Houdini: A Life Worth Reading Read online

  In perhaps one of his most-talked-about escapes, a representative from the London Daily Mirror, a popular newspaper, came onstage during one of Houdini’s performances and told him of a famous pair of handcuffs made by a British blacksmith. The handcuffs had taken the blacksmith five years to make, and were probably the most sophisticated restraints in existence at the time. Only one person, a famous lock-picker, had ever been able to open the cuffs, a feat that took him forty-four hours. Houdini accepted the challenge to escape from these cuffs, and the event was scheduled to take place four days later at a major London theater called the Hippodrome.

  When the night finally arrived, the Hippodrome was packed. Houdini explained that he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to open the cuffs, but that he would try his best. He disappeared behind the curtain, appearing once after twenty-two minutes to look at the cuffs in a better light and again after another thirteen minutes to ask for a glass of water. The house manager gave Houdini a cushion to sit on because Houdini reported that his knees were hurting. Houdini disappeared back behind the curtain. After an hour of working on the cuffs, he came out from behind the curtain, looking so disheveled and exhausted that some say that Bess became overwhelmed with emotion and had to leave the theater. He asked to be unlocked just to take off his coat, as he was perspiring heavily. The Mirror representative refused to uncuff him unless he admitted defeat. Frustrated and defiant, Houdini managed to get a penknife out of his shirt pocket with his mouth, which he used to cut the coat to shreds, removing it. The audience went crazy. Ten minutes later, Houdini emerged from behind the curtain, uncuffed.

  Modern magicians and biographers believe that Houdini must have arranged this trick in collaboration with the Daily Mirror in order to gain publicity for both. Lock experts say that there is no way that the cuffs could have been opened without a key, and that Bess must have brought one to Houdini in the glass of water, or else it was put in the cushion that was given to him. Many believe that Houdini designed the famous cuffs himself, and simply waited an hour behind the curtain, coming out to demand water and to cut himself out of the coat for effect. In any case, the performance made Houdini the talk of London for a long time, and Houdini fanned the flame of this publicity by offering one hundred guineas to anyone who could escape the same handcuffs. One young man with exceptionally small hands who could have maneuvered out of the cuffs accepted this challenge, but was stumped when Houdini simply asked him to open the cuffs without being cuffed. By the end of his time at the Hippodrome, worn down from excitement and work, Houdini became ill with a cold that had him in bed for twelve days.

  Germany and Paris

  In order to perform in Germany, Houdini had to pass a rigorous inspection by the police. At the time, Germany had an authoritarian government, and entertainers were required to check all acts with law enforcement officials in order to be allowed to perform. Many entertainers were prosecuted and jailed for fraud on the public if their acts were in any way based on myth. Stripped naked and cuffed in the police station, Houdini was able to open the cuffs under the screen of a blanket in front of police, who admitted that they did not know how he had done it.

  Houdini got permission to perform but soon faced another problem when a newspaper published an article claiming that he had bribed a police officer in order to make his escape. Houdini hired a lawyer and brought a lawsuit for slander. He could only win the case by revealing some of his secrets. He demonstrated how he banged on a lock until the spring weakened and it opened, and took the judge to the side of the room and showed him how he got out of handcuffs. Some biographers say that the judge brought Houdini to his back office and told him that he must open the judge’s safe in order to prove that he wasn’t a fraud, but that the safe had been left open, by sheer luck. In any case, Houdini won the suit, and the newspaper published an apology. In police-controlled Germany, Houdini’s ability to escape physical restraints and willingness to challenge authority made him something of a hero and a symbol of freedom and liberty to the German people.

  While in Germany, Houdini attempted to interview a famous retired magician named Wiljalba Frikell, who had done more performances than any other magician. At first the man refused to see Houdini, as he believed that Houdini was really his illegitimate son that had come to confront him. Eventually Frikell agreed to meet with Houdini but died of a heart attack a mere two hours before Houdini was scheduled to arrive.

  Houdini continued to encourage challengers to try to restrain him and to face imitators, whom he went out of his way to humiliate by showing up at their performances and cuffing them in restraints from which they could not escape.

  Overall, German people worshipped Houdini, and he enjoyed his time there. He spoke a little bit of German, as his father had spoken it in his childhood home, and endeared himself to the German public by trying to communicate in that language. He brought his mother, whom he was fully supporting financially, to Germany to visit for one summer, and reportedly bought her a dress that had been worn by the late Queen Victoria.

  Houdini had more limited success in Paris; the police there did not allow him to perform escapes from some of the famous military prisons, and he received good but brief reviews. He did take advantage of his time in France to attempt to visit the surviving family of Robert-Houdin, the famous French magician whom Houdini worshipped and after whom he had named himself. Robert-Houdin’s daughter-in-law refused to allow him to visit, and when Houdini went to the house anyway, refused to allow him inside. Instead, Houdini went to the nearby cemetery where Robert-Houdin’s grave was located and paid his respects, staying by the grave for half an hour.

