I was about twelve years old when I first became interested in magic.

A boy about my own age was dealing playing cards on his veranda floor, when I arrived with a delivery of groceries. I thought he was playing solitaire, a favourite game of my father, but he had me take one of the cards  - and mixed them and suddenly produced it on top of the deck.

He guarded that book jealously and my only participating, during our many meetings, was as a spectator.

His tricks were not always successful and I recall that I had the impression that he had only learned two or three that he was able to perform. But they were enough to whet my appetite and I yearned to own that book. There was never a time at that period when I had sufficient money to buy the book even had I known where it might be obtainable. My only approach was to pester the boy (whose name, I believe was Robinson) and offer what things I could accumulate in exchange for the book.

I had a fine collection of cigarette cards, and postcards, all in an album. These together with fifty cents and a prize possession, a bag of assorted marbles, were finally exchanged for this well-worn copy of Modern Magic.

Had I known where the book was common in used bookstores and I probably could have picked up a copy for fifty cents. But I was in seventh heaven. I had that book for many years and every page brought back memories of hours and hours of joy and struggle.

Since that time I have owned and perused most of the books published, right up to the present day, but no book had ever possessed the same glow of importance and feeling of treasure that was created by that initial peek into the world of magic.

I was attending school fairly regular and earning a little money with several jobs, still working at the grocery store – doing a morning newspaper route and, every once in a while, on the street selling special editions of the newspaper. This was the practice at the time, whenever a great victory or a sensational bit of war news would emerge – the newspaper industry took full advantage and would publish a four to eight page special with a bold screaming headline. These specials often sold for five cents a copy as opposed to the regular two cent price of a paper. It was a popular event with newspapers who could go up and down streets shouting “Special extra! German submarine sunk.” This sort of thing continued until the end of the war.

In 1915 or 1916 I had discovered a store in the Yonge Street Arcade, in Toronto, called Japanese Magic and Novelty Store. When I asked about their magic, I learned that it consisted of Japanese wood puzzles and boxes with secret openings. Not the sort of magic I had in mind.

It was about this time that I made my first visit to the Canadian National Exhibition and saw a magician in a sideshow. His performance amazed me. He showed his hands empty, pulled up his sleeves, rubbed his hands together and produced a handful of dollar bills, then he poked a six inch nail up his nose and finally introduced a box in which there was a living head.

To this day, I can still remember his talk, “You may not believe it, but within the confines of this treasure cabinet rests the head of an Egyptian beauty ‘Dagruar’”. At this point, he opened the front lid of the box that rested on a bare topped table and, sure enough, there was a head. “Yes folks, Dagruar, and she is alive.” The head moved, the eyes opened, she smiled and said “Hello.”

It was my introduction to the Sphinx illusion in action. I had read of it in Modern Magic and felt rather smug about knowing how it was done.

But the great appeal of that show was the book that was being sold, called The Wizard Book of Magic. According to the man who produced all the dollar bills, “it contains all the secrets of the magic you have seen.” The book sold for ten cents, along with a playing card that reduced in size as a hand was passed over it. My ten cents was ready, before he finished his spiel. Never was an appeal stronger. I was already picturing myself producing all those bills.

As you may have guessed, the book did not explain how the tricks were done. It did explain how one could make his ears wiggle, by the addition of threads attached with court plaster (adhesive tape had not made an appearance at this time). The card that diminished by folding was a fair trick but there was an even greater appeal in those pages: Many magic tricks that you could order by mail. I was greatly impressed.