Ted the Mindreader - 2-11-09

Around 1970 a fellow teenage magician, Gary Raff, invited me to see a mindreader perform in a Hollywood church basement. Gary and I had our names on the guest list. I waited for Gary outside the church, until the very last moment. When he didn't appear I went to the show alone. I've lost touch with Gary, don't remember why he didn't show up that day, and don't remember the mindreader's name, but I'm calling him Ted, because that may have been his name.

Ted spoke very enthusiastically to the small crowd about the experiments he was about to demonstrate. Very soon after he started talking, I stopped listening and concentrated on trying to avoid looking at the left side of his face and forehead or acting as if I was not revolted by what I saw. I did all I could do to keep from grimacing, and told myself, if he can go through life accepting this disfigurement, I should be able to spend a few minutes behaving civilly.

As he talked, I kept thinking about the photos of fetuses I had seen in school, the translucent skin of the unborn baby's face and head, allowing for an intimate and disturbing view of the circulatory system with its patchwork of blush veins and red capillaries. On the left side of Ted's face was a birthmark like none other I had ever seen... it covered most of his cheek and forehead.

Ted, a seemingly secure sort, obviously had come to terms with this thing and either chose not to have it cosmetically altered or knew it was unalterable. It was thrice the size of the birthmark that Gorbachev sported on his forehead. When I finally allowed myself more than a cursory glance, I saw what looked like a complex roadmap with finely etched blue veined roads crisscrossing from just below his cheek to his forehead and ending at his hairline.

It looked like a road map, and I thought, a map? He's a mindreader, I remember seeing another mindreader use a map as part of a prediction trick. Did he, when drunk one day, decide to have a map tattooed on his face? Tattoo, birthmark, skin disease, or a genetic capillary fragility, whatever it was, I could not look at it, and I hated myself for being so squeamish.

But I hung in. And good old Ted, was turning out to be a dynamic mindreader of rare taste and perception, making it more and more difficult for me to leave. While I was thinking all this, Ted stared into a crystal ball, "It is not always necessary to use the crystal ball, but I find the results are more satisfactory when I do. When I call your name I must ask that you instantly say Ôhere!' and raise your hand so I may get vibrations from you."

Ted seemed to go into a trance. "Is there a Karen Carter here? Yes Karen... I get the impression you live in Encino, on Baker Street, is that right? Please concentrate on your phone number ... I'm getting 818 656, no 555, 1212, correct? Good. You have a question, Ô Will I ever be a great singer?' Yes you will be a great singer someday. Keep right on practicing and never mind what the neighbors say. Another young lady wishes to know... "

Later I found out that those who thought of questions had actually written them down, but not shared them with anyone. Even so, this was absolutely amazing. Ted not only knew what questions to answer, he knew the names of these total strangers, and was able to psychically discern other information about them, including their addresses and phone numbers!

After the show the audience quickly exited. Before I could make it out the door, Ted stopped me and said "You're Gary's friend, right? What happened to Gary?" Before I could answer he asked, "Would you like a Coke? I'm getting one for myself."

While saying I was Gary's friend, had no idea why Gary didn't make it, and was declining his beverage offer, he was off to the drink and snack table. As he popped the top off a bottle of Coke, Ted glanced up at the wall mirror behind the table and peered into it.

"What the hell is that?" he screamed, touching his face, "Did I have this... thing... on my face while I was doing the show?"
I was tempted to say "What thing?" but I nodded.
"Why the hell didn't someone say something," he asked, trying to rub out the map with his pocket hanky.

I approached to get a better look at those blue veins which were now a messy, bluish purple smudge. "So Ted," I asked, lightly, "what the devil is that ugly, blue mess on your face... that I barely noticed?"

Ted suddenly slapped himself hard on the forehead and, being a fellow magician, he took me into his confidence. That's when I learned about the super-secret pre-show work of magicians who call themselves mindreaders , psychics, or mentalists.

Ted had an ordinary looking, ingeniously gimmicked, clipboard. The board was hollow, its surface looked like wood, but was in fact wood grained paper, under the wood grained paper - inside the hollow board - was carbon paper, remember carbon paper? Under the carbon paper was a sheet of white paper.

Underneath the clip of the board was a sheet of paper, with perforations extending the full width of the sheet, about two inches apart, for the full length of the sheet. Each perforated piece of the paper had a place for someone's full name, and a space for them to write a question for Ted.

The board was passed around to early arrivals, and as each one wrote their message. They were instructed not to let anyone see their question, to tear if off at the perforated line, and put it in their pocket or purse. Inside the clipboard was a carbon copy of everything that had been written.

The writings, of course, were started at the bottom of the board, and as each perforated slip was torn off, there was no danger of more than one message being made in the same place causing a jumble in the impressions.

In private, Ted removed the carbon paper and impressions from the board. He recalled leaning his hand on the carbon paper while reading the audience questions. "And right after that, just before the show, to secretly get numbers and addresses on some of my question askers, I made a few 411 phone calls, and rested my head in my hand, " he said, clearing up the mystery.

"I remember seeing this blue stuff on my hand and wiping it off on my hanky. But what the hell was the audience thinking when they looked at me? Why didn't anyone tell me I looked like a prune?"

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