  Paris was also where Houdini made his first foray into acting in a brief film called the Merveilleux Exploits du Celebre Houdini a Paris.

  Russia

  In spring of 1903 Houdini was booked to perform in Moscow, Russia. At the time the country’s authoritarian government maintained oppressive control over the population and demanded that people carry internal passports to travel from one place in the country to another. The government heavily employed censorship tactics in order to keep control over the country’s citizens, and the police spied on citizens’ activities at all times.

  In addition, there was an intense anti-Semitic sentiment. During Houdini’s time there, violence against Jews was increasing. Houdini went to visit the site of a massacre of Jews in the Russian town of Kishinev, horrified and offended at the violence against his people. Biographers are amazed that Houdini was even allowed to perform in Moscow, as at the time Jews were not allowed into Russia. Houdini did not enjoy the culture of Russia, finding the people very superstitious and “backwards.” He did reportedly claim a victory by escaping a “Siberian Transport Carette”—a large portable cell used to transport prisoners to Siberia. He also performed for Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich and the duchess at the Palace Kleinmichel, performing his needle-swallowing act. Houdini performed in his rudimentary version of the Russian language, which improved with practice.

  Know More About: Robert-Houdin

  Jean Eugene Robert was born in 1805 in Blois, France. He was a clockmaker (a family business) before becoming the “father of modern magic.” His name acquired the hyphenated “Houdin” when he married Josephe Cecile Houdin. His wife was also from a clock making family, and it is thought that he added her name for business reasons.

  He was famous for using electricity in his performances and for his act “Second Sight.” In this act he would blindfold his son, then hold up objects for his son to identify. It is generally agreed that Robert-Houdin used a talking code for this trick. Indeed, a part of The Unmasking of Robert-Houdin by Houdini is dedicated to explaining that not only did Robert-Houdin not invent the act “Second Sight,” but also how the talking code or other audio signals were used to perform it.

  The father of modern magic wrote Memoirs of Robert-Houdin, Ambassador, Author, and Conjurer in 1859. It is in this book he claimed to have invented “Second Sight” with the
following story:

  My two children were playing one day in the drawing-room at a game they had invented for their own amusement. The younger had bandaged his elder brother’s eyes, and made him guess the objects he touched, and when the latter happened to guess right, they changed places. This simple game suggested to me the most complicated idea that ever crossed my mind.

  Pursued by the notion, I ran and shut myself up in my workroom, and was fortunately in that happy state when the mind follows easily the combinations traced by fancy. I rested my head in my hands, and, in my excitement, laid down the first principles of second sight.

  Despite Houdini’s later contempt of Robert-Houdin’s claims, there is no doubt that the older magician was very famous and admired by many. Robert-Houdin lived until 1871.

  In Houdini’s Words

  Houdini immortalized the famous not-quite meeting between himself and Frikell in the introduction to The Unmasking of Robert-Houdin.

  I had heard that Frikell and not Robert-Houdin was the first magician to discard cumbersome, draped stage apparatus, and to don evening clothes, and I was most anxious to verify this rumor, as well as to interview him regarding equally important data bearing on the history of magic. Having heard that he lived in Kötchenbroda, a suburb of Dresden, I wrote to him from Cologne, asking for an interview. I received in reply a curt note: “Herr verreist,” meaning “The master is on tour.” This, I knew, from his age, could not be true, so I took a week off for personal investigation. I arrived at Kötchenbroda on the morning of April 8th, 1903, at 4 o’clock, and was directed to his home, known as “Villa Frikell.” Having found my bearings and studied well the exterior of the house, I returned to the depot to await daylight. At 8:30 I reappeared at his door, and was told by his wife that Herr Frikell had gone away.

  I then sought the police department from which I secured the following information: “Dr.” Wiljalba Frikell was indeed the retired magician whom I was so anxious to meet. He was eighty-seven years old, and in 1884 had celebrated his golden anniversary as a conjurer. Living in the same town was an adopted daughter, but she could not or would not assist me. The venerable magician had suffered from domestic disappointments and had made a vow that he would see no one. In fact he was leading a hermit-like life.

  Armed with this information, I employed a photographer, giving him instructions to post himself opposite the house and make a snap shot of the magician, should he appear in the doorway. But I had counted without my host. All morning the photographer lounged across the street and all morning I stood bareheaded before the door of Herr Frikell, pleading with his wife who leaned from the window overhead. With that peculiar fervency which comes only when the heart’s desire is at stake, I begged that the past master of magic would lend a helping hand to one ready to sit at his feet and learn. I urged the debt which he owed to the literature of magic and which he could pay by giving me such direct information as I needed for my book.

  Frau Frikell heard my pleadings with tears running down her cheeks, and later I learned that Herr Frikell also listened to them, lying grimly on the other side of the shuttered window.

  At length, yielding to physical exhaustion, I went away, but I was still undaunted. I continued to bombard Herr Frikell with letters, press clippings regarding my work, etc., and finally in Russia I received a letