Tuesday, 6 March 2012

The tale of the Magician’s postcard

How do you catch a bullet between your teeth? Have you ever dined with a dog? How far would you go for fame?

Alexander Crystal Seer poster
Crystal balls, commonly used to
spy on Thing Detectives.
(pic credit: Vintage Ephemera)
He arrived out of the blue, spouting words like magic, bullets and cash. A distinct chill passed through the Thing Detectives office – it tugged at the hairs on the back of my neck. It felt like we were being watched, maybe through the business-end of a dusty crystal ball. 

“Magical memorabilia”, our new client said, white teeth glimmering (I’m guessing here, it was a phone call), “think you can manage that?”

He wanted Ephemera, which are paper collectibles to you and me- photos, posters and postcards of famous magicians from the early 1900s; The Great Lafayette, The Great Herrmann and Chung Ling Soo.

Had Mr. Lafayette, we wondered, opted for "The Great" after dismissing "the bloody brilliant" or "the ok, but you can sort of see the mirrors"?  Why had Mr. Soo not reckoned himself as highly as his contemporaries?

For anyone reading this who is turned a little cold by 'magic'- maybe you’re one of those "I don't care where the bunch of flowers came from, if you're a magician turn my house into a dinosaur" types? - I urge you to read on. Because delving deep into the history of conjuring we found the dedication and commitment shown by these early illusionists to be, quite literally, mind blowing.

The Great Lafayette (Siegmund Neuberger) and Beauty
The Great Lafayette (real name
Siegmund Neuberger) and
Beauty (real name unknown)
Chung Ling Soo was born an American called William Robinson in 1861. He shaved his head, grew a beard and changed his name at the age of 39 in order to advance his career prospects.

Mr. Robinson died on stage at the Wood Green Empire in London in 1918. The Great Lafayette also died on stage, during a fire at the Empire Theatre in Edinburgh. He was buried with his small dog, Beauty, whom he used to dine with.

Alexander 'The Great' Herrmann pioneered a technique for throwing cards long distances with a flick of the wrist, paving the way for the 'cards as weapons' martial art.

The thought that an Ace of Clubs might come whistling through the window towards my throat at the behest of some demonic cabal seemed somehow easier to believe than the fact our last case had been to source Bros’ first album.

Bros debut album - PUSH (1988)
Bros' debut album "push" (1988)
This should give Google something to think about.
The hunt begins...

We exhausted all internet-based avenues early on and not being likely to find such magical items in the classifieds, we tried to find a specialist - someone to share their wealth of knowledge with us.

In this case, The Magic Circle gave what background information they could and wished us well, although they couldn’t help, their hands were tied - slip knots, probably.
"William Ellsworth Robinson (the erstwhile Mr. Chung Ling Soo)" one friendly magician wrote, "managed to keep up the pretence of being Chinese in the public eye for his entire career, despite many of his fellow illusionists knowing the truth. He pretended to be incapable of speaking English, perhaps because his Brooklyn accent would blow his cover. Incredibly, a fellow illusionist "Ching Ling Foo", of actual Chinese descent, accused Chung of stealing his act. A contest was held to find the "greatest Chinese magician", from which Soo emerged victorious and Foo was branded an impostor." 
Magic circle logo
"Not apt to disclose secrets"
but jolly nice nevertheless.

It was then that we came up with what we now call The Bagatelle theory (explained in our next post, folks!). It boiled down to this: There were so many ways a hundred year old piece of card could be torn, or soaked, burnt, lost or simply and slowly perish. In order to make it to the present day it would have required safety...

We decided to search antiques shops near to the Wood Green empire, where Chung Ling Soo had met his sorry end in 1918.

The shop we found bulged over the pavement  with cobweb covered furniture, dusty vases, maps and bric-a-brac. The building itself, jutting out at strange angles in different shades of black and green, looked at once supernatural and against all rational laws of physics, resembling something akin to an Escher puzzle, haunted by a spirit that certainly wasn’t level. In short, it was the kind of building that one could absolutely imagine disappearing in a puff of smoke. 
The Wood Green empire
The wood green empire,
now a branch of the Halifax
building society.

Inside, weathered shelves held many strange and exotic things; tribal instruments, Japanese battle masks, a painting of a cow… and a postcard: part of a job-lot cleared from the Wood Green Empire in the 1970s. A postcard dated 1918, featuring the portrait and signature of a Chang Ling Soo (sic.) for sale for £800.

We expected, and secretly hoped, the proprietor of the shop to be an old, wizened gentleman, with an old, wizened beard and a penchant for talking in riddles. I was wrong, his name was Gary, and he had a story to tell:

“Chung Ling Soo’s most famous trick "The Living Target" involved him catchin’ a live bullet between his teeth. The trick being, right, 'e had a rigged gun, with a fake barrel and blank cartridge! It was aimed and shot at Soo, then he spat a previously palmed bullet onto a plate.

Chung Ling Soo, conjurer poster
Chung Ling Soo
Marvellous conjurer maybe,
but Chinese he was not.
But on the evening of the 23rd of March 1918, the trick went wrong and he was killed in full view of the audience on the stage at the Empire. Despite a jury's verdict of "accidental death" there was a rumour that it may have actually been suicide on account of Soo’s massive debts or even murder, as Soo's prop manager was doing the dirty with his wife.”

Gary paused.

“Go on, Gary,” I prompted.

“The postcard is a very rare thing indeed, being dated and signed one week before his death and illustrated with Soo holding the plate and bullet proudly above his head. It’s a piece of history, a priceless memento, and a testament to a true master of his art...

Having said that, fella, I could probably let it go for six-fifty?”

A signed Chung Ling Soo postcard
The Chung Ling Soo postcard, dated one
week after Soo's death.
Quite a haunting image, really.

Do you have anything to add to the mystery of Chung Ling Soo? Please post below.

If you have a case for The Thing Detectives, please get in touch through the usual channels.

Wednesday, 29 February 2012

They asked for what?! – Strange cases (III)

Cold cases; unusual items; and annoyingly incomplete stories.

#3 the medical etching

A medical drawing by Faustino Anderloni
A medical etching by Faustino Anderloni, 1813.
Nothing says "happy holidays" like an exposed Trachea.

 “I am looking for an antique medical etching... best would be anything to do with the chest or oesophagus or surgical in nature.”

This was by no means the strangest request we’ve had, but put together with the client’s parting words-

“Hurry, I need it by Christmas.”

-it certainly makes you wonder about that particular Christmas morning.

Still… it beats socks, I suppose.

What’s the strangest Christmas present you’ve ever searched for?

If you have a case for The Thing Detectives, please get in touch through the usual channels.

Monday, 20 February 2012

They asked for what?! – Strange cases (II)

Cold cases; unusual items; and annoyingly incomplete stories.

#2 The kingfisher tie

a colourful and stylish kingfisher tie
A kingfisher tie, best worn with a blue shirt

“I am looking for a man's tie,” the lady wrote, “material irrelevant BUT it must have a picture of a Kingfisher [the bird] on it at the front!! AND in colour.”

We had to wonder... how many ties are decorated on the back? And how many with Kingfishers that aren't birds?

Do you own a bird-themed tie? Please post your photos below.

If you have a case for The Thing Detectives, please get in touch through the usual channels.

Tuesday, 14 February 2012

They asked for what?! – Strange cases (I)

Cold cases; unusual items; and annoyingly incomplete stories.

# 1. “A boat-shaped xylophone”


The Ranat Ek percussion instrument
The Ranat Ek, being played suspiciously.
We never did discover why someone from Bolton would want one of these. We found the Ranat Ek, but lost touch with the lady who - and I'm guessing here - is either very keen on boats or percussion.
Where is it now? If you've seen it please get in touch, Chris has a prize for you.

If you have a case for The Thing Detectives, please get in touch through the usual channels.

Tuesday, 7 February 2012

The strange disappearance of Guernsey Tom

What is a chip basket? Is there life after hedge-veg? And who would christen a tomato?

The Guernsey Press, the leading newspaper of the second largest of the British Channel Islands set us a challenge the likes of which we’d never seen before: to reunite the island with an emblem of its past.

"It’s…well, it’s a basket,” I said to Chris, matter-of-fact-ly.

“A basket?” he sounded disappointed.

“Ah but the trick is, it’s not really a basket, it’s a more of a box…” I tossed him this to ramp up the excitement.

“And how is this box symbolic?”

“Well, let me tell you a little story.”

“Can it wait, John I’m…” said Chris, who secretly loves my stories.

“No.”

Tom grew up in Guernsey. On 11th June 1955, with the sun ripening his skin for the last time, Tom was placed below-deck on a ferry to England. At Southampton, he would board a private train to an undisclosed location and from there it was anyone’s guess – a salad, a sandwich, maybe even a tapenade. Tom was a tomato, and he was not alone. That very same week, 793,966 baskets of Guernsey Toms made the channel crossing. At full-tilt in the 1960s, the island only 25 miles square was 7% under glass; 2500 growers were firing out tomatoes at a rate of 9 million baskets per year, each one hand-picked, cleaned and inevitably christened Tom.

Tomato Museum poster, Guernsey, Channel Islands
Guernsey Tom, apparently quite a bashful tomato.

To the islanders, Guernsey Tom, his baskets, and the prosperity they brought are a reminder of the grit and determination shown by those of a certain age; of a time when Guernsey (and Tom) had suffered a great deal. Each greenhouse full of baskets full of tomatoes could be thought of as a microcosm for post-war British pluck.

We’d been asked to find one such symbolic basket. How difficult could that be? Surely it was a simple matter of knocking on the nearest greenhouse door? Well, sadly no.

Tomato baskets in a 1930 tomato factory
Tomato baskets in their thousands, circa 1930. Now vanished.
Picture credit: Blue Diamond Co.

By the 1970s the tomato basket was finished, replaced with the bland austerity of the cardboard “Dutch tray”. The writing was on the wall for Guernsey Tom too, in blood-red, peppered with little yellow seeds: “The Dutch are coming”. Tomatoes could now be sourced more cheaply in Holland. The soil-steamers, packers, box-makers, train drivers, and tomato growers all shut-up shop. Guernsey Tom was relegated to hedge-veg.

Vegetables for sale at a stall in Guernsey
Hedge-veg. "...and no stealing."
Picture credit: visitguernsey.com

This was a singularly strange mystery for the Thing Detectives – millions of baskets documented, but we couldn’t find a single one. Where was Guernsey Tom? We found a clue in the original email from The Press.
“Latterly, these baskets were used to serve tea in, in cafes such as the one at Grand Roque”

Sherlock Holmes stamp, Alderney, Guernsey
Holmes and Watson, on the neighbouring island of Alderney
whilst we were hunting for Guernsey Tom.
Picture credit: Guernsey Post

We had out first clue, unfortunately the cafĂ© in question has long since closed. Instead we contacted The Guernsey Folk Museum (logical); the Guernsey Dairy (not so logical); and several social historians, including the prolific Peter Brehaut. Yet the basket remained out of our reach.
Then we had an idea: to get the word out to as many islanders as possible. Using the Guernsey Press would surely be cheating, a leafleting campaign time-consuming, and sky-writing slightly heavy handed. Instead we used a bit of lateral thinking - where, during the post-war years, would Guerns congregate, gossip, exchange tomato-growing tips?

"Good morning,” I said, hoping I was speaking to the lady from the Vale Parish Church, “I’ve heard that you might have a tomato basket?”

“Ooh yes, but we've always called them ‘chips’, dear.”

“May I ask if you still use your chip?

"Ooh yes, but not for Toms. Been a while since I used it for Toms. I use it for potatoes. But you’re welcome to it.”

A Guernsey tomato chip or basket
A Guernsey tomato chip (-board basket)
Picture credit: BBC
"That’s very kind of you, don’t you need it?”

"It’s lived a life with me, dear. Probably best to pass it on, ey?”

JA.

As you can probably tell, I'm quite fond of the island. Why not visit Guernsey yourself? (described wonderfully as "piece of British territory with a French zest"). Have you considered growing a Guernsey hierloom tomato? Many thanks to The Guernsey Press and Shaun Shackleton for their kind article about The Thing Detectives.

If you have a case for The Thing Detectives, please get in touch through the usual channels.