versed on this subject and is an excellent mechanic… Dell O’Dell has
used a similar mechanically controlled bird in cage for many years. Because
various automata have been used since the time of Robert-Houdin, I doubt
that anyone can claim originality.”
While Del Ray would continue to conceive and construct his own props
and apparatus, there’s no doubt that a number of the technologies that he
initially learned of through Dodson were inspiration for these miraculous ef-
fects. For this reason, Bill Dodson does deserve a huge amount of recognition
for being the one who stimulated and encouraged Del to include electronics
in his magic.
Del respected Bill’s genius and his boundless knowledge of electronics;
Bill was in awe of Del’s creativity and his endless applications for electron-
ics. They had their very own mutual admiration society of a secret sort.
Of greater significance, William B. Dodson and Del Ray would be life-long
friends and confidants to each other for almost four decades.
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26
After playing out the months of August and September of 1953 at Al
Siegel’s swank nightclubs in Canada, Del Ray was booked for a four-week
run at the Alpine Village in Cleveland. The popular nightspot at 17th and
Euclid Streets was owned and operated by Herman Pirchner, known for
putting on fabulous floorshows, treating teenage couples like royalty on
their prom nights, and presenting souvenir rolling pins to new brides in
the audience. Pirchner, who had been a bootlegger during Prohibition, a
professional wrestler, a parachute jumper, and a wing-walker at air shows,
wore leather shorts and a Tyrolean hat to add to the Bavarian flavor of
his theater restaurant. He delighted the patrons by performing his “beer heft-
ing” routine, stacking and balancing from twenty-five to thirty-five steins
of beer in his hands and running from table to table without spilling a drop
while passing out free beer. Jimmy Durante, Pearl Bailey, Nelson Eddy,
Henny Youngman, George Gobel, and Perry Como were among the many
entertainers who performed at the club. Pirchner also hosted a nationally
syndicated radio show called Village Fare, on which he interviewed his fea-
tured performers, as well as other celebrities who might show up for dinner in
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While working the Alpine Village in Cleveland, Del Ray was “rediscovered” by MCA
vice president Bill Beutel and subsequently signed to be represented by the mega
talent agency.
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Butch for the first time for magicians. But it wouldn’t happen. Del had ac-
cepted a two-week booking at the Skyway, a popular nightclub restaurant
across from the Cleveland-Hopkins International Airport, which prevented
him from going to Louisville.
Once the three-year MCA contract was signed, sealed, and delivered,
Anne King assisted Bill Beutel with the production of a press-release kit that
MCA would be sending out in advance when Del Ray was booked into
various cities across North America. The purpose of the packet was to gen-
erate media interest in the engagement and produce news stories and local
interviews. Anne wrote the bio pages focusing on the “human interest”
aspect of Del’s career — telling that his decision to become a magician
was made after seeing a pair of magicians perform at the orphanage where
he grew up — emphasizing that his success had “humble beginnings.”
Another data sheet stated Del’s “magical methods were a quarter of a
century ahead of his time.”
Ironically, when Del Ray played Montreal’s Esquire club in February
1954, a Montreal Gazette newspaper columnist borrowed bits of information
from the press kit to fuse together a blurb that presumed Del was almost
twice his actual age of 26: “Del Ray, who’s 49, first became interested in
magic as a lad in an Ohio orphanage. Service clubs sent around shows that
always included magicians, and by the time he was 12, Del had worked up
his own act with equipment he made in the orphanage’s workshop. In a
truthful, if somewhat immodest, fashion, Del claims his work is 30 or 40
years ahead of its time. Catch his act at the Esquire if you want to see what
the future of magic is all about.”
When Del Ray was invited back to the Skyway in Cleveland, a “New
Acts” review appeared in the August 21, 1954 issue of The Billboard:
“Del Ray, who got a two-week repeat booking after his first show here
in June, seems to be the man who is going to return magic to its
former eminence. Disregarding all the standard tricks and props, this
smooth-working craftsman has applied years of research to his act
and has come up with a turn that leaves even the most jaded ringsider
stunned. His high-tech teddy bear that boozes with the patrons is a
winner. After a solid 15 minutes that gave him the biggest mitt of the
evening, Ray went out into the audience after the show and worked the
tables with the same exciting, but different routines. His dexterity with
cards and dice has seldom been equaled in this reviewer’s life span,
and it makes the most avid card player want to go back to the casino.
Ray, a quiet unassuming youngster, has learned his trade well and
could become one of the top novelty acts in the country.”
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27
The crème de la crème of MCA’s bookings for 1954 came about when Bill Beu-
tel called to let Anne King know that Del Ray was set to play the Empire
Room of the Palmer House in Chicago. Bill had worked all summer to
secure this engagement, constantly submitting Del’s availability to Merriel
Abbott, the Director of Music and Entertainment for the Palmer House.
Miss Abbott usually demanded that new variety acts give an audition before
being considered for her productions. However, having already received rave
reports on Del’s act from Canadian nightclub impresario Al Siegel, she was
ready to book Del’s act sight unseen. But the first open date she had that fit
into his tight schedule wasn’t until that fall.
Del Ray made his Empire Room bow on September 23rd. Chicago Daily
News nightlife critic Sam Lessner wrote:
“The Palmer House has a new show with Gene Sheldon, Helen
Gallagher, Del Ray, and the Empire Eight (six girls and two fine song-
and-dance men) that runs through October 21, and this is an all-star
floorshow if I ever saw one. Magicians get cleverer every year, but this
electronic age has ‘fathered’ a magician who must surely change the
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
whole format of the illusionists’ art. He’s Del Ray, who is not content
with materializing doves out of colored scarves. He is a veritable
electronic message-sending station, or radar station, or atomic pile.
Del Ray comes as close to the supernatural as is safe without being
burned at the stake.”
“It never ceases to amaze how Merriel Abbott comes up with opening
acts that are strong enough to headline. One such one-of-a-kind
performer is Del Ray, a 20th century Merlin who specializes in
space-age sorcery. His mechanical teddy bear that pours himself
endless libations from thin air is miraculous.”
The only review that appeared in a magic journal was Frances Ireland’s
two- page write-up in the November 1954 Linking Ring. Because she in-
corporated some of the bio information from the Anne King/MCA profile
sheet, it became the most comprehensive article about Del Ray written to
date. For that reason, it is reproduced here (with the permission of the Interna-
tional Brotherhood of Magicians):
One of the most exciting acts to hit Chicago in years was played at the
Empire room in our Palmer House — Del Ray. And because you may
or may not see him, since he is playing mostly hotels and nightclubs in
big cities, I’ll review his act in detail.
First let me tell you about the boy himself. It is a typical Horatio
Alger story, with Del Ray spending a childhood in an orphanage in
Warren, Ohio. Here one Christmas, came two magicians, Don Lea
and Nevin Hoefert, to entertain the children. Neither realized when they
left after the show that they had planted a seed of interest that was to
grow into a successful career. But from that moment onward little
Raymond knew what he wanted to do. Kindly families in the town gave
Christmas gifts to the orphans, who were permitted to select their own
presents. They mostly asked for practical things, but Raymond had seen
a magic set in a mail-order catalog and wanted it above anything else.
While debating whether or not to request so fanciful a present, he was
sent to help shovel snow in the town, and by chance worked for the very
family who had drawn his name for a Christmas present. Of course, he
got the biggest magic set.
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always does to their delight. The cards rise clear to the top of the
houlette and even tip on the corner for full recognition. The cards
come up anywhere in the deck and the deck, after all the cards have
risen and are acknowledged, is springed into the back of the table.
The Serpent Silk, with a little hoop that rises along its length, is
next, and then comes the trick they all go home talking about —
the wonderful thing with the birds. Del Ray has four birds in a cage,
three canaries and a brown finch. One by one, the canaries come out
of the cage and are put into a hat and covered by a silk. But when he
tries to take out the brown bird a big tussle ensues, and he finally gives
up and covers the cage with a cloth. Three flashes of fire occur in the
air above the hat, which must have been the magical spirits of the three
canaries, because when Del Ray yanks off the silk, the hat is empty.
There is another flash of fire above the cage, and when the cloth is
pulled off it, the three canaries are all back at home again, plus the
finch who wouldn’t leave. As Del takes the much-deserved hand, the
table moves of its own accord into the background.
Don’t ask me how it’s done. I was just a spectator, and a delighted
one. Besides the many wonderful effects I have already mentioned, Del
showed me his Singing Bird, where a bird in a cage sings in such a
manner as to count, locate cards, and obey orders. This tiny mechanical
bird is more real in Del’s hands than the canaries living and breathing
on the other side of the room. He uses the Singing Bird for table work,
coupled with his really superlative card work.
I know that Del Ray has gone to great trouble and effort to achieve
an act that is entirely different from anything now being offered. He
works steadily because he has something that is unique. He says it takes
him a couple of hours to prepare for his fifteen-minute show, and he
carries at all times in his car a complete small shop for emergency
repairs and maintenance.
Del Ray was married in July 1950 to his wife Anne, who maintains
their home in Pittsburgh.
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Chapter
28
Del Ray was a road warrior. He drove to practically every job he ever did.
No flying. Exceptions were made when he worked nightclubs in the Carib-
bean. Otherwise, he refused to go anyplace by airplane. And it wasn’t be-
cause he had a fear of flying. He simply did not trust commercial airlines
checking his props, tables, and delicate electronics as baggage.
Everything he needed to perform the act was carefully packed in the
trunk and the backseat of his car. Every piece had its place, including his ward-
robe and personal effects, ensuring that unloading and reloading went like
clockwork (a procedure learned from trouping with the Blackstone show).
His dove and the canaries rode in their respective cages on the front seat
beside him. It was imperative the whole lot — the props, livestock, and magi-
cian — arrived at the show venue at the same time.
Of equal importance was the fact that by traveling this way, once Del
Ray reached a destination, he always had transportation. No need to call a
cab or rent a car. He could go any place he pleased during the day. He could
visit the magic shops and the hobby shops. He could session with magicians
who lived in the suburbs.
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Because he always had his car with him whenever he played Chicago,
Del took any chance he had to get together with his friends Ed Marlo and
“Carmie” (as he called Carmen D’Amico). Since Carmie was a barber and
Ed worked days as a machinist, they were limited to meeting with Del
on weekends and Monday nights (when the Empire Room was dark). The
trio usually got together at Schulien’s restaurant at 2100 West Irving Park
Road, where the backroom was always open for sessioning. Sometimes, when
commingling with other cardmen (such as Eddie Fields, Art Weygandt,
Al Sharpe, Jimmy Nuzzo, or Harry Riser) they would gather at the dark
and cozy tavern on Division Street where Clarke Crandall tended bar
and mixed card tricks with stiff drinks. Sessions often ended up in the den
and kitchen of Marlo’s house on North Sacramento Road. During Del’s
October engagement at the Palmer House was when he and Ed worked out
the “Royal Marriage” card trick that appeared in The Ireland Yearbook for 1954
(released in December of that year).
The Royal Marriage by Del Ray and Ed Marlo, which is Del Ray’s only
contribution to the literature of card magic, is reproduced on page --- of this
book, courtesy of Magic, Inc., Chicago, IL.
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Chapter
29
By the 1950s, with the formation of the two companies, MCA Television Ltd.
and Revue Productions, MCA President Lew Wasserman had reshaped the
conglomerate as the mega supplier of television programs for all the broadcast
networks. The business of booking bands, acts, and attractions — the very
trade that that had brought MCA into existence — was essentially dead. How-
ever, because “The Octopus” had bought out, and all but eliminated, all the
competitors in the booking-agency business, the operators of nightclubs con-
tinued to book entertainment through MCA. It would not be until the 1960s
that William Morris, General Artists Corporation, or any other talent agency
would bother to challenge MCA’s virtual monopoly.
Del Ray would prosper from his affiliation with MCA. During his second
full year with the agency, he found himself on the road three hundred ten out
of the three hundred sixty-five days (and nights) of 1955. January was spent
in Canada, with a two-week run at the Club Morocco in Montreal and then
a return engagement at the Barclay Hotel in Toronto. After a successful two
weeks at the prestigious Detroit Athletic Club, Del headed west to Kansas
City, Missouri for two weeks at Eddys’ supper club, before driving down to
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Dallas, Texas to play the King’s Club in the Adolphus Hotel. Then, it was
off to Denver, where he enjoyed a fortnight of work at the Top of the Park
club of the Park Lane Hotel.
That spring, Del was elated when Bill Beutel phoned and informed that
he was booked for an April 12th-21st return engagement at the Beverly
Hills nightclub in Newport, Kentucky. The trip back east would allow
him some much needed research-and-development time with his friend Bill
Dodson. Del had bought another drinking-bear automaton (a white one this
The Beverly Hills country club in Newport, Kentucky, where Del appeared
regularly with such stars as Pearl Bailey, Jimmy Durante, and Tony Bennett.
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After the productive sojourn with Dodson, Del headed home to Pittsburgh.
He was booked for a couple of weeks at the newly opened Holiday House
in Mooresville, Pennsylvania. About a hundred twenty miles east of
Pittsburgh, the nightclub/restaurant/hotel complex was promoted as “The
closest thing to Atlantic City as far as where the stars play.”
Del liked working there because he could drive home after his ten
o’clock show, spend the night with Anne, and then be up by mid-morning to
work on the new electronics effects he was designing. On the afternoon
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drive back to Mooresville, he’d stop at Kline Kraft Magic in Indiana, Pennsyl-
vania for an hour or so visit, and still have plenty of time to get back to the
club before his first show at eight.
Del Ray was working with Bob Kline again on the construction of yet
another new roll-on table. And because he was incorporating the latest
RC (Del always referred to radio control as “RC”) technologies, he found
that experimentation was running hand in hand with fabrication. He
was constantly shopping for new materials, parts, and specialty tools. His
supplier of choice was no longer the local magic shop. Instead, it was Bill
& Walt’s Hobby Shop at the corner of Smithfield Street and Boulevard of
the Allies, which was only a ten-minute drive from Del’s house. It would
take over two years to complete the design and construction of the new table.
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Del Ray had made a commitment to his friend Dr. A.L. Baldwin, the in-
ternational secretary of the I.B.M., to perform at the upcoming June 29th
through July 2nd convention in Pittsburgh. On April 6th, 1955, Dr.
Baldwin, who was serving as general chairman of the convention, wrote a
letter to Del, telling how glad he was to have him on the program and
how important his appearance would be to the success of the event: “You
will be a terrific drawing card and we are building up registration to even
surpass the Pittsburgh I.B.M. convention of 1947, which was one of the
largest conventions ever held by any magic group.”
Then in late May — déjà vu — another I.B.M. convention conflict.
Del was in the middle of an engagement at the Kin Wa Low Theatre
Restaurant in Toledo, Ohio when he received a telegram from Bill Beutel at
MCA: “Set to open Cleveland June 28. Four weeks. Hollenden Hotel
Vogue Room.”
The June issue of The Linking Ring had already mailed out to the
membership. At the bottom of Milbourne Christopher’s “One Wizard’s
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tant that you’re in the right place at the right time with the right people.”
Two days later, Dr. Baldwin signed Cardini as the headliner for the conven-
tion and called the printer to make the necessary changes in the program.
Perhaps feeling guilty, MCA purchased a full-page ad in the pro-
gram. Atop Del Ray’s headshot was the line: “AMERICA’S FOREMOST.”
Beneath his name were listings for three upcoming play dates: “Hollenden
Hotel, Cleveland, June 27; Guy Lombardo Show, Ontario, July 4; Beverly
Hills Country Club, Kentucky, August 5.” The bottom line read: “Direction
MUSIC CORPORATION OF AMERICA.”
Cleveland Press columnist Winsor French, who for decades covered the local
entertainment beat in a silver Rolls Royce, wrote:
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packed up his props, equipment, and personal belongings, it was two a.m.
He pulled out of the parking garage and headed south on Highway 71, making
a straight line across the states of Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas, and
Texas, stopping only for gas, a couple of hamburgers, and three or four thirty-
minute power naps.
Del’s car rolled up beneath the grand porte-cochere of the Shamrock
at high noon on Monday, a full hour before his scheduled one o’clock
band rehearsal.
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31
The 1,100-room Shamrock Hotel was built in 1949 by independent oilman
Glenn McCarthy, at the cost of $21 million. The resort-like property with
its one-million-gallon swimming pool, opulent restaurants, bars, and swank
shops had become a popular gathering place for local society and was
characterized as “Houston’s Riviera” during the early 1950s. Its elegant
nightclubs, the Emerald Room and the Cork Club, featured celebrity en-
tertainers such as Frank Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, Judy Garland, and the
Andrews Sisters. However, because of McCarthy’s lavish overspending,
persistent problems with occupancy rates, and loan defaults, in 1954,
Hilton Hotels Corporation entered into a management contract with the
hotel and by 1955 had purchased the property.
When Del Ray met with the Shamrock’s bandleader Henry King for his
music rehearsal, he found out that he was not working as the opening act
for a name singer or comedian. Instead, he was the featured act of an ice
show called Skating Holiday.
“You got to be kidding,” Del said to Henry with an air of apprehension.
“Nobody told me to bring my skates.”
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In truth, Del didn’t even own a pair of ice skates, much less know how
to use them. For a moment, he was frozen with fear, remembering how
his magician friends Marvyn Roy and Jack Kodell were required to do their
acts on skates when they performed in ice revues at the Palmer House and
the Conrad Hilton in Chicago. It couldn’t be that difficult to learn how to
ice skate. Del had roller-skated when he was a kid. Wouldn’t that help? No,
wait! Quit kidding yourself. Showtime was only five hours away.
As soon as Henry said, “Don’t worry, you’re the star, you’ll be doing your
thing up here in front of the bandstand,” Del’s anxieties melted. “That ice
rink is for Wilma and Ed Leary and the other four skaters who were sent
down from Chicago. But you might want to get yourself a pair of long
johns,” Henry advised. “It gets awful chilly in this room.”
As it turned out, Skating Holiday was the first show produced for the
Shamrock since Hilton Hotels Corporation had assumed ownership and
operations of the property. Merriel Abbott, entertainment director for Hil-
ton’s Palmer House in Chicago, was now serving as the hotel chain’s producer
and talent buyer. She had put together the ice revue as something the
hotel could run four weeks while the Shamrock’s Emerald Room was getting
a makeover.
Miss Abbott booked Del Ray knowing his novel act would add some
pizzazz to a show that would otherwise be eighty minutes of a half-dozen at-
tractively costumed figure skaters executing spins, jumps, and other fancy
maneuvers on a twenty-four-foot-wide slab of ice. And it was a wise move,
as evidenced by a July 24th article in the Houston Chronicle, where reviewer
Mitch McClelland wrote: “During a pause in all the dashing about on the
silver blades, a party known as Del Ray materializes. Mr. Ray is a magician,
and a rather good one, whose sorceries are mostly of humorous intent. One of
them is a toy panda, which, without assistance from the owner, occasional-
ly pours himself a slug of the hard stuff and has as a nip. Mr. Ray pleased
and mystified everybody hugely with his dipsomaniac panda, with a table
that emits flashes and flames, and with a brace of canaries that disappear and
reappear. Del Ray’s special brand of magic was the real icing atop this
excellent production.”
During his month-long stay in Houston, Del became a regular face at
the city’s only magic shop, Howard’s Fun Shop, and he would show up every
Saturday for the magicians’ roundtable at Azzarello’s restaurant. But the
place he spent most of his free time during the weekdays was a place that
was frequented by few, if any, magicians. The G&G Model Shop located in
the quaint Rice Village shopping center, which was only a six-minute drive
from the Shamrock, was Del Ray’s hideaway hangout.
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Del had become friends with G&G Model Shop’s owner, Gus Freitag,
who let him have a small area in the backroom shop to work on his magic
props. The workplace arrangement started when Del purchased a model air-
plane radio-control system from Gus and told him he needed help adapting
it to control something other than model planes, cars, or boats. He wanted
to control motors and other devices. Freitag was intrigued by the challenge
and offered to assist. He not only gave Del access to all the specialty tools
and shop equipment he needed for the project, he also gave him a basic educa-
tion in electronics and eventually taught him how to design his own circuitry.
In a matter of days Del was drawing his own schematics and building bread-
boards to test against his circuit specifications.
The Shamrock Hilton would become one of Del’s favorite places to perform
for the next ten years.
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After closing at the Shamrock Hilton, Del’s next destination was Hot
Springs, Arkansas, where he was set to work two weeks at the Tower Club.
Since Hot Springs was only four hundred miles from Houston, and because
he didn’t have to be at the Tower Club until Thursday of the Labor Day
weekend, which was three days away, Del decided to break up his drive with
a stopover in Texarkana (so named because the town straddles the Texas/
Arkansas state line).
Texarkana was the hometown of J.B. Bobo, a leading assembly show per-
former and recognized expert on coin magic. (Bobo’s Modern Coin Magic,
published in 1952, had already been declared the bible for the coin work-
er.) Del Ray called Bobo and told him he would be passing through his fair
city later that afternoon. Del was not only invited to stop by and visit, but
was also offered a place to stay for as long as he liked.
When Del arrived at Bobo’s house it was a Tuesday afternoon and J.B.
took him straight back to the kitchen, where his wife, Lillian, served them
coffee and slices of freshly baked coconut pie. It was Del’s favorite pie,
something J.B. and Lillian remembered from the first time they met him
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and had dinner together during the I.B.M. convention in New Orleans,
in 1948. Once the table was cleared, out came the close-up mats, and it
was show-and-tell time — for almost thirty hours straight. J.B. shared coin
sleights and moves and routines the likes of which Del had never seen. Del
showed card and dice work that had J.B. completely bamboozled. (Bobo
had no idea that magnetic strips Del had concealed in his trouser legs
had transformed his kitchen table into a juice joint.) Working together,
they schemed up a few clever tricks with gaffed coins, one of which
Del would perform in his close-up show for almost fifty years. (See “Half-
Dollar Through Ring,” page 375.)
Eventually on Thursday, after Lillian served sandwiches for lunch (along
with another piece of coconut pie), it was time for Del to pack up and
drive the one hundred twenty miles to Hot Springs. He pulled into the
Tower Club’s magnolia-lined driveway at four p.m., which gave him an hour to
unpack and be ready for band rehearsal at five.
Hot Springs is nestled within the rolling Ouachita Mountains of
Arkansas. It is traditionally known for the 147-degree natural spring waters
that gave the spa town its name. It was also known for its illegal gambling,
which was firmly established during the decades following the Civil War.
In the 1930s and ‘40s, under the “leadership” of New York gangster Owen
Madden, Hot Springs turned into a gambling mecca. Thirteen major ca-
sinos and numerous smaller houses ran wide open, off-track betting was
available for virtually any horse race in North America, and the availability
of prostitutes was advertised by most of the hotels. When other mobsters
such as Al Capone, Frank Costello, Lucky Luciano, and Meyer Lansky were
drawn to the hideaway resort to get in on the action, Hot Springs became
the crown center of organized crime. By 1961 the U.S. Department of
Justice concluded that Hot Springs had the largest illegal gambling opera-
tions in the nation, yet it continued to flourish as a tourist attraction well into
1967. Though illegal and a felony under Arkansas law, the betting and
wagering that went on was no secret to the local authorities. Police offi-
cers, judges, and even the mayor turned a blind eye to the industry, either
because they were being paid off by the mob, or were partaking of the gam-
bling profits themselves.
The chic Tower Club, located on the edge of town in the foothills of the
Arkansas Mountains, was built on the lucrativeness of casino gambling, but
the casino had also built a reputation of featuring the finest entertainment.
A few of the stars who’d played the Tower Club’s showroom in the 1950s
were Jack Benny, Margaret Whiting, Liberace, Rosemary Clooney, Tony
Bennett, and Ella Fitzgerald. For the two weeks beginning August 31, 1955,
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pop singer Patti Page shared the bill with Del Ray.
It was Del’s intention to perform his act twice a night as usual — the din-
ner show at 7:30 and a cocktail show at 10:30 — and then be available after
the last show to present a close-up show for patrons who wanted to stick
around and see the real magic. Owners of the nightclubs where he’d been
working under the auspices of MCA for the past year enjoyed presenting this
“bonus” show. However, when Del talked with the maitre d’ of the Tower
Club showroom about placing tent cards on the tables to promote the
close-up show, he met with some indifference. “We generally don’t like you
magic guys showing those funny-business card tricks to our customers,” Del
was told. “You best talk with da boss about that.”
“Da boss” turned out to be somebody Del Ray knew. It was Mike Far-
rah, the member of the Cleveland Syndicate who was the general manager of
the Jungle Inn in Youngstown, Ohio when Del worked there in 1949. Farrah
had been “transferred” to Hot Springs shortly after the Jungle Inn was shut
down that year.
Mike was actually the one who gave Del his first casino job, hiring him
to perform close-up magic on weekends in the Jungle Inn’s lounge. So, when
Del met up with Mike later that evening, it was like old home week. And
there was absolutely no problem with Del doing the late-night close-up show
every night. “We’ll even put it up on the marquee,” Mike said. “How about
we call it the ‘Midnight Magic of Del Ray’? I’ll get the word out to the other
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Del Ray drove from Arkansas to northern Kentucky for a September 16th
through 22nd return engagement at the Beverly Hills in Newport, this time
working as the opening act for singer Bill Hayes, star of Broadway’s Me
& Juliet. Following this short week he’d have to swing back to Memphis,
Tennessee for a week at the Mid-South Fair. Then it was over to Louisville
for an October 3rd through 21st run at the Brown Hotel, where he was per-
forming in the Bluegrass Room with Norma Smith, “Arthur Godfrey’s Favorite
Singer,” dance impressionist Patsy Elliott, comic Charlie Hines, and the Bob
James Orchestra.
Working in Louisville always gave Del the chance to drive over to
Lyndon and spend time during the days with Bill Dodson. Bill was in his
fifteenth year of employment as a research engineer for American Air Filter
Corporation; however, he was starting to spend more of his working hours
in the workshop and electronics laboratory he’d set up in his basement.
Dodson also had set up a comprehensive wood and metal shop in his garage
to manufacture crooked gambling equipment.
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Bill showed Del a “magic effect of sorts” that he’d recently invented,
something he called the “Smoke Vanish.” He told Del, “This trick doesn’t
have magical trappings and is supposed to be scientific.” Dodson had manu-
factured fifty-five units of the apparatus, and American Air Filter sales reps
were using the device to demonstrate the principle of electrostatic smoke and
particle collection. A puff of smoke from a cigar or cigarette was blown into
a glass jar, a glass lid was placed on top, and when the demonstrator said the
magic words — in this case, “American Air Filter” — the cloud of smoke disap-
peared instantly.
“The secret, if it can be called a secret,” Bill said, “is the molecules of
smoke must be ionized. Negative gaseous ions attach themselves to air-
borne dust particles by means of induction. There’s a .005-inch wire sticking
up one-half inch inside the jar and when voltage is applied the particles are
instantaneously drawn down and deposited on a little metal washer hidden
at the bottom of the jar.”
Dodson placed one of the glass jars on the three-legged stand that con-
cealed its power supply and electronic switch and handed it to Del, saying,
“Here’s something for you to play with. I think my Smoke Vanish is a pretty
damn good trick, if I have to say so myself.”
“Yeah, it’s got possibilities,” Del said. “Thank you very much.”
[Almost thirty years later, Charlie Miller, who worked for Bill Dodson
in the mid 1950s, would feature Dodson’s Smoke Vanish in his “Magicana”
column in the September 1984 issue of Genii. Describing a couple of differ-
ent presentations and reproducing Dodson’s schematics, Charlie wrote: “The
magicians who understand electronics will be able to make up this apparatus
themselves. It may require a lot of time and experimenting, but the result will
be well worth it.”]
Dodson and Del Ray spent one afternoon discussing the “Electronics in
Magic” column that Bill would be contributing to The Linking Ring, starting
with the December 1955 issue. Dodson wanted to make sure he wasn’t betray-
ing Del’s confidence by writing about the application of mechanical, electrical,
and electronic devices to magic. He told Del that it was not his intention to
divulge any specific methods, but instead to stimulate thinking among magi-
cians about the possibilities of utilizing radio, audio, sonic, and other related
controls. Del said he had no problems with Bill’s “Electronics in Magic” col-
umn and told him that he was actually looking forward to learning something
new from it. (Being the secretive guy he was, it’s doubtful that Del ever told Bill
how much he’d already learned about electronics from Gus Freitag.)
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When Del Ray played the Mid-South Fair in Memphis that September,
he was booked as one of the “free acts” that were presented daily to
draw fairgoers into the commercial exhibits building. Other acts working on
the small stages scattered around the Hall of Exhibits were the Juggling
Colleanos, Johnny Matson - “The Clown Prince of Music,” The Vagabonds
(a trampoline act), Minnie & Moe’s Amazing Mutts, and Wanda Jackson -
“The Singing Doll.” These acts were great audience pleasers, but none of them
attracted crowds as huge as did Del Ray - “America’s Foremost Magician.”
The Mid-South Fair’s director of operations was more than impressed
with Del’s performances. Before the week was over, he’d called MCA’s offices
and booked Del Ray for next year’s fair.
Del also picked up a lucrative booking for a Christmas party. It was “lu-
crative” because the show led to another party gig that would last for quite
a few years. The exhibitor occupying the space adjacent to Del Ray’s stage
at the fair was the Ashland Refining Company (recognized globally for its
Valvoline Motor Oil brand). The Ashland personnel manning the exhibit
The Mid-South Fair in Memphis, Tennessee was one of many fairs and expositions
Del Ray worked in the 1950s and ’60s
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loved having Del as their neighbor and were grateful for the traffic his show
generated. When Ashland’s president saw Del Ray work he gave orders to
hire him for the upcoming employees’ Christmas party, which was held every
year at corporate headquarters in Ashland, Kentucky. After Ashland’s mar-
keting director watched Del perform at the holiday party he gave orders to
hire him for the company’s Kentucky Derby party, which was held every
year on the first Saturday in May aboard the Belle of Louisville. Del was a
hit, and when the Singing Bird predicted the winner of the big race that day
it was a sure bet he’d be invited back. (He was. Del Ray would work Ashland
Oil’s riverboat party for well over forty years.)
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For as long as Del Ray had known his agent Bill Beutel, he knew that Bill
wanted a transfer from MCA’s mundane office in Cleveland to their posh
quarters in Miami, Florida. Likewise, Bill knew that Del longed to be
booked into the Fontainebleau in Miami Beach. The grand hotel was only a
year old, yet it had become the dream venue of many entertainers.
By early 1955, Bill had made a pledge to Del: “The week I get my desk in
Miami is the week your Fontainebleau contract will be signed.” It took nine
months for Bill’s wish to come true, and when it did he kept his promise. Three
days after moving to Miami, he mailed Del a signed four-week contract to
play La Ronde, the exclusive supper club in the Fontainebleau. (Beutel’s trans-
fer to Miami also embodied a promotion, as he was one of eleven MCA offi-
cers in 1955 to receive shares of MCA common stock, representing ownership
in the company.)
Beginning November 2nd, “America’s Foremost Magician” Del Ray was
opening the La Ronde show for “Sparkling Comedienne” Sue Carson and
“Young Man of Song” Dick Lee. Also featured on the hour-and-forty-minute
floorshow were emcee Murray Schlamm and Sacas & His Latin-American
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Orchestra. The reviews were good — Variety said, “Del Ray is a well-equipped
magico with a tongue-in-cheek approach to trickery that warms the aud
and adds to the overall hearty reception.” And the hotel was happy — own-
er Ben Novack agreed to have Del come back in July. (Del Ray would not
only return that summer, but would end up playing the Fontainebleau fifteen
more times.)
Del hadn’t seen his wife Anne for over five months. Since June, Bill
Beutel had kept him on the road, working week to week to week with
barely enough time to drive from job to job to job. And he felt guilty about
it. He called Anne and suggested she fly down to Miami for Thanksgiving.
Del’s show closed on Sunday night, the 28th, so she could stay through the
weekend and then drive back to Pittsburgh with Del on Monday. When
Anne reminded Bill that November 28th was Del’s birthday (he would be
twenty-eight), it was decided to keep her Thanksgiving-day arrival a secret
and make the whole weekend a surprise celebration.
Del Ray’s calendar for December was filled with club dates (or “casual
dates,” as MCA agents called one-nighters) mostly in the Ohio/Pennsylvania
area. He was working Christmas parties for various Chambers of Commerce
in Columbus, Lorain, and Youngstown, Ohio and in Harrisburg, Allentown,
and Scranton, Pennsylvania. Anne booked Del’s act on eight of the pack-
age variety shows she produced for corporate events and holiday parties. Bill
Beutel had him driving into New York City for an important show for the
Screen Actors Guild, and then putting on the snow chains to go to Chicago
for a Christmas party for Allstate Insurance. And with those sixteen show
dates, Del still managed to keep the week between Christmas and New Year’s
open so he could play the Ankara nightclub in Pittsburgh.
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Organized-crime kingpin Meyer Lansky reputedly liked Del Ray’s act. At
some time and place in 1955 or early 1956, he’d had the opportunity to
watch Del perform. It could have been at the Beverly Hills in Kentucky,
the Tower Club in Arkansas, or another of the nightclubs where Lansky,
the man known as “The Mob’s Accountant,” visited to check on gambling
operations. Wherever it was, it wasn’t long before Lansky contacted Lew
Wasserman at MCA to let it be known that he thought Del Ray was great.
He felt Del would be a good act for his latest casino venture in Havana, the
Hotel Nacional de Cuba.
Wasserman’s secretary contacted Bill Beutel to advise that the entertain-
ment director of the Hotel Nacional wanted to book Del Ray and asked what
his availability was for May or June. Bill said Del was scheduled to be in
New York the first two weeks of May, working at the Astor Hotel with
Denise Darcel, and then he would be making a May 14th appearance on
the Tonight Show with Steve Allen. As for June, Del didn’t have anything
booked until the 22nd, when he started a two week return engagement at
the Fontainebleau in Miami Beach.
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After being put on hold for a minute, the secretary came back on the line to
tell Bill, “Please draft a standard MCA/AGVA contract for Mr. Ray to play the
Casino Parisién showroom of the Hotel Nacional in Havana for four weeks.
He opens May 20th and closes June 19th. His salary will be $750 per week.
Please send a copy of the contract to Mr. Thomas McGinty, the casino’s direc-
tor of operations, who will be contacting you regarding travel arrangements
for Mr. Ray.”
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When Batista saw the revenues of the Sans Souci, the Capri, and the
Montmartre skyrocket and become a major source of income for Cuba (and
himself ), he let Lansky have a shot at building his own casino in the elegant
Hotel Nacional. In 1955, Lansky took a ten-story wing of the historic hotel
and created eight floors of luxury suites for the anticipated high-stakes players.
The entire ground floor was refurbished to include a lavish casino, a restaurant,
the Starlight Terrace Bar, and the Casino Parisién showroom (with a permanent
installation of the famous Dancing Waters), all of which opened for business
in January of 1956. Pan Am’s Intercontinental Hotels Corporation took over
the management of the hotel, while the casino complex was run by Lansky
and his brother Jake, with Las Vegas casino developer Wilbur Clark acting as
the front man.
Eartha Kitt was the first entertainer to grace the stage of the Casino
Parisién. Other stellar performers who followed included Toni Arden, Peggy
Lee, Nat “King” Cole, Constance Towers, Andy Williams, Johnny Puleo &
His Harmonica Gang, and the De Castro Sisters — all MCA acts that
Del Ray had worked with, or soon would. The De Marco Sisters, a sing-
ing quintet who’d made five appearances on Ed Sullivan’s Toast of the Town,
would share the stage with Del Ray for his first engagement in Cuba.
When Thomas McGinty called Bill Beutel to finalize details for Del’s
booking at the Hotel Nacional, he and Bill chatted a bit before discussing
Del’s travel plans. They were friends; both were born and raised in
Cleveland. Bill was twenty years younger than McGinty, but he knew
everything about Thomas Joseph McGinty’s infamous career as the city’s most
successful bootlegger (during Prohibition) and his longtime involvement
with the Cleveland Syndicate’s gambling operations. Beutel had, as an inde-
pendent agent (before joining MCA), supplied talent for some of McGinty’s
nightclubs in Ohio, Kentucky, and Florida. McGinty was also a stockholder,
along with Moe Dalitz and Meyer Lansky, in Wilbur Clark’s Desert Inn in
Las Vegas, thus his connection with Lansky’s casino operations in Cuba.
McGinty informed Bill that most of the entertainers who played the
Nacional flew to Havana on “the company plane.” Wilbur Clark owned a
brand-new Cessna 310, a twin-engine, six-passenger aircraft, which was used
exclusively by Lansky and his associates, celebrities staying at the hotel and, of
course, any high rollers who wanted to fly in and out of Havana at anytime
of the day or night.
“We got three licensed pilots on duty ‘round the clock,” McGinty
told Bill.
“I just need to know where and when Del Ray wants the plane to pick
him up.”
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In 1956, travelers could drive their cars onto the S/S City of Havana docked
in Key West, Florida and — seven hours later — drive off the boat into the
streets of Havana. The 472-foot-long vessel, operated by the West India Fruit
& Steamship Company, had accommodations for five hundred passengers,
one hundred twenty-five automobiles, and eight railroad cars. In addition to
the spacious lounges there were staterooms, a reading room, two snack bars,
and a beverage bar. Roundtrip fare from Key West was $21 a person, with a
charge of $65 per car.
“Hay un mago en el barco!” yelled a ten-year-old Cuban kid, running up
the stairway from the lower decks. “There’s a magician on board!” “Nos mostro
un truco de magia!” “He showed us a magic trick!” The ferry had barely pushed
away from the dock that morning and Del Ray was working the crowd.
Del Ray took his car to Cuba in 1956 aboard the S/S City of Havana.
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It didn’t take long for word to get up to the bridge that there was an
American mago parked on the garage level, performing out of the trunk of
his Chrysler Royal. The captain came down to investigate. When he saw that
he had a real pro on board, he persuaded Del to come upstairs and entertain
all the passengers. Chairs were set up theater-style in one of the lounges, Del
was given one of the stateroom cabins to use as a dressing room, and, accom-
panied by the West India Fruit & Steamship’s conjunto (musical group), he
gave two performances of the act he would be performing at the hotel.
At the end of the daytrip, as Del was queuing up to drive his car off
the ferry, the captain came over to say farewell and thanks. “Muchas gracias,
Señor Ray. You have made this voyage fabuloso. Here is a little something to
help with purchases of petrol as you tour about our tropical paradise.” He
handed Del a 50-peso note, enough money to buy two hundred gallons of
gasoline. (At the time, the Cuban peso was pegged to the U.S. dollar at par,
and gas on the island cost a quarter a gallon.)
The last magic convention Del Ray attended was the 1953 I.B.M. conven-
tion in Philadelphia. In the two years that followed, both the I.B.M. and the
S.A.M. had begged him to come to their conventions and perform as one of
their headliners. Del wanted to work the conventions but couldn’t because
of his booked-solid itinerary with MCA. However, things would be different
for the summer of 1956. Be it coincidence or fate, the S.A.M. and I.B.M.
convened in two cities where he happened to be working.
During the second week of Del Ray’s four-week run at the Hotel
Nacional in Havana, he found the place besieged by magicians. The first
Society of American Magicians Annual Conference ever held outside the ter-
ritorial limits of the United States took place at the hotel May 29th through
June 1st. Three hundred fifty S.A.M. members and their families attended.
Though Del Ray was performing two shows nightly in the Casino
Parisién, he was invited to all the lectures, close-up shows, and other activi-
ties that took place during the day. He enjoyed the pleasure of having several
sessions with his friends Dai Vernon, Slydini, and Jimmy Grippo. And because
the gala evening shows staged at Havana’s Radiocentre Theatre were usually
over by ten thirty, conventioneers had plenty of time to get back to the hotel
and catch Del Ray’s midnight show.
On the last day of the convention, buses transported attendees to
Ceiba del Agua, the tranquil village that was the home of the Instituto
Civico Militar, a most-impressive school for orphans. (The Instituto, built by
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Del Ray performing his Floating Balloon during his May 20-June 17,
1956 engagement at the Hotel Nacional de Cuba.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
During his stay in Cuba, Del Ray performed several shows for children from
the government-run school for orphans.
stay in Havana and perform for the orphans. Having grown up in an orphan-
age himself, he had an affinity for these children. Recalling how magicians
Don Lea and Nevin Hoefert had sparked his interest in magic when they
visited the Children’s Home in Warren, Ohio, Del Ray took satisfaction in
assuming that he too might be the one that would open a less fortunate young-
ster’s eyes to the wonders of magic.
When the De Marco Sisters and Del Ray’s show at the Hotel Nacional closed
on June 19th, they had three days to get to their next gig. MCA had
booked Del and the Sisters together again (with comic Jay Lawrence added to
the bill) for a two-week run at the Fontainebleau in Miami Beach.
Accolades for the Fontainebleau show and Del’s act in particular appeared
in the next morning’s Miami Herald:
“One of the best balanced shows ever staged before the footlights
of the La Ronde supper club is this week’s colorful presentation at
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the Fontainebleau,” wrote critic Tony Anthony. “The first in the series
of summer revues introduced to first nighters a magician billed as
‘America’s Foremost,’ who opened for razor-sharp satirist Jay Lawrence
and the singing, swinging De Marco Sisters. His name is Del Ray, and
he is one of the cleverest conjurers we have seen in the parade of
prestidigitators in our town. Lightning fast is his ciggie flipping as he
magically lights one fag after another… sheer sorcery is the magic of
his wine glasses trick… super-natural is the manner in which he moves
his paraphernalia around on stage sans mechanical aid… amusing is
the remote control of a baby bear named ‘Butch’ as it drinks glasses
of wine at his command… delightful is the deception with which he
discovers hidden cards identified by stooges in the audience… and
slightly fantastic is the piece de resistance as Del Ray contrives to make
three live birds disappear and then magically recovers them.”
The Miami Herald review was read with great interest by Bill Miesel, an
amateur cardman from Erie, Pennsylvania. He was an acquaintance of Del
Ray and was in town for the June 22nd-25th International Brotherhood of
Magicians convention at the nearby Hotel di Lido. Later that evening, Bill
and Bob Carver, a magician friend from Macon, Georgia, walked six blocks
down Collins Avenue to see if they could catch Del’s midnight show at the
Fontainebleau.
“We sat at the bar and watched the show,” Bill said. “Afterwards, Del
came out to talk and did card tricks for us for over an hour. He said he didn’t
know the convention was in town and wanted to come up to the hotel and
see what was gong on.”
As had been the case at the recent S.A.M. convention in Havana, Del Ray
was given a registration and invited to any of the I.B.M. convention’s daytime
events he wished to attend. He was especially interested in hearing his friend
Jack Chanin’s lecture and, of course, taking part in any card magic sessions
that might crop up. And sure enough, when Bill Miesel spotted Del Ray in
the lobby the next day at noon, he was completely surrounded by a crowd of
fifteen or twenty magicians who were watching him do card tricks.
“Del was showing his Final Aces routine and the Royal Assembly trick
he’d explained in the Ireland’s Year Book,” Miesel recalled. “Later that night,
after he’d finished his two shows at the Fontainebleau, Del was at it again in
the lobby. This time it was a card-trick showdown between Ken Brooke and
Del Ray.” Brooke, who’d come over from England with dealer/publisher Har-
ry Stanley and magic writer Lewis Ganson, could baffle the best of them with
his card handling. However, when the session finally ended at three a.m., it
was Ken Brooke who went to bed bothered and bewildered.
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Del Ray returned to the Hotel Nacional in Havana January 23rd through
February 5th, 1957 for another two-week engagement at the Casino
Parisién. This time he was sharing the bill with Marguerite Piazza, a dashing
young soprano who sang with the New York City Opera and the Metropoli-
tan Opera. MCA was in the process of reshaping Miss Piazza’s diva image
into that of a popular supper club entertainer. Attired in gorgeous (and some-
times provocative) gowns and costumes, she sang everything from
Puccini arias to Broadway tunes to jazz numbers. Variety wrote, “She’s now an
operatic entertainer who knows how to please both the long hairs and
the crew cuts.”
Del Ray’s classy act, presented in white tie and tails, high silk hat, and
white gloves, was “the perfect opener for Marguerite Piazza’s sophisticated
hour-and-a-half show.” At least, that was the sentiment of Del’s agent Bill
Beutel, who’d flown in for opening night. However, Miss Piazza begged
to differ, as did the Casino Parisien’s artistic director Pedrito del Valle. They
both felt Del’s act would play better and receive a better audience response if
it were in the middle of the show.
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When Del Ray returned to the Hotel National de Cuba in 1957, he shared
the bill with Marguerite Piazza.
Marguerite wanted to change the show order. She wanted to open the
show with a musical comedy segment featuring material from her four years
as a cast member of NBC’s Show of Shows (starring Sid Caesar and Imogene
Coca). Then, after this twenty-five minute sequence, she would introduce Del
Ray. When he finished his act, she would return to sing opera and close with
her show-stopping “Pagliacci has Nothing on Me” routine, where she trans-
formed herself into a clown playing “The Bells of St. Mary’s” and “Stars and
Stripes Forever” with a bass drum and toy trumpet.
On the second night of the run, they decided to give the shuffled-around
show order a try. The audience reaction was resounding. Everybody agreed,
Bill Beutel included, that putting Del’s act at the mid-way mark gave the
show a much better dynamic. And since Del’s act was fifteen minutes long, it
gave Marguerite plenty of time to make the elaborate costume change for her
finale (which, from the start, Del and Bill suspected might have been the
real reason she wanted to move Del’s act to the middle of the show).
By the second week of the run, the show had become so polished that
Miss Piazza hinted to Bill Beutel that he should book Del Ray’s act with her
for the rest of her nightclub tour. She was set to make her Las Vegas debut
next, at Wilbur Clark’s Desert Inn, and she thought it would be great if
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Del Ray could work with her. Bill wasn’t sure how serious Marguerite was.
The two performers do complement one another, but they’re not a team act. Bill
said no. He told her Del was heading for Texas, where he was booked for a re-
turn engagement at the Adolphus Hotel in Dallas, followed by a six-week run
at the Balinese Room in Galveston.
Throughout the 1940s and into the mid ’50s, countless were the famous per-
formers who graced the stage of the Balinese Room, one of the most infa-
mous of all the illegal gambling clubs in the nation. Frank Sinatra,
Bob Hope, Jack Benny, Pearl Bailey, Tony Bennett, Peggy Lee, George
Burns, and Mel Torme worked there. The stars drew the crowds; the games
of chance brought in the money.
Del Ray performing the act in front of the Casino Parisién orchestra.
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Del’s collection of postcards from venues played included this one from
the legendary nightspot on the Gulf Coast.
The Balinese Room was operated by brothers Sam and Rosario Maceo,
two Sicilian immigrant barbers turned bootleggers turned restaurant and
nightclub owners. Their ostentatious Indonesian-theme casino, positioned at
the end of a six-hundred-foot-long pier over the Gulf of Mexico, was sup-
posed to be raid proof. When Texas Rangers occasionally made “a surprise
visit” they had to come through the narrow red front door, go through the
restaurant and nightclub, and walk down a hallway the length of a football
field before finally reaching the casino. One of the Maceos’ favorite tricks was
to have the band start playing “The Eyes of Texas” when the raiding party
came through the showroom, since they knew the patriotic Texans would
stand and sing along. This would slow down the police as they tried to wade
through the enthusiastic crowd. By that time, all the blackjack and craps
tables were converted to bridge tables and the roulette wheels and slot
machines were folded into the walls.
There were no raids during the spring of 1957, when Del Ray played the
Balinese Room. The first two weeks of his six-week run were spent opening
the show for the Ames Brothers, the popular quartet whose current hit was
“Melodie D’Amour.” For the third and fourth weeks, he shared the stage with
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the McGuire Sisters, who’d just recorded “Sugartime,” the million-selling sin-
gle that would become the trio’s signature song for the next dec‑
ade. During his final two weeks, Del opened for Rusty Draper, the crossover
country music star whose hits were at the top of both the country and
pop charts.
Del’s days in Galveston were not given to sun and surf and idle walks on
the beach. Since Houston was only fifty miles to the north, he was usually in
his car by noon and on his way to the Rice Village shopping center, home of
G&G Model Shop, where Gus Freitag allowed him the use his back‑
room workshop to repair and build props.
Del decided he wanted to change tables during the Galveston run. For
the past four months, he’d been hauling around Bob Kline’s handsome new
gold mesh covered table in the back of his Pontiac station wagon, waiting for
the opportune time to transfer the effects and electronics from the four-year-
old “padded” roll-on to the new one. That “opportune time” came when Gus
volunteered to take a week off and provide the invaluable assistance to inter-
face the table’s new transmitter/receiver with the existing relays and switches
that triggered the multiple motors, which controlled the effects such as the
moving table, flash cannons, floating balloon, and card rises. With Del and
Gus working practically around the clock, the job only took four days.
An afternoon work session at G&G was not complete without a walk
around the corner to Alfred’s, Houston’s favorite New York Jewish deli,
famous for its overstuffed corned beef, pastrami, and chopped-liver sandwich-
es, as well as its four-inch-high slices of coconut cream pie, which was, of
course, Del’s favorite. Often were the times he would purchase a whole pie to
take back to Galveston.
The Balinese Room’s nights of fun-filled floorshows and adventuresome
gambling were not to last forever though. Less than a month after Del
Ray played the club, Galveston elected a new sheriff whose mission it was to
clean up illegal gambling. On May 30, 1957, he made a plain-clothes visit
the Balinese Room. He demanded entrance into the casino and before the
operators could conceal the slot machines and tables, a dozen Texas Rangers
disguised as gamblers arrested them. The equipment was confiscated and the
building was shuttered.
When Hurricane Carla wreaked havoc on the Gulf Coast in 1961,
the battened-down Balinese Room barely survived. Over the next half-cen-
tury, attempts to open the place — first as an Oriental restaurant, then as
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a discount souvenir store, and later as a dance hall sans gambling — all floun-
dered and failed. Finally, in September 2008, Hurricane Ike completely
erased the landmark structure from the Galveston seascape.
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Bill Beutel confessed that he was sort of half kidding when, back in 1955,
he told Del Ray he’d be “a shoo-in for Vegas” if he would work the
Vogue Room of the Hollenden Hotel in Cleveland. At the time, Bill
was merely booking Del as a favor to the agent who ran the MCA office
in Cleveland. In fact, he had all but forgotten about “dangling the carrot”
until May 1st, 1957. That was the day Beutel received a phone call from
one of the owners of the Tropicana, a new Caribbean-theme resort that
had just opened on the Las Vegas Strip.
The casino exec called to tell Bill he wanted to book “Butch and that
magician all the guys saw in Cleveland two years ago.” And he said he
wanted them to come out to Vegas now.
“Have bear — will travel,” was Del’s response, spoofing the catch‑
phrase spawned by the then-popular Have Gun — Will Travel western
series on television.
Del Ray became the first magician to work the Tropicana’s Theatre
Restaurant (later renamed the Fountain Theatre). But to do it he had to
make a twenty-two-hundred-mile drive from Pittsburgh to Las Vegas in
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less than two days. Then, at the end of the two-week run, turn around
and drive another seventeen hundred forty miles to get to his next gig in
New Orleans.
These marathon drives were actually becoming something Del looked
forward to. They were his escapes from the smoke-filled casinos and noisy
nightclubs. He enjoyed the solitude. (Many years later, Del Ray would tell
his friend David Baldwin that his most creative ideas came to him while
driving late at night.)
On the journey from Las Vegas to New Orleans, Del called Anne to
let her know of his whereabouts. After some chitchat of how well the act
went at the Tropicana, he told her, “I look at it this way… the emcee on
my next show can truthfully say, ‘Our next act comes to you direct from
Las Vegas!’”
Many were the times Del Ray made the four hundred sixty-two mile
drive from Pittsburgh to Chicago to do a convention show. These Windy
City one-nighters usually featured two or three variety acts and a headliner
from the MCA talent stable.
On June 5th, 1957, Del Ray was part of a convention show for Edison
Electric Institute that was headlined by one of MCA’s stellar clients,
Ronald Reagan, an actor who eventually would have loftier goals than a
film career.
Ronald Reagan was still making movies at this time but was also in the
middle of his seven-year run as the amicable host of General Electric
Theater, a MCA-Revue TV program drawing good Nielsen ratings. With
the agency’s help, Reagan had become General Electric’s official
spokesman, traveling across the nation offering inspirational speeches and
presentations. He was becoming a new kind of celebrity — a Hollywood
face as identifiable with the product as its logo or advertising slogan. When
America thought of Ronald Reagan, it thought about General Electric,
the company that “brought good things to life.” And this was the theme
of the show that GE presented at Edison Electric’s 25th annual convention.
The “Good Things to Life” production featured Reagan, performing with
the Meadowlarks, a popular West Coast quartet; the Amin Brothers,
Egyptian acrobatic jugglers who’d become Sullivan show regulars; the
Wiere Brothers, with their slapstick comedy; pop singer Georgia Gibbs;
comedy actor Phil Silvers, the self-proclaimed “King of Chutzpah”; and
Del Ray as “America’s Foremost Magician.”
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Playing the Theatre Restaurant of the newly opened Tropicana in Las Vegas.
After the show, in addition to receiving his check, Del was presented
with a surprise — an oversized manila envelope that contained a signed
copy of his three-year renewal contract with MCA.
While the new contract didn’t specify Del would be working more
days per year, the agency did make sure he would realize a moderate
increase in his weekly salary. It would not be on a par with the $750 fee he
was granted when he worked the Nacional in Cuba, but closer to $600.
Nevertheless, this was considerably above the $400 a week that most of
MCA’s variety acts were receiving.
Bill Beutel now faced the dilemma of finding venues that could afford
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Del Ray’s nightclub successes during his first three years of representation
by the Music Corporation of America are loosely documented in a scrap‑
book. The nine by eleven, three-inch thick album was maintained for the
most part by Anne. Dozens upon dozens of newspaper clippings, photo-
graphs, reviews, and advertisements, from mid-1954 (when Del first signed
with MCA) to mid-1957, are arranged in a somewhat chronological fashion.
The organization of the items is far from linear and the scrapbook’s time-
line skips forward and slips backward at times. Often a publicity piece from
Del’s return engagement at a nightclub is juxtaposed with a review from
the first time he appeared there; for example, a Variety review of his debut at
the Beverly Hills in Newport, Kentucky with the singing Keane Sisters is
pasted next to a photo of the Beverly Hills marquee seven months later when
he opened for Pearl Bailey.
Often a three- or four-month span of time, with snippets from five or six
different venues he worked, is covered in a single page. Sometimes a single
engagement is given two full pages, with a program, table-tent card, or other
ephemera supplementing the reviews and newspaper clippings; an example
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Del’s most familiar portrait was shot by Kriegsmann in the mid 1950s.
is the two-page spread devoted to the first time Del Ray played the Shamrock
Hilton in Houston.
The booking that’s given the most scrapbook coverage — five full
pages — is Del Ray’s June 11-23, 1957 engagement at the Hotel Montele-
one in New Orleans. Why five pages? One reason could have been it was the
first of many times he would play this prestigious hotel. Another reason might
have been it was the first job he received after renewing his three-year contact
with MCA. Or because it was the first time MCA booked Del Ray as the headline
act of a floorshow.
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A review of the Hotel Monteleone show appeared in the June 12th edition
of the New Orleans States-Item:
One Magician, Two Singers Please
By Sim Meyers
A magician, name of Del Ray, who just barely whisked himself into
town in time for the opening number, and a pair of Hollywood cuties
who are duplicates of Marilyn Monroe but go by the names of Sue
and Lou Smith, constituted the new bill which opened Tuesday night in
the Swan Room of the Hotel Monteleone.
The sisters Smith opened the show, looking pert and vivacious in
their identical gowns. Their first number was “Lullaby of Broadway,”
which was followed by “That’s Life” and “Falling Leaves.” They sang
the latter song in a close and wistful harmony that got right down to
the core of the song. First it was in English, then in French, then English
again, and the effect was startling good. Their song “Dream Man” is
the title of their newest (and only-est) record. The Smiths are a couple
of girls who should go far.
The magic of Del Ray, star attraction of the show, is smooth and
sophisticated. He pulled his act off without much sound, but I un-
derstand his late arrival was accomplished only by leaving his sound
equipment behind and it is to arrive in a day or two.
Ray used fire, birds, a toy bear that drank wine, and cards to put
his audience in the realm of magic. It was all convincing, and many
are those who still are wondering how he made a Three of Clubs turn
into a Deuce, right in front of the audience.
“He put that bird up his sleeve,” was a statement one could hear
whispered audibly by many viewers as the magician caused several
birds to disappear. But no one was really certain how he got the crea-
tures from sleeves back to cage when the finale music was rolled off by
the Nick Stuart orchestra.
In the above review, Mr. Meyers’ comment, “He [Del Ray] pulled his act
off without much sound…,” suggests that the reviewer was expecting the ma-
gician to talk and perhaps didn’t realize he was watching a pantomime act.
A similar observation was made by reviewer Tommy LeBlanc in his June
12th Times-Picayune’s write-up of the same opening-night performance:
“Del Ray proved to be a first-class magician and should be better with the
aid of a microphone. Last night he had to work without one as he arrived
from Las Vegas only an hour and a half before showtime and did not have
time to set it up.”
Exactly what led the two local critics to believe that Del was actually
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[Top left] The Monteleone, a New Orleans venue Del would return to several times
in the ’50s and ’60s. [Top right] A postcard advertising Del Ray’s 1957 appearance.
[Below] Del performing close-up magic between Swan Room shows.
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missing a microphone is not known. (It could have been an alibi for a delayed
start.) But everything must have been in place two nights later when
Variety came to review the show. No mention was made of an absence of
audio amplification. It is interesting, however, to note that the show was re-
viewed as if Del Ray was the opening act:
This two-act layout rings the bell all the way, presenting new faces
to the local nitery scene.
Del Ray, an adept magician in high hat and tails, gets as big a
kick out of fooling people as the people get out of being fooled. His
entrance is preceded by a flash of fire, and as he begins to perform his
legerdemain his fingertips are literally sparking flames. While mechani-
cal gadgets, including a delightful panda bear, give with shooting
stars and wine sipping from bottomless glasses, Ray manipulates cards
glove-handed, produces and vanishes cigarettes, doves and other
birds, and makes with handkerchiefs
and scarves to present a mystifying turn of new and standard illusions.
This hocus-pocus artist has a lot of amusing tricks to which ev-
eryone pays rapt attention. The gasps and laughs come fast. His rep-
ertoire is unlimited and he leaves no doubt regarding his ability as a
showman.
The Smith Twins, blonde look-alike cuties, put style and imagina-
tion into their songs and dish out some solid harmonizing. In smooth
manner, the sisters offer a repertoire well-rounded with old faves and
special material tunes ranging from “Autumn Leaves” and “The Lady is
a Tramp” to “That’s Life” and “Dream Man,” the latter being their first
recording for the Verve label.
The girls convey feelings of gaiety and warmth to the audience.
Singing of songs is a personal delight to them, not an assignment, and
they communicate with enthusiasm to table-holders.
Nick Stuart’s versatile crew backs the show in top-drawer fashion
and provides melodic danceable music for ankle-bending patrons.
The five scrapbook pages given the June ’57 Monteleone job conclude
with a clipping of Del’s first-ever mention in The Hollywood Reporter, where
columnist Mike Connolly wrote: “Pittsburgh magician Del Ray is getting
raves from the newspaper boys in New Orleans, where he’s currently headlining
at the Monteleone Hotel. Ray, by the way, just signed a new three-year
management contract with the Music Corporation of America. He goes from
the Monteleone to the Statler in Detroit on July 1st.”
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In late October, Del moved into the Palmer House in Chicago for a
five-week run in Merriel Abbott’s latest Empire Room production. This Week
in Chicago magazine heralded the new show by running a montage photo
of Del Ray on its cover and writing: “Toni Arden is the singing star of this
well-balanced revue with the other components consisting of the musical
antics of Johnny Puleo and His Harmonica Gang and the amazing magic of
Del Ray.”
In Variety for November 6th, reviewer Leva wrote: “Music, magic and
mayhem is a type of vaude mixture that usually comes off well in the
Empire Room. In this two-hour show, Toni Arden, the headliner songbird,
has to overcome a programming handicap. In the two preceding acts
hardly a word is spoken, and strictly visual routines have a way of tiring
the strained necks of an eatery crowd. Nevertheless, Miss Arden carries
through her song-log for some well-deserved palm pounding.”
Of Del Ray’s opening spot, Leva said: “The silent treatment with an
elaborate assemblage of motors, springs, and electronics, and a stuffed bear
for comic relief, are deft weapons in the hands of magico Del Ray. The
white-gloved card manipulations get some novel treatments that stamp the
act as original, but the handkerchief tricks and disappearing birds are too
routine to be anything but anticlimactic. Trimmed of these, the act could
go off as strongly as it starts.”
The review was a bit perplexing and, no doubt, unsettling for Del Ray.
But he probably smiled the next day when he read what Chicago Sun-
Times syndicated columnist Irv Kupcinet wrote: “Some say Empire Room
wizard Del Ray is fooling ‘em with electronic devices. No way, I say. I know
a good magic act when I see one.”
Del was upstaged a bit, as far as getting publicity went, when United Press
International picked up a Chicago Herald American article about Butch. On
November 10th, the newswire service spread the story to over eighty major
newspapers across the United States and Canada:
Boozin’ Bear is Magician’s Meal Ticket
By Alfred Leech
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The white version of Butch was introduced during Del’s fall 1957 engagement at the
Empire Room of Chicago’s Palmer House.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Butch the boozin’ bear has become something of a meal ticket for
Del Ray, and a rather lucrative one at that. But playing nurse mate and
straight man to a mechanical bear is not without its drawbacks.
“I tried to teach him a card trick once but he wouldn’t sober up
long enough,” Del Ray mused. Seriously, he said Butch can be a prob-
lem. He’s had to be reupholstered a couple of times and it takes a
portable workshop to keep him in shape.
“A waiter knocked him over once and he lost an ear,” Del Ray
recalled. “And once he got mechanical bursitis or something, maybe
from too much elbow bending, and he couldn’t lift the wine bottles.”
In many ways, Del Ray himself is more remarkable than his me-
chanical bear. There aren’t many people who can shuffle a deck of
cards with one hand, with gloves on yet.
So it’s understandable if the man gets a trifle weary of playing sec-
ond fiddle to a teddy bear.
“It’s like the old story about the ventriloquist and his dummy,” he
said. “The theater manager calls the booking agent and says, ‘The
little guy is great, but the big guy’s got to go.’”
Del Ray keeps Butch’s inner workings a closely guarded secret. But
one thing is sure. Butch’s stomach must be made of cast iron.
On November 12th, a group of Chicago magicians attended the late
show at the Empire Room to see Del Ray’s act. The outing was an Ireland’s
Magic Shop sponsored event and Frances Ireland Marshall had made arrange-
ments for the party to have ringside tables. George Johnstone and wife Betty,
Clarke Crandall, Ed Marlo, Chic Schoke, Jim Peterson, Al Sharpe, Vic
Torsberg, and Al Leech (the magician/writer responsible for Butch’s UPI
story) were among those present.
Frances was also there as a reporter and wrote a review of Del Ray’s act
for her January 1958 Linking Ring column:
Around Chicago with Frances
By Frances Ireland
The accompanying picture was taken especially for this article and
shows Del Ray during his act in the Empire Room of the Palmer House.
At the moment the picture was taken, he had inflated a white balloon
and “placed” it in the air. I don’t know how to describe what happens
next, but the balloon simply stays where he put it — in the air. Then he
reaches for his sword — a Card Sword — and thrusts at the balloon.
The balloon vanishes and at the point of the sword is a card previously
selected, spinning like a plane propeller. It continues to spin until Del
removes it.
Other cards that have been selected have been caused to rise
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Buffalo, New York magic dealer Gene Gordon, one of the founding fathers
of the I.B.M. (membership #2), had always been a steadfast supporter of
Del Ray. Ever since the days when Del trouped with the Blackstone show
and hung out at Gordon’s shop, to the many times Del stopped by to
visit when driving to nightclub gigs in Canada, Gene would take the time
to write about Del’s talents and laud his achievements in his monthly
columns in The Linking Ring and Genii magazine.
When Gordon was appointed general chairman of the 30th annual
I.B.M. convention to be held in Buffalo in June 1958, his first priority was
to secure Del Ray as the convention’s headline act.
Del hadn’t worked a magic convention in five years, and Gene knew it
was because Del was always booked elsewhere by Music Corporation of
America. Gene told Bill Wahl, his chairman of convention shows, “Get on
the phone to MCA and book Del for June 18th to 21st before someone
else does. Tell them we’ll pay his regular fee.”
Much to Gene Gordon’s surprise, within a week, MCA had sent
out a signed contract that confirmed Del Ray would appear on both the
close-up show and the Saturday night banquet show for a fee of “zero
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
dollars” — nothing. MCA only requested that the I.B.M. provide for
Del’s hotel room and his reimbursable travel expenses, which were estimated
to be “under $100.” (Gordon would later learn that Del was insistent with
MCA that he perform at the convention and turned down a $600 job to
do so.)
For the next six months, Gene Gordon promoted the all-star line-
up of acts that were signed up in his “Diary of a Convention” column in
The Linking Ring. Del Ray was hyped as “The incomparable doing the
unbelievable.” For the June issue, Bill Dodson and Nevin Hoefert
contributed a Del Ray cover story titled “America’s Foremost,” which ex-
plained: “In recent years, Del Ray’s publicity describes him simply as
‘AMERICA’S FOREMOST.’ This billing strikes the fancy of Bill Beutel,
one of the vice presidents of MCA who now heads the office in Miami,
Florida, a man who has guided Del for several years since signing him to
the agency. The billing certainly leaves no room for argument. ‘America’s
Foremost’ could mean almost anything — foremost lawyer, physician,
inventor, machinist, etc. Yet the implication is there that Del is very special
in some way. Certainly he has one of the most original acts in show
business today, definitely the most modern act in the magic field. In
addition, he is truly one of our great card men and close-up artists…”
The Buffalo convention was a huge success. In the August issue of
The Linking Ring, editor Alvin R. Plough wrote: “Gene Gordon established
a record that will be difficult to meet or surpass. In six months he mastermind-
ed the first exclusive convention of the I.B.M. to attain a registration of 853.”
Plough’s detailed six-page article covered each and every event or activ-
ity on the program and concluded with a review of the show that featured
Del Ray:
“The final program Saturday night was emceed by Sid Lorraine. Betty
and Bill Dodson started the show with many excellently presented ef-
fects, including the Nixon Duck Vanish, real Blooming Rose Bush,
and dove productions and vanishes with beautiful equipment. Charlie
Miller utilized card effects, thimbles, the Rice Bowls, and a Leipzig four
Ace stunner; his handkerchief in a hat was amusing and he was heart-
ily applauded. Ricki Dunn did pocket picking in high nightclub fashion.
Juggler Larry Weeks was tops, working rapidly and proving time spent
to perfect his act was worthwhile.
“The show concluded with the marvelous act presented by Del
Ray. His magic of today is a sampling of the future. In deference to his
wishes, no photographs or descriptions of the act are given. However,
when you see this great magic genius advertised, and you want to be
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among those who appreciate modern magic, see his performance, for
there is nothing like it in the world. It was a sensational climax to the
30th convention of the International Brotherhood of Magicians.
“Immediately following the show, Del Ray was presented the Mystic
Craig Gold Trophy for the Most Outstanding Act.”
Winner of the Mystic Craig Trophy for the Most Outstanding Act.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Whereas The Linking Ring complied with Del’s request to not describe the
contents of his act, Hugard’s Magic Monthly did not.
In his “Backstage with Frank Joglar” column in the August 1958
issue of Hugard’s, Milbourne Christopher gave a brief run down of Del
Ray’s performance:
“Del Ray closed with his electronic wonders: The table which follows
his gestures and shoots flashes of fire; silk production, dove, and ciga-
rette manipulations; instantaneous color-change candle; card fans
and flourishes with gloves; wine glass productions; mechanical bear
which drinks in unison with spectators; remote-controlled rising cards.
The outstanding talk producer: He inflates a balloon, puts it in the air
above and away from his table. It stays there with no motion. A sword
is run through it, and selected card is produced on the blade. He fin-
ished as usual with birds from the cage vanishing from his covered top
hat and appearing back in cage.”
The sequence of tricks as described by Christopher formed the basic frame-
work of the stage act that Del Ray would perform for the balance of the 20th
century. The modi operandi of the various effects would be constantly enhanced
and refined (as technologies evolved), but the tricks would fundamentally re-
main the same.
The Floating Balloon, which Christopher proclaimed “the outstanding
talk producer” of the convention, would become the only trick completely
eliminated from the act. Del had been performing it in conjunction with the
Card Sword since 1953. In 1958, Abbott’s Magic Company lifted the idea
and started marketing the Floating Balloon as the “Super Duper Balloon.”
Del’s complaints to Percy Abbott did no good. Acting on his behalf, MCA
sought an injunction to stop the rip-off, but it was thrown out of court since
Abbott’s had purchased the patent for the particular oscillating fan motor
used in their trick. Abbott’s ads and catalog listings were changed and now
stated that the Super Duper Balloon was “originated by an electronics engi-
neer” (John Peyton), subliminally suggesting the trick had a method similar to
Del Ray’s.
The method of performing Abbott’s Super Duper Balloon was explained
when Burling Hull reviewed the trick in Volume 1 of The Magic Dealer News
(Hull’s 1958-59 publication also known as The G-d D--n Truth About Magic):
“Do you get it? You have seen this balloon trick in large cities where
window displays are used to attract attention. You have noticed a bal-
loon bobbing about in a window suspended in air. Yes, it is an air
stream directed from below that keeps the balloon suspended. The
stream circles around the balloon holding it in position… I think you
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will like the Super Duper Balloon trick in places where you can plug in
an electric cord to the fan unit. My suggestion — use a record player
or tape recorder to provide background music and cover the fan-
motor sound at the same time.”
Apparently, Del Ray was also plagued by the noise of the fan motor. But
he didn’t use a phonograph or tape recorder to mask it. When Bill Spooner
saw Del perform his nightclub act at the Henry Grady Hotel in Atlanta,
in June of 1958, he recalls that it was noticeable that the band was cued to
play the background music louder as the balloon floated.
Del continued to improve his Floating Balloon and incorporate quieter
fan mechanisms into two subsequent versions of his roll-on tables. Finally,
by the mid 1960s, when the effect became so commonplace that mimes,
circus acts, and kid-show entertainers were doing it, Del dropped it from
the act.
A rip-off of another of Del’s effects — the midair flashes of flame
— transpired not long after the Buffalo convention. The November and
December 1958 issues of Genii carried full-page ads by Kirk Kirkham’s
Magic Exchange in Hollywood, California, announcing the “Fantom-
Flash.” The ad copy read: “Del Ray, one of today’s leading professional ma-
gicians, has created a sensation in the leading hotels and nightclubs around
the country using his terrific bursts of flames from his fingertips and
apparatus. Now with the ‘Fantom-Flash’ device you can have, literally at
your fingertips, one of the greatest mechanisms ever devised for causing
a ‘jet-flash’ to appear mid-air. Complete with operating manual - $3.50.”
The handheld, spring-loaded (much like a Joy Buzzer) flint sparker could
be used to ignite a ball of flash paper. It was a far cry from the
sophisticated, remote-controlled flash cannons that Del concealed in his roll-
on table.
Kirkham’s Fantom Flash didn’t set the magic world on fire as far as sales
went. The item disappeared from the marketplace in a matter of months.
But it was not before Del made his decision to stop buying flash paper from
magic dealers.
Del Ray had been making batches of his own flash paper — experiment-
ing with chemistries that stabilized the burn speed and enhanced the brilliance
of the smokeless flame — for the past couple of years. And it really wasn’t
flash paper he was making, because he soaked silk cloth in his mixtures of
sulphuric and nitric acids. He even flattened the finished product by
ironing each sheet with a warm iron.
From late 1958 on, Del Ray made every single piece of flash paper he
would use for the rest of his life.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
With over twenty midair flashes of flame in his act, Del started making his own flash
paper from the mid 1950s onward.
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It was fairly common knowledge that it took Del two hours to set up for
a single performance of his fifteen-minute nightclub act. This was no secret
and actually part of the information found in the pages of the press kits dis-
tributed by MCA. Yet it was one of those little factoids that local reporters
and columnists liked to drop in their write-ups or reviews — as if they were
sharing behind-the-scenes info that only they were privy to. But the media
didn’t know the half of it.
Setup was a breeze compared to upkeep.
Maintaining Del Ray’s nightclub act was a burden beyond belief. Re-
placing silk threads that can only make so many cards rise before they’ll
snap was a monthly ritual. Checking and supplanting the elastics that cause
instantaneous appearances and disappearance was a weekly necessity. Clean-
ing the carbon build-up and the sulfur fouling from the flash cannons had
to be done every three or four days or risk danger of an electrical fire or ex-
plosion. Cleaning cages and putting out fresh water and food for the birds
was a daily chore. Recharging batteries was done whenever there was a spare
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
m
“All you can do is keep those probabilities at a minimum,” Del said as
he used an emery cloth to rub away a bit of rust from a battery contact. “It’s
co
the same thing with a person’s health, ‘cause I don’t care who you are you’re
going to have problems later on. If a guy smokes, he’s adding to those prob-
s.
lems. If he drinks, he’s adding to those problems. So all you can do is keep
those problems at a minimum.”
co
tru
ic
ag
M
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Cuba was calling again. And this time it was not the Hotel Nacional. In-
stead, it was Meyer Lansky who wanted Del Ray to perform at his brand-new
Havana Riviera.
Despite the fact that the country was in the midst of a revolutionary
upheaval — Raul and Fidel Castro, along with Che Guevara and the rebel
armies, were fighting to overthrow Batista — Lansky had built a luxurious
$14-million, 21-story oceanfront hotel that was considered the epitome of
gambling resorts. The Havana Riviera opened December 10th, 1957 and
by the end of its first six months, the casino had made over $4.5-million.
(Lansky’s investment partners included some of Las Vegas’ biggest power bro-
kers, among them Moe Dalitz, Morris Rosen, Sam Tucker, and Wilbur Clark.)
Lansky installed himself in the Riviera’s presidential suite with the top
floor as his command post. Although his official title was “Kitchen Director,”
he controlled every aspect of the hotel and casino operations. He even
supervised the production of the stage extravaganzas in the elaborately de-
signed Copa Room.
From the start, the Havana Riviera attracted stars such as Ginger Rog-
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ers, Jack Benny, Nat “King” Cole, Abbott & Costello, Dorothy Lamour, and
Steve Allen (who broadcast episodes of his TV show from the hotel).
Del Ray was booked to play the Copa Room June 30th through July
13th and headline an otherwise all-Cuban musical revue. In addition to
performing his fifteen-minute pantomime act for the ten p.m. and mid-
night shows, he was expected to return to the showroom for a two a.m. by-
invitation-only close-up show.
Bill Beutel persuaded Del not to take his car to Cuba this time. The po-
litical climate of the island had changed since he was last there. The ferry
service between Key West and Havana that Del had used before, the
West India Fruit & Steamship Company, was practically out of business,
and its scheduling had become erratic and totally undependable. Theft,
robbery, and street crimes were reportedly rampant in Havana. Yet it
wasn’t until Bill told Del that the ferry had been hijacked recently that he
said, “It certainly sounds like flying might be the safest way to go.”
The flight from Pittsburgh to Havana was a long one — over twelve hun-
dred miles. Meyer Lansky’s private plane picked up Del Ray (and his one
hundred fifty pounds of props, equipment, birdcages, and personal luggage)
at the Pittsburgh airport at seven a.m. and (with a refueling stop in
Columbia, South Carolina) delivered him to the Rancho Boyeros Airport
in Havana at one o’clock that afternoon.
Del was impressed with the layout of the Havana Riviera’s seven-hun-
dred-seat Copa Room and its state-of-the-art stage. However, the fortnight
engagement would have more than its share of disappointments. Less
than a third of the hotel’s four hundred twenty suites were occupied. As a
result, there were some nights when only twenty-five people were at the din-
ner show and as few as ten at the late show. The two a.m. close-up show was
scrubbed after the first two nights due to the lack of hotel guests. Del
was paid his full agreed-upon salary, and he was told he would be invited
back soon. But he was doubtful. When he returned home to Pittsburgh
he told Anne, “I believe it will be a long time before any American acts
play Havana.”
The balance of Del Ray’s summer was spent in Canada. From July 20th
through August 9th, he worked at Al Siegel’s Elmwood Casino in Windsor,
Ontario, sharing the bill with Suzanne Nichols, Wally Dean, and the Craig
Daye Dancers. Then it was on to Toronto for a three-week return engagement
at Siegel’s Indigo Room in the Barclay Hotel.
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Torontonians who have not yet taken their vacations can live like kings
and queens in one of North America’s finest hotels and still spend less
than $100 a week. All they need to do is get to Cuba.
“The reason is simple,” according to Del Ray, magician extraordi-
naire and one of the few U.S. performers to play the island since the
start of the revolution. Americans are staying away in droves, so the
Havana Riviera — Ray’s idea of the most aristocratic hotel in North
America — is offering rooms to tourists for next to nothing.
“Before the revolution,” Ray said, “the Riviera wouldn’t rent a room
for less than $35 a day. Today the fee is $8.”
Del Ray, a veteran of the Ed Sullivan and Steve Allen shows, is
probably the finest magician in show business today. At present, he
is in Toronto playing Al Siegel’s Front St. nightspot. After last night’s
show, Ray stepped out into the hotel lobby to see a friend. He ended
up doing an extra show, almost a half-hour in length, for about a
dozen patrons lucky enough to stumble on it.
As a magician, Ray claims he is 20 years ahead of his competitors,
that they cannot figure out his tricks, and that his act cannot be dupli-
cated. He is probably being modest and if he can be coaxed to your
table, the tricks that he will do there are even better than his act.
Getting back to Cuba, Ray said, “American entertainers are not
being hired there because of the tourist shortage. Tourists have stayed
away since the revolution because of fear.”
Ray said that he went to Cuba beginning the July 4th weekend
because this is always a great time for U.S. tourists. But he said, “No
dinner shows had more than 25 people. There were 572 employees
taking care of an empty hotel. The Riviera was stuck with my two-week
contract.” He added that he gets from $600 to $1,200 a week.
“It now costs $21 to fly from Miami to Havana,” Ray said. “From
there on, a man and his wife can live it up for a week easily on $100.
For example, it costs $5 to rent a cab for a day.”
Ray feels sorry for the Riviera, a $14-million hotel built just a few
months before the revolution, and particularly for the Smith brothers,
two Toronto businessmen who are investors in the project.
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The whole problem is fear, Ray believes. Yet he saw no bombs and
felt no bullets. To him, Havana is as safe as Toronto, but it just has a
bad reputation.
How does one become a magician? Del Ray grew up in an or-
phanage in Warren, Ohio, saw magicians do Christmas shows there,
and became intrigued by them. He has been building his act ever
since. There are stores where people can buy tricks. But the really
good magicians develop ideas for themselves.
Morris Duff and Del Ray’s capricious attempt at damage control came
a little too late to stir up any goodwill for Meyer Lansky and the gang at
the Havana Riviera. The revolution was at full tilt. The U.S. embargo
of arms had crippled Batista’s offensive. The rebels’ counteroffensive was
gaining ground. Cubans were not going to let the future of their nation
remain in the hands of a corrupt dictatorship and the mob.
On New Year’s Eve of 1958, Batista would be forced to flee to the Do-
minican Republic. Many of the casinos were looted and destroyed that night.
A week later, Castro marched into Havana and set up headquarters in
the Hilton. Lansky had fled the day before for the Bahamas and other
Caribbean destinations. The new Cuban president, Manuel Urrutia Lleo,
shut down gambling and nationalized all the casino and hotel properties.
Del Ray would never play Havana again. Relations between the Unit-
ed States and Cuba had seriously deteriorated by 1959. The embargo and
the travel ban imposed on U.S. citizens traveling to Cuba had brought an
end to American tourism on the island.
In December of 1958, Del Ray had to get from Pittsburgh to San Juan, Puer-
to Rico. He was booked for a two-week engagement at the Flamboyan Club
there and, once again, he had to travel by plane.
Unlike when he’d flown to Havana earlier that summer because it was
the safest way to get there, flying was the only way Del could get to San
Juan in a timely manner. But this time he didn’t have the convenience of
flying on a private plane. He took an Allegheny Airlines flight from Pitts-
burgh to New York, and then flew on a Pan Am Clipper from Idlewild
Airport (now J.F.K. International) to Puerto Rico.
Del looked forward to this trip because he might have a chance to visit
with his friend John Scarne, who was working for Conrad Hilton as a gam-
bling consultant at the Caribe Hilton in San Juan.
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The Flamboyan was an intimate nightclub in Old San Juan, the eight-
by-ten-block cultural, shopping, and entertainment district located within
the walls of a historic waterfront fort. Del Ray was the headliner of the
club’s two-a-night floorshow, with the other act being The Bruxellos, an acro-
batic team who’d just come from a run at the Lido in Paris.
After finishing up the 10:30 show on opening night, Del took a cab out
to the Hilton to see if John Scarne was on the island. He found out that
Scarne had been dispatched to Cuba to trouble shoot some casino-operations
problems at the Havana Hilton. Because of the revolution, the American
pit bosses and dealers had quit their jobs and returned to the United States.
While Scarne was in the process of rebuilding the Hilton’s casino staff, he
was asked to serve as chairman of the Cuban gaming control board and help
set up a new code of regulations for all the casinos. John would decline the
offer, claiming there was a conflict of interest because he worked as a consul-
tant to Conrad Hilton (and also because he knew the last American appointed
to the board was beat up and shipped back to Miami without his baggage.)
Del Ray made three more trips to Puerto Rico before he would eventu-
ally catch up with John Scarne. He returned in 1961 and ’62 to perform in
the Caribe Hilton’s showroom, but it wasn’t until his 1963 two-week
appearance there that John was on the property at the same time.
In a letter (postmarked: APR 3, 1963/SAN JUAN P.R.) mailed to
Clem Wandrisco in Pittsburgh, Del Ray wrote: “John Scarne’s down here now.
So I have someone to shoot the bull with and pass the time. He’s like you, one of
my real friends in the business. Lots of magicians don’t like Scarne because he
brushes them off. I became good friends with him when I was with Blackstone.
He always liked my work because I was original. Scarne said he and I were the
only ones in magic who understand the gambling business. Coming from him
that’s a pretty good compliment.”
An understanding of the world of gambling played an important role
in making both John Scarne and Del Ray’s magic relevant. Both of them
realized that their audiences were intrigued with gambling, and they both
knew that gambling routines had a mystical attraction. However, the ways
and means by which each of them exploited their audiences’ fascination
with gambling effects were different.
John Scarne, being perceived as the foremost authority on gambling (hav-
ing authored his 714-page Complete Guide to Gambling in 1961), performed
his card tricks as demonstrations of how a magician could win at gambling.
Scarne’s sleight-of-hand techniques were flawless, and his tricks were presented
as challenges. And when he did fool his audiences, they assumed he’d done it
because he wasn’t caught cheating.
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Del has a winning smile as he plays gin with nightclub patrons between floorshows.
Pennsylvania who booked Del repeatedly for golf outings, recalled, “I was
behind him one time when he opened up his hand and it was all deadwood,
nothing matched. Then he closed his hand, opened it again and had different
cards with all sorts of possibilities. The guy standing next to me said, ‘Holy
hell, he had nothing and now he has runs, melds, and is waiting to gin. That’s
more than magic!’”
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form and formed a Social Action Committee that had been successful in
seeking indictments. Illegal gambling was being cleaned up and cleared out of
the area.
When Del Ray returned to Newport two years later for a September
9th through October 1st, 1961 booking at the Beverly Hills, opening for
comedy team of Phil Ford & Mimi Hines, the crowds were small and the
political problems were big. The Committee of 500, a group of concerned
citizens of Kentucky and Ohio, as well as U.S. Attorney General Robert
Kennedy, were now involved in ridding the area of all illegal activities. It
was a matter of weeks before the Cleveland Syndicate would lock the club’s
doors and move its key people to Las Vegas.
Del Ray would never work the Beverly Hills again, even though in 1971,
after standing vacant for nearly a decade, the property was purchased by the
Rick Schilling family and reopened as a dinner theater sans gambling.
The new Beverly Hills Supper Club, with the tagline of “The Show-
place of the Nation,” quickly became the area’s favorite place for groups to
celebrate holidays, birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, proms and gradu-
ations. Then, on May 28, 1977, a tragic end came to the nightclub. John
Davidson was the headliner for the evening. The showroom was packed.
Ventriloquists Teeter & McDonald had opened the show, and before
Davidson was to be introduced, a busboy came to the microphone, asking
everyone to evacuate the building because of a small fire in the Zebra Room
(a private dining room in another part off the building). Many patrons
didn’t heed the warning and stayed in their seats. The fire raged out of
control and took the lives of one hundred sixty-five people.
Added to Del Ray’s string of nightclub repeat dates for 1959 were several
other hotels and clubs where he performed for the first time that year: the
Edgewater Beach Hotel in Chicago; Val-Morocco’s Supper Club in Cleve-
land; the Sibony Room of the Columbia Restaurant in Tampa, Florida;
Suttmiller’s Theatre Restaurant in Dayton, Ohio; and Chi Chi’s in
Palm Springs, California, where he shared the bill with the legendary
Sophie Tucker.
Del made the trek from Pittsburgh to Reno, Nevada for a November 2nd
through 18th engagement at the Riverside Hotel. “Memorable music and
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remarkable magic will be heard and seen in the Olympic Room of the River-
side during the new Freddy Martin Show,” advised the Nevada State Journal
of November 1st. “The great Martin aggregation, in addition to providing
its own distinctive style, will run through its impreshes of Wayne King, Guy
Lombardo, Harry James, Tommy Dorsey, Glenn Miller, and other big-
band brands. In the spotlight will be magician Del Ray. Making a rare West
Coast appearance, the clever sleight-of-hand expert employs a number of
novel electronic props. Wiring for the unique act takes a full two hours before
each show.”
The “unique act” was much admired by management at the Riverside. One
of Del’s scrapbooks contains a letter written on the hotel’s letterhead that’s
dated November 10th 1959. It is from the hotel’s general manager Lee
Frankovich and addressed to Bobby Burns at the Beverly Hills, California of-
fice of the Music Corporation of America:
Dear Bobby:
Lee
MCA made it difficult for Mr. Frankovich to have Del Ray return to the
Riverside in 1960. The agency had already booked him for a six-month run at
the competing Harolds Club in Reno. And because of Del’s loaded-up
calendar, he wouldn’t be able to play the Riverside again until December
of 1961.
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On January 24th, 1960, Del Ray worked the Bing Crosby National Pro-
Amateur golf tournament in Monterey, California. Del had performed at
several country-club golf tournaments across the nation, but none could
compare with “The Crosby Clambake” (as the event was then known). It was
a classy sporting weekend that even included some serious games of golf
between the fun-filled parties.
The Crosby Clambake (now the PGA Tour AT&T Pebble Beach National
Pro-Am) was founded in the late 1930s. In the beginning, the golfers went
a full eighteen holes and the purse was $3,000 (it’s over $6-million now). A
few of the amateurs who participated included Richard Arlen, Zeppo
Marx, Fred Astaire, and “Mysterious” Montague, who once outplayed Bing
using a rake, a shovel, and a baseball bat; among the early pros who played
were “Dutch” Harrison, Ben Hogan, Denny Shute, and Sam Snead. Serving
as the host par excellence, Bing set up a bar in the backyard of his home
near the golf course, grilled some steaks, and staged a small show, setting
the precedent for the tournaments that followed.
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A French theme prevailed at the 19th Crosby Clambake, and the Victory
Dinner show program listed Del Ray as the Prestidigitateur avec Ses Clambes,
et Son Orcos. The other entertainers on the after-dinner extravaganza were
Joey Bishop, Diseur d’Histoires drôles et comiques; Sandy Stewart, la grande
Vedette et Chanteuse; Ricky Lane & Velvel - Velvel on’ Guillaume en Francais,
er fregt Bem Grossbane die vier Kashes; Jim Slade, Danseur; Ursula & Gus,
Jongleurs; and, of course, Bing, et ses FILS.
Del’s pantomime act scored big time, but it was his one-hour close-up
performance after the show that garnered the most applause and laughter.
Crosby acknowledged Del’s contribution to the success of the 19th Annual
Clambake in a letter dated February 6th:
Dear Del,
I want to tell you how grateful I am to you for your assistance in our
show at Monterey ten days ago. Conditions at functions of this type are
never ideal, and our show is no exception.
I hope that the way the audience reacted was ample demonstra-
tion of how much your work was enjoyed and appreciated. Friends of
mine are still talking about your legerdemain. I know I’ve never seen so
many good tricks.
I am going to hold you to your promise some day to give a little
demonstration for a more limited audience. Some of your special
things. I know they will be quite marvelous.
I hope your trip to Reno was all right, and that you didn’t tire your-
self out by driving so late at night.
Again, I thank you very much.
As ever,
Bing
On that last evening of the Crosby Clambake, after Del had finally
packed his props and bid everyone, “Au revoir,” and headed for Reno, he was a
full twenty-four hours ahead of schedule. He didn’t need to be at Harolds
Club to begin his six-month contract until Tuesday, January 26th; yet, at
nine a.m. on Monday, January 25th, he was parked in front of Harolds,
on Virginia Street in downtown Reno.
As Del gazed up at the huge mural that adorned the side of the seven-
story building — a menacing tribe of Indians on a high bluff spying down
on a wagon train camped for the night — he wondered if it was too early
to call Harold and let him know he was in town. Casino people were known
for keeping late hours. But maybe that was the workers, not owners. Del decided
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to get a room at the Westward Ho motel, which was two blocks down
the street. He’d unload his equipment, get the battery chargers going, and
wait to check in with Harold later that afternoon.
In 1960, Harolds Club was the largest casino in the world. It was owned
and run by Raymond I. “Pappy” Smith, and his sons, Raymond A. Smith
and Harold S. Smith, for whom the casino was named. From its start in
1937, Harolds (the apostrophe forgotten by the ’40s) was characterized by
its rustic Old West theme and atmosphere of fun.
The Smiths introduced “Mouse Roulette,” where a live mouse made a
run in a circular cage with numbered holes, and whichever hole the mouse
eventually entered was the winning number. Harolds was the first casino
to hire women dealers. The second-floor Silver Dollar Bar — with 2,141
silver dollars embedded in the bar top, and a back-bar with a waterfall of
bourbon streaming down rocks and splashing into a pool — was the main
attraction of the Covered Wagon Room. The Fort Smith Room, on the
third floor with the Roaring Camp Dining Room, boasted of the larg-
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
est collection of guns and rifles, wagons and stagecoaches, music boxes and
arcade devices. The 7th Floor Fun Room (where Del Ray would work)
featured live bands in the afternoon and stage shows with big-name entertain-
ers at night.
“Did you eat, yet?” was the first thing Del heard when he called Harold’s
office at six o’clock. When Del said no, Harold said, “I’ll pick you up in
thirty minutes. Be waiting outside your door. I want to take you out for a
big steak dinner.”
When Harold showed up at the motel he was driving a brand-new, sky-
blue Lincoln Continental Mark II. “Jump in, Del,” he yelled. “I thought
we’d drive this baby down to Tahoe. Take a spin around the lake before we
have a steak.”
It was fifty-five miles to Lake Tahoe, but the ride that evening took
two hours. When they were about three miles from their destination —
Harvey’s Wagon Wheel Saloon & Gambling Hall — the Mark II’s water-
pump belt broke. Unfazed, Harold kept on driving, albeit slowly. (Del
would later tell his niece’s husband, Bill McDermott, “When we pulled up
to the casino, the front end of that car was steaming like Old Faithful was
about to erupt.”)
Harold tossed his car keys to the parking lot attendant. “Get her
fixed,” he said as he ambled through the big front doors of Harvey’s. Then,
instead of walking toward the steak house, he made a beeline for the
craps tables. Del followed. But only to watch.
After an hour and a half of throwing dice and dropping $30,000, Harold
turned to Del and said, “They ought to have that hose fixed by now. Let’s
get outta here.”
Harold handed the parking lot attendant a $100 bill, got in the car and
headed back to Reno. He didn’t say another word the whole way back. Del
never got his steak dinner.
Del’s show opened the following night and the next afternoon made the
front page of the Reno Evening Gazette:
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The local publicity Del Ray was receiving generated an extra job of an un-
usual nature. A college professor phoned Harold Smith to see if Del would be
available to do a show for an orphanage that was run by the Child Devel-
opment Laboratory of the University of Nevada in Reno. The professor had
read that Del grew up in an orphanage and he thought an appearance by
the magician would be inspirational for the children. He told Harold that
Del Ray could serve as a great role model for the kids: “Mr. Ray is living
proof that orphans who work hard and apply themselves can go on to lead
successful lives.”
When Del got the call from Harold to see if he’d do the show, Del was
surprised to learn that the flamboyant Mr. Smith served on the board of
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trustees of the University of Nevada and was recognized for his generous
donations to the school’s College of Education. Del also found out that
Harold was known for donating the services of his entertainers for various
University affairs. He was always supplying bands and musical groups for
student union dances or fundraising events. Smith would compensate the
musicians for their outside services, and in return he’d get to plaster the
place with banners and brochures promoting Harolds Club.
Of course, Del was happy to fulfill the professor’s request and perform
for the children at the orphanage. And when Harold tried to slip Del a
couple of hundred dollar bills for doing the show, he refused them, saying,
“I’d like for you to donate that money to the school. The nice letter I received
from them was enough compensation for me.”
Elizabeth B. White
Supervisor
Child Development Laboratory
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While in Reno, Del performed on a show for orphan students of the Child
Development Laboratory at the University of Nevada.
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In the 1960s, Del Ray turned his creative energies toward his close-up mag-
ic. As noted earlier, the nightclub act that he was performing by this time
would see few content changes during the next three decades; the act had
for all practical purposes become “signature.” The time had come to upgrade
the tricks in his close-up repertoire that already relied on electronics, as well
as add some fascinating new effects utilizing electromagnetics. And, as he al-
ways had done, Del fuzzed that boundary between science-and-technology
and magic-and-mystery.
The Singing Bird, the pièce de résistance of his close-up performances,
went through a couple of reincarnations during this period. The gilded cage
was completely eliminated and the canary sat on a T-shaped perch attached
to a round base. The four-inch diameter, three-inch high “platform stage”
with a green felt floor now contained the receiver unit, batteries, and the
necessary electronics to control the hidden motor and bellows. The stream-
lined Singing Bird sans cage still fit inside the walnut-stained wood carry-
case that was used for the Locked Box effect.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
For a while in the 1960s, Del performed the Singing Bird using a German-
made music-box automaton that was housed in a decorative cigarette case.
The spring-wound motor that caused this tiny feathered canary to pop up,
turn its head, move its wings and beak, and sing was modified so that it could
be turned on and off by an electric motor that was controlled by radio. The
necessary electromechanical interface, the radio receiver, and the battery packs
were concealed in a one-inch-thick base mounted beneath the cigarette case.
Although Del Ray continued to stay involved with his electronics mentors,
Bill Dodson and Gus Freitag, throughout the 1960s (and into the next
two decades as well), it is presumed that Del made the improvements and
modifications to the Singing Bird “on his own” and without aid from
Bill or Gus. Del’s knowledge of electronics had taken a quantum leap.
He was now able to build his own radio controls and kluge together the
various circuits that interacted and shared electricity with motors, reed
switches, and other devices. And even though Del Ray may have been mimick-
ing Dodson’s original schematic when he put together the two improved
Singing Birds, he did at least understand the how and why of the technologies
he was working with.
Del performing the Singing Bird routine at the Shamrock Hilton in Houston.
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In his unpublished manuscript titled The Magic of Del Ray (May 9, 2009),
Bill Spooner writes:
“Del Ray had a high curiosity about electronics and strived to keep up
with the developing technology throughout his career. An examina-
tion of the electronics books, periodicals, schematics, and instruction
sheets from Del Ray’s personal collection provides important insight
into the growth of his knowledge.
The 119 electronics publications reveal copyright dates from
1948 through 2002. Del’s earliest electronics book, Understanding
Television, was published in 1948, but this does not imply that he ac-
quired the book in that year. His electronics education from his book
collection really began in 1954 with his copy of the Radio Control
Handbook, written by Howard G. McEntee and published by the
Gernsback Library.
“Del’s knowledge accelerated in the 1960s with the numerous
electronics books and magazines purchased throughout that decade.
He had 18 issues of the British journal, Radio Control Models and
Electronics, beginning with the 1960 Vol. 1, No. 1 issue. Some of the
early book titles included the Digital Handbook (1963), Solid-State
Power Supplies and Convertors (1963), How to Build Tiny Electronic
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
The 1960s and early ’70s also represent the time span during which Del
vigorously applied his knowledge of motors and magnets to his close-up
magic, enhancing his arsenal of electronic wonders to include the Dice
Ladder, the Computer Deck, The Rabbit and The Frog, Little Willie, and
an amazing flipping-card effect that was dubbed the “Million Dollar Card
Trick” by Bill Dodson, even though Del Ray and one magic magazine
reviewer preferred to call it the “World’s Greatest Card Trick.”
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The Dice Ladder was performed in conjunction with the Singing Bird. A
spectator would drop a pair of dice into the clear Plexiglas crisscross chute,
but not before the bird had predicted the exact numbers that would tumble
into the bowl beneath. The concept of the Dice Ladder had been on Del’s
mind since the time he learned of magnetic dice (or “electric dice,” as they
were called by purveyors of crooked gambling supplies).
Del had been doing tricks with dice, controlling the roll of the num-
bers by digital dexterity, since he was a teenager. Exactly how he learned to
do the switches, sleights, and steals that went into his masterful dice-stacking
routine is not known for sure. It might have been from J.B. Bobo,
Clarke Crandall, or Ed Marlo, all of whom he knew from magic conventions
he attended in the late 1940s and early ’50s. Or it could have been from
Marlo’s 1943 booklet, Shoot the Works. However, it’s no secret where
he learned of the powers of magnetic dice (crooked dice with tiny bar
magnets that will show the number they are loaded for when they fall
directly over an electromagnet). Del Ray first saw “mag” dice in action while
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The Dice Ladder in this photo shot by Eddie Ace is a “table-controlled” model, with
the electromagnetic coil concealed beneath the tablecloth.
the same manner that Del used in his Close-up Table [which is
discussed on page ---]. A magnet in the Close-up Table activated
a reed switch in the Dice Ladder to reverse the current. This unit
had to be moved over the magnet when the opposite sides of
the dice were needed. The later RC unit was operated with
two-channel RC units. A transmitter connected to a toe-switch
controlled both models of the Dice Ladder.
“The self-contained Dice Ladder shown in the accompanying
photograph had a clever power switch. The unit turned on when
placed on the table. This was accomplished by mounting a micro-
switch so that the pressure button protruded just below the table.
The weight of the coil and the batteries was more than enough to
turn on the switch. The unit contained sixteen AA NiCad batteries,
the receiver, an on/off switch, and a small electromagnetic coil
measuring four by four inches.”
Del Ray wound his own coils for the self-contained Dice Ladders.
Bill Dodson most likely wound the fifteen-inch induction coil for the
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Bob Escher holds the toe switch that Del Ray used to operate the
Dice Ladder and other radio-controlled effects.
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The Million Dollar Card Trick was Del Ray’s brainchild. The effect is
described in a May 23rd, 1985 letter Bill Dodson wrote to noted magic his-
torian Jim Alfredson: “There’s a card trick Del Ray and I were working out
sometime in the early 60ties — simply a card location and discovery we
dubbed ‘The Million Dollar Card Trick.’ This one is where after a spectator
selects and returns card to deck — shuffled by performer — cards are ribbon
spread on the table — then spectator announces his selection — and the top
card of the ribbon spread untouched mysteriously and slowly turns over —
proving to be the correct card.”
Bill Dodson may have had his fingerprint on the trick because he was
the one who supplied the necessary induction coil; but it was Del Ray
who, after applying a little lateral thinking, created the uncanny visual ef-
fect (by having the magnetic field repel rather than attract). Del also fath-
omed the precision card gaff, and, being the secretive soul that he was,
kept his pal Bill in the dark as to what really made the card flip. Over the
years, Dodson speculated it might be “cards laminated with a very thin shim
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Several of Del’s new close-up wonders involving electronics were previewed during his
1962-63 six-month run at the Conrad Hilton in Chicago.
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Ed Marlo was probably the first magician (other than Bill Dodson) to wit-
ness a performance of the Million Dollar Card Trick. It was shown to him
often during Del’s six-month run at the Conrad Hilton in Chicago. (The
Merriel Abbott-produced musical ice revue titled Girls! Girls! Girls! played
in the hotel’s Boulevard Room from September 11th, 1962 through
February 23rd, 1963.) Carmen D’Amico, Jim Peterson, Al Sharpe, and
Harry Riser were others who more than likely got a preview peek at the new
card trick (as well as the Dice Ladder) when they were invited up to Del’s
hotel room between shows.
Ed Marlo and Del Ray had been friends for over a decade, having met
at the 1950 I.B.M./S.A.M. convention in Chicago. Ed never missed an
opportunity to get together with Del anytime he came to town. Because
Del’s card-magic skill sets were so high, Marlo had found his match. To say
the two card mavens sessioned frequently would be an understatement.
Despite the fact that Del was fifteen years younger, Marlo considered
Del Ray a hero of magic. This avowal was more or less confirmed a few years
later when Jon Racherbaumer whimsically asked Ed Marlo (who, coinciden-
tally, was Jon’s mentor and hero), “If you weren’t Marlo, who would you like
to be as a magician?”
Marlo paused and said, “I would either be Paul Rosini or Del Ray.”
Then, after a slightly shorter pause, he said, “No. I would definitely be
Del Ray.”
Marlo thought highly of both Paul Rosini and Del Ray as performers. Ed
respected Rosini for his skillful style: he did his effects better than anybody
else, he presented his magic as a true artist. Ed admired Del Ray for his
substance: he did things nobody else could do, he was a true magician. He
felt Del’s fusion of technique with technology was “something marvelous.”
When Marlo’s booklet TILT! was released in 1962, Ed signed and inscribed
a copy “To Del Ray, ‘The 20th Century Wizard.’”
In a February 20th, 1963 letter to his friend Mel Brown, Marlo
wrote: “Del is winding up his six-month stay [in Chicago at the Conrad
Hilton] Wednesday. He should be on the Sullivan show in April, and it
is likely he will do the Dice effect and a very startling card effect that will
have all the magi talking.”
Del did not go on the Sullivan show as Marlo said he should, and it
would be a while before the “very startling card effect” would be seen by
the masses and “have all the magi talking.”
The Million Dollar Card Trick soon found a place in Del’s close-up
show, and he performed it regularly as he returned to some of his favorite
workplaces, such as the Ankara in Pittsburgh, Eddys’ in Kansas City, Har-
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olds in Reno (for another six-month run), and the Fontainebleau in Miami,
in addition to a few new venues like Bimbo’s 365 Club in San Francisco,
the Roostertail in Detroit, and the Shoreham in Washington, D.C. Howev-
er, it would not be until Del returned to the Shamrock Hilton in Houston
(for his eighth time) that the Million Dollar Card Trick would get even one
of the magi talking.
Walter Blaney caught Del Ray’s act during his May 13th-25th, 1965
run at the Shamrock. The talkative Texan was so overwhelmed when he saw
Del’s magic that he wrote up the experience and submitted his story to
Genii. The glowing review did not appear in the magazine until December
of 1965. But even then, it marked the first time the magic press had printed
anything in detail about Del Ray’s “new” wonders of close-up magic.
Walter’s description of the Million Dollar Card Trick doesn’t appear until
the final paragraphs, but because the article is such a good account of Del’s
performance at this particular time in his nightclub career, the piece is repro-
duced here in its entirety:
Del Ray
A Review by Walter Blaney
What in the world does magicdom owe Del Ray? Everything. Del is
one of the dozen or so professional magicians still making it in the
nightclub circuit. With nightclubs rushing to go out of business, it’s not
an easy field today. And for performers to stay in this business, well, it’s
the survival of the fittest. And Del is one of the fittest, booked solid with
about half of each year spent in the big clubs in Las Vegas and Reno.
As long as a man with a creative brain and the dedication to mag-
ic that Del has spends most of his waking and sleeping hours (he gets
new ideas from his dreams, he says) working up new magical treats,
magic is safe from extinction. And Del is twenty years ahead of his
time.
The lights dimmed in the plush Continental Room of the beautiful
Shamrock Hilton in Houston last night, and Del Ray appeared in tails
and wearing white gloves. Darting about him were magical flashes of
fire. From these flashes appeared silks, cigarettes, card fans, and a
dove. Then Del remembered he needed a table. A clap of his hands
and a roll-on table mysteriously crossed the stage and sidled right up
to its master like a well-trained dog. From then on, if you blinked you
missed something.
All of a sudden there’s a card houlette standing on the table and
the selected cards rise sat the audience’s commands — faster, slower,
stop, start, a little to the right, a little more to the left — however they
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want it. It looks like real magic (not reel magic). And when a wrong
card visibly changes to the right one, it brings down the house.
Lots of little things are going on, too. Like candles lighting and
changing color. Maybe it happens in one second — just a little magic
touch — but it’s a whole act of little magic touches added together
representing thousands of dollars of expenses and years of experimen-
tation. There may be occasional copies and similar effects on
the magic market, but nobody’s ever going to duplicate what Del
Ray does.
And then there’s Butch, Del’s companion teddy bear who drinks
champagne all through the act, but a sociable bear it is who drinks
only with Del and a spectator at their command. (There’s not a better
trained-bear act in the world.)
For a closing, Del Ray vanishes a few canaries. But that’s an un-
derstatement — like saying Houston’s new Astrodome is a big build-
ing. I won’t describe Del’s trick here, but suffice it to say that this is
beautiful magic worked to perfection, and I as a magician reveled in
its beauty, as did the enthusiastic audience.
Now, instead of my story ending here, it’s only begun. Del is an
old friend, and I visited with him in his hotel suite after the show. Along
with me was a friend, a relative newcomer to magic, and a witness to
what I was about to see.
Del performed close-up magic for us for three hours. I thought it
was about an hour, but my watch didn’t lie. I wouldn’t have thought I
could sit that still that long for any magic, but I was captivated. Now,
I’m not exactly new to magic and I’m not often fooled any more, darn
it. But when I am, I’m certainly delighted. I can honestly say Del had
me going the whole time, and I’m at a loss for words, which is some-
thing for the tall Texan.
Where I suspected sleights, there just weren’t any to be seen.
Everything was done so slowly and deliberately and the way it would
be done if real magic were being performed — and I’m not so sure
it wasn’t.
No one can touch Del on gambling demonstrations — dice
or cards.
There was a Plexiglas coin-ladder prop made for dice, regulation
Vegas dice. Nothing could be faked. I handled everything. I rolled all
I wanted to, until I said, “Now!” — on that roll a nine came up, a five
and a four.
Del took the dice and began to roll, over and over, until I said,
‘Now’ — on that roll, the dice stopped on a five and a four.
I guess this was as close to black magic as anyone was going to
get. Well, almost — for there was the “World’s Greatest Card Trick”
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
coming up. Del said it was the “World’s Greatest.” He impressed that
upon us. Gee whiz, it could only be a let down after a positive build
up like that. Less than a dozen magicians have been shown this new
trick (Del said). I was skeptical. It had to be a gag coming up. Del’s
clever close-up style, with a Texas-style braggadocio is all part of the
act (and misdirection I suspect, too). It makes you laugh. Del sounds
just like Jimmy Durante delivering a W.C. Fields spiel about the great-
est card trick in the world.
The first part was like any other take-a-card trick. The well-shuffled
deck lay in front of me with my selected card in it somewhere. Del said
that he would cause my card to leave the deck and turn over on the
table face up, so I could see it.
Was this some twist with a Voodoo Deck? Nope. I’ve fooled
with them too much. It was too well shuffled, and I’m on to any
thread work.
Finally, on command, it was like some invisible hand reached over,
jostled the deck, lifted out one card, and turned it over. Face up on the
table was my card. I’ve seen so-called “visible magic” before, but this
was ridiculous. Then, before I could swallow hard, Del had me pick
another, and he dealt out a dozen or so cards all over the table. I was
asked to concentrate on the one I had selected and, again, on com-
mand, my card flipped over face up. No question, it was the world’s
greatest card trick I have ever seen.
If you get within driving range of where Del is performing go see
him. And you might as well leave your paper and pen at home. Just
enjoy the show. Long live beautiful magic. Long live Del Ray!
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Chapter
48
During the early 1960s, while Del Ray was building his stockpile of
electronic wonders for his close-up act, the U.S. Department of Justice was
building its case for the dissolution of MCA, the very company that’d been
guiding his career since 1954.
Shortly after Music Corporation of America acquired Decca Records
and bought Universal Studios in 1962, U.S. Attorney General Robert F.
Kennedy declared that owning both the movie studio and a talent agency
was a violation of antitrust laws. Kennedy was uncomfortable that a com-
pany that represented performers as their agent was also the owner of the
production companies that were hiring them. Federal regulators informed
MCA President Lew Wasserman that he had thirty days to abandon the
agency business and twenty-four hours to notify its clients of the action.
On July 23rd, 1962, Del Ray received the same stiffly worded telegram
that went out to all of MCA’s 1,400 clients:
Dear Mr. Ray:
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
When the final curtain fell at the talent agency, quite a few of MCA’s
executives refused to retire and remained players in the business. Howard
Rubin and Herb Brenner formed International Management Associates and
offered its clients global representation. The out-of-work MCA VPs who
started up Creative Management Associates and Artists Agency Corporation
merely retained the cream of the MCA crop and continued doing business
as usual with their former accounts. The Agency for the Performing Arts
took over in several MCA locations, including Miami where Del Ray’s
former agent Bill Beutel simply pulled down the MCA logo and replaced it
with an APA sign.
The consequences of waking up one morning and finding he had no
agent didn’t bother Del that much. He knew that the few venues where he
had outstanding MCA contracts would keep their commitments and play his
act as booked.
When Del called Anne to tell her, “I’ve got bad news and good news,” the
good news was, “Without MCA I’m going to be ten percent richer each week.”
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49
Rock-’n’-roll and television sounded the death knell of the nightclub era.
By the 1960s, cultural changes in America had established two groups
of customers for the entertainment industry. First, the “youth market” (the
result of the post-World War II baby boom) had an unbridled fascination
with The Beatles and other rock-’n’-rollers and got their kicks listening to
jukeboxes, or just hangin’ out and spinning records. Second, there were the
62 million TV sets in homes, which meant four out of five households
had television and folks could simply stay at home and watch their favorite
movie and nightclub stars perform for free.
The notion of a glamorous nightspot where patrons dressed to the nines
and variety entertainers appeared on a dance floor with an orchestra as their
backdrop was but a fleeting moment from an old MGM movie on late-
night TV.
Del Ray did not consider television his friend. He felt the medium was not
kind to his magic. Ever since his 1951 TV debut on Ed Sullivan’s Toast of
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
the Town, where things didn’t go exactly as anticipated, he had steered clear
of work on the tube. A 1956 appearance on the Tonight Show with Steve
Allen, which he’d done at the insistence of his agent, Bill Beutel, at MCA,
was the only other network show listed on Del Ray’s resume. And it remained
that way for the rest of his career, even after he performed on the nationally
syndicated Mike Douglas Show.
Del’s 1964 booking on the Mike Douglas Show, a daytime talk-and-vari-
ety show telecast from Cleveland, Ohio, came about because of a friendship
with Edgar Bergen. The legendary ventriloquist got to know Del as result
of working with him on several MCA-produced variety shows. When Ber-
gen was asked to guest host the Douglas show the week of February 10th,
Del Ray’s name was at the top of his list of friends he wanted to bring on the
show. It took about a month of coaxing and cajoling from Mike Douglas’s
associate producer, Larry Rosen, to get Del Ray to agree to do the show.
Also appearing on the February 11th broadcast were actress Virginia Wing,
The Jolly Swagmen and, of course, Bergen’s sidekicks Charlie McCarthy and
Mortimer Snerd.
Del Ray performed his pantomime act, with musical accompaniment by
the Ellie Frankel Quintet, in the first half of the program. Except for a minor
glitch that prevented the roll-on table from rolling, the act went okay. How-
ever, when he came back in the second half to perform close-up just about
everything went awry. The Singing Bird wouldn’t sing. The Dice Ladder only
produced losing combinations. The Million Dollar Card Trick was worthless.
“It was because the table wasn’t working,” recalled Denny Haney, who
was nineteen years old when he watched the show at his home in Baltimore.
“When the card wouldn’t flip over, Del kept moving the deck around on the
table, but nothing happened.” His salvation was a sleight-of-hand card trick.
Fourteen years later, when Denny and Del worked on a show together in
Detroit (the 1978 Super Bowl Party), Del talked about his ill-fated episode
of the Mike Douglas Show. He blamed the fiasco on the “overpowering amount
of electronics in the studio,” and told Denny, “I haven’t done a television show
since then.”
The nightclub circuits were dwindling. In 1964, Bob Filips and his wife
Rosemarie caught Del Ray’s act when he played the Caravan Supper Club in
New Castle, Pennsylvania. Only twenty-five or so people were in the
audience for the first show. Afterwards, Del told Bob, “The business is seeing
some tremendous changes and it will never be like it used to be.” Everywhere
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he traveled, Del saw clubs shuttering their doors. He was also discovering
that the nighteries that hadn’t gone out of business (yet) were unable to pay
the fees he was accustomed to receiving.
What a difference a decade had made. In 1955, Del worked in nightclubs
every month of the year except two; in 1965, he performed in clubs a total of
two months.
In ’65 he appeared three weeks at the Palmer House in Chicago; one
week at the Shamrock in Houston; two weeks at Tommy Henrich’s Prime
Steakhouse in Columbus, Ohio; and two weeks at the Riviera Hotel in
Las Vegas. However, a slew of corporate dates and one-nighters filled out
much of Del’s calendar for the balance of the year. These shows — for such
clients as the American Plywood Association in Duluth, Minnesota, the
Independent Retail Food Dealers in Baltimore; the Common Pleas Judg-
es Conference in Columbus, Ohio, Crosley Broadcasting in Cincinnati,
and Heinz Foods in Pittsburgh — paid almost as much for a single night
as the nightclubs paid for a week. Two or three of these jobs a week at $400
apiece, and you’re making twice the money and doing half the work. Del
was, without a doubt, getting comfortable with the “tremendous changes” in
the business.
Following the dissolution of MCA’s talent agency, Del’s wife, Anne, took
over the chores of booking the act (something she’d done quite capably when
they were first married in 1950). In an effort to promote an awareness of
Del’s “new availability,” she put together an attractive four-page brochure
for a mass mailing to the independent talent agencies across the country. A
cover letter from Anne King Productions informed them that Del Ray, “Ac-
claimed America’s Foremost,” could now be booked direct. This meant no one
agency had an exclusivity (as MCA used to have) and agents booking the
act would not have to split commissions. Anne also advised that free copies
of the new brochure, as well as Del’s latest 8x10 photos, would be sent to
agents requesting them.
One of the first responses came from the John M. Moore Entertainment
Company in Columbus, Ohio. John Moore wanted Anne to send him two
hundred of the new brochures. He told her of his plan to sell Del’s act to
the numerous country clubs that were buying talent for their golf outings.
Moore believed Del Ray’s unique close-up show was the ideal entertainment
for these gatherings. He had a feeling that Del could experience the same pop-
ularity on the country club circuit as he’d enjoyed touring the nightclub trail.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Moore’s hunch was right. A booking for Del to perform close-up at the
Preston Hollow Country Club in Dallas led to an invitation to work the
1966 American Golf Classic at the prestigious Firestone Country Club in
Akron, Ohio, where he was an absolute hit. The word spread and Del Ray
was in demand for golf events everywhere. Twenty tournaments later, he
was invited to perform at the first annual Bogie Busters, a celebrity golf out-
ing in Dayton, Ohio. Del would end up working this high-profile tourna-
ment — which attracted such national personalities as President Gerald Ford,
Bob Hope, Walter Cronkite, and moon-walking astronaut Neil Armstrong
— a total of thirteen times.
The plethora of bookings for golf events, conventions, and corporate
shows that John Moore piled on Del’s plate in 1966 had to be sandwiched
between the last few nightclub engagements that Anne had already obligated
Del to play.
In January, he drove to Ottawa, the capital of Canada, for a two-week
run at the Chateau Laurier. It was interesting that the January 20th Variety
review of the Chateau show gave Del’s close-up work more ink than his
pantomime act: “A top showman, Ray appears in white tie and tails with
white gloves and has some amazing stunts. After the second show, Ray
returns to a prearranged table with some astounding dice, card, and locked
box tricks for the many who crowded round to watch. His dexterity is
beyond compare, and his mechanical bird that divines the roll of the bones
could be spotted on any network TV show.”
In March, Del worked a week at the Copa Habana, which, despite its
Latino-sounding name was not a club in Cuba. It was instead located in
faraway (from Pittsburgh) Oklahoma City. Over the seventeen years Del
had worked nightclubs, he’d played some unusual places: the Copa
Habana was one of them. The gig wasn’t reviewed in Variety. But it did get
a somewhat peculiar two-page write-up in the April 1966 issue of Southwestern
Magicians News:
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After MCA closed its talent agencies in 1962, Del Ray found it necessary to produce
a four-page brochure to promote his act.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
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Working through the John M. Moore Agency in Columbus, Ohio, Del started playing
country clubs across the nation.
Placing the cards in a houlette he returns to the audience and commands a
card to rise. It does. So does the second card (more uncanny electronics). The
third card is the wrong one. Upon command from fifty feet away, it promptly
and obediently changes to the correct one. To find the fourth card, the magi-
cian inflates a balloon and causes it to float in midair. (Truly, the man must be
magic — remember, he is in the center of a nightclub floor.) Piercing the
balloon with a sword, the wizard finds the card impaled on the sword’s tip.
Next follows a Serpentine Silk routine, cleverly incorporating a ring that climbs
the rope.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
The grand finale: Del Ray removes three canaries from their cage
and places them in a silk handkerchief. He covers the empty cage
with another, smaller hank. A flick of the scarf finds the canaries gone!
Then, although the magician is fifteen feet away, the hank covering the
cage manages to disappear in a flash of fire, revealing that the canar-
ies have reappeared. Del Ray bows and exits to a well-deserved out-
burst of applause. Me? I’m off to procure the “Do-it-Yourself Manual
of Electricity for Magical-Minded Amateurs.”
After finishing up his week at the Copa Habana in Oklahoma City, Del
headed south for Houston, where he was booked for a March 10th-16th run at
the Shamrock Hilton. Opening the show in the Continental Room for Broad-
way singer-dancer Elaine Dunn would mark the ninth time he’d appeared at
the Shamrock. (And it wouldn’t be until spring of 1971, when he shared the
bill with song writer-singer Earl Wilson Jr., that he would play the hotel for the
tenth and final time).
In May, Del Ray worked Ashland Oil’s Derby Day Party aboard the Belle
of Louisville (for the eleventh time), a benefit golf tournament in Mississippi,
and another golf event in Washington, D.C. before going to Chicago to play
the Empire Room of the Palmer House for the fifth and final time. He shared
the bill with Jack Jones and the seventeen-piece Ben Arden Orchestra. It would
be a decade before the Empire Room would shut its doors; yet Del would re-
main the last magician to play the showroom until its final week in January of
1976, when Mercer Helms’s dove act opened for comedian Phyllis Diller.
Del’s last nightclub engagement for the year was at Harolds Club in Reno.
When he completed his August 29th through September 27th run, he set what
had to be a Harolds Club record for the most weeks worked by a single per-
former. Beginning with his first run of nineteen weeks in 1960, and adding the
fourteen weeks worked in 1961, eleen weeks in 1963, and the final four weeks
in 1966, Del Ray had racked up a grand total of forty-eight weeks of appear-
ances on the stage of Harolds 7th Floor Fun Room.
Memorabilia from all five of these nightclub engagements is found in the
last pages of one of Del’s scrapbooks. Pasted in are the Variety reviews of the
shows at Harolds Club and the Palmer House. There’s a promotional postcard and
a couple of press clippings from the Shamrock show. A Chateau Laurier table-
tent card with Del’s photo is on the page next to a Copa Habana newspaper
ad (proving the existence of that far-out oasis in Oklahoma). And that’s it.
The big scrapbook that Anne had maintained since the early 1950s comes to
an end.
Del Ray’s life as a magician was at an interesting juncture. By his thirty-
ninth birthday in 1966, he had gracefully bowed out of a career as the
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most successful nightclub magician ever. At the same time, having been
practically reinvented by booking agent John Moore, Del was experienc-
ing remarkable success as America’s foremost close-up magician. From 1967
on, whenever Del was hired to work golf tournaments and country club
events, or conventions and sales meetings, trade shows and hospitality
suites, or even private parties, it was Del Ray’s close-up show that was in
demand. The nightclub act — soon to become known as “the stage act” —
was by no means retired, but it would take the backseat (literally) to the
show that played atop the Close-up Table.
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Chapter
50
For most of the 1960s, the South View Apartments on Broadway Avenue,
in the Dormont suburb of Pittsburgh, was home for Del and Anne. A
modest two-bedroom apartment afforded the couple with a living space that
was, as Anne once described it to Linking Ring columnist Frances Ireland
Marshall, “snug.” The fact that one of the bedrooms was practically packed
to the ceiling with Del’s magic, and his electronics workbench occupied
most of the dining area, had a lot to do with giving the apartment a “close
fitting feel.”
When Anne celebrated her sixtieth birthday in August of 1967, she
closed down the Anne King Productions office she’d run in the Jackson
Building downtown for the last twenty years. She wasn’t retiring. She was
just tired of commuting and wanted to try running her business from home.
Anne told Del that all she needed to book acts and produce shows (and
manage his business) from their apartment would be “a file cabinet and
a phone.” When she added, “and maybe a desk if we had a place to put it,”
was when Del decided it was time for that new house they’d been talking
about building for years.
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Del and Anne spent over a year looking at residential property in the
suburbs to the north, south, east, and west of downtown Pittsburgh. They
gravitated back toward the Dormont neighborhood (dubbed “Golden
Mountain” for its San Francisco-like hills) to a tract of land that had just
been opened for development. They ended up purchasing a lot at 2923
Pioneer Avenue, which was about a mile south of their apartment.
It would take seven months to complete the construction of their
1,460-square-foot house. After deciding on a basic two-level design,
Del worked with the developer’s architect to customize the floor plans. He
and Anne were satisfied with the layout of the top floor with its street-lev-
el front entrance, spacious living and dining rooms, and the kitchen and
bathroom. The dividing wall between the two bedrooms was adjusted so they
would have a larger master bedroom and could use the other bedroom as
Anne’s office. The third bedroom, which was on the ground level and next
to the garage, was modified quite a bit. Del had the architect add a door
and change the configuration of the stairwell so that he could enter the
room from the garage and then go upstairs to the main floor. This room
would become his magic domain — the place for the storage of his props
and equipment, the location of his workshop, and an area where he could set
up his magic tables and props for experimentation and rehearsal.
The house Del Ray built at 2923 Pioneer Avenue. A handwritten note on the
backside stated: “No landscaping yet. Christmas angels in windows. Mrs. Ray’s
home, December 1970.”
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The developer was surprised to learn that Del Ray would not be looking
for construction financing or a home mortgage loan. Once the plans were
approved and a considerable cash down payment was made construction
commenced. Del visited the job site on a regular basis and became friends
with the contractor and the subcontractors. Because the monthly progress
payments were made in cash everything went as scheduled, and there was
never a problem making changes. If Del needed a 220V circuit in his workshop
area or Anne wanted a pantry added to her kitchen, they didn’t have to wait
for a change order. The work was simply done.
Being the private person that he was, Del told few people anything about
the construction of the new house. “Mum” was the word, not only with
his magician friends, but also among his immediate family.
Mr. and Mrs. Raymond Petrosky moved into “The House that Del Ray
Built” on December 1st of 1970.
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Chapter
51
Many of Del Ray’s electronic close-up marvels that were being developed
in the 1960s and ’70s would be dependent on a special table — a piece of
equipment that is referred to in this book as simply the “Close-up Table.”
It is assumed that prototypes or experimental models of the Close-up Table
were made during the 1960s; however, the ultimate model that Del would
use for the greater part of his performing career, would not be built until
1972. Knowledge of its construction comes from Ron Slanina, a Pittsburgh
magician who visited Del’s workshop several times that year.
Ron Slanina was a serious sleight-of-hand performer who was influ-
enced by Del’s friend Eddie Fechter. He was a regular at the early Fechter’s
Finger Flicking Frolics and is acknowledged as being Paul Gertner’s first magic
teacher. Ron was also a slide-show producer and a graphics artist known for
his excellent hand-painted card gaffs. It was when he started supplying Del
with custom gaffs for his Final Aces routine that Ron and Del became tight.
“We were close friends,” Ron said. “In fact, I was probably the only fel-
low Del would let into his house. Every time he’d come home to Pittsburgh,
he’d give me a call and we’d get together and talk.”
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There was a little more than “talk” when Ron visited Del’s workshop one
afternoon in mid 1972. Ron recalled: “He was finishing up that big table
that he would take with him wherever he performed close-up. It was the
one that was wired throughout — the one where the mouse would run around
and find the selected cards. Del showed me what he’d done that day and
told me how ‘this track is for the mouse when he runs from here to there,’ and
then he talked about what he was planning to do next. He had the table set
up in the basement, so he performed some of the tricks for me — the card
that flipped over, the dice chute, and the salt-and-pepper trick with the powder
that turned from black to white.”
Unbeknownst to Ron (or anyone for that matter), the Close-up Table
contained two electromechanical systems. The first was the induction coil
and switching mechanism that was originally developed to operate the
Dice Ladder and the Million Dollar Card Trick. The second system, pro-
totyped around 1970, was the motor-and-pulley-and-magnet contraption
that ran Little Willie, the small white mouse that scurried about the tabletop
to find selected cards. Both systems were radio controlled.
It would be a full year before Del Ray would invite any magicians oth-
er than Ron Slanina to witness the array of wonders he could perform on
his new Close-up Table, and that wouldn’t happen until his appearance at
the I.B.M./S.A.M. combined convention in Miami Beach, in June of 1973.
Prior to the advent of Little Willie (in 1973), the Close-up Table was covered with a
tablecloth, as evidenced in this photo shot during Del’s close-up show at the May
1972 S.A.M. Festival of Magic in Boston.
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In the meantime, Del put the Close-up Table into test-drive mode. He
carried it everywhere he went and worked on it everyplace he played. He
even bought a new car to accommodate the new four-foot, five-inch long
masterpiece. The dimensions of the Close-up Table with its folding legs
detached would be the determining factor for the kinds of new cars Del
would buy for the rest of his life. Whenever he went shopping for a new car,
if there wasn’t enough room for the Close-up Table to fit comfortably
across the floorboard in the back seat, he’d look for another automobile.
And when he wasn’t on the road, logging performance hours on the new
Close-up Table, Del could be found working at his hometown hideaway,
the Moose 46 on Liberty Avenue. “It was actually a beautiful nightclub in
the Bloomfield neighborhood,” said Ron Slanina. “My wife, Dell, and I
would show up whenever Del performed there on weekends. He’d do his
stage act on the floorshow and then come out to where he’d set up his table
and perform as long as you’d stay there.”
The next few pages of this chapter are devoted to Bill Spooner’s discourse on
the “inner workings” of Del Ray’s Close-up Table. It must be said that this in-
formation is not intended to be a descriptive plan for reconstructing Del
Ray’s Close-up Table. Nor is it presented as a technical exposé for the gratu-
itous sake of revealing a secret that Del Ray guarded all his life. The detailed
information is given to hopefully provide an understanding and appreciation
of the genius that went into the creation of Del Ray’s masterpiece.
“The tabletop measures 55 by 30 inches and the style of the table
resembles a conference or office worktable. It is heavy and awkward
to carry, as it weighs over 70 pounds. The top is a shell built from 3/8-
inch plywood and 5/8-inch wide wood strips for the sides. The bottom
piece, to which the electronic and mechanical components are at-
tached, is also 3/8-inch plywood. The total thickness is 1-1/2 inches.
The top and sides are laminated with a brown wood-grain Formica.
The bottom piece, which is reinforced with three wooden crossbar
pieces, is bolted to the top shell with 18 brass bolts. The removable
folding legs are attached with a set of 16 brass bolts to 3/8-inch
plywood strips glued to the bottom piece. This construction method
provides a secure assembly, which did not have to be opened often,
and only then for repairs or modifications.
“After almost three decades of service — from the early 1970s to
the late 1990s — the table shows considerable wear, especially in the
bolt attachment areas. Numerous patches have been made to all the
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wood pieces. At some point in time, the motor that drove the Little Wil-
lie system was moved from one end of the table to the other. When-
ever electronic circuit modifications were made Del did not remove a
discarded circuit — he simply cut the wires and added a new one.
“When examining the inner workings of the table it was discovered
there are four battery systems, three of which have their own charger
circuit wired in parallel to a 120 volt AC line. The forth system was a
single C cell battery used to momentarily turn on a small 1.5 volt hob-
by motor. This system had low current demands so a charge system
was not needed, as it seldom had to be replaced. The charger circuit
was simple but effective. It consisted of an incandescent light bulb and
a diode wired in series with the battery pack. Of course, the electronic
values of the diode and bulb had to be properly calculated to prevent
damage to the batteries. This charging system was used by Bill Dodson
and shared with Del earlier in their electronics collaborations.
“Because the tabletop assembly was sealed with 18 bolts, how did
Del Ray know the state of the charge on the NiCad batteries? It is the
nature of this type of charging circuit to cause the light bulb intensity
to diminish as the batteries become charged. All Del had to do was to
observe the brightness of each of the three small bulbs, each with a
different wattage, to determine the state of charge of the battery
packs. He simply drilled three small holes beneath the center of each
bulb, allowing him to assess the state of charge by observing the
bulb intensity.
“The four battery systems operated the large coil, the coil switch-
ing system, radio receiver, and the Little Willie motor, with 1.5, 3, 6,
and 35 volts respectively. Because of the high current situation with the
electromagnetic coil, the table was protected with a fuse.
“I had an unusual experience with the Close-up Table in 1978
when I booked Del to perform at the North Carolina Festival of Magic
in Raleigh. He performed his stage act in the Meredith College audi-
torium and his close-up show in the Cate Student Center theatre. The
close-up performance ran almost two hours to an enthusiastic group
of magic fans. He talked to many people after the show, but did not
attempt to pack up his Close-up Table until the last person had left. He
had asked me to stay and help him remove the folding legs. Was I in
for a surprise! As I removed the last bolt from the leg bracket, sparks
shot out from the connection. I was startled. Then I was puzzled. Were
the legs a part of the overall circuit?
“The truth revealed itself almost thirty years later, when I had the
opportunity to examine the inner workings of the table. The Close-up
Table was designed so that one of mounting plates for one pair of ta-
ble legs was actually a shunt for the electrical system. Two bolts on the
mounting plate made the electrical connection between two copper
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The Close-up Table in action at the 1974 Boston S.A.M. convention. Little Willie
has just left his house to sleuth out Karrell Fox’s selected card. Photo by Irving
Desfor courtesy of the America Museum of Magic.
plates inside of the table. In other words, the table was not operable
without the legs. This was one of Del Ray’s safety mechanisms, and a
clever one at that. The large battery pack delivered 35 volts at rather
high amperage. There was always the chance that moving or trans-
porting the table could cause an electrical short and result in a fire.
Removing the legs after use prevented such an occurrence. According
to Bob Escher, Del always carried the sixteen bolts for the table legs in
a small cloth bag in his pocket.
“Anyone who was close to Del Ray knew he was a secretive individ-
ual. He seemed to take pride in devising unusual methods for protect-
ing his secrets from prying eyes. In the case of his battery charging sys-
tem, the 120-volt AC line was plugged into the table on the underside
near the battery systems. The input end of the AC line was soldered to
a RCA phono plug. The jack was recessed below the bottom of the ta-
ble and barely visible. Electrocution was a possibility if the phono plug
was accidently touched while the receptacle was plugged in to an out-
let. Del knew to always insert the phono plug into the table jack before
plugging the line in to a wall receptacle. A close examination of the
bottom of the table reveals two inconspicuous 3/32-inch brass rods.
These rods were connected directly to the battery pack output wires.
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The Close-up Table that Del constructed in the early 1970s was the only one used
throughout his career. [Below] The top shell of the Table has been removed to the
show its inner workings and electromechanical components.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
had a deck of cards on the table when he was performing with the
coil. The deck was gimmicked with a bar magnet. All he had to do
was casually slide this deck over the area where the reed switch was.
Reversing the current is what caused the card for the Million Dollar
Card Trick to flop back over after it had flipped face up the first time.
“In a February 4, 1974 letter I received from Bill Dodson discuss-
ing the workings of magnetic coils, Bill makes an interesing analogy by
noting that ‘a magnetic coil is like an invisible thread.’”
The fabrication of the Close-up Table was probably the first project under-
taken in Del Ray’s new workshop. Exactly how that lower-level workspace
was configured and equipped will never be known for sure, as there were no
plans drawn or photographs taken. However, Ron Slanina, who was there
when Del was “finishing up” the Close-up Table in 1972, did recall a few
details about the setup: “I remember seeing a big drill press and his band
saw. All the equipment looked like it was brand new. Some of the equipment
in the shop was from Europe and the basement was wired for three-phase.
And he was eccentric about the electric cords. Every one of them had to
be the exact length from the piece of equipment, appliance, or lamp to the
wall receptacle. He didn’t like wires curled up or hanging off the table.”
The photograph of the workshop that’s reproduced here was taken af-
ter Del Ray’s death in November of 2003. When Bob Escher and David
Baldwin met at the house to clean out the magic room, before a prop or
piece of equipment was moved, David shot what might be the only pictures
ever made of Del’s workshop.
It is difficult to discern the tools on the workbench because of the items
stacked on top. The large standing drill press is visible on the far side of
the bench. The power tools were permanently mounted (with their electri-
cal cords trimmed to length as described by Ron Slanina) and included a
Dumore precision mini drill press, a Boley jeweler’s lathe, a Unimat metal
lathe, a one-inch Rockwell-Delta belt sander/grinder, a Dremel table saw,
and a Tenma soldering iron. The Boley lathe most likely came from Del’s
father, Victor Petrosky (who, by the time this workshop was set up, had
retired as a jewelry repairman, remarried, and moved to Florida).
The desk at the center of the back wall held Del’s electronics equipment,
which included power supply units, voltmeters, and frequency meters. The
two shelves to the sides of the desk contained dozens of small boxes full of
various electronic components: resistors, capacitors, IC chips, transis-
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tors, LEDs, digital displays, NiCad batteries, switches of all sorts, and a
multitude of motors. In addition, there were boxes of pulleys, gears,
and wheels, screws, washers, and nuts and bolts of all sizes. As Bill Spooner
has noted: “Del Ray spared no expense when it came to purchasing elec-
tronic components or hardware he thought might have an application
to his magic inventions. And he never ordered just one of an item. Many
purchases, be they motors or magnets, were by the gross.”
It’s taken for granted when Del Ray moved into the new house on Pio-
neer Avenue the workshop was not as fully stocked and equipped as depicted
here. Nevertheless, he had everything needed to immediately immerse
himself into the manufacture of the Close-up Table, as well as most of the
signature effects he would be performing on top of it.
Del Ray’s creative output was at an impressive peak.
The workshop area of Del Ray’s magic room that was on the garage/basement
level of his home at 2923 Pioneer Avenue.
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In addition to the country club jobs that the John M. Moore Entertain-
ment Company and other agents were sending his way in the 1970s, Del Ray
was getting more and more bookings for conventions, sales meetings, and
trade shows. Major corporations sought his close-up show because it was
unique. No other magician on the planet performed miracles like Del Ray
did. Yet something else distinguished him from other magicians pursuing
the business of corporate-show business. It was Del’s ability to come up
with original tricks that had a tie-in with a company product, yet they were
effects that remained entertaining mysteries when performed later with-
out the corporate identity. The consequences of developing such innovative
tricks would prove rewarding. Most of the routines became mainstay material
in Del Ray’s close-up show for the next twenty-five years.
One of the first effects Del created specifically for a trade show was some-
thing he called “Coal Power.” He introduced the trick during a close-up
show presented for the American Mining Congress in Detroit, in 1971.
An executive with Diamond Power, a utility-industry equipment manu-
facturer, was impressed with the Del’s magic and booked him to work
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Del Ray’s publicity photos of the mid ’60s focused on his close-up magic skills.
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black to silver for “yes.” This was accomplished by secretly switching the cur-
rent to the Close-up Table’s induction coil. The dust was actually a magnet-
ic ink powder used in laser-printer cartridges. When the coil was activated,
the positive particles were aligned and compressed by the magnetic field
causing the powder to appear lighter, and when the current was turned off
the particles appeared to turn back to black.
The Fluorescent Coin was invented for a convention show Del Ray did
for Westinghouse in 1969, and it was used extensively in close-up shows
for General Electric throughout the ’70s and ’80s. The trick was a high-
tech variation of the classic Ring on Wand, using a half-dollar with hole in
it, instead of a finger ring, and a 15-inch fluorescent tube as the wand.
Del would begin the performance, as he did with many of his close-up
mysteries, by asking a question. “Does anyone have a half-a-dollar with a
9/16-inch hole drilled through the center of it?” Of course, nobody did. So
he’d say, “I just happen to have one with me… for emergency purposes.”
After having the coin examined and then initialed with a marker, he brought
out the fluorescent light bulb, explaining that it once belonged to a wealthy
U.S. Army officer… General Electric. He demonstrated how easily the
half-dollar slid on and off the ends of the fluorescent tube, and then gently
placed it on a stand between two upright clear-glass rods. With the coin held
tightly in one hand and his other hand held over the tube, heasked,
“Is it possible to make the coin go from the hand onto the light bulb?
I think it’s impossible. Watch… One, two, three — go!” The bulb lit
instantly, and the initialed coin was linked onto it. “The impossible is possible.”
The light went out when Del blew on it.
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“Four models of the Computer Deck have been identified in the Bob
Escher/Del Ray archives. Each version shows improvements in structure
and electronics. Most units were activated with a reed switch located
at the rear of the card box. Del had two methods of activating the reed
switch. He had a large cylindrical magnet taped to the underside of
the Close-up Table, and he had three small cylindrical magnets im-
bedded in the bottom side of a close-up mat. He often used the gaffed
mat with the Close-up Table, but the primary purpose of the mat was
to allow the Computer Deck to be performed in settings that did not
include the Close-up Table.
“The earliest model of the Computer Deck had a Nixie tube with
a numeric display protruding above the card box, which indicated the
position of the selected card. There were also two miniature light bulbs
to the sides of the Nixie tube that flashed and a small speaker inside
the box that emitted a noise when the reed switch was turned on.
“The second model was radio controlled and did not depend on a
magnetic reed switch to activate the two flashing green LEDs and the
speaker that beeped. This unit did not have a numeric display, but had
the capability of identifying the selection when the cards were spread
on the table.
“The third model, which is not functional (because of a missing
transmitter), appears to have had both a magnetic reed switch to start
operations and RC capabilities to control a seven-segment alphanu-
meric display. There are two green LEDs that flashed and a miniature
speaker that beeped.
“The fourth model is actually the Computer Deck that Del Ray
gave to Bob Escher for his birthday in 1987. Magnets in the close-up
mat turn on a reed switch, which causes four clear miniature bulbs to
flash and a small speaker to beep intermittently, indicating the Com-
puter Deck has been placed on the correct pile. When the card box
is picked up, a timing circuit is initiated and the flashing and beeping
continue for a 23-second interval, during which time the magician
explains that the computer is analyzing and calculating the exact loca-
tion of the card in the pile. Suddenly, a numeral appears in the display
window of the card box. The spectator deals down to that number
to discover the selected card. Inside the card box is a DIP switch for
changing the numeral that comes up in the display.”
The concept of the Computer Deck was originally prototyped as the “Card
Computer” and was performed as early as 1970 at a Bendix Automaton and
Measurement Seminar in Dayton, Ohio. The electronics for this unit were
not inside a playing card box, but instead were contained in a white plastic
box measuring 3 inches long by 1-1/2 inches wide by 3/4-inch thick. The ef-
fect was extremely simple. The lost card was located when the mini-computer
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was placed on top of the shuffled deck. Without any beeping, a number
came up on a numeric display on the box, and the selection was found to be
that many cards down from the top of the deck.
Del Ray gave one of these first Card Computers, as well as anoth-
er prototype model, to his friend Lynn Covey in 1980. The second Card
Computer that Lynn received was inside a black plastic box that measured
2-inches square by 3/4-inch thick. There were two translucent plastic-
covered LEDs protruding through the front surface, which had a photo
print of a tape recorder glued to it. This unit did not have a numeric display
or a speaker to beep and simply located the selected card with its flashing
LEDs. Both Card Computers had reed switches that were turned on when
placed atop magnets hidden in a close-up pad.
The Computer Deck was a pet trick that Del Ray was continually modi-
fying and improving. Counting the models he gave to magician friends,
there were about ten made, and each one did something a little differently.
He even built a model of the Computer Deck that talked.
In 1985, when Del did a two-month series of sales-meeting shows in
Southern California for International Business Machines, the Computer
Deck took on a corporate identity. The Computer would identify the pile
that contained the selected card by beeping and blinking in the usual man-
ner, but Del would stop here and ask the Deck, “Do you think you can really
tell us where the card is?”
A prerecorded voice emanating from the card box said, “I can... Please have
your spectator think of the card…”
“She is thinking,” Del said. “I didn’t know you were a mind reader, too.”
After a pause, the Computer Deck said, “If you will count down six cards
you will come to the card they are thinking of. This service courtesy of IBM.”
Over the laughter, Del asked, “Did you say six cards?”
“Yes, I said six.”
“Thank you,” said Del.
“You’re welcome.”
Of course, when cards were dealt off the pile, the spectator’s selection
was the sixth card. Del concluded by asking, “What if the Computer breaks
down?” He reached inside his jacket and produced the chosen card, saying,
“You use the emergency — courtesy of IBM.”
Customizing the Computer Deck routine for IBM paid off big time. Be-
fore depositing one of his $20,000 paychecks from Ray Bloch Productions
(the agency that staged the West Coast sales meetings), Del made a photocopy
of it for his scrapbook, beneath which he wrote: “The most I made for 2 weeks.”
Not all of the tricks and routines that Del Ray developed for corporate
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“Fifty dollars could be yours if you catch the ball on the first
bounce,” was the pitch used when Del performed the Bounce,
No Bounce Balls.
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In the ’70s, Del Ray’s scrapbooks started slipping into disarray. Anne’s ear-
lier enthusiasm for keeping the pages tidy and current waned soon after
they’d settled into the house on Pioneer Avenue. Scrapbooking turned to
merely accumulating.
Eight-by-ten photographs and smaller snapshots of Del performing
in country club settings and hotel meeting rooms were simply stuffed into
the plastic pages, with only a few of them dated or identified. Most of
the newspaper clippings saved were articles that had short mentions of up-
coming appearances at such function as the Annual Firefighter’s Relief Ball
in Philadelphia; a Blackhawk High School Spring Prom in Chippewa, Penn-
sylvania; the Vernago Lodge of Perfection Ancient Accepted Scottish Rite of
Freemasonry’s 88th Reunion in Oil City, Pennsylvania; and the Ports-
mouth Rotary Club’s 50th Anniversary and Christmas Party in Portsmouth,
Ohio. These were the Anne King Productions one-nighters that Del
would work (usually for $300 to $400 apiece) whenever he wasn’t perform-
ing at country club golf outings or corporate events (for his regular fee of
$650 to $1,000 per show).
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their readers’ interests were usually the leading golfers at a PGA Tournament
or the number of attendees in town for the Homebuilder’s Show. And,
because Del rarely brought home programs or printed pieces from these
affairs, there’s little evidence of the hundreds of country club, convention,
and corporate shows he gave during the last twenty-five years of his
performing career.
Del Ray was resolute in his desire to leave magic history with little in-
formation for his legacy. At the memorial service in November 2003, Bob
Escher, who inherited Del’s magic, was told that Del’s accountant had
been given orders to burn or destroy all Del Ray/Raymond Petrosky
business records. Del predeceased Anne by almost five years, and it is
assumed that Del’s wish was fulfilled. According to Anne’s niece, Patricia
McDermott, who inherited the house at 2923 Pioneer Avenue when Anne
died in 2008, there were no files with contracts and agreements or business
records left in the house.
There is, however, a collective source of information that allowed the
creation of a timeline, albeit sketchy, for the last twenty-five years of Del
Ray’s performing career. Recorded in the magic journals of the day —
namely The Linking Ring, M-U-M, Genii, New Tops, Magic Manuscript, and
MAGIC — are reviews and reports of the numerous magic conventions
that Del Ray played during the decades of the ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s. These
periodicals also featured articles, columns, and ring and assembly reports
that contain mentions of some of the corporate and trade shows Del was
working during those years. Were it not for this “paper trail” many important
aspects of Del Ray’s performing career would have been lost to history.
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By early 1973, practically all of the magic magazines were hyping Del
Ray’s appearance at the upcoming I.B.M./S.A.M. combined convention in
Miami Beach. A photo of Del and Butch was on the cover of the Febru-
ary Linking Ring, and inside the magazine it was announced: “Del Ray,
who has not appeared on a national convention since 1958 in Buffalo,
will headline the June 20-23 bash with his stage act and also perform his
fabulous new one-hour close-up show — a whole new concept in close-up
magic entertainment.”
“Our convention chairman has some big surprises in store in the area
of close-up magic,” wrote Mike Rogers in M-U-M. “For instance, Little
Willie will make his first appearance at a national magic function. Little
Willie is a talented magic mouse who will be assisted by Del Ray (a top-
notch magician in his own right). They must be seen to be believed.”
It had been exactly twenty years since the I.B.M. Silver Anniversary
Convention in Philadelphia, where Del Ray’s act of electronic wonders and
his astonishing Singing Bird had taken the magic world by storm. Now,
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after months of cajoling from one of his old mentors, Nevin Hoefert, who
was serving as the Miami Beach convention chairman, Del had agreed to
unleash the amazing Little Willie and a whole new tableful of miracles at
the ’73 convention. Del Ray’s history of creating a sensation was about to
repeat itself.
The combined confab at the Marco Polo Hotel drew a thousand magi-
cians. “I thought that was great but possibly it was too many,” wrote Kirk Stiles
in his M-U-M review.
“It was more than the hotel was built to handle,” said Lou Derman in
The Linking Ring, “but the great shows, lectures, and close-up made up for it.”
Mike Rogers reported, “The best thing at the Miami Beach convention
was the close-up work of Del Ray. The worst thing was the hotel’s elevator
schedule. Everything else fell somewhere in between.”
“The banquet was a shambles,” wrote Bill Larsen Jr. in Genii, “but the
show that evening was the best of all because of a man I had never before seen
work. Del Ray was his name, and he was the showstopper. His close-up
show the next afternoon topped the whole proceedings.”
“Conventions of this size do present some problems,” reported Dr.
John Henry Grossman for Great Britain’s Magic Circular, “however, these
were well handled, the venue was fine, and all the shows were outstanding.
Del Ray’s stage and close-up work have to be seen to be believed. He has
the most original, mystifying, and entertaining magical offerings available
in the world today.”
Del’s magical offerings of Little Willie and the Close-up Table weren’t
the only “new” things he brought to the Miami Beach convention. When he
performed on the Friday night gala show he unveiled a new table for his
stage act. At the beginning of the act, when Del silently commanded the
table to move it not only rolled toward him in its usual mysterious manner,
it also made a statement. “THE MAGICAL WORLD OF DEL RAY”
scrolled across a lighted message reader board built into the top front edge
of the table. Later in the act, “WATCH THE CANDLE CLOSELY”
tracked across the message board, seconds before a white candle instanta-
neously turned red. “I WILL NOW HAVE FOUR CARDS SELECTED” let
the audience know what he was up to when he let the stage. Toward the end
of the Rising Cards, when the message board quipped, “THE KID IS
CLEVER,” the audience agreed with a burst of laughter and applause.
Electronic display signs, such as those that streamed headlines and
stock-market returns across buildings in Times Square, were expensive and a
couple of years away from being miniaturized and available for theatrical
experimentation. So, completely avoiding optoelectronics and employing
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his idiosyncratic cleverness, Del Ray came up with a way of his own for
making a moving sign. And, surprisingly, the method was shamefully low
tech. All it took was a fluorescent tube, a variable-RPM hobby motor, a
spool of black Vinyl ribbon, and a call to his “man of letters,” Ron Slanina.
“This was before LED message signs,” Ron recalled. “Del had a rib-
bon with small light-bulb-size holes punched in it that pulled across a
fluorescent backlight. He asked me to make him an alphabet template so
he could punch out the letters he needed to make the words.” Messages
could also be customized for corporate shows. Often a product name or
a company slogan streamed across the top of the table as it moved downstage
to greet the audience.
Colorful starbursts of light would appear within a diamond-shaped pic-
ture frame on the front of the table. A light box inside the table housed a
motorized color wheel with a halogen projector lamp focused on a bundle
of fiber optics. The moving light patterns, when transmitted to the ends of
the fiber-optic strands embedded in the back of the picture frame, created
a mini-display of what looked like “electronic fireworks.”
The “Diamond Table” was the sixth version of the roll-on table Del Ray
constructed, and while the scrolling sign and the fiber-optics light show
were its most apparent new features, a few other subtleties had been added.
Del’s new table unveiled at the Miami Beach convention not only walked it “talked,”
via its programmed message sign.
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The Jumping Card Box was a cute throwaway effect performed at the
start of Del’s card-fanning routine. After removing the deck from the card
box, he made a one-hand fan of the cards as he tossed the empty box to
the table. The toss was a miss. The box fell to the floor in front of the table.
Closing the fan, he glared at the box and made a pointing gesture toward
the tabletop. Get up there! He then made a two-hand circular fan and looked
back down at the box. You better behave and get on the table. The card fan
was slowly closed with his left hand, as his right hand reached into his
trouser pocket. You had your chance. A blank gun was fired at the card box,
which instantly jumped up to the tabletop. That’s better. Del calmly contin-
ued with his routine of perfectly executed card fans and flourishes. A reel, a
motorized pin pull, a VOX (or sound activation switch), and Del Ray’s im-
peccable sense of comedic timing were the essentials that made the Jumping
Card Box a memorable magical moment of the act.
A flashes-of-fire ending was added to the Migrating Canaries finale ef-
fect. Just before the birds were about to disappear from a folded cloth napkin
and magically return to their empty cage (which had been covered with a
silk handkerchief ), the message sign warned: “DO NOT TAKE YOUR
EYE OFF THE SILK ON THE CAGE.” Suddenly, there were two mid-
air flashes of fire and the birds were gone. Then, instead of having to whisk
away the silk on the cage, it vanished instantly in a third burst of flame,
revealing that the canaries had already returned to their home.
The Diamond Table’s new visual effects were outnumbered by the invis-
ible improvements. The electronics and the wiring of the interactive circuits
had been completely redesigned. Everything was now modular and con-
trolled by a bank of toggle switches at the backside of the tabletop. Del’s old
clock-motor switching system was replaced with two commercial rotary
switches. One of the receivers in the table was of a commercial variety and
activated the motor that drove the table forward and backward. Anoth-
er receiver operated various devices on the tabletop. Other time-delayed
sequences of effects were operated with momentary push-button switches.
The Diamond Table was a workhorse. It would become Del Ray’s table
of choice for the next thirteen years, until a newer model superseded it.
And even then, the table was never retired. Because it was the last table with
the cage for the Migrating Canaries built into its top, any time Del was
called upon to perform that signature effect, he would have to roll out
the Diamond Table.
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It was a full year after the Miami Beach combined convention before Del
Ray would find time in his busy schedule to play another national magic
convention. This time it was the 1974 Society of American Magicians
conference in Boston. Del Ray and Fred Kaps were booked as the headliners.
Much interest (and early registration) was stirred up when convention
chairman Ed Rosenthal placed ads in M-U-M, The Linking Ring, and Genii
announcing Fred Kaps would be appearing for the “first time at a S.A.M.
convention” and Del Ray was making his “final appearance at any magic
convention.” The latter proclamation caused many to wonder if Del was
considering an early retirement. After all, he’d built his cozy home and
workshop in the Golden Mountain neighborhood of Pittsburgh. And he
had told Frances Marshall, “I’m going to take it easy,” when she wrote in
her 1958 Linking Ring column, “…Del and Anne have laid long-range
plans to open a motel in some resort area, and finally stop the constant
travel.” But on the other side of the coin, Del Ray was not yet fifty. That
was too young for someone to whom “magic was the only thing in his life
that really mattered,” as his friend Bob Filips always maintained, to be hanging
it up.
Del was noncommittal about the rumors of his early retirement that
were floating about at the Boston convention, which turned out to be
the largest S.A.M. conference held to date. The sell-out crowd of twelve
hundred doubled the former record of six hundred. Apparently, the
advance publicity worked, with the likes of Dai Vernon, Richiardi Jr., and
Doug Henning attending the convention, not as performers but as registrants.
Both Del’s close-up show and stage act garnered standing ovations.
The reviews of his appearances were nothing but rave. Max Maven wrote
(as Phil Goldstein) in the September Boston Barnstormer: “Any description
of Del Ray is inadequate. He presents real magic. Some people will try to
tell you that he uses sophisticated electronic devices. That’s not true. The
source of his effects lies far beyond the ken of mere mortals. It’s real magic,
and no less. A standing ovation was a minor tribute to this man’s genius. I
bow to his Art.”
It became apparent that retirement was the last thing on Del’s agenda,
and he was far from making his “final appearance at any magic convention.”
In the fall of 1975, Bill Dodson felt it was time to throw some accolades
Del’s way. Bill, who always fancied himself as a bon vivant of sorts, had
established a tradition of putting on an annual “Saturday After Thanksgiving
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1974 S.A.M. Convention in Boston: (top row) Del Ray performing on Saturday night
stage show; (center row) Fred Kaps and Dai Vernon admire Del’s close-up work;
(bottom) Little Willie pushes the selected card toward Karrell Fox.
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Party” and decided to dedicate that year’s bash to his friend. The weekend
affair turned out to be a mini magic convention and was written up in the
January 1976 issue of The Linking Ring:
Del Ray Honored
By Bill Brewe
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disliked flying and Del’s job was to entertain and keep the man’s mind
off the flight. Del later learned that the man had written to praise Del
as a magician, but said he was a very poor card player.
During the course of the party, letters of congratulations were
read. Among them was a tribute from I.B.M. President Charles Lantz,
commending Del on his innovative approach to magic, his artistic per-
formances, and his achievements as a magical artist. There’s certainly
no argument about that.
Del Ray was the guest of honor and featured performer at two magic events
in North Carolina in 1976. In May, at the invitation of Bill Spooner, who
was then president of I.B.M. Ring 199, Del headlined the 9th annual
North Carolina Festival of Magic in Raleigh, sharing the bill with Paul
Gertner, Mark Young, Howard Schwarzman, Ed Longmire, and juggler
Tommy Curtin. Then in October, Del appeared on the Stars of Magic Revue
staged by the Coastal Carolina Conjurors I.B.M. Ring 248 in Wilmington,
where ring president Lynn Covey presented him with a plaque making him an
honorary member of the club.
In April of 1978, I.B.M. Ring 189 in Galion, Ohio put on a two-day
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Del Ray received the largest fees of his career during the 1980s. Photocop-
ies of cashed checks in his scrapbooks show he made $12,000 a week while
performing sales meeting shows for General Electric in 1982. He earned
as much as $5,000 per day when working convention shows for Ray Bloch
Productions in 1985.
At the same time, Del was experiencing major problems with his
health. Diagnosed with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), he
had breathing difficulties and was constantly fatigued. He was frequently
involving himself in disabling accidents. In 1986, he was forced to undergo
coronary bypass surgery.
But never one to dwell on his illnesses or brag of his good fortunes, he
simply summed up his dilemma by telling his friends, “I’ve learned if you
don’t have your health you don’t have nothing.” Del Ray made the choice
to forge onward. His happiest moments in life were, as they’d always been,
when he immersed himself in his magic.
v
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Del Ray would perform at thirty-two different magic events and conven-
tions in the eighties, the first of which was the March 6th-8th, 1980 Winter
Carnival of Magic in Gatlinburg, Tennessee.
He became the hometown hero in 1981 when he agreed to perform
at the I.B.M. convention in Pittsburgh. It would be his seventh I.B.M.
convention (the first being in Pittsburgh in 1947). “We’ve seen Del Ray
many times over the years and he’s never failed to entertain,” wrote Link-
ing Ring editor Howard Bamman. “His manner, style, and professionalism
make his magic all the more believable. All the little things, the little
touches, add to the whole, and the audience loves every moment of it.
Small wonder he has been on the pro circuit so long. Detailing all of his
magic is of little consequence. The important thing is that Del Ray is here
to stay, and the thunderous applause accorded him proved it.”
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In 1982, Del was out of work for three months because of a back in-
jury. He was setting up for a show at the 56th Annual Shaker Day Golf
Tournament in Shaker Heights, Ohio when he fell off the stage. It seems
that the platform was a four-by-eight sheet of plywood resting on three
beer boxes rather than four, and when he rolled his seventy-pound table over
to the wrong corner, to use Del’s words, “The whole thing capitulated.”
A bruised disc caused him to cancel four other golf events, several fundrais-
er shows that Anne had lined up, three major trade shows, and two magic
conventions. It wasn’t until the end of May, when he returned to Raleigh
to headline the North Carolina Festival of Magic (for the second time) that
he was able to drive and get back on the road again.
When Del Ray attended Bill Dodson’s Saturday After Thanksgiving Party
in 1982 he met Dr. Robert Escher for the first time. Escher was running a
busy orthodontics practice, yet managed to stay even busier performing
close-up and stage magic shows around town, as well as serve multiple
terms as president of the Louisville Magic Club. Bob was “absolutely
blown away” when he saw Del perform at the party. But what also struck
a chord with Bob was Del’s manner of communicating with people. “When
he talked with you he focused on you. He was not distracted and gave you
the full attention until your conversation was over. Del made you feel like
you were his friend.”
The next time Bob met up with Del was in 1983, when he came to town
during the Kentucky Derby to perform for Ashland Oil aboard the Belle
of Louisville (for the twenty-seventh time). Del always spent the weekend
with Bill Dodson and his wife Betty. On the Friday night before the
Derby, Bob and local magicians Sherrell Nunnelley and Earl Bullard were
invited to Bill’s house. Bob recalled, “Del Ray sat with us out in Bill’s
workshop garage for hours and entertained us with one trick after another.
From that time onward, whenever Del would come to town I was among
those invited to Bill’s house.” Soon, the Derby weekend get-togethers
only included Bill, Del, and Bob. After Dodson died in 1991, Del started
showing up at Escher’s house.
On the day of the Derby, Del would have his Close-up Table loaded onto
the riverboat by six a.m., so he could be set up and ready to perform when
the party started at nine. He’d entertain the Ashland Oil executives and
their guests all morning as the boat took them up the river and brought
them back in time to get to Churchill Downs. Bob said, “Ashland’s
president, Paul Chellgreen, once wrote a letter saying, ‘Seeing Del’s magic
eachyear was the highlight of the weekend and better than the Derby
itself.’ They loved him and he was, in a sense, on the Ashland payroll. One
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year when he was sick and couldn’t come to Louisville, they paid him anyway.”
When the party was over and the Ashland folks were off to the races,
Del would pack up and drive to Bob’s house. “We’d sit at my kitchen table
and do tricks while we waited for the Derby, which ran on TV around five
thirty or six. Then, my wife, Sandy, and my mother would join us and we’d
go out to the Piccadilly for dinner. Del loved smorgasbords and coconut pie,
and the Piccadilly had great coconut pie.
“One night Del told us a story about a bakery in Cincinnati that sold
what he called, ‘the most fabulous coconut pies.’ He was driving by the bakery
on his way home from a show and stopped to call his wife, Anne, to tell
her, ‘I’m gonna bring you home a coconut pie.’ Del bought the last pie
they’d baked that day and put it on the front seat next to the birdcage. He
told me, ‘I was driving along and I could smell how good it was, so I
pulled over to eat a piece. And then another wee piece... Well, I ate the
whole pie!’ After he got home and unpacked the car, Anne asked, ‘Where’s
the pie?’ Del said he had to tell her, ‘They sold all out of those delicious
coconut pies.’”
One of the many magic sessions at Bob Escher’s house after Del finished work
aboard the Belle of Louisville.
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In the spring of the following year, when Del worked a private party on
Mackinac Island, Michigan, he had another incident. Because motorized
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vehicles are not allowed on the historic resort island, special arrangements
were made to transport his equipment (via ferry and horse-drawn carriage)
to the Grand Hotel where he was to perform.
The load-in went smoothly, but it was the ordeal of getting from his
room to the hotel ballroom that almost killed Del. After making a couple of
trips up and down the front staircase, he was breathless and could barely
walk. Later in the afternoon, he discovered a rear fire escape that took him
right to his room.
When the party was over and Del had packed up his Close-up Table and
was carrying it out to the fire escape, he slipped and fell down two flights
of steel stairs. He protected his equipment but suffered severe head and
back injuries. Del would later tell Frances and Jay Marshall that he was
“knocked out for several hours.” The dotors determined that the accident
brought on a heart attack. This time, Del Ray would be unable to perform for
six months.
In her Linking Ring column, Frances Marshall reported: “I had a long
talk with Del Ray who is recovering quietly at home — quietly, that is,
while he revises his whole close-up act! Del is one of our finest working
magicians, but he will be tapering down on his shows until he is thoroughly
well. We all wish him a speedy recovery.”
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The only national magic convention Del Ray worked in 1985 was the I.B.M.
in Kansas City, Missouri. He appeared rested and fully recovered from his
heart attack, and he was thoroughly energized when it came time for his
one-hour close-up show, which was loaded with surprises.
After acknowledging the audience’s welcome applause, Del said, “I think
this a non-smoking room.” He flicked a Bic lighter and a tall, bright yellow
flame appeared. “So we won’t need this.” He slapped the burning cigarette
lighter to the tabletop and it was gone. Both hands were absolutely empty.
Del then introduced, “The newest member of my little family, Suicide
Phil.” This was a wind-up toy fireman who could predict dice rolls by climb-
ing to steps on his fire ladder that indicated the different dice combinations.
If he climbed to the rung with a three/four on it, the spectator would get
a seven on her next roll of the dice. If Phil stopped on the step with a
four/five, the spectator would roll a nine. After successfully predicting that
someone would roll a double six, and after making the dangerous climb to the
very top rung of the ladder, little Phil made a death-defying dive into Del’s
open hands, thus explaining his nickname of “Suicide.”
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A live TV studio set was created for Del’s close-up show at the 1985 I.B.M. convention
in Kansas City. Photo ©copyright H. Rick Bamman.
The Rabbit and The Frog — two tiny plastic-sculpted creatures that
performed tricks on Del’s voice commands — were presented next. The re-
clining Rabbit jumped to attention while held in a spectator’s outstretched
palm; the Frog turned somersaults and did a handstand on the bottom of
an inverted drinking glass. Of course, if they didn’t perform as touted, Del ad-
vised, “You could take home fifty dollars, compliments of me.” But they did.
The Singing Bird had gotten bigger. “Guess what they came up with
when they mated a canary with a tiger?” Del asked, as he cautiously placed
the cloth-covered perch on the table. “An oversized canary.” He whisked away
the cloth to reveal a plush toy bird about the size of a homing pigeon. “It’s nothing
but an oversized canary.”
Then going into the routine where the Bird predicts dice rolls, he
uttered, “This little friend of mine doesn’t do too much, but what he does
is terrific!” — a line Del would invariably use to describe each and every
one of his magically talented friends, be it the Singing Bird, The Rabbit and
The Frog, Suicide Phil, Flipper, or Little Willie, the card-sniffing white
mouse who closed the close-up show.
“The close-up performance of Del Ray was the highlight of the I.B.M.
convention, and I have heard nothing but rave reviews,” wrote Pete Biro in
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his “Reel Works” column in Genii. “I have seen Del in the past, but there
is much new stuff and he was outstanding. I would think we might even
bring him back for an ‘encore’ by booking him for the 1986 I.B.M.
convention in San Diego.”
Del was also in rare form when he presented his stage act at the Kan-
sas City convention. In the “K.C. Convention Shows Superb” review, which
appeared in the September Linking Ring, editor Howard Bamman wrote:
“Del Ray closed the first segment of the show with the type of magic only
he can present. Even errant props, such as a card case that falls to the
floor, do his bidding with alacrity. When he says jump, they jump! Del Ray
has a way of leading his audience down the garden path. Just when they
feel certain things went wrong, the magic happens, and they love it.
Throughout his turn the house roared with approval of his magic and
unique entertainment, and he went off to the sound of thunderous applause.”
Pete Biro would not get his shot at inviting Del back for an I.B.M.
“encore.” S.A.M. convention show producer Hank Moorehouse, who
attended the Kansas City convention, would book Del before Pete could.
Immediately following the show, Hank asked Del if he’d be interested in
performing at next year’s S.A.M. convention in Louisville, Kentucky. He
said yes, and once it was agreed that Del would receive the same fees he
charged for a commercial date and he could invite his friend Bill Dodson as
a special guest, a contract was signed.
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Del received his usual standing ovation when he closed his show with Little Willie.
Photo ©copyright H. Rick Bamman.
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It was mid 1987 before Del would again roll out the new table for anoth-
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sophisticated model Del Ray would build. Many of the basic features of
the Diamond Table were carried over to the Complex Table. It still moved
forward and backward, and it had the same scrolling-message panel across its
top. It fired off a similar barrage of fireballs; however, they did not come
from flash cannons recessed in the tabletop. The midair flames emanated
from banks of flash cannons that were built into modular flash boxes con-
nected to the table.
The light show within the Complex Table’s rectangular window frame
was more computer-esque. As the table moved forward, two programmable
nixie tubes created an animated digital pattern that froze when the letters
“D” “R” were displayed. A main control panel at the backside of the table-
top controlled the table’s essential performance features with a bank of ten
switches — six toggles, one momentary, one slide, one rocker on/off, and
one rotary switch.
The Complex Table bypassed the usual built-in apparatus for the Ris-
ing Cards. Del Ray had created a self-contained radio-controlled houlette
that could be set any place on the table or anywhere else on the stage.
The receiver was a commercial Linear garage-door unit powered by two
nine-volt batteries. A high-quality geared motor with pulley was used to reel
in the black silk thread. The control was with a body transmitter and a
toe switch.
As with all of the roll-on tables that preceded the Complex Table, the
real magic was within. In documenting and archiving the workings of the
Complex Table, Bill Spooner wrote: “A new thought process was employed
in the design of the Complex Table, as the electronic components were
modular. The receiver, timing circuit, and other units were enclosed in glass-
topped boxes that could be conveniently plugged in or removed from the ta-
ble. Small mounting brackets allowed the modules to be easily bolted to the
inner sides of the table. The maze of wires that was strung throughout
previous tables is not evident in this model. The internal appearance of the
Complex Table is neat.”
Facing the reality that the nightclub era was long over and bands no lon-
ger provided musical accompaniment for pantomime acts, Del installed a
music playback system in the Complex Table. A cassette recorder was mount-
ed near the top of the front panel. A shelf below the recorder contained an
amplifier connected to two speakers mounted in the center of the front
panel. The music could be controlled with a hand-held remote.
The Complex Table weighed over seventy pounds. Much of its weight was
due to the forty-two NiCad batteries that powered the various devices and
effects. The batteries were arranged in modules of two to eight cells that
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Del Ray was a close friend with Eddie Fechter (who died in 1979); however,
the first and only Fechter’s Finger Flicking Frolic Del attended was in 1988.
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Even when Del let Jay Marshall deal blackjack, it was Del who ended up with
the winning hand. FFFF photos by Richard Hughes.
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Over the years, Del Ray had an unfair share of his magic appropriated by
other magicians. Robotic tables, handheld flash cannons, playing cards that
flipped over in a wink of an eye, and radio-controlled rising cards were con-
stantly popping up in the acts that worked in the wake of Del’s success-
ful nightclub tours. The situation worsened when dealers like Abbott’s and
Anverdi put knockoffs of certain items on the market and in the reach of
amateurs everywhere.
Del Ray’s original effects and ideas weren’t the only things filched. Some
magicians went so far as to imitate his performance style and attempted to
steal his identity as well.
The first magician to copy the nightclub act was a young Cleveland-
based attorney by the name of Stanley Martin Kirsch, who performed as
“Tazzi.” After studying Del Ray’s act night after night when he played
Cleveland’s Alpine Village, Tazzi figured out the electronics and had an
electrical engineer friend replicate the apparatus. When he debuted “his
new act” at an Abbott’s Magic Get-Together in 1958 he wowed the
attendees, including Linking Ring reporter Arnold Krastin, who wrote, “Tazzi
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performed his tried and proven tricks: silks, wine glass productions, Ris-
ing Cards, fire flashes, walking table, and Floating Balloon.” However, Del’s
staunch supporter Robert Lund saw through the sham and simply wrote in
Abracadabra, “Tazzi is Del Ray spelled sideways.”
Tazzi managed to weasel his way onto the program at the 1960 I.B.M./
S.A.M. convention in Boston, where he experienced “a breakdown of his
electronic equipment,” as reported by Gene Gordon in Genii, “and his two
main effects backfired.” Tazzi discovered that doing the act wasn’t as easy as
Del made it look. After one more appearance at the 1962 I.B.M./S.A.M.
convention in Cleveland, where the hometown audience literally boohooed
him off the stage when the act went awry, Tazzi gave up trying to be like
Del Ray.
Twenty-seven years would go by before Del would be ripped off again.
This time the close-up act was copied. The thief was St. Louis-based magician
Rick Neiswonger, who performed Del’s material professionally as “Slick
Rick the Riverboat Gambler.” (Ironically, Rick had grown up in Cleveland
and joined the I.B.M. when Tazzi was president of Ring 23 there.)
Neiswonger first learned of Del Ray through his father, a professional
gambler who hung out at country clubs where Del performed. Rick would
have numerous opportunities to tag along and repeatedly watch Del’s close-
up show. His father also directed him toward Terry Roses, a.k.a. “Dr. X,”
a supplier of crooked gambling equipment, who was able to clone the table
and props for the Slick Rick act.
Claiming the Riverboat Gambler act was created specifically for fundrais-
ing shows for a charity called the Dream Factory, Neiswonger stayed under
the radar for a couple of years, performing as Slick Rick only in the St. Lou-
is area. However, he went beyond his boundaries in 1990 when he started
doing the act for magicians. British magic dealer Paul Stone booked the
act to entertain a group of one hundred fifty magicians visiting the United
States from the U.K. The venture was a rousing success and led to a book-
ing at the Texas Association of Magicians convention in Dallas, where the
raves for Slick Rick turned to resentment. As soon as the convention com-
mittee saw Neiswonger’s first set they realized they’d booked a blatant rip-off
of Del Ray’s act. Neiswonger had agreed to do two presentations of the act
(due to the large convention crowd), but after the first show, the second show
was canceled, and Slick Rick was given the boot.
A similar scenario played itself out at the Magic Castle three months
later. Upon the suggestion of a friend, Castle president Bill Larsen had
invited Slick Rick to play the Parlour of Prestidigitation during the Christ-
mas/New Year’s holidays. Three nights into the run, Magic Castle board
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member Johnny Thompson got a call from T.A. Waters, who’d been to the
Castle and saw Rick Neiswonger doing Del Ray’s close-up act. T.A. told
John that Rick was telling everyone it was being done with Del’s permission.
Waters found this unusual, because he knew how guarded Del Ray was
about his secrets. But because the props Rick was using were exactly like
Del’s, he presumed that Del had made them for him and everything was
indeed being performed with Del’s sanction. Besides, Neiswonger was serv-
ing his term as president of I.B.M. Ring 1 in St. Louis and that sort of behavior
was not befitting an officer of the International Brotherhood of Magicians.
Johnny Thompson didn’t buy into this line of reasoning.
“I knew Del quite well,” Johnny said, “and I remember him going cra-
zy over Tazzi’s stealing his material years earlier, so I opted to call Del at
home in Pittsburgh.” When Del Ray was told what was going on at the Cas-
tle he was distraught. He had never given Neiswonger permission to perform
his material. “Del went on to explain that he knew Rick’s father and because
of this he had somewhat befriended Rick. But then he went on to explain
how Neiswonger hired him to work a housewarming party at his new
home in St. Louis. Del said that he later found out that Rick and Terry Roses
had secretly videotaped his performance.”
Johnny met with Peter Pit, who was in charge of the shows and talent
at the Magic Castle, and together they confronted Neiswonger. He was told
to leave the premises immediately. Rick said he was sorry and admitted
his guilt, confessing he had lied about getting authorization from Del Ray.
Neiswonger said he would apologize to Del Ray. But the damage was done.
A living legend had been violated.
“Del was sick about it until the day he died,” Johnny Thompson said.
However, it is entirely conceivable that before he passed away Del Ray
did forgive and forget about Neiswonger. After all, the man known as Slick
Rick had for all practical purposes died the day he was kicked out of the Castle.
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Among the East Coast country clubs that Del Ray continued working regu-
larly in the 1990s were the Moonbrook Country Club in Jamestown, New
York; the Sleepy Hollow Country Club in Scarborough, New York; the
Baltusrol Golf Club in Springfield, New Jersey; and the Spring Brook Coun-
try Club in Morristown, New Jersey. Another was the Short Hills Club
in Short Hills, New Jersey. When Del performed there on April 19th 1991,
he had the opportunity to become reacquainted with a magic enthusiast
who would eventually become a close friend.
David Baldwin had originally met Del Ray in 1976 at a golf outing.
At the time, Baldwin was heavily involved in his burgeoning real estate
business in New York, and considered his interest in magic as “a hobby
on hold.” Nonetheless, he was duly impressed with Del’s show and remem-
bered, “I was awestruck when I saw him perform. His whole manner of
presenting magic was mindboggling and unlike any magician I’d ever seen.”
After the show, David introduced himself, complimented Del on his perfor-
mance, and went on his way.
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It was sixteen years later when Baldwin would see Del Ray perform at
the Short Hills Club. Del was hired to do his stage and close-up show for
a stag-night party. By this time, Dave had returned to magic — and “with
a passion,” as he liked to say. He had become a serious collector of clas-
sic and antiquarian magic, including rare automata and Robert-Houdin
Mystery Clocks.
“After Del’s show that night,” Dave recalled, “I told him about my col-
lection of magic that he might like to see. I said I lived five minutes from
the Short Hills Club and invited him to come over. He did and stayed
until three in the morning before driving home to Pittsburgh. That visit is
what started our friendship.”
Del started stopping by Baldwin’s home in New Jersey whenever he
was working in the area. Occasionally, they would go out for dinner with
Dave’s wife Barbara. But the real intent of Del’s visits was to talk magic.
Dave and Del’s conversations at the kitchen table always lasted until the
early morning hours. Dave said, “I enjoyed his company so much, and
Del Ray celebrated his 70th birthday in 1997 by working the Sleepy Hollow Country
Club in Scarborough, New York for the 20th time.
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The first trick Del Ray made for David Baldwin was the Coin Through
Card Box. This was Del’s version of an effect from the 1800s, which
had been marketed by Ken Allen in the late 1950s as the Robot Coins
in Glass.
In Del Ray’s Coin Through Card Box, a spectator places a marked coin
in a small brass “pillbox” (an Okito Coin Box). The box is placed on top of
a boxed deck of cards, which in turn is placed across the mouth of a clear
glass tumbler. Upon command, the coin penetrates the pillbox and the
deck of cards and is seen to fall into the glass. The coin is removed from
the glass by the spectator, who verifies the mark. The card box can be
shown on all sides.
Del made several models of the Coin Through Card Box. The first one
he gave David Baldwin was activated by sound waves. It used a magnet and
a motor and also had an unusual application for a mercury switch.
In his Magic of Del Ray manuscript, Bill Spooner has documented the
electromechanical workings:
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“Once the card box (which contained a small motor to trigger the drop
of a magnetic coin) was set with the power switch turned on, the elec-
tronic circuit remained in standby mode until the card box was turned
over. The turnover move was made when transferring the Coin Box
from one side of the card box to the other, secretly leaving the coin
on the underside of the card box. The shim coin was held in place by
a magnet on the motor shaft. The 180-degree rotation activated the
mercury switch, which turned on the circuit.
“When Del was ready to proceed with the routine, he clapped his
hands. This activated a VOX (sound switch), which in turn activated a
timing circuit. There was a five-second delay before the geared mo-
tor was activated. As the shaft of the motor turned, the magnet pulled
away from the coin, causing it to drop into the glass. A small rheostat
allowed adjustment and variation of the time delay.”
Copies of the second model were given to Bob Escher, Ken Klosterman,
and Nick Ruggiero. The third and most sophisticated model of the Coin
Through Card Box (copies of which were given to David Baldwin and
David Stahl) was a radio-controlled unit:
“This model used state-of-the-art integrated-circuit technology in the
receiver and transmitter. The transmitter circuit was very small and
powered by two small button batteries. The transmitter was activated
through a plug-in belly-button switch. This unit operated in the high-
frequency range of 433 megahertz.
“Del did not use encoding technology with integrated circuits,
which exposed the unit to interference from modern sources such as
rolling-code garage door openers. I discovered this when I made re-
pairs on Dave Baldwin’s unit. Just when I thought it was fixed, it would
turn on spontaneously. These impulsive firings appeared to happen on
a periodic basis. I suspected interference. When I took the receiver for
a car ride the problem ceased. The source of the interference was a
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Flipper was another piece of electronic magic that Del Ray built for David
Baldwin. The basic effect was a wind-up toy penguin that waddled around
a circle of playing cards and stopped on a previously selected card. In
essence, Flipper performed similar card-finding feats as did Little Willie,
but because his electronics were concealed behind a thin ten-inch-square
picture frame there was no need to haul around the seventy-pound Close-
up Table that was necessary to motivate Little Willie.
Although the earliest model of Flipper utilized a RC receiver that was
scratch-built (five transistors with a ferrite tuning coil), the model Del
made for Dave employed radio controls from a Child Guardian baby-
alarm system.
David Baldwin
with Flipper, the
card-finding
penguin that
Del Ray built for
Dave in 1999.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Bill Spooner describes how Del Ray modified the Child Guardian elec-
tronics:
“After Del figured out the circuitry in the receiver he removed unneces-
sary components. He rewired the unit to produce the proper output
voltage to operate a small geared motor. The transmitter was mounted
on a small board with a hand-constructed two-prong female/male jack.
The belly-button switch was connected to the male jack with two con-
joined wires approximately one foot in length. The transmitter used only
one of its two channels. The frequency of this unit was in the 117- to
119-megahertz range.
“Del Ray was constantly improving the electronics of Flipper each
time he built a new model. The last one he built features a receiver that
is a commercial IC type with SMD components, as well as a motor-
control unit employing several ICs. The transmitter, which operated in
the 433-megahertz range, was one of the items that disappeared shortly
after Del Ray died.”
Other friends of Del Ray who have Flippers are Bob Escher and David
Stahl. Bill Spooner has the circa-1984 first model. Del Ray didn’t perform
Flipper too often for magicians. Included on the DVD that comes with this
book is some rare footage of Del performing the trick in Dave Baldwin’s
kitchen on April 10th, 1999, the day Del gave Dave his Flipper.
One of the most elaborate electronic marvels that Del produced was some-
thing called the Coin Prediction Trick, a one-of-a-kind piece of mental magic
made for Dave Baldwin.
A small mahogany case displayed five coins: a quarter, an English penny,
a half-dollar, an Eisenhower silver dollar, and a Franklin Mint commemora-
tive silver dollar (the largest of the five coins). In the corners of the case were
four brass coin boxes with screw-on lids embossed with the four playing
card suites: a club, heart, spade, and a diamond. Each suite was assigned to
a different spectator. The magician would leave the room and the case
was passed around to the four spectators. Each secretly selected one of the
five coins and placed it in their container, screwing on the lid embossed
with their suite. The case was passed to a fifth spectator, who would take
the leftover coin and hide it in a pocket. When the magician returned, he
was able to divine the denomination of each coin in each box, as well as deter-
mine who had the fifth coin.
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The Coin Prediction, which Del delivered to Dave Baldwin in early 2002,
was probably the last piece of magic Del Ray built.
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Chapter 59
Chapter
59
By the 1990s, Del Ray was regarded a living legend. The Academy of
Magical Arts honored him with a “Performing Fellowship” on March 9th,
1991; however, because of illness he was unable to make the trip to Hol-
lywood, and Carl Ballantine accepted the award on his behalf. Yet, two
weeks later Del was feeling well enough to drive to Tempe, Arizona to
headline The Magic Convention, a March 22nd, 23rd event produced by
Ed Rosenthal. (Seventeen years prior, Rosenthal had promoted Del Ray’s
“final appearance at any magic convention” when he booked Del for the
S.A.M. convention in Boston; this time in Arizona, Ed’s advertising hyped
“The return of the legendary Del Ray.”)
When the Magic Collectors’ Association met in Cincinnati in May
of 1993, Ken Klosterman served as the host of the convention. In addi-
tion to giving personal tours of his fabulous Salon de Magie collection to the
one hundred fifty attendees, Ken was responsible for arranging for all
the speakers, presenters, and performers. The first act he signed up was
his friend Del Ray, who “bookended” the weekend’s festivities. On the
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
first evening’s show, Del performed his stage act. On the last day, he did
his close-up show at the farewell party at Klosterman’s Langsem Farm estate.
One of the attendees who was fascinated by Del Ray’s presence was
David Stahl, a trade-show magician who also collected vintage magic posters.
David had met Del at a tradeshow in Chicago almost thirteen years earlier,
but this was the first time he’d seen him since.
“I reintroduced myself and he remembered me,” Stahl said. “After his
stage show, we sat and chatted and compared notes as far as some of the
mutual friends we had. I talked with him again on Sunday at Klosterman’s
house, where he had his Close-up Table set up outside by the swimming
pool. I barely remember going through Ken’s collection, quite frankly. I
just went out by the pool and parked there.”
A year passed before David would have another encounter with Del. It
was at the May 1994 World Magic Summit in Washington, D.C. On the
first night of the convention, when David and his wife, Glenda, asked
Ken Klosterman to go to dinner with them, Ken asked if he could bring
a friend. “Of course, I said fine,” David recalled. “Well, when the friend
turned out to be Del Ray, that evening was the beginning of a long,
terrific friendship. We had a good four-hour dinner. We chatted about all
sorts of things, magic being only one of them. With my wife being there
it added sort of a personal tone to the conversation. We talked of things that
a group of magicians don’t normally talk about.
“Following that convention, I had several corporate jobs in Pittsburgh.
I always called Del and he would come by to see me perform, and after-
ward we’d go out to dinner at a cafeteria type restaurant. He liked cafeterias.
Performing the
Blackjack Deal for
attendees of Magic
Collectors’ Association
Weekend in 1993.
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We would sit there and talk till four o’clock in the morning and just have
wonderful conversations, with an occasional card trick back and forth.
Del would start telling stories and I’d sit back, shut up and listen.
“I probably got to Pittsburgh three to four times over the next six
months. And every time we got together we got a little deeper and deeper
into our friendship. It got to the point that, by 1995, I was making week-
ly phone calls to Del and vice versa. We would talk on the phone about
once a week, usually anywhere from three to eight or nine hours at a time.
“I remember the longest conversation I had with Del started one morn-
ing at eight. I’d just had breakfast. I explained that I was going out to Las
Vegas later that night for a job. But I proceeded to talk to him the whole
day. We talked until they were closing the door on the airplane. I literally
had to hang up on him. Or miss the plane.”
Jay Marshall once joked, “Del Ray was famous for his lengthy phone calls
and his even longer cross-country drives at ungodly hours of the night,
but what really made him legendary was the number of farewell shows
he gave.”
In the fall of 1993, most of the magic magazines carried full-page ads
for Magic Mania, a November 27th show in New York City, heralded as
“A Special Tribute to Del Ray — HIS VERY LAST SHOW!!!” Also
advertised on the bill were Mr. Electric, Norm Nielsen, General Grant,
Fantasio, Walter Blaney, and juggler Jay Green. However, because of an
unusual circumstance, this particular production couldn’t be added to Jay
Marshall’s tally of Del’s farewell performances. The December 1993 issue
of MAGIC magazine reported: “Magic Mania has fallen into limbo due to
the sudden death of the producer, Ken Moyer.” The show never happened.
Del Ray was presented the “Living National Treasure Award” when he
performed his close-up show at the World Magic Summit in Washington,
D.C. in 1994. When he returned to the Summit in June of ’95 to present
his stage act, Del had decided, “this will be the final performance of the
stage act as it’s known.” No one except convention producers Rich Bloch
and Nick Ruggiero were told it would be a farewell show. It was decided
they would break the news when the show was over.
Unfortunately, the act didn’t go as well as might be anticipated and ex-
pected for a farewell performance. “The master was not in good health and
at times short of breath,” reported Genii. There were several technical mal-
functions, including the painfully obvious lack of music tracks. But Del’s
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
In May of 1995, Del gave what he said was the “final performance of the
stage act” at the World Magic Summit.
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Six weeks after the World Magic Summit, Del Ray was planning the next
farewell performance of his stage act. Bob Filips got a call from him, asking,
“When’s the next Youngstown Magic Club annual banquet show?”
Bob said, “I told him it was in November and looked on a calendar
and gave him the date.”
He asked, “Do you think I can be on the show?”
“Ray, there isn’t any question that you can be on the show,” Bob said,
“but you know we can’t afford to pay the fee that you command.”
“No fee, Bob. Because I started at the Youngstown Magic Club, I want
to do my farewell show at the Youngstown Magic Club.”
Arrangements were made for Del Ray to headline the Youngstown
Magic Club I.B.M. Ring 2’s November 4th, 1995 Nite of Magic show.
Also scheduled to appear were magicians Nicholas Carifo, Fritz Coombs,
Tom Craven, Bob Filips (as emcee), Lobo the Recycle Hobo, Gary Morton,
Chuck Smith, and Bob Zoerman.
On the day of his Ring 2 farewell show, Del Ray met Bob Filips at
the church in Warren, Ohio where the banquet was going to be held.
“It was two o’clock in the afternoon,” Bob recalled. “Ray always liked
to get to his shows two to three hours early because it took him that long to
put the stage act together. I helped him unload his car and get the stuff
inside the building. They did have a freight elevator, so we loaded everything
onto it, got on and pushed the button for the second floor.
“Well, the elevator went up about two feet, just above the floor line of
the second floor and stopped. There was absolutely no power. We rattled
the cage, hammered on the doors and walls, did everything to try to get
somebody’s attention, but we couldn’t. We did manage to force open a
door that gave us access to the two feet of clearance to the second floor,
and did some yelling until somebody heard us. It was the janitor. We told
him the elevator was dead, and we needed to unload this equipment and
get started setting up. He said that he would call the emergency crew at
the elevator company. But he said it might be a while before they’d come.
It was a Saturday afternoon.
“We started our wait. It was interesting to note that even though this was
a serious situation it did not bother Ray. We continued to talk about magic.
He kept me in stitches with stories about his times on the road. Ray was
positive and knew that somehow we would get out of that elevator in time.
“Then all of a sudden, for whatever reason, the power came on. It
was nothing that the janitor did or nothing we did. Ray hit the button and
we finished the trip to the second floor.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
“After his table and equipment were set up backstage I said to him, as
I always said to him whenever I was with him backstage before a show,
‘Tell me when you want me to leave so that you can set up those things that
you don’t want me to see.’ This time he simply said, ‘You can stay until
it’s time to go down for the banquet. Anything you see you are not going
to understand.’
“Ray proceeded to get into his tails, and it was a flabbergasting sight
to see him stick all these things on his body. There were wires and strings,
spring clothespins and paper clips, electrical tape and rubber bands, all sorts
of things that were inexpensive yet accomplished those marvelous miracles
in the act.
“The show that evening was one of the few chances Ray had to invite
his family to watch him perform. They all lived nearby and he told me
he wanted eleven tickets. When I gave them to him, he asked how much
they cost. I said, ‘Ray, you are doing this show for free so I don’t think
we are going to charge you any money. It is our pleasure to have your
family as our guests.’ It wasn’t more than a thirty minutes later when Ray walked
by and stuck a check in my pocket, paying for the eleven tickets. As hard as
I tried to give him the check back, he wouldn’t take it. He said, ‘No, this is
my family, they are my guests, and it’s appropriate I give them tickets to see
my farewell show.’”
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The show was a sellout with over two hundred in attendance. At the
conclusion of Del Ray’s act, Bob Filips had the honor of presenting his friend
with an Honorary Lifetime Membership in the Youngstown Magic Club.
“Incidentally,” Bob said, “this would not be Ray’s final show. He would
do our banquet show two more times.”
“Quit while you’re ahead.” That phrase is used to express the idea that one
should stop doing something that’s rewarding but risky before something
bad happens. Regrettably, that phrase had no place in Del Ray’s life. As
a consequence he would learn the hard way that giving farewell performanc-
es was a risky business. When he drove to Orlando, Florida in 1995 to be
on a show for his friend Dan Stapleton, “something bad happened.”
Stapleton had been a fan of Del Ray since meeting him in 1973 at the
I.B.M./S.A.M. combined convention in Miami Beach. “After watching
Del Ray’s performance that night,” Dan remembered, “I walked away in
disbelief, feeling that I had witnessed the closest thing to real magic that
could possibly take place.”
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Twenty-two years later, Dan booked Del Ray for the Florida State Ma-
gicians Convention. He said, “It had been my dream to have him perform
for our group, even though I knew his health was failing and he was con-
sidering retirement. On the night of the stage show I was shaking with an-
ticipation when the curtains parted during the emcee’s introduction. My wife,
Farlyn, squeezed my hand, understanding I was about to go back in time.
However, something went terribly wrong that evening.”
“It was the only time I ever witnessed Del have a disaster,” said David
Stahl, who was at the convention. “I had set up the act and actually was on
stage with him, bringing out props, being his assistant.”
“Most of Del’s magic did not work,” Dan remembered. “He gamely
went through the motions, but the mechanics failed. Tom Mullica, who was
the emcee, asked everyone to turn off their pagers and cell phones. Our
hotel was directly across the street from Universal Studios and the fre-
quencies used in their communications and wireless sound systems were
probably interfering.”
“Their radio transmissions threw everything haywire,” David said. “I
remember Del looking at me in the middle of the act and asking, ‘What’s
going on?’ I thought he was going to die on the spot. He did not look good.
It was the only time I ever heard him yell, ‘Get my medicine!’ I ran to the
dressing room and got the pills for his heart. As we took him off stage, he
said, ‘No one calls 911.’”
“Del had collapsed in a chair,” Dan said. “He had no idea what happened.
But he asked Faryln and a few friends and me stay backstage to see if the
magic that had failed earlier would work. It did, and we were privileged to
see his stage miracles up close and personal.”
A few days later, Del Ray phoned Dan Stapleton, asking where he could
return his check. “He was in tears, feeling that he let everybody down by giving
a bad show. I told him he could not return his check, but he could return
in two years for our next convention. He cried again. This would be an
opportunity for what he assumed was ‘redemption.’ When he performed
his farewell show in 1997 everything was perfect.”
Del Ray’s second final show for the Youngstown Magic Club was given
on November 1st, 1997, which marked the fiftieth anniversary of his win
of Ring 2’s C.A. Leedy Award. The inaugural Leedy trophy (now renamed
the Nick F. Yahn trophy) was presented to Del at the annual banquet show
in 1947.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
“Ray wanted to get together and discuss what we were going to do for
the show,” Bob said. “So about two weeks later we met at a little restaurant
called Smalldino’s on Market Street in Youngstown. After we had lunch,
he turned to me and said, ‘I really don’t think that I can do the show. I want
you to do my Rising Cards.’
“I said, ‘Ray, that’s a magnificent effect, and nobody can do it as Del
Ray does it.’ I told him, ‘I don’t think I can handle it.’
“‘You’re not going to handle it,’ he said, ‘you’re just going to present it.
All you have to worry about is forcing three cards. From that point on, you
follow my line of patter, or if you want to change it you do so, and you
present the trick. The three cards will rise when you command them to
rise. They will tilt left or right when you say tilt left or right. I’ll be sitting
in the front row and I’ll make sure that the trick works perfectly. But you’ll
get all the credit for it.’
“When I asked if we’d get a chance to rehearse he said, ‘Sure, we’ll do it
right now.’ He went out to his car and brought in the Rising Cards and set
up everything. Lunch was pretty much over by then, but there were still
a half-dozen people in the restaurant, so we did the trick for them. It went
over very well. As far as everybody in that restaurant was concerned, I was
the one that did the trick. I got all the applause, and Ray didn’t mind at
all. As a matter of fact, he was leading the applause and laughter. Maybe he
was laughing out loud at me. I’m not sure. But I am sure he enjoyed
himself that afternoon.”
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Chapter
60
Just as Del Ray contended there wasn’t a magic trick that couldn’t be
enhanced with electronics, he also believed there wasn’t an electronic gadget
that couldn’t be turned into a magic trick. This conviction was confirmed
when Del encountered a global positioning system for the first time.
In late summer of 1995, when Del Ray and David Stahl learned they
both had performances scheduled on the same day in the Detroit area, they
made plans to get together and have dinner that evening. Del’s show was at
Domino’s Farms in Ann Arbor, Michigan, and he drove over from Pittsburgh
the night before. David’s show was in nearby Deerfield, and he flew from Min-
neapolis to Detroit that morning and rented a car to drive to Deerfield.
When David picked up his car he was informed that the Cadillac he’d
reserved had a GPS. “I had never even heard the term GPS and had no idea
what the contraption was,” he said. “They showed me how to touch the
screen and put in your destination. I was staying at the Ritz Carlton and
when I typed in the name of the hotel the thing started speaking: ‘Take next
left. Drive three point five miles,’ etcetera. So I followed the directions and
sure enough it got me right there. I went on to my job with no problem.”
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
After his show in Deerfield, David drove over to Ann Arbor, where he
met Del. “I watched him perform and when his show was over I helped
carry out his equipment and get it loaded in his car. He had a new AMC Eagle
and told me he bought it because the Close-up Table just fit across the
back seat.”
They were about to make their way to a restaurant for dinner when
David told Del to hop in the rental car for a moment. He had something he
wanted to show him.
“I turned on the GPS and his eyes got as big as grapefruits,” David
said. “I told him to watch the screen as I took the car for a spin around the
parking lot.”
The large two-acre lot was landscaped with curbed planters and lots
of trees and decorative light poles, all of which showed up on the monitor.
As David drove out of the parking lot and down the street a few blocks,
all the street names and the intersections graphically appeared on the screen.
Del watched everything in silence.
When they returned to the parking lot, Del opened his door and started
to get out of the car, but stopped and said, “Dave, hold up a minute. I want
to take a look at something.”
Del laid his head down on the center section of the front seat, his feet
and legs swiveled up and over the back of the seat, and his head went under-
neath the dashboard. David said, “I swear he stayed down there for ten or
fifteen minutes. It was a long time. When he finally did come up, I laughed
and said, ‘Imagine, Del, if you had one of those you’d never get lost on your
way to a job.’”
“Imagine the card trick you could do with this thing,” Del said, as he
patted the GPS screen. “Dave, I’m going to fool you really bad with a card
trick, and I’ll tell you right now I’m going to be using this. But that’s all
I’m going to tell you.”
David said, “I thought to myself, ‘Oh my god, I’m in the presence of
sheer genius.’”
Bob Filips probably listened to Del Ray talk about his ideas for new ef-
fects more than anyone else. In the early years, as well as the later years,
Bob was a sounding board and often an accomplice for many of Del’s
magical experiments.
Del’s more-than-frequent visits to Bob’s home came to a halt in 1949
when Del moved from Youngstown to Pittsburgh. However, the house calls
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were replaced with long-distance phone calls. Back then, one of the reg-
ular topics of discussion was an Underwater Card Rise that Del Ray
was developing.
“He told me that he had a fishbowl that had a vertical glass tube that
fit in its mouth, and the bowl was filled with water,” Bob recalled. “He
would have three cards selected, returned and shuffled into the deck, which
he would slide down the tube into the fishbowl. All the cards would settle
down to the bottom, and then one by one the selections would work their
way up and float to the top of the tube. Ray always promised to show the trick
to me the next time he came to Youngstown, but he never did.”
The Underwater Card Rise turned out to be one of those sounds-good-
on-the-phone effects, of which there were several.
An effect that didn’t sound so good when described over the telephone
ended up being a performance piece that was used at a magic convention.
In 1994, when Del attended the World Magic Summit in Washington,
D.C., where he was presented the “National Living Treasure Award,” he did
not perform his stage act. Because his roll-on table was undergoing some
modifications, Del only performed his close-up show. He did, however,
volunteer to fill a spot on one of the evening shows with a bit of mentalism.
“He called me and said that he wanted to do something different and
special,” Bob said. “He told me it would be non-electronic because he
had a reputation for using electronics in all of his tricks. He said he would
have three people give him an object, a key, a coin, a pocketknife, anything
small like that. The objects were dropped in a bag. Three people from the
audience would be asked to take their seats in three chairs on the stage. Each
person would reach in the bag and take out an item in their closed fist and
hide it in a pocket. Ray’s back was turned to all of this. When all the
objects were out of the bag and out of sight, he would turn around and
say, ‘You took out the pocketknife, you took the coin, and you took the key,’
and he would be right on the nose.
“I asked, ‘How are you going to do it?’
“He said, ‘You are going to be one of the people I’ll call up. You will sit in
the middle, and you will be the one who does the trick.’
“Well, that ruined the whole convention for me, but I went ahead with
it and he explained what we were going to do. As he collected the items,
he would drop them in the bag, one at a time, and I had to keep track
with him. The first item he dropped in would be item #1, the second was
item #2, and the third was, of course, item #3.
“When the three spectators were sort of randomly called up, I was one
of them and made sure I sat in the middle chair.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
“Ray handed the bag to the first spectator, who reached in and took
out an object in a closed fist. Then he handed me the bag. I reached in, but
I also looked in. When I saw what was left, I knew what spectator #1 had
taken. After I took an object out I knew what was left for spectator #3.
“Then I signaled Ray which object spectator #1 had by simply extend-
ing my fingers, not all the way out, just barely out, so it would be noticeable
to Ray. For instance, if spectator #1 had taken out item #1, I would simply
extend my index finger. (Or if spectator #1 had taken out item #2, I would
have extended two fingers, and so on.) Next, I would do the same thing
to signal what item I had taken. Then Ray would know what was left for
spectator #3.”
In 1982, Del Ray told Bill Spooner about his experimentation with a new
concept for the Card in Balloon. A spectator’s selected card would appear
inside an inflated black balloon, which was inside a white balloon. The
black balloon would not pop until commanded to do so. The white balloon
was given to the spectator to pop and verify the card inside was theirs.
Bob Escher also recalled Del talking about his new Card in Balloon(s)
at a party at Bill Dodson’s home.
“Del did not reveal his method to either of us,” Spooner said. “But
he had a way of dramatizing his ideas to the point of sounding as if
he were actually performing the effect. It was his mental visualization of
the effect that enabled him to keep experimenting to the point of perfection
or abandonment.”
Whether or not Del Ray perfected or abandoned his creative card rev-
elation effect would not be known until twenty-four years later. In 2006,
while archiving and studying an assortment of items from the Robert
Escher/Del Ray Collection, Bill Spooner put together enough pieces of
evidence to prove Del’s Card in Balloon was more than a pipe dream. In his
Magic of Del Ray manuscript, Bill writes:
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
on purpose. After all, Del Ray was a magician playing the role of a scien-
tist. Magicians consider scientific results to be secrets. And everybody knew
how Del Ray was about sharing his secrets.
Del Ray once told Dave Baldwin, “I’ve always been a great believer that
there isn’t a trick made that you can’t improve on.” (He later hedged and
said that the Dove Pan might be the one exception.) Del found it difficult
to look at an effect without coming up with a different method that would
enhance or strengthen the mystery. A case in point is the Die Through Hat
trick that Dave bought for his collection in 1998.
The original Die Through Hat was made in Switzerland or Austria by a
Dr. Borgeau in 1937 and resides in Ken Klosterman’s Salon de Magie
collection. Baldwin’s piece is a precision replica constructed by German
magic craftsman Rudiger Deutsch. The trick consists of a special table that
secretly houses two wind-up mechanisms and a device with roller shades
that enables a die covered with a small box to pass down through an invert-
ed top hat, and then for the startling finale the die passes slowly and visibly
up through the top of the hat.
It’s a remarkable piece of apparatus, but Del Ray was not impressed
with the kludgy spring-wound motors and the fact that the mechanism
for bringing the die to the tabletop had to be hand cranked. He offered to
take the apparatus back to his workshop and make “a few deviations” that
would improve the performance of the trick.
A few months later, when Del returned the Die Through Hat to Dave,
he had reengineered the apparatus to include battery-powered motors,
one of which caused the invisible lifting of the die to the tabletop. Del
had also created and scripted a somewhat surrealistic presentation for the
trick, which he called “My Mysterious Die.” As the magician tells of a dream
he might have had while practicing late one night in his magic den, he
stands a distance from the table as all the magic with the die and the hat
eerily happens.
Dave Baldwin’s “Mysterious Die” would become the last piece of mag-
ic Del Ray would work on. Sometime in mid 2003, there was a mechanical
malfunction in the piece, and Del had insisted that Dave ship it to him Pitts-
burgh. Because of his illness it took an inordinately long time for Del to
make the repair. But he finally made the call: “Dave, it’s fixed and they’re
taking it to the packaging service to ship it to you.” Del passed away two
days later.
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Chapter
61
When an entertainer experiences a lifetime of steady fame and fortune it
is virtually impossible to know when his career is at its height. The peak of
a performer’s profession only becomes apparent when the career path is
examined in retrospect.
If one had to pick the point at which Del Ray’s career was at its
apex — when the demand for the act was so great that he had to turn
down jobs — it would be sometime in the late 1950s. This was the time
when he was in the middle of his second three-year contract of representation
by Music Corporation of America, and the agency had him booked
solid. Throughout 1958 and 1959 he played the nation’s finest supper
clubs, hotel showrooms, and nightclubs and was paid headliner salaries
(even though his fifteen-minute pantomime act was usually presented as an
opening act). Ray Petrosky’s dream to become a top nightclub entertainer
had been realized by the time he was thirty-one. It was in 1958 when MCA
declared Del Ray “America’s Foremost.”
When Del arrived on the show-business scene in the late 1940s, tele-
vision, which was called “vaudeville in a box” by some agents, had not yet
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
taken hold. Nightclubs with floorshows were still abundant. People still went
out for an evening of music and dancing, entertainment and laughter,
smoking and drinking. Del Ray’s act was perfect for the period. He con-
jured up lighted cigarettes at the tips of his gloved fingers, and he magically
produced glasses of liquor that he shared with ringsiders and a comical
boozing teddy bear. His robotic table that breathed fire, his uncanny Ris-
ing Cards, and his quicker-than-lightning Migrating Canaries finale brought
the wondrous fun of the electronic age to the nightclub floor. The act,
which was a masterful blending of technique and technology, made him an
outstanding success — Del Ray was a magician for his time.
Del Ray’s magic act was like no other. It was both classic and innovative,
yet it was never considered an artistic achievement, as was the act of Cardini.
In his book, Cardini: The Suave Deceiver, John Fisher elaborates on the
artistry of the man and writes of how “Cardini achieved the most near-
ly perfect magic act of its kind the world had ever seen.” Whereas Cardini
perfected a characterization — a slightly inebriated man about town to
whom magical things happen, Del Ray developed a persona — a modern-
day wizard who had the power to make magic happen.
Del Ray was a demonstrator of strong magic. His act did not hinge on
an artistic characterization, as did Cardini’s. Del Ray created a style. He
was a handsome young professor of magic who enlightened and entertained
with his experiments of magic. Intrigue was added by the fact that he worked
in pantomime.
Del Ray never took his pantomime skills to the level of his magic skills.
He presented a silent act that really wasn’t a silent act. He had lines of
patter that were not spoken but “mouthed,” as if he was talking to himself,
a trait he’d picked up early on from Randolph. It wasn’t long before the
mouthing became mumbling, soft-spoken dialogue that was discernible to
most of the audience.
His routines were loosely strung together and the act lacked structure
and direction. But that was the charm. Del’s magical demonstrations were
calculated to build from the good tricks to the strongest effects, with surprise
tricks (like the Jumping Card Box and the Color-Changing Candle) sprin-
kled between. These “quickies” always appeared to be extemporaneous, as
though he thought of them on the spot and they were apropos for the show
he was doing at the time.
Del Ray’s nightclub act of the late 1950s was an act that served him well.
In the beginning, many of the electromechanical methods he conceived
for secretly controlling actions were not necessarily state-of-the-art. But as
each decade passed he would upgrade the electronics of his tables and props
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and, as he entered the digital age, his constructions employed the latest in-
tegrated circuits and microprocessors. Del Ray was, as his friend Ed Marlo
had declared him, “The 20th Century Wizard.”
Most circulated publicity photo of the late 1950s, when Del Ray was truly the
“Magician for his time.”
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Chapter
62
At the turn of the 20th century, as Del Ray coasted into his seventies, his
pace had slowed considerably. His COPD was now diagnosed as “severe.”
In addition to his persistent struggles with breathing, he couldn’t lift heavy
objects and was having trouble walking even short distances. His doctors
demanded he spend less time on the road. Anne insisted he be more selec-
tive about the shows he obligated for. She started turning down bookings,
simply giving the excuse, “Del’s not available.” She was telling the truth.
“I remember talking with Del one time in 2000 when he celebrat-
ed his fiftieth wedding anniversary,” David Stahl said. “His left eye was
watering because he was getting cataracts. He started talking about his
health and told me, ‘You know, Dave, if you ain’t got your health, you ain’t
got nothing.’ He talked a lot about quitting and said, ‘I can’t keep going
much longer. I’ve had to cancel this show and that show, and it’s because
of my health. I canceled four shows just last month. Yeah, I gotta hang it
up soon.’”
When Del made a trip to New Jersey to play a private party at
a country club in Morristown, he made his customary stopover at David
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Baldwin’s home in Short Hills. Del sat in Dave’s kitchen and talked magic
as usual. However, the conversation slowly drifted toward more personal
matters. “He wanted to talk about his finances and started explaining
how he’d been able to accumulate over $450,000,” Dave said. “And when
I told him I didn’t want to know about his finances, he said that he just
wanted me to know he’d invested the money wisely, he was living off annui-
ties, and Anne had nothing to worry about.” It was quite obvious that with
Anne being twenty years older than he was, Del had never expected her to
outlive him.
Del Ray started calling on his friends to work for him when he was
sick and couldn’t do a job. Yet, as much as his friends wanted to help him
out, they were reluctant to take on these shows. They knew how great Del
Ray’s clients’ expectations were. They knew it was impossible to fill his
shoes. But it was just as impossible for them to say no when they got the
call and Del said, “You gotta help me out this one time,” as Bob Escher did
in May of 2000:
“Del called me at 11:45 the night before his show to tell me he was sick
and couldn’t make it,” Bob said. “He had booked a show at the Oxford
Country Club for the Wednesday before the Kentucky Derby. It was for a
golf tournament for the jockeys. Del told me that he had already talked
with the golf pro and told him that I was going to fill in for him. He said,
‘He’s going to call you at midnight, Bob. I know you’ll do all right,’ and he
hung up.
“Ten minutes later, the guy called. After I assured him that ‘I’m no
Del Ray,’ I had no choice but to tell him I’d be there. I did about two
hours of close-up magic. As I was about to leave, the golf pro handed me
a cashier’s check for $1,000, and introduced me to another gentleman, say-
ing, ‘My friend here wants to know if you’re available tomorrow night
for party at his house. So I performed close-up again on Thursday
night for another $1,000, and this led to another show Friday night for
a dinner party at the Louisville Country Club. I took my wife, Sandy, along
for this one, and we did a little cabaret show that I got paid another
$1,000 for.
“I mailed Del the first cashier’s check, and as soon as he received it I
got a call: ‘What are you doing sending me $1,000?’ I told him about the
other two jobs and how much money I made, but he wouldn’t listen. He
said, ‘You helped me out and you earned that money!’ He sent the check
back the next day.”
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John Slicer was another magician who was helpful to Del Ray when he
came to town for the Kentucky Derby. Slicer had become a regular perform-
er aboard the Belle of Louisville’s party cruises for Ashland Oil. While Del
did his continuous show from his Close-up Table, which was set up in
the lounge area by the bar, John performed walk-around on the various
decks of the boat.
Ashland Oil had hired John in 1993. He was fresh out of college and
Del Ray ceased having publicity photos made after he turned forty-two. This shot
made in 1969 was rarely used.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
In May of 2002, Del Ray called Bob Escher and asked him to meet him at
the boat landing on Derby day, at six a.m. “I need a little help unloading
my car,” he said. “And wear something fancy, Bob, this is going to be a special
day.”
“Del was very particular about who carried that table,” Bob said. “He
trusted me because I knew how it had to be assembled. After I got it on
the boat and set up on the second deck beside the bar, he told me he wasn’t
feeling well and asked if I would stay on the boat and ‘help out with the
show.’ Luckily, I had brought along some magic. So I made a schedule where
he would perform twenty minutes, and I would give him a comfortable break
by doing twenty minutes of walk-around magic.”
After Bob finished one of his sets, Del Ray introduced him to Paul
Chellgren, the CEO of Ashland, Inc., saying, “Paul, I want you to meet
Bob Escher, the magician who will be taking my place.” Bob said he took a
step back and, with a wink and a smile, said, “I don’t think so. Nobody
will ever take Del Ray’s place.”
Escher was right. Nobody would take Del Ray’s place because by the
following year there was no place to take. A merger with Marathon Oil was
in the works and budgetary issues forced the company to cease having the
event. Ashland’s 2002 Derby Day party was the last, and it would mark
Del Ray’s forty-seventh year to perform aboard the Belle.
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The final show for Ashland Oil aboard the Belle of Louisville.
Another annual event that Del Ray would outlast was the Denicor Invi-
tational at the Laurel Valley Golf Club in Ligonier, Pennsylvania. After he
performed there in 2000 it became the last year the tournament was held.
Organized in 1994 by Dr. Randall Valentine, the golf outing for professionals
in dentistry had featured Del every single year of its six-year run.
“Everybody was elated each time Del Ray was with us,” said Dr. Valen-
tine. “The people had seen the same stuff over and over again, because he
basically did the same show every time, but it was always intriguing.”
Del performed close-up magic in the afternoon and throughout the
cocktail hour, usually doing his Gin Game routine several times with
the group’s best gin players. After dinner he presented his mini stage act,
often adding an audience participation trick such as Paper Balls Over the
Head or Jumbo Sidekick. Then he would return as the raconteur and sit
down for another two or three hours of card tricks interlaced with storytelling.
“Del would come down to the bar after his show and keep us entertained
past midnight with his show-biz stories. One that he repeated year after
year — and we laughed harder with each retelling — was about a time he
worked with Frank Sinatra in Las Vegas.
“He told us Sinatra had run up a rather large gambling debt at the
Sands, badgering the hotel into giving him more money than he was get-
ting paid to sing. He lost it right away and talked them into advancing him
some more. Of course, he lost that money just as fast.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
“Later that night there was a knock on Frank’s door and a ‘representa-
tive’ from the hotel said, ‘Mr. Sinatra, you know you owe us sixty grand, and
we expect to be paid that amount in full by one o’clock tomorrow.’ Frank
nodded yeah and said he’d see that it was taken care of.
“A few minutes later, there was another knock on the door. It was the
same fellow, who said, ‘Mr. Sinatra, I did forget to mention that there is no
man alive who owes that much money to the Sands.’
“Del assured us that the money was duly paid on time the next day,”
said Dr. Valentine.
Del Ray’s lifelong habit of staying at golf outings and performing “till the
cows came home” always made his clients happy, but it sometimes annoyed
other acts working the country club circuits.
Cleveland magician Stuart Cramer once expressed his discontent with
Del in MAGICOL, the quarterly journal of the Magic Collectors’ Associa-
tion: “For some eighteen years, I was booked by the Ed Shaughency Agency
and played golf clubs and private parties throughout western Pennsylvania.
Time after time, I was informed that they had had Del Ray the previous
year. The most objectionable thing about following Del Ray was the fact
that he made a practice of staying long after his show to do card tricks
rather than driving back to Pittsburgh. Although it was never in my con-
tract, when I finished my show I would immediately head for home.
Many times this did not sit too well with the host who, because of Del
Ray, expected me to stay.”
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out of the Navy. The caption beneath his name reads: “Cleverness with
cards comes from years of toil. Fingertip production of playing cards is
graceful sorcery.”
The book with its wonderful photo gallery of cardmen was repub-
lished by Dover in 1954 as part of the book, Wilfrid Jonson’s Magic Tricks
and Card Tricks, and it retailed for a dollar. Over the years, Del Ray bought
small stocks of these paperbacks to give as presents to his friends and
clients. In 2001, he autographed what might have been his last remaining
copy and gave it to David Stahl.
“I remember he got melancholy,” David said, “when he gave me the
book and asked me, ‘You know what’s special about my picture in this
book?’ I guessed he was the youngest magician in the book. He said, ‘Nope,
I’m the only one who’s still alive.’ Then after a pause, he said, ‘You know, if
you don’t have your health you don’t have nothing.’”
That exact sentiment — “If you don’t have your health you don’t have
nothing...” — was heard countless times by Del’s friends, Bob Escher and
Dave Baldwin. Del had a disease that he didn’t think he deserved to have. He
felt he’d been dealt some really bad cards.
Del performed the mini act for the last time in 2000 at the Laurel Valley Golf
Club in Ligonier, Pennsylvania.
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Chapter 63
Chapter
63
Raymond Petrosky died at his home in Pittsburgh on November 18th,
2003. His Commonwealth of Pennsylvania death certificate listed the
Cause of Death as “Pulmonary fibrosis due to (or as consequence of ) chronic re-
spiratory failure.”
In the space for the Decedent’s Occupation, “Professional Magician” was
typed in. It should have read, “Del Ray,” as Raymond Petrosky was the only
person to ever fill that position in life.
In the last fifteen months of Del’s life, his wife Anne, who was turning
ninety-four, had been in and out of assisted-living facilities and was finally
admitted to a nursing home in Oakmont, a nearby suburb of Pittsburgh.
Visiting her became increasingly difficult, as Del had to tote an oxygen tank
everywhere he went. By mid summer, when he found himself barely able
to walk and confined to the couch in his living room, he asked Anne’s niece
Patricia McDermott and her husband Bill to come live in the house.
“When Pat and I moved in we brought our big-screen TV with us,” Bill
said. “We had to order cable service and Del wasn’t too happy about that be-
cause they had to drill holes in the wall. That house was his pride and joy
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
and he didn’t like the idea of other people drilling holes to install wires.
“The day the cable was hooked up, Ohio State was playing Penn State.
Well, Del loved football, especially college football, and when he got to see
that game on this big-screen TV, he was really excited. His eyes got wide and
he said, ‘It’s just like being in the huddle.’ He sat there from three that after-
noon till ten o’clock that night watching football games.”
Sitting on the couch watching sports on television and talking on the
phone with his friends was how Del Ray spent his last waking days.
“He couldn’t get off the living room sofa and go to the bathroom, which
was only fifteen feet away,” Pat said. “Bill would have to take him to the
bathroom door and wait, then help him back to the sofa. Then there was the
night I heard the crash. I said, ‘Oh my God, Bill, go see what’s happened.’
Del had locked the bathroom door. There was another bathroom door on
the other side through my Aunt Anne’s bedroom. Bill opened that door and
found him on the floor, already dead.”
Del Ray had expressed his desire to be cremated. Pat said, “He told me he
did not want to be laid out in his white tie, tails, and white gloves and have
people coming by and looking at him. So after he passed away, when Del’s
brother, Albert, and his two sisters, Viola and Eleanor, came to Pittsburgh,
we went to the funeral home and made the arrangements for a cremation.
“We were taken to a room downstairs where they had all these urns
and boxes that they put the ashes in. There must have been two-dozen
different ones, and we had to pick one for Del. I saw one that looked nice
up on a top shelf. I asked the funeral director if he could reach it and hand it
down for us to look at.
“Well, when he took the urn off the shelf, right behind it was a pair of
white pallbearer’s gloves. There wasn’t anything like that pair of gloves on
any of the other shelves. I got chills up my back.
“I looked at Viola and Eleanor and said, ‘I think Uncle Del is trying to
tell us something.’ Albert thought it was uncanny. The gloves were exactly like
the white cotton gloves Del wore in his act. The urn was plain and simple
and not ornate like most of the others. The only thing fancy was the inside,
which was lined with black velvet. We decided it was made for him.”
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November 22nd, 2003 at the Thomas M. Smith Funeral Home & Crematory.
The family had been given the two white gloves that were found, and they
rested atop the urn, one crossed over the other.
Good friend Bob Escher, who would receive Del Ray’s magic collection
as per the Master’s wishes, delivered the eulogy.
Anne Petrosky, who attended the memorial service that morning, would
pass away five years later on October 8, 2008, at age ninety-nine.
As per the wishes and desires of Bob Escher, David Baldwin, and Bill Spooner,
this volume was created to keep alive the memory of Del Ray. It is a cele-
bration of the personality, the achievements, the secrecy, and the genius that
made the magical world of Del Ray unique. The book also serves as an affir-
mation of longtime friend Bob Filips’ belief that “magic was the only thing in
Del Ray’s life that really mattered.”
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370
Part
Two
371
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
— Jon Racherbaumer
372
Eight Effects
A selection of eight of Del Ray’s favorite close-up routines comprises this
section of the book:
With the exception of The Royal Assembly, a trick that Ed Marlo wrote
up for Ireland’s 1954 Year Book, all of the descriptions that appear here are
written by Gary Plants.
Gary has purposefully derived his trick explanations from videos of Del
Ray performing the particular tricks. Because each of these performance
videos is found on the DVD that accompanies the book, those attempting
to learn the effects are provided with an invaluable audiovisual aid. By
referring to the DVD, the serious student can analyze Del’s showmanship,
presentation, and timing — elements of a routine that are often difficult to
convey in print.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
374
Half-Dollar Through Ring
Del Ray performed this trick for over 55 years and in his hands it was a
beautiful piece of magic. When asked by people to “teach me a trick,” this
is the routine that he would most often perform for them (of course, not
explaining how it was done). Del preferred to perform this routine with a
half-dollar but would use a quarter if a half couldn’t be borrowed.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
After receiving a suitable ring, Del says, “That’s it, a one-piece ring, a
wedding band.” The ring is placed on the table, to the left side of the folding
half-dollar.
“And I have to borrow an old bill,” he says. “An old bill… a fifty or a
hundred would be better. But a twenty or even a one will do.”
It is important that all three items used in this routine are borrowed from
the spectators.The folding half is pushed to the right side of the table with
the right hand and the borrowed bill is placed in the center of the table where
the half-dollar was positioned. (The bill was always lying so that the short end
was towards Del Ray.) The items from left to right are the borrowed ring, the
dollar bill, and the half-dollar.
“I always borrow these three objects. You don’t want to use your own stuff…
something may go wrong.”
Del picks up the ring and shows it for a few seconds and sets it back
down onto the table to the left. “The purpose of the half-dollar is to cover the
face so he cannot see how the trick is done.” As this line is said, he picks up
the half-dollar and places it directly over the face of the president on the bill
(Photo 1).
“Now it is important that when you fold it, that you hold it between the first
finger and thumb of the right hand. Fold it once again, exactly the width of a
half-dollar, and once again.”
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Half-Dollar Through Ring
Without letting go of
the bill, the folded bill is
2 then picked up with the left
first finger and thumb and
transferred to the right hand
first finger and thumb, which
grab the bill at the bottom
center of the bill so that the
right finger and thumb holds
the half-dollar in place
(Photo 3).
3
The left first finger takes
the position of the right
thumb and is above the half-
dollar and the left thumb takes
the position of the right first
finger and is below the half-
dollar. This allows the right
first finger and thumb to pinch
the outer end of the folded bill
4 as the left hand again folds the
bill in half by bringing up the
bottom of the bill to the top
of the bill (Photo 4).
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Del now takes the bill in his right hand and taps it gently against the edge
of a drinking glass, saying, “This is the convincer.” There is no question that
the half-dollar is inside the bill.
“Is it possible to shove the bill and the half-dollar through the ring? A very
scientific project… watch it.”
The ring is now picked up by the left hand and the tip of the dollar is
pushed into the ring as far as it will go. Remember, the ends of the dollar
bill are folded in, so only the tip of the bill will enter the ring. The tip of the
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Half-Dollar Through Ring
folded bill is now taken by the left fingertips. At this point, the left hand
fingers now have control of the bill and ring. The ring is slightly over the left
end of the folded bill.
“Note we encounter trouble right away.” Del looks at the bill packet and
ring in a very puzzled way, as if to say there is no way this can work.
“Now I have an option. I can do one of two things. I can press on the ring
on the bottom and the top and get it egg shaped.” Del looks at the person who
loaned him the ring. “That possibility might make her mad.”
“The second option… maybe if I bend the bill, the half will bend with it. I’ve
seen that happen once or twice.”
Del now reaches over with his right hand and openly bends the folding
half so that it will now slowly slide through the center of the ring (Photo 7).
The ring is now removed from the right end of the bill by the fingers of
the right hand.
The ring goes back on the bill from the right end and this time Del stops
when the ring is over the center of the bill so that he can “spin” the ring as he
says, “Let me polish the ring so there is no trouble getting it back on the finger.”
The ring is now taken off the bill by the fingers of the left hand. The bill
is held by the right hand so that the free end of the bill is pointed towards the
ceiling. “We started from the bottom and ended at the top.” The left hand once
again places the ring onto the bill and when it reaches the center of the bill,
the left hand grasps the bill so that the right hand fingers can remove the ring
from the bill.
The ring is now removed by the right hand and the bill is slowly placed
onto the table. The ring is also placed on the table, slightly to the right of
the bill.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Holding the folding half in his left hand, Del asks, “Who gave me the half?
You gave it to me… Thank you very much.” As this is said, his left hand moves
to his left jacket pocket and drops in the folding half, as the right hand drops
into the lap and picks up the actual borrowed half-dollar. The left and right
hands are both slightly closed as they come back on top of the table. The left
hand rests in a relaxed position. With a gesture of his right hand, Del says,
“If you come to Pittsburgh, you will see the world’s largest half-dollar
collection. A mystery for a lot of people is how it got so big. No mystery to you.”
The borrowed ring is picked up with the left hand. “Whose ring is this?”
The ring is handed back to the person who loaned it.
The right hand immediately brings the half-dollar into view and the left
hand comes over and takes it and it also is returned to the person who loaned
it to Del.
Notice how the combination of the joke and the return of the ring sets up
the return of the half-dollar. Everyone loses track of where the half-dollar is
and then all of a sudden it is just openly handed back to the spectator.
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The Bet
“Fifty dollars can be yours, compliments of me.”
Del Ray would often include this “challenge” early on in his close-up
performances. Throughout the routine, a $50 bill is offered as the prize if the
spectator can successfully remember two cards.
Del usually chooses a woman to help out with this routine, asking her, “If
I would show you two cards, do you think you can you remember the two cards?
If you can remember the two cards that I show you, you can win fifty dollars,
compliments of me.”
He reaches into his jacket pocket and brings out an old $50 bill. “The bill
looks kind of shabby… It’s eleven years old.” Right away, he gets a laugh and
also the spectator’s attention. The bill is placed in the center of the table.
“Here, let me show you what I mean.” The cards are quickly ribbon spread,
faces up on the table. “You can see the cards. They look all right.” Immediately,
the cards are flipped face down using the Ribbon-spread Turnover. After
performing one Fan Flourish the cards are held in dealing position in the left
hand.
Del has previously set up the deck so that the Eight of Spades is the
top card, the Ten of Hearts is second card, and the Ten of Diamonds is the
third card.
“I will show you two cards. That’s all. The Eight of Spades.”
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
He flips the top card face up. It is the Eight of Spades. The card is
removed from the top of the deck by the right hand and carried to the right
about six or seven inches, and flipped face down onto the table. Nothing
tricky has happened. The Eight of Spades was simply shown and then placed
face down on the table.
A spectator will always try to correct the mistake of calling the Diamond
a Heart. When this happens he picks up the Ten of Hearts, shows it, and
asks, “Would I lie?”
Smiling, he then says, “I believe I know the trouble. You had one eye on the
fifty and only one eye on the card. You’re entitled to one more chance.” Both cards
are picked up, flipped face down, placed into the center of the deck, and
another Fan Flourish is carried out.
“I’ll try to go a little slower. In fact, what I should have done was check your
eyes.” A Double Turnover is made showing the Four of Hearts. The double is
turned face down and the top indifferent card is pulled off and buried near
the top of the deck. “If I do this, it went down how far? How many?”
As soon as the spectator gives a number Del turns over the top card to
show the Four of Hearts still on top. “I see your trouble.” The Four of Hearts is
now turned face down on top of the deck. The deck is given a cut.
“You still had one eye on the fifty and only one eye on the card. You are
entitled to one more chance.”
At this point Del does another Double Turnover, showing the Five of
Spades. The double card is turned face down and the indifferent card is
placed on the table to the right. “The Five of Spades. Say it to yourself a couple
of times.”
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The Bet
the Seven of Hearts…” The double card is turned face down and the top card,
the actual Five of Spades, is placed on the table to the left.
Del says, “Put the fifty-dollar bill on the Seven of Hearts. Lay it right on it.
As soon as she does, he says, “Repeat after me — say, ‘Five of Spades, I don’t
want it!’”
After they say, “Five of Spades, I don’t want it!” Del reaches over and turns
over the card that they placed the $50 bill on, the Five of Spades, and asks,
“How come you took it?”
If the spectator had placed the bill on the indifferent card then Del would
have said, “Repeat after me – say Five of Spades, I want it.” After the spectator
says this then he turns over the other card and asks, “How come you didn’t
take it?”
The deck is shuffled and mixed and then two different cards are again
placed on the table as before. To keep this simple we will assume that the
same two cards as before are shown and dealt to the table — the Five of
Spades and the Seven of Hearts.
This time, if the spectator had placed the bill on the first card dealt down
onto the table, the indifferent card, then Del would once again say, “Repeat
after me… Five of Spades, I want it.” After the spectator says this, he turns
over the other card and asks, “How come you didn’t take it?”
Del now continues saying, “You’re entitled to half of the fifty — if you can
tell me what’s over here.” As the spectator names the card that she believes is
on the table, the top card of the deck is palmed off. He has her turn over the
card on the table. It is the wrong card. Del says, “You’re looking in the wrong
place,” and the named card is then produced from inside his jacket. “I thought
you could remember two cards.”
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
The deck is shuffled briefly. “You are entitled to one more chance to win
fifty dollars.”
Del gives the cards a couple of shuffles and one or two cuts. With the
deck held in spectator peek position, he says, “Would you please take a little
tiny peek at a card.” As he says this he gently runs his right middle finger
down the top right corner of the deck to demonstrate what the spectator is to
do. A peek is made by the spectator by pushing open the deck with their left
thumb, and during this process Del obtains a break below the peeked card. At
this point there is no attempt to do anything with the peeked card. He just
says, “Remember the card. Think about the card. Would you like to shuffle or do
you trust my shuffle?”
As Del delivers this last line, is when he subtly peeks the selected card,
the King of Hearts. As he asks, “Would you like to shuffle or do you trust my
shuffle?” he cuts the peeked card to the bottom of the deck with a single cut.
The deck is squared up with a quick tapping action on the table. With the
cards held high at the fingertips, the inner right corner of the deck is tapped
once on the table. A quick glance at the card and he knows the identity of the
peeked card.
If the spectator wants to shuffle, Del drops the deck on the table and
allows her to shuffle, saying, “Go ahead and shuffle them. Shuffle them
thoroughly.” At this point Del looks away from the spectator who is shuffling
the cards and talks to someone else in the crowd. If the spectator happens to
do an unorthodox shuffle or mixing of the cards, when they finish up Del
says, “I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
Taking the deck back from the spectator, Del continues, “I want you to
make sure that your card is still in the deck.” He gives the deck one or two
shuffles and then ribbon spreads the deck face up on the table so that the
spectator can see that the peeked card is still in the deck. The face-up ribbon
spread is quickly turned face down. When asked if the spectator saw their
card, they will usually say no since very little time was given for them to see
the cards. “I saw it,” he says.
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The Bet
The reason for spreading the deck face-up on the table was so that Del
could spot the location of the selected card and control it to the necessary
position for the trick to end successfully. This is simply done by spotting the
card and then cutting it very near the top of the deck. Let’s say the card, the
King of Hearts, is fifth or sixth from the top of the deck. Del remembers
the card that is above the peeked card. The bottom five or six cards are now
shown and none of them are the selection. The deck is turned down and the
top cards are shown one at a time until the remembered card that is above the
selection appears. These cards are now double cut to the bottom of the deck
and the peeked-at selection is now on top of the deck.
“To find your card all I am going to do it this...” Del riffles the edge of the
deck. “Your card has now jumped to the top.” A Double Turnover is executed
and the Three of Clubs is shown, turned face down on the deck, and the
King of Hearts is now dealt to the table in front of the spectator. “Your Three
of Clubs we will use for a minute, Okay? That was your card wasn’t it?”
After the spectator acknowledges that the Three of Clubs is not the card,
Del says, “Put your hand on it… Now put your other hand on top.” Both of the
spectator’s hands are now covering up the Kings of Hearts, which they believe
is the Three of Clubs.
“Repeat after me. Say, Three of Clubs change to my card.” As soon as the
spectator repeats this Del says, “If it fails to change, you have won the fifty.” The
spectator turns over the card to find the King of Hearts. Del finishes with a
little, “Ahhh.” This is Del’s way to make it seem that he really hoped that you
would win fifty dollars and he did this anytime someone “almost” won the
fifty.
Del Ray’s inspiration for this effect was Dai Vernon’s The Challenge,
which is found in The Dai Vernon Book of Magic.
Note: The Companion Video features a clip of Del Ray performing The Bet
at the 1988 FFFF convention. In addition, there is some rare footage of Del
demonstrating the routine for Bill Dodson. Bob Escher shot this video on
May 3, 1986 in Dodson’s garage workshop. Del had just finished his show on
the Belle of Louisville and is still wearing the riverboat gambler costume he
wore for the Derby Day party.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
386
Blackjack Deal
m
“You’re going to get one more chance to win the $50. I’ll deal one, two, three,
co
four, five, six, seven hands of 21 — blackjack. The one best hand takes home the
$50, compliments of me. Is that fair enough?”
s.
This is how Del Ray started off his Blackjack Deal, a routine that has
co
fooled some of the best cardmen.
tru
ic
ag
M
Mark Wilson, Dai Vernon and Nani Darnell get involved with Del’s Blackjack Deal
at the 1974 S.A.M. convention. Photo by Irving Desfor courtesy of the American
Museum of Magic.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
James Swain once wrote in Genii magazine: “In the early 1980s I met the
legendary Ed Marlo in Chicago. During our session, I mentioned that I’d
recently seen the incomparable Del Ray perform, and told Ed that I’d been
fooled by Del’s superb blackjack routine. Marlo was also a fan of Del Ray and
admitted he’d seen the blackjack routine on three separate occasions and still
did not know how Del managed to deal himself the winning hand
every time.”
From a legitimately shuffled and cut deck of cards, Del was able to
always deal himself a winning hand of blackjack. In case of a tie, there would
(sometimes) be a playoff round, since Del only had one $50 bill. Del would
always win.
Describing this routine is like trying to describe Dai Vernon’s effect, “The
Trick That Cannot be Explained.” The procedure used to complete the trick
successfully changes each and every time it is performed. Although on the
surface, the method appears to be very simple, each and every action must be
performed perfectly and without hesitation.
He’d continue, “I’ll deal to save time… and for other reasons.” This always
got a big laugh. He took the top card and reversed it on the bottom of the
deck. “You must bury a card… that is to keep it honest.”
Del now dealt around seven hands of blackjack. As he dealt each player’s
first card, he would say “Good luck.” When it was time to deal himself his
first face-down card, he’d say, “And the house… I get a chance, too. Notice how
slow… so no monkey business is involved.”
As Del dealt the second face-down card to each player he said, “If it winds
up in a tie, there will be a playoff. I’ve only got one fifty.” When it was time to
deal himself his second card, he’d say, “And the house,” and he’d push off the
top card of the deck, allowing it to fall face up onto his other card. In this
case, it was the Ten of Hearts.
Del carefully peeked at his hole card and, after a pause, said, “You have a
tremendous chance.”
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Blackjack Deal
It is important to note that at this point, Del Ray knew the total value
of his blackjack hand. It was 13: the face-up Ten of Hearts and a Three of
Diamonds as his hole card. As he finished the trick by dealing cards to the
other players, he would be looking (among the discards) for the necessary
cards to make his hand equal 21. In other words, he had to come up with a
card or cards to equal a value of 8.
“Now, any 21 will get you in the playoffs,” Del said, as he reached over and
turned the first player’s two cards (a Queen and a Four) face up. “Fourteen.
Hit or stick?” The player said hit, so Del said, “Hitting 14.” When he dealt
the card from the top of the deck it was another face card. “Ohhh… down the
shoot.” The player’s cards were left face up on the table.
The second person had 17. Del asked, “Hit or stick?” This player decided
to stay, so Del reached over and placed the $50 bill on this player’s cards,
saying, “Stand by, you’re temporarily high.”
The next person had 12. Del asked, “Hit or stick?” The player took a Four
and a Nine and busted. “Ohhh… down the shoot.” Del picked up this player’s
discards and placed them face up under the first player’s bust cards.
The next player had 16. Del said, “You have to go because of this one,” pointing
to the second hand with 17. A card was dealt, a Three, so this hand had a
value of 19. Del said, “Nineteen! You’re temporarily high.” He reached over and
moved the $50 bill to the hand with 19. He then scooped up the hand with
17 and placed the cards on top of the face-up discards. (In the process, Del
slightly spread the discard pile so he could see what cards were present.)
The next person hit several cards and busted. This bust hand contained
a Three of Hearts, a Three of Clubs, and a Two of Hearts, along with a few
other cards. Del scooped up this bust hand face up, making sure that the
Three of Hearts, Three of Clubs, and Two of Hearts were on the bottom of
the hand. (These cards totaled 8 and were cards Del needed to make his hand
total 21.) This face-up hand was now used to scoop up the other face-up
discard piles. All the discards were casually placed on the bottom of the deck.
Notice that this does not follow casino blackjack dealing procedures, but
then again, Del is not dealing for a casino. He makes his house rules as he
goes along.
The next player’s hand was played normally, and he busted. These cards were
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
left on the table and Del moved on to the next player. He already had the
cards he needed on the bottom of the deck, so no more discards would be
picked up.
The seventh player took a hit and busted, and two things happened in
an instant. In the action of dealing out the last card with his right hand, Del
brought his left hand, which was holding the deck, up to his head, as if he
was calculating the total of the cards. Then, he quickly set the deck down on
the table. It was in this split second that the deck was flopped or turned over.
The three cards that Del needed to give him a perfect 21 were now on top of
the deck.
Pointing to his two cards, Del said, “If I fail to get a 21, we have a
winner... Congratulations.” He then used his face-up Ten of Hearts to flip over
his face-down card, revealing it was the Three of Diamonds, giving him a
total of 13.
Del picked up the deck and pointed to his hand, saying, “Thirteen… I’ll
need one, two, at least three cards.” This got a huge laugh. He slowly dealt the
top three cards (the Three of Hearts, Three of Clubs, and Two of Hearts) face
down from the deck.
Del reached over and picked up a glass and took a drink, allowing time
for the spectators to realize what just happened. He then flipped over two of
the three cards (the two Threes), which gave him a total of 19. “Thirteen and
six is how much? Nineteen. What do I need? The third card was flipped over.
“A Deuce… Winner!”
What happened if one or more of the players had a hand totaling 21?
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Blackjack Deal
Del would deal what he called a “playoff round.” If it was against only
one or two players, he would give them a “tremendous advantage” by dealing
them multiple hands (usually five or six) against his one hand. This would
give him a larger number of discards to work with to produce his winning
hand at the end. The same handling as described above would be used to get
the needed cards to the bottom of the deck.
Note: A clip of Del performing the Blackjack Deal at the 1984 Atlanta
Harvest of Magic can be found on the Companion Video.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
392
The Computer Deck
The “Computer Deck” is a prop, a playing card box filled with electronics
that has an alphanumerical display on its exterior. This display is surrounded
by four small LEDs. Inside the box is a small circuit board. On the circuit
board is a reed switch, and when this reed switch is placed near a magnet it
will turn the circuit on. Del had magnets in his close-up pad or beneath his
Close-up Table that he could use to trigger the Computer Deck. (See page ---
for information on the evolution of the Computer Deck.)
Exterior and interior views of the Computer Deck that Del Ray gave to
Bob Escher for his birthday in 1987.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
“You know, we’re living in a computer age, and the computer has invaded the
card business. Let me show you what I mean.”
This is how Del Ray introduces the audience to his Computer Deck
routine. The Computer Deck is brought into view and placed neatly on the
table. “In this pack of cards is a miniature computer, capable of locating a
card, pinpointing it, telling the exact position where it is. Let me show you what
I mean.”
At this point, Del gives the cards a couple of shuffles and one or two
cuts. With the deck held in spectator-peek position, Del says, “Would you
please take a little tiny peek at a card.” As he says this he gently runs his right
middle finger down the top right corner of the deck to demonstrate what
the spectator is to do. A peek is made by the spectator by pushing open the
deck with their thumb and during this process Del obtains a break below the
peeked card. At this time there is no attempt to do anything with the peeked
card. Del continues: “Remember the card. Think about the card. The computer is
going to find your card. Would you like to shuffle or do you trust my shuffle?”
When Del asks, “Would you like to shuffle or do you trust my shuffle?” he
cuts the peeked card to the bottom of the deck with a single cut. The deck is
now squared up with a quick tapping action on the table. With the cards
held high at the fingertips, the inner right corner of the deck is tapped once
on the table. A quick glance at the card allows Del to learn the identity of the
peeked card.
Del maintained this was the correct time to do the peek, because when
the spectator is asked whether or not they want to shuffle, they will look at
him, and not be looking at the cards.
If the spectator wants to shuffle, Del drops the deck on the table and
allows them to shuffle. He says, “Go ahead and shuffle them. Shuffle them
thoroughly.” He looks away from the spectator who is shuffling the cards and
talks to someone else in the crowd. Pointing to the Computer Deck he says,
“Remember, the computer is going to find the card.”
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The Computer Deck
Taking the cards back from the spectator, Del continues, “Now you might
say, well, he let me shuffle the pack, and a lot of people think that whenever a
magician lets somebody shuffle the cards he has gotten the card out of the deck.
That is not true, and I want you to make sure that your card is still in the deck.”
During this patter, Del give the deck one or two shuffles and then ribbon
spreads the cards face up on the table so that the spectator can see that the
peeked card is still in the deck. The face-up ribbon spread is quickly turned
faces down. When asked if the spectator saw their card, they will usually say
no since very little time was given for them to see the cards. Del points to the
computer deck and says, “The computer saw it.”
The reason for spreading the deck face up on the table was so that Del
could spot the location of the selected card and control it to the necessary
position for the trick to work.
At this point, it should be noted that the Computer Deck could be set
so that different numbers come up in the digital display. Del liked the “8”
because it looked the same viewed from all angles, unlike a “5” or a “6,”
which might be confusing. Let’s assume that the computer display is set to
indicate an “8.”
During the face-up ribbon spread, Del spots the location of the peeked
card and then counts to the right seven more cards. In scooping up the deck,
he cuts the noted card (not the selection) to the bottom of the deck, which
makes the selection end up eighth from the face of the deck. The deck is
spread face up one more time to double check the position of the selected
card and to make any corrections if necessary. The spectator has no idea
where the card is, so it would take a lot longer for them to spot the card.
Also, the deck is spread so that the card indices can be read easily by Del but
not by the spectator.
The cards are scooped up and turned face down. Del asks the spectator
once again whether or not they saw their card. When they say no, he points
to the Computer Deck one more time and says, “Maybe the computer saw it.
The computer is going to find the card.”
Before going any further, it should be mentioned that Del also used a
second method for controlling the spectator’s selection to the eighth position
from the face of the deck. He used a key card, a corner short (which had
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
the outer left and inner right corners trimmed short). With the key card on
top of the deck, he would shuffle six more cards on top of his key card, so
that now the key card was seventh from the top of the deck. The cards were
fanned out for a selection. After the selection, he cut the top half of the of the
deck with his left hand and moved these cards towards the spectator so they
could replace their selected card. After the card had been replaced, the cards
in the right hand could be cleanly dropped on top. Now the cards can be false
shuffled or cut any amount of times. Del would then riffle down the outer
left corner of the deck with his left thumb and cut his key card to the bottom
of the deck. The selection is now eighth from the face of the deck.
The deck is now placed face down in front of the spectator.“Would you
be kind enough to cut the deck into two piles?” It is important to note that Del
would always guide the spectator by pointing to the packet that he wanted
cut, and indicate where he wanted the cut-off packet to be placed. This helps
to keep track of the important bottom packet, which contains the selected
card. With two piles now on the table, Del points to the pile that was the
original top half of the deck and says, “Would you now make another pile from
that packet.” Once again, Del points to the pile that he wants cut and also
to the place on the table where the cut-off portion is to be placed. This is
now carried out and there are now three piles of cards on the table. Del now
points to the original bottom half of the deck and says, “Would you please
make another pile from this packet as well, until we have four packets of cards.”
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The Computer Deck
He says, “Now, if you cut to your card, be truthful about it and tell me. Did
you cut to your card?”
The spectator will reply that he did not cut to the card. Del continues,
“Okay. Do you remember who determined how many cards are in each pile? Who
determined that?” The spectator should say that he did. If he doesn’t answer,
Del reminds the spectator that since he cut the piles, he determined how
many cards are in each pile. At this point, Del delivers the line, ”I’d make a
note of that for future reference.”
Pushing the Computer Deck forward, Del says, “The first thing that the
computer has to do is tell us what pile has your card in it. Once it locates your
card, you’re going to see it start to go to work and tell us how far to go down into
the pile. So lay the computer on any pile.”
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
“Ah, the computer says, that’s the pile. Now we have to find out how far down
into the pile your card is located. We’ll speak to it (the computer). Can you tell us,
exactly how many down, is his card, in that pile?”
The Computer Deck continues beeping for a few more seconds and then
stops with a number 8 lit up on the center of the Computer Deck. Del asks
the spectator what the computer says, and he confirms that it is showing an
eight. “It’s telling us if we go down eight cards, there’s your card.”
Del looks at the computer and says, “Don’t over do it.” He removes the
computer off of the pile and sets it on the table, and at this point, the lighted
number goes out.
“What was your card?” The spectator says the Six of Hearts. Del now
counts down very slowly and fairly to the eighth card and it is, of course, the
Six of Hearts. The card is placed off to the side by itself.
Del starts to gather up the packets and says, “Now you might say, every
now and then, even the most sophisticated computer breaks down. What are you
going to do in this case?” By the time this line is delivered, all of the cards are
back into one packet and the selected card has just been returned to the top
of the deck. He top palms the card and drops the deck to the table and his
right hand moves to the edge of the tabletop. Immediately, he reaches into
his jacket and produces the palmed Six of Hearts, as he says, “I’d use the
emergency card.”
Note: There is a clip of Del Ray performing the Computer Deck at the 1983
Tannen’s Magic Jubilee on the Companion Video.
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Gymnastic Aces
Without Aces
Del Ray performed his version of the Gymnastic Aces, which is found in The
Card Magic of Le Paul, using four chosen cards instead of Aces. It is believed
that Del was shown, and perhaps taught, the routine by Le Paul about the
time his book was published in 1949. The capper ending with the selections
jumping through the close-up mat is Del Ray’s addition.
“I want four cards taken out. Would you be kind enough to remove the first
one?” Del makes a thumb fan with the cards. As the first person reaches out to
remove a card, a card suddenly appears sticking out of the center of the fan,
making it look as if it’s the card he wants the person to remove. This is an
old gag used by many card magicians. This card is immediately pushed
back into the deck as Del says, “I’ll give you a free choice.” The first spectator
removes a card.
“Look at your cards and don’t forget them. Four different cards and they’re all
out of the deck at the same time.”
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
The cards are now returned to the deck, one at a time. Del uses a Short
Card (the Ace of Hearts) to keep track of the cards as they are returned. (The
short end of the Ace has been trimmed slightly.)
He cuts the deck so that the Ace of Hearts is on the bottom. Holding
the deck at the fingertips in the left hand, the right hand comes over with
the right palm towards the floor, and takes hold of the bottom half of the
deck between the right thumb and the right middle and ring finger. The left
fingertips now pull off roughly half of the deck into the palm of the left hand.
These cards are now extended to the first spectator for the replacement of
the first selection. After the spectator replaces the card, the cards in the right
hand are now tossed onto the selection, losing it into the center of the deck.
The deck is now quickly taken by the right hand, thumb on top and first and
second finger on the face of the deck, and it is tapped a couple of times onto
the tabletop. This is to subtly emphasize the lack of control of the selection.
As this is action is carried out, Del tells the spectator, “Please remember your
card.” As an afterthought Del says, “If you forget it, I’ll remember it.”
The deck is held from above in the right hand in a riffle shuffle position.
The right thumb riffles off about half of the deck onto the fingers of the left
hand. The two hands separate and move slightly apart, each with its own
packet of cards. The cards are held in a position so that each hand can
execute a one-hand fan, with the fans being held parallel to the tabletop.
The left-hand fan is brought in front of, and a little above, the right-hand
fan. The faces of the left-hand fan are now lightly rubbed over the backs of
the cards making up the right-hand fan. When the fan in the left hand passes
the last card in the right hand fan, the left- hand fan is now placed under the
right hand fan, but still in a fanned position. The two hands begin closing
the fans as the cards are now turned perpendicular to the table. The fans are
closed and completely squared up, using the table top as an aid in squaring
the cards.
This action does nothing to change the order of the cards, but it is a
pretty flourish that Del uses many times throughout his act. It is used several
times in this routine alone.
The cards are immediately ribbon spread face up from left to right on the
table as Del says, “One card is some place in the pack.” The Ace of Hearts will
be found near the center of the deck and the selected card will be directly
above it. He looks over the spread quickly and then turns it face down using
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Gymnastic Aces Without Aces
the very common ribbon spread turnover. “Did you see your card?” he asks.
The spectator will not have since the spread was made very quickly. “I saw it,
I saw it. It’s a beautiful card. One of my favorites.”
Del riffles down the outer left corner of the deck with his left thumb to
locate his Short Card, the Ace of Hearts, and cuts it to the bottom of the
deck. The cutting of the Ace of Hearts to the bottom of the deck is always
done prior to the return of each selection.
Del now has the second card replaced in the deck using the same exact
actions as was carried out for the first selection. After the deck is ribbon
spread out face up on the table, he says to two of the people, “I didn’t see your
card, but I saw yours… again, a beautiful card.” Once again, he uses the fan
flourish after the ribbon spread and then immediately cuts his key card, the
Ace of Hearts, to the bottom of the deck.
The same actions are carried out for the third selection. After the cards
are turned faces down using the ribbon spread turnover, Del quickly reverses
the turnover action and moves back near the center of the spread and says,
“Have another look.” The cards in the left half of the spread are face down and
the cards in the right half of the spread are face up. He leaves the cards in this
situation for about a second and then turns the spread face down and scoops
up the cards and repeats the fan flourish. The Ace of Hearts is once again
cut to the bottom of the deck. After this action Del looks at the third
spectator and says, “Your card is fourteen from the bottom… fourteenth card
from the bottom.”
The fourth selection is now returned to the deck. During the ribbon
spread of the deck Del says, “Four cards…” He once again stops the ribbon-
spread turnover about half way and looks at the spectator and says, “If you
look at the bridge you will see your card… a beautiful card… I love that card...
one of my all-time favorites.” The cards are scooped up and the fan flourish is
again carried out and the Ace of Hearts is cut to the bottom of the deck.
At this point, if everything was done correctly, the four selections are on top
of the deck in reverse order of their selection.
Del says, “Without looking through the pack and without asking too many
questions…” After a slight pause he continues, “…the only question I will ask is
if any of the four accidently came to the bottom or the top.”
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
As the above is being said, Del repeats the fan flourish and then double
undercuts one card from the bottom of the deck to the top of the deck. This
adds one indifferent card to the top of the deck (above the four selections).
The deck is briefly set down on the table. It is then picked up with the palm-
down left hand and the hand rotates palm up so that the bottom of the
deck can be seen. This action shows that no selections are on the bottom
of the deck.
The deck is now held in dealing position in the left hand and the top
indifferent card is flipped face up on top of the deck from side to side, as you
might open a book.
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Gymnastic Aces Without Aces
of the deck is cut off and the upper half is interwoven into the lower half of
the deck. The upper half should be pushed about one third of its length into
the lower portion of the deck. The deck is now pinched at the lower right
corner between the right thumb on top and the right first and second fingers
below. The right hand turns palm up and exposes the bottom two cards of the
interwoven deck. Del now reaches up with his left first finger and pushes in
the face card on the outer half of the interwoven deck for about one-half to
three-quarters of an inch (Photo 4).
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
If the card shot off the table, Del would say, “That’s the Jack. Take my word
for it.” After the card is shown, he repeats the name of the second card, “Six of
Spades,” and with another shake the Six of Spades jumps out of the deck.
Del turns to the spectator who selected the second card and asks, “What
was your card?” The spectator replies that his card was the Ten of Spades. With
another shake, the Ten of Spades jumps from the deck.
He asks the spectator who selected the first card, “What was your card?”
He repeats the name the card and with a final shake, the King of Clubs jumps
from the deck.
During the applause, Del quickly unweaves the two sections of the
deck, places them together, and quickly gathers up the four selections and
apparently places them back onto the deck. In reality, he palms the four
selections into his right hand as he hands out the deck and asks for it to be
shuffled. As the right hand returns from handing out the cards to be shuffled,
he “adjusts” the close-up mat, lifting up the right edge with the fingers. The
four palmed cards are dropped to the table under the mat as it is slightly
shifted to the right.
After the deck is shuffled and returned, Dell says, “Let me show you how
to find the same four cards with one hand after the deck has been shuffled. The
same four cards — with one hand. Call yours out.” The spectator calls out the
Jack of Diamonds and Del says, “One of my all time favorites,” as he does a
one-handed cut of the deck. Moving to the next spectator he once again asks
for the name of the selected card. The Six of Spades is named and he repeats
the one-handed cut, saying, “No problem.” The third spectator names the
Ten of Spades and Del replies, “I love that card,” as he once again performs a
one-handed cut. The last spectator names the King of Clubs. This time Del
replies, “Ahhh, second from the top… now they are all together.” He pushes over
the top card of the deck onto the left fingertips with the left thumb, as far as
it can go without losing control of the card. As the left thumb returns to its
normal dealing position, it drags out the second card from the top of the deck
while the top card remains balanced on the tip of the fingertips. The card on
the fingertips is now slowly worked under the second card. The top card and
the second card have changed positions.
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Gymnastic Aces Without Aces
Del now places the deck on the mat, directly overtop of the four cards
that are underneath. Turning to one of the spectators Del says, “Help me
out. Put your palm on top of the whole pack and say, ‘Six of Spades,’ and press
hard.” As each of the remaining spectators names their card, Del again
has the spectator press hard on the deck. “Now, while you’re pressing, please
say, ‘Go through the rug.’ Say that.” While giving these instructions, Del is
demonstrating to the spectator what he wants her to do by placing his hand
on top of the card box and wiggling it around in a back and forth motion.
“Lift your hand. I believe you did what we call a sensational job.”
Del now lifts the right side of the mat up to reveal four face-down cards.
He quickly grabs the four cards. After releasing the edge of the mat back to
the table, he flips the four cards face up onto the mat.
The applause starts and Del apparently places the four cards back onto
the deck. Actually, he palms them into the right hand and says, “If they don’t
go through the mat, I use the emergency cards.” He uses his left hand to slightly
open his jacket. His right hand goes into the jacket and produces the four
selections.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
406
Del Ray’s Final Aces
Exactly when Del Ray adopted Brother John Hamman’s Final Aces is not
known. Hamman devised the trick in 1952 and it was 1956 before St. Louis
magic dealer Gene DeVoe would market it. However, there’s a report of Del
showing up at Haines House of Cards in 1953 to see if Ronald Haines could
make the Final Aces gaffs with Bee back cards. By 1955, Hamman’s routine
had replaced Del Ray’s version of McDonald’s Aces (which he’d done since he
was a teenager), and it became a trick he performed in every close-up show he
did for the rest of his life.
Three regular cards, the Two of Clubs, the Three of Hearts, and the Three
of Diamonds have one of their indices removed and replaced with an “A”.
Again, the suit remains the same, only the numerical value is changed. (Photo
1, bottom row.)
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
The six cards that match these six gaffed cards should be removed from
the deck.
An empty plastic or glass tumbler will be used at one point in the routine.
Set-up: Imagine the deck
spread face up on the table and
you are looking at the spread.
The three gaffed Aces are
placed into the spread so that
the Ace indices are seen. The
Aces are scattered through the
deck with the normal Ace of
Spades being closest to the face
2
of the deck. The other Aces
follow throughout the deck in
Clubs, Hearts, and Diamonds
order. The three gaffed regular
cards are in positions 10, 11,
and 12 from the top of the
deck and are oriented so that
the number indices show in
the spread, instead of the Ace
indices (Photo 2).
3
Phase 1
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
The last three cards for the fourth pile are the gaffed regular cards with
the Ace pips. Be sure to cover the Ace indices on the last three cards with
your right thumb.
The rest of the deck is placed aside. “That’s all we use. The glass will just act
as a holder.” The Aces are scooped up and turned face down end for end.
“One Ace will represent each one of the piles. The first will be the Ace of
Diamonds, the second will be the Ace of Clubs, the third the Ace of Hearts, and
the last the Ace of Spades.”
As this is being said, Del
repeats the stud dealing action
with each of the four Aces
(Photo 9). This time however,
the Aces are turned face up
and each one is slid under one
of the piles of cards that were
previously dealt to the table
(Photo 10).
9
It is important to
remember that the Aces are
left face up and they are also
left protruding about half
way. This allows half of the
face of the Aces to be seen
by the spectators. The Ace
of Diamonds goes under the
rightmost pile, finishing up
10
with the Ace of Spades being
slid under the leftmost pile
(Photo 11).
11
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Del Ray’s Final Aces
15
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
The Vanishes
412
Del Ray’s Final Aces
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Phase 2
“There may be one or two who didn’t see how they got there, so let me do it
again.” Del now deals out the cards three at a time, moving right to left, as
he says, “Remember, we started out one, two, three… one, two, three… one, two,
three… one, two, three. Nothing in the hands.” (Photo 32.)
Del now picks up the face-up pile of four Aces (actually all but the Ace
of Spades are the indifferent cards with the single Ace indices on them). The
“Aces” are turned face down with the right hand in a side-to-side action.
They are now dealt onto the four piles of cards on the table moving from left
to right.
As the “Aces” are dealt onto the four piles, he says, “Remember, one Ace did
represent each one of the piles. I’m going to add something this time.”
The pile on the left is picked up and the right hand holds the top card of
the pile in place as the left hand turns the bottom three cards over side to side
and places them underneath the face-down card in the right hand. The cards
are now held in a small fan.
“Remember, three cards…
33
the Four, King, Nine, and the
Ace of Hearts.”
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Del Ray’s Final Aces
He turns the fanned packet over so that the spectator can see what Ace
they picked. “The Ace of Hearts.” He turns the packet back over and magically
passes it over the top of the fourth pile. The packet is still fanned. The top
face-down card is now flicked with the right first finger (Photo 36).
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
418
Del Ray’s Final Aces
44 Phase 3
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
This moves the indifferent gaffs to the face of the face-down packet.
The twelve-card packet is now fanned face down and the four Aces are
inserted into the packet.
“I will fan them out so that every card is showing. Once again, using the four big
ones. Let’s place one second from the top, easy to remember, one a little further
away, one about three-quarter, and one on the bottom.” The first Ace is placed
second from the top, but left outjogged about one inch (Photo 47). One is
placed a few more cards down, and another a little further down. The last
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Del Ray’s Final Aces
At this point Del fans out the cards and shows the Aces at four different
positions in the packet (Photo 49). He points to each of the Aces and names
them as he shows them to the audience.
“Now, if I close up the fan the first thing you’re gonna say is that’s when he did
it. And you’d be right. Take your finger and close the fan, slowly but convincingly.”
Del has a spectator use her first finger to close up the fan very slowly, which
in turn reverses the cards (Photo 50).
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Del would put these cards back into the rest of the deck. Most magicians
would have immediately put the gaffed deck away, but Del Ray was not like
most magicians. Sometimes, he would continue using the cards for one more
effect, usually performing Dai Vernon’s Triumph with the gaffed cards still in
the deck. These little touches certainly threw many magicians off track when
attempting to figure out Del’s tricks.
Note: The performance of Final Aces on the Companion Video was done
as a “curtain call” at the FFFF convention in 1988. Del had finished his
hour-and-a-half close-up show, including the Little Willie finale, when the
attendees requested he show the Final Aces. Graciously, he did.
422
Card Stab
Del Ray occasionally performed this Card Stab in his close-up act. His
presentation of the effect varied slightly from one performance to another,
but this is the handling he most commonly used.
Where Del first learned of the Card Stab is not known. Volume 3 of the
Tarbell Course in Magic, published in 1943, teaches eight versions, with four
of them being methods where the deck is wrapped in paper before the stab is
made. Nate Leipzig’s classic Card Stabbing, where two chosen cards are found
lying at both sides of the blade, is described in great detail in the Dai Vernon
Book of Magic. And there’s the possibility that Del could have learned the
Card Stab from his friend Ed Marlo. By 1945, Ed had devised his Simplex
Card Stabbing (reprinted in Early Marlo in 1964), where a spectator wields
the blade.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
A deck of cards is ribbon spread across the mat. “The cards, as you can
see, are all right.” After a fan shuffle, Del performs a thumb fan and sets the
cards for the old gag where a card pops out of the center of the deck when
the fan is offered to the spectator for a card to be selected. “Would you take
out one card?” After the laugh this gets, he closes the fan and instead asks the
spectator to just look at a card.
“Take your finger and just catch one (a card) in your mind and think about
it. Did you see one?”
At this point Del has a little finger break below the peeked-at card. As he
asks, “Would you like to shuffle or do you trust my shuffle?” he cuts the peeked
card to the bottom of the deck with a single cut. The deck is now squared up
with a very quick tapping action on the table. With the cards held high at the
fingertips, the inner right corner of the deck is tapped once on the table. A
subtle glance allows him to learn the identity of the peeked card.
If the spectator says that he trusts Del’s shuffle, he replies, “Good.” If the
spectator wants to shuffle, he drops the deck on the table and allows them to
shuffle. He says, “Go ahead and shuffle them. Shuffle them thoroughly.” At this
point he looks away from the spectator who is shuffling and talks to someone
else in the crowd.
After taking the deck back from the spectator, Del continues, “Now you
might say, well he let me shuffle the pack, and a lot of people think that whenever
a magician lets somebody shuffle the cards he has gotten the card out of the deck.
That is not true, and I want you to make sure that your card is still in the deck.”
Del gives the deck one or two shuffles and then ribbon spreads the deck
face up on the table so that the spectator can see that the peeked card is still
in the deck. The face-up ribbon spread is quickly turned face down. When
asked if the spectator saw their card, they will usually say no since very little
time was given for them to see the cards. He says, “I saw it, I saw it!”
The reason for spreading the deck face-up on the table is so that Del can
spot the location of the selected card and control it to the bottom of the deck.
He shuffles several times, retaining the selected card on the bottom.
424
Card Stab
As Del opens the knife he says, “A piece of paper... and the blade of a knife.”
The open knife is placed on the table.
The left hand turns palm down as the right hand folds over the right
side of the newspaper under the deck. “Your card is not on the bottom?” The
bottom card of the deck is visible to the spectators (Photo 3).
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
It is important that the top and bottom of the deck is kept track of after
it’s wrapped in the newspaper. Del lets the long edge of the deck rest on the
tabletop with the bottom of the deck facing him.
At this point, Del rubs the blade of the knife across what appears to
be the side of the deck. It is actually rubbing across the jogged card. The
left hand should maintain a strong grip on the deck to keep from losing the
jogged card.
“I am going to stick the blade through the paper into the packet… next to
your card.”
At this point, Del very quickly stabs into the newspaper, but then quickly
removes the knife. “Let me clean the blade. The slightest piece of dirt will throw
it off.” He wipes both sides of the knife blade several times on his left sleeve.
Del slides the knife through the paper and into the deck using the jogged
card as a guide. The knife is inserted below the jogged card, which means that
the blade is touching the face of the selected card, not the back (Photo 6).
426
Card Stab
“I hit it! One chance in fifty-two and I hit it.” Del picks up the section of
the deck with the Five of Clubs on its face and holds it up at eye level.“Yes,
thirty-eight… I can see that now... exactly thirty-eight! I thought it might be
thirty-nine.”
Note: The performance of the Card Stab on the Companion Video is from
a close-up show Del Ray performed at the Moonbrook Country Club in
Jamestown, New York, some time in the early 1980s.
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428
The Royal Assembly
By Del Ray and Ed Marlo
You run through the deck and get all the Kings, Queens, Jacks, and Aces.
Don’t let the audience see what you are doing, but you mention that you are
going to use the Kings, Queens, Jacks, and Aces. You line up the cards in this
order: on top of the deck you have three Jacks, on top of the three Jacks you
have three Queens, on top of the three Queens you have four kings, on top
of the four Kings you have the other Jack. On top of the Jack you have any
indifferent card, and on top of this card you have the other Queen.
On the table lay the four Aces, faces up. The Aces should be in the order
shown below. This is important, as you will see when you work the trick.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
The deck is in your left hand and you are holding a finger break under
the top card (the Queen). You pick up the four Aces, one at a time, the Club
first, and it goes on top of the Heart. The two cards then go on top of the
Diamond, and then the three cards on top of the Spade. You square them
on top of the deck and add the Queen in this manner: the right hand picks
up the four Aces and squares them face up against the deck, picking up the
Queen at the same time. Thus, the right hand holds a squared packet of five
cards, four face-up Aces and below that the reversed Queen.
Now to show the Aces singly, bring the two hands together and with the
left thumb start to peel off the first Ace. The left thumb keeps pressure on the
face card of this packet, as the right hand pulls away. The Ace that has been
peeled off is now flipped over face down on top of the deck, with the aid of
the left side of the packet held by the right hand.
The left thumb moves out of the way as the card falls face down flush on
the deck. Repeat the same series of moves to how the next two Aces. The last
Ace will have the Queen below it; therefore, you merely drop these onto the
deck as one. Call the Aces out loud each time you turn one over. Club goes
first, then Heart, then Diamond. Set the Aces on the table face down, left to
right: the Ace of Spades, a Queen, Ace of Diamonds, and Ace of Hearts.
Ace of Hearts
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The Royal Assembly
You want the Queen in the middle of the top row. You now say that you
are going to lay three cards on each Ace. Take the two from under the finger
break and say, “One,” and on the next card, “two,” and lay these down on top
of the Ace toward you, in this case the Ace of Hearts.
Take the next card from the deck singly, saying, “three,” and lay this on
top of the packet. Don’t show any of these cards as they are laid down.
Take the next three cards, show them and say, “We will put the three Kings
on this Ace,” and they go on the Ace to the left. Take the next three cards,
show them, and say, “We put three Queens on this Ace,” as they go on top of
the face-down Queen. Take the next three cards, show them and say, “And
we put three Jacks on this Ace,” as they are placed on the Ace to the right.
Put the remainder of the deck to the side, as you will use it no more. You
should now have a layout as shown in the sketch.
Ace of Hearts
A Jack
An indifferent card
Ace of Clubs
A King
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Pick up the packet of five cards, turn the cards face up and count them
one at a time on the table. From the face, count, “One, two,” and Buckle
Count on the third, setting the two cards down as one card, and say, “three.”
With the one card in your hand, you say, “four,” and pick up the packet of
cards with the last card by sliding it under them.
You now say, “One Ace and three indifferent cards.” Do not call attention
to what Ace it is. This is why you wanted a red Ace here, so that when you
count them, they will not remember it.
Now turn the packet over in your hand and hold the cards face down in
your left hand. With the thumb you push to the right the top card (a King)
and hold a break.
At the same time you reach for the packet of cards to the left (Ace and
three Kings). Turn these over and square them up on the cards in your left
hand, and you add the card you are holding a break for (the King). You now
do your turn over again, one card at a time and call the Ace first, aloud, then
King of Diamonds, King of Clubs, and the last King. You put the two cards
as one on top, square up the card, and off the top of the packet you say, “One,
two, three Kings and the Ace of Spades.”
Now call attention that you have here one Ace and three indifferent cards
and point to the master pile. Mention that here we have three Kings and the
Ace of Spades, and point to the pile to the left. Now pick up the King pile
and make a motion of pulling out an Ace and tossing it toward the master
pile. Turn the cards over one at a time and show four Kings.
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The Royal Assembly
Pick up the master pile, turn over the packet and count, “One, two,”
Buckle Count on third card, put down, and pick up pile with last card in
hand by sliding under packet. While you are counting, you say, “And here we
have two Aces.” Turn cards over and put down.
Pick up the next pile, the four Queens, and make the tossing motion of
the Ace. Turn over the cards one at a time and four Queens will be found.
Pick up the master pile and turn over face up. Count, “One, two,” Buckle
Count on the third card and put the fourth card on top of the packet. Do
not pick up packet with it. As you count, mention you now have three cards.
Square up cards and turn over cards in left hand. Push over top card (one
Jack) and hold break. Reach for last pile to right.
Turn over cards and square up on cards in left hand and add the Jack.
You now do your turn over one card at a time, as you say, “Ace of Diamonds,
Jack of Spades, Jack of Clubs,” and the next two you put down as one. Square
up the packet and turn over the last Jack. You now deal down as first pile and
say, “One, two, three Jacks and an Ace.” Lay these down the same as in the last
photo. This time they think the crosswise card is an Ace, but it is a Jack.
You now turn over the master pile in your hand, face up. Count, “One,
two, three, four cards.” Do not Buckle Count this time. Put down one card,
take the next single, and the next card single, and you now have two cards left
in your hand. Put them down as one and say, “Three Aces and one indifferent
card.” They see the indifferent card.
You now pick up the three Jacks and ace and make a tossing motion.
Turn them over one at a time and show they are four Jacks. Pick up the
master pile and hold in the left hand face down. You are now ready for the
best part of the trick. With one hand you push over the top card a little, and
turn it over on the table to show one Ace. Repeat with the next card and
show two Aces. You now buckle the bottom with first finger and throw over
the two cards as one, showing three Aces, and the one card in your hand you
throw down. They see four Aces.
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
434
The Companion Video
The DVD that is found in the flap pocket affixed to the inside back cover
of this book contains ninety minutes of various Del Ray performances.
These video clips were selected from the film and video archive that
was assembled by David Baldwin. The audiovisual script that was used
to create the DVD is reproduced here to serve as an outline of the
disc’s content.
audio visual
“The stage act was 20 years old Clip of Del performing the canary
when Del Ray was booked as a trick shot by Ed Rosenthal in
featured performer at the 1974 1974.
Society of American Magicians
convention in Boston. His closing
effect was his electronics version
of the ‘Flight of the Canaries.’”
435
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
audio visual
436
The Companion Video
audio visual
“The Rabbit and the Frog was Clip of Del performing Rabbit &
Del’s opening effect from the Frog at FFFF convention.
1970s on, as demonstrated in this
1988 performance at Fechter’s
Finger Flicking Frolics.”
“Del Ray introduced his Singing 17:15 routine w/ Bird doing card
Bird to the magic world in 1953 tricks, dice rolls, and Dice Ladder
at the International Brotherhood and Locked Box, with Dick Cavett
of Magicians convention in assisting.
Philadelphia. The 17-minute
routine where a little mechanical
canary finds selected cards,
predicts dice rolls, and escapes
the fate of being given away was
part of Del Ray’s one-hour close-
up show when he appeared at
Tannen’s Jubilee in 1983.”
437
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
audio visual
438
The Companion Video
audio visual
“Del’s Dice Stacking routine that Clip of Dice Stacking from 1986
was videotaped at the S.A.M. S.A.M. convention in Louisville.
convention in Louisville in 1986
Is the same routine Del Ray had
been performing since he was
a teenager.”
439
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
audio visual
440
The Companion Video
audio visual
“In a rare video shot by Bob Clip of The Bet shot in Bill
Escher in 1986, Del Ray does a Dodson’s garage-workshop.
demonstration of ‘The Bet’ for Bill
Dodson, giving a few points on
the presentation of the effect.”
441
Del Ray: America’s Foremost
audio visual
Produced by
JOHN MOEHRING
Editorial Assistance
DAVID BALDWIN
GARY PLANTS
Narration
CHUCK ROUNDS
442
Acknowledgements
The first thank you goes to the publishing team of David Baldwin, Bob
Escher, and Bill Spooner for providing the opportunity to write a book about
Del Ray.
Enough gratitude cannot be given to Del Ray’s close friend Bob Filips for
sharing the important facts of life that made me a believer in his conviction
that “magic was the only thing in Del Ray’s life that really mattered.”
Del Ray’s niece, Pat McDermott, and her husband Bill provided answers
to questions about Del, the “gentle man,” and his relationship with Anne
King, his wife and booking agent.
This volume owes a big debt to Ask Alexander, the online database of
Bill Kalush’s Conjuring Arts Research Center. By the time I got involved in
the book project, Bill Spooner had already printed out over 500 of Alex-
ander’s pages referencing Del Ray. These pages were chronologically linked
to create a timeline that became the backbone of the biographical portion
of the book.
Those helpful with research were David Ben, George Daily, Michael
Perovich, Ken Price (Palmer House Archives), Don Wiberg, and Jim
Klodzen (curator of the American Museum of Magic). James B. Alfredson,
Ken Klosterman, Frank Furkey, and Mike Caveney’s Egyptian Hall provided
access to their files of Bill Dodson correspondence referencing Del Ray.
Milbourne Christopher and Frances Ireland Marshall must be recog-
nized as the first writers to give Del Ray a place in the pages of magic history
with their detailed reviews that appeared in Hugard’s Magic Monthly and
The Linking Ring. Thanks go to Linking Ring editor Samuel Patrick Smith and
Genii editor Richard Kaufman for permission to excerpt Del Ray material
from their publications.
Among the many who shared their personal experiences and reminiscences
of Del Ray were Stan Allen, Stephen Bargatze, Bev Bergeron, Walter Blaney,
Dr. Bradley J. Brown, David Brumble, Chuck Caputo, Paul W. Chellgren,
Tim Conover, Oran B. Dent, Paul Diamond, Gus Freitag, Don Greenberg,
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
Jack Greenberg, Denny Haney, Max Howard, David Kleiber, Bob Kohler,
Bill Miesel, Hank Moorehouse, Amado “Sonny” Narvaez, Rick Neiswonger,
Sherrell Nunnelley, Jon Racherbaumer, Adele Friel Rhindress, Harry Riser,
Terry Roses, Nick Ruggiero, John Slicer, Stan Spence, David Stahl, Joe Stevens,
Dan Stapleton, John Thompson, and Dr. Randall Valentine.
A special acknowledgement goes to Paul Gertner, who suggested contact-
ing his first magic teacher, Ron Slanina. As it turned out, Ron was a good
friend of Del’s and one of the few magicians, if not the only one, invited
to Del’s home in Pittsburgh, where he witnessed confidential demonstrations
of the Close-up Table as it was being developed.
Thanks to the late Jay Marshall for his candid opinions expressed during
a night-before-Halloween interview in 1999. Jay felt Del Ray was bipolar,
“as all great magicians should be,” he said, citing how Del was compassionate
and caring on one hand, yet guarded and always suspicious on the other.
Bill Spooner thanks Devin Lushbaugh for his assistance with the elec-
tronic analysis of major items in the Del Ray collection, as well as recognizes
Lynn Covey for his sharing of early Del Ray apparatus and other materials.
Bill also acknowledges Dr. Henry T. Perkins, internist, for his medical opin-
ion of Del Ray’s respiratory difficulties after viewing various videos, citing
chronic obstructive pulmonary disease as the problem, noting that direct and
second-hand smoke from a lifetime of work in smoke-filled environments con-
tributed heavily to the disease.
David Baldwin wishes to acknowledge the contributions of video mate-
rial from Tom Craven, Marc DeSouza, George Franzen, Geoffrey Hansen,
Michael Kam, Joseph Long, Bill McIlhany, Dr. Bill Nagler, Obie O’Brien,
Gary Plants, George Robinson, Jeff Spiller, and Bill Wells.
Bob Escher thanks Kenna Thompson for his assistance in wrangling the
Del Ray collection (all the magic including the Butches, Singing Birds, table
for Little Willie, and the boxes of rabbits, frogs, and other talented toys)
from Pittsburgh to Louisville.
The majority of the photos and graphics used in the book are from
Del’s personal scrapbooks. Supplying additional photography were Eddie
Ace (Pacacha), H. Rick Bamman, Paul Capito, Irving Desfor, Richard
Hughes, Jim Morrison, Gary Plants, Paul Smith, Ken Trombly, Scott Wells,
and Larry Wilfong. A special thanks goes to my brother-in-law, Frank Haley,
who did the illustrative photography for the trick section.
Lindsay Smith proofread the final manuscript. Dexter Cleveland copy-
edited Gary Plant’s trick write-ups and helped cobble together the Index.
Chuck Romano, author of The Art of Deception, created the layout and
book design.
444
Index
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Del Ray: America’s Foremost
446