Chicago's Hand in the Development of Close-Up Magic, Which Astounds Bar and Restaurant Patrons

Times Square, early 1970s. I’m walking down a crowded street, dodging elbows and sidestepping hillocks of bulging trash bags when suddenly – BAM – a fast-talking hustler pulls me into an impromptu round of three-card monte.

Three-card monte, for those unfamiliar, is deceptively simple – three cards, a few random pedestrians, and a hustler who first shows the ace and then shuffles the cards like he’s high on caffeine (or something) before asking, “Where’s the ace?” Now, I was confident: I knew it was the card in the middle. But as I reached for my money, some quicker guy popped in front and bet on the same card. He lost. It was like the universe just slapped me in the face. Lesson learned: never place bets with a street-smart master of sleight of hand. You cannot win. Ever.

Fast forward a few years and I’m in Lincoln Park’s long-gone Magic Bar, sipping a beer and  pretending to understand what the guy next to me is saying. A young man in a pristine white shirt and a bowtie approaches. “Would you like to see some close-up magic?” he asks, as if that’s even a question. Of course! Who wouldn’t want to be amazed while holding a lukewarm beer in one hand and a fistful of peanuts in the other? He wows us with card tricks that baffle and amuse us.

Chicago was home at the time to magic legend the Great Blackstone (aka Harry Blackstone, Sr.), a gentleman with a top hat, tuxedo, and a glamorous assistant with a megawatt smile who played the starring role in a dramatic sawing-in-half illusion. The Great Blackstone showed the audience how light bulbs could defy gravity – and maybe a few safety regulations – by levitating a glowing bulb over his awestruck audience; it was his signature move. But it wasn’t close-up magic.

Close-up magic usually has no stage, no props; just you, a magician, and maybe a table of confused yet delighted onlookers. In the early twentieth century, Chicago’s own Matt Schulien took magic from the street corner (where your money disappeared faster than your dignity) to an actual bar, where you could lose your money over a few drinks. He wasn’t just performing tricks; he was serving up casual entertainment with a side of snappy banter.

According to Philip Reed Willmarth in his booklet The Magic of Matt Schulien, Schulien presented the illusion of eating a goldfish by chewing a fish-shaped carrot on stage; this stunt “had people coming from as far away as Europe” to see Schulien swallow what they thought was a live fish. According to Willmarth, a Yale student in Schulien’s audience told his friends about the trick, and soon eating live goldfish became a campus fad. Maybe that’s the way it happened, though Smithsonian Magazine says that it was a Harvard student who started the fish-eating fad to win a $10 bet. In magic, the only thing you can trust is that you can’t trust many of the stories you hear.

Plying his trade in his German tavern, Schulien became an influential figure in Chicago’s magic scene. He’s credited with introducing the legendary Chicago Opener, a card trick in which the magician seemingly transports a chosen card from the deck to his pocket. His greatest stunt, however, may have been elevating close-up magic to some approximation of respectability.

That brings us to the magic moment in late February when Dovetail Brewery hosted a “Schulien’s inspired dinner,” with grilled bratwurst and spuds provided by Beard & Belly. There was also some close-up magic performed by Brielle, who has appeared on Penn & Teller’s Fool Us. Brielle (aka Jessica Kawalek), moved from table to table, and you could always tell where she was by the applause of pleasantly astounded patrons. At our table, we were gobsmacked by her sleight-of-hand and feats of mentalism, leaving us wondering if she had somehow tapped into our brains. How’d she do that?!

Brielle is a fast-rising star who practices a kind of magic that might be termed “consensual gaslighting,” a gleeful suspension of disbelief by people who, like Penn & Teller on their show, are pretty much asking to be fooled. Brielle’s background in psychology and teaching – she has a degree in both – prepared her to connect with her audience in a way that feels like a magical group therapy session, minus the uncomfortable silences. Watching her is like watching an episode of The Twilight Zone: you’re amazed, disoriented, and have a tired right hand from scratching your head in befuddlement.

Brielle’s personal odyssey into magic began during a “bad date” at a magic show. The guy seemed to disappear while the magician captivated Brielle. This was the light bulb moment when she fully committed to her craft. She approached the performer, saying, “I want to be a magician. Take my money,” and she’s been dazzling crowds ever since. She’s so skilled that she landed a residency at North Center pub O’Donovan’s, the same space that was once Schulien’s bar. Like Schulien, Brielle leverages magic’s power to connect people and keep them coming back for more.

Building those connections with people explains why many get into the magic business. John Mussman, a Chicago attorney, has often regaled my friends’ circle with after-dinner close-up magic, explains that, “Magic requires confidence and intimacy with one or more audience members. Stage magic simply doesn’t have that. If done correctly, the close-up magician enters the audience member’s head in a completely interactive manner, on a fundamentally human and personal level.”

In the mood for magic? Downtown, third-generation magician Dennis Watkins continues to enthrall at The Magic Parlour, and in Andersonville, Chicago Magic Lounge is a speakeasy-style bar tucked behind what looks like a coin-operated commercial laundry. Specializing in close-up, sleight-of-hand, and parlor magic, the Lounge is a testament to how close-up magic has evolved from street cons to intimate performances in a well-equipped theater space.

Want to entertain and enthrall your friends with some fancy close-up magic? Chicago Magic Lounge offers several classes to help you hone your skills. Someday you may be able to set up your own three-card monte games.