Out of Africa - 9-10-08

I was in South Africa for six months appearing in Spellbound, an American magic revue show with twenty showgirls, two illusionists, a leopard, a black panther, two 600 pound Bengal tigers, and a small 30 pound baby tiger. I was the token comedy magician, the only act that talked. The year was 1987. The venue was a casino called The Wild Coast… not unlike an American casino located on an Indian Reservation, Sun International’s newest resort was located in the Transky, a vast Tribal Homeland… there was jungle for miles on the three sides that weren’t Indian Ocean, no city and no airport. Gamblers and vacationers from around the world flew to a big city, like Durban, or Johannesburg, and were bused or taken by limo to The Wild Coast.

Tropical heat, white sand, green mountains, rocks, miles of blue water, palm trees, thick jungle, wild animals... since you’re wondering, the wild animals don’t include leopards, panthers, or tigers, they’re not indigenous to the continent. Africa does, of course, have its share of lions. Performing in exotic locations is not unusual for magicians and many consider the opportunity for travel a perk. Others travel all over the world and see nothing more than a hotel room and a stage.

Spellbound was dark each Sunday and the show would resume Tuesday evening, two days each week to explore the big and mysterious jungle surrounding The Wild Coast. A showgirl and I drove on a wet dirt road just wide enough for one car to pass at a time, in such bad shape that it sometimes ended without warning. We continued through thick vegetation until the so-called road began again. I steered through a heavy downpour, a half hour later we were bathed in golden sunshine. The weather was weird. At some points, to avoid veering off a cliff, we had to drive six miles an hour through thick fog. We went up a hair-raising pass and on the down side the car got stuck in a foot of mud on the sheer side of a mountain.

Out of nowhere, twenty jungle natives appeared. A few were wrapped in shreds of animal skin, others were attired in t-shirts and jeans, some wore small gourds on their dicks, most were completely naked. The natives lifted our car out of the muck. I picked up a stone and changed it into a small coin with sleight-of-hand. It seemed like the jungle people thought it was real magic, but how they could reconcile that thought with the fact that I had no power over a car stuck in mud, I’ll never know. By nightfall, we sat around a fire, outside a thatched hut, with a witchdoctor, a chief, and three of his wives. The showgirl and I drank some purple liquid from a coconut shell and we were sworn to join in a coup to take control of the Tribal Council. The next night we were both back on stage at The Wild Coast.

As the only talking act, I was recruited to promote Spellbound on a late night TV talk show, in Johannesburg, the Manhattan of South Africa. For 48 hours straight this paradise had been plagued by flying ants; cockroach size bugs that travel in swarms the size of clouds, like locusts. Like the ants, we were flying. I say we, with me, were the pilot, a carrier containing a small baby tiger named Lulu, and Nicole… a pleasant animal handler… she’s not a trainer… she’s an “animal handler.” The trainer was, and is, a fearless, big, ugly guy, who was an expert. The handler was, and is, an animal lover who fed and cleaned up after the enormous cats. What were big steaming loads of savage beast shit to me were bread and butter to Nicole. She was attractive and would look good handling the baby tiger on TV.

Personally, I’ve never used animals of any kind in my act… it might be politically correct to say it’s because I’m a PETA member, but I’m not an animal rights activist or a strict vegetarian and I wear leather shoes. The reason is; animals are unpredictable, and can die, poop, or attack, at any given moment. On the other hand, as anyone who has watched a TV talk show with guests from a zoo will tell you… whether you choose livestock with feathers, fur, scales, or a hard shell, you can count on them pleasing any crowd. Spellbound’s savage beasts were props for our star illusionist, and were leased, complete with the trainer and handler, from a showbiz agency specializing in large carnivorous felines.

Next to the resort was a dirt airstrip with several small planes used by VIP gamblers and casino executives. Nicole sat in the cockpit, the little creature in the carrier and I sat in the rear of the tiny, uncomfortable, flying machine. At takeoff we battled wind, drizzle, and a fog of flying ants that splattered the windshield. The drizzle became a downpour, which helped wash off the ants. The plane bounced and bumped like a rubber dinghy on a rough sea. My stomach rose up into my rib cage every time we’d go higher and higher, then suddenly drop a hundred feet.

The baby beast, Lulu, growled and banged her head against the sides of the carrier. Nicole became concerned and wanted to comfort the “little” kitty. Before I could say a word, she turned around, opened the carrier, grabbed the cat, and cuddled it. In a fraction of a second, the baby tiger was on the pilot’s head and the plane was in a nose dive. Nicole and I wrestled the furry headpiece, the plane violently flipped on its side, wedging the squealing kitten between me and the not so secure door. Somehow we all survived this episode.

Minutes after landing, we were in a TV studio, and we were being broadcast nationwide. The late night TV talk show is just like an American one… funny guy host behind a desk, rock band, enthusiastic audience... the cliché symbol of a magician is the rabbit in the hat. I held up an empty hat, there was an explosion; fire and a cloud of black smoke burst from the topper… the smoke cleared, and out popped a skeletal, smoldering, blown apart, bunny. “It’s not a real bunny rabbit… but it used to be.” My idea, at the time, of comedy magic.

Hidden in the hat was a smoke pot, a device consisting of a short, open ended lead pipe, stuffed with gunpowder, that was ignited with a battery operated switch, essentially, a bomb. I traveled all over the world with that bomb. It was completely illegit, but I felt it was far better to ask for forgiveness than permission. I logged tens of thousands of miles with it, and never once had to ask for forgiveness. Keep in mind, this was long before 9/11, and airport security wasn’t what it is today. Now, just to perform that trick on stage, legally, would require a permit, a fireman, and a licensed pyrotechnic expert.

I took my seat next to the funny guy host behind the desk, anticipating he’d lead me into my pitch for Spellbound… which he did in a roundabout way, “How was your flight?” We traded quips about the flight, which lead to the introduction of Spellbound’s youngest star, Lulu, who licked the host’s hand, then, as if on cue, leapt onto his head. Lulu was brought under control with raw meat, but not before she peed on the host. What part did Lulu play in Spellbound? Well, at the end of the show, after the cast took their bows, she ran on stage, and that was it. The producer and director felt it added a “cute button” to the production!

A day after my Johannesburg trip, I was still thinking about Lulu humping our pilot’s head, and how lucky we all were to survive… when my parents called and asked if I was okay. How did they know about my near death flight? They didn’t. They read in the LA Times that a coup had occurred in the Transky. “Really? I hadn’t heard about that.” When asked, the entertainment director said, “…nobody pays much attention. Now and then a new chief takes over the Tribal Council... they don’t hold elections, they have coups.”

Little tigers, witchdoctors, flying ants, burnt bunnies, coups… More than just a career, life as a magician can be an adventure. My magical journey has been, and continues to be, a string of misadventures. More Maxwell Smart than James Bond...

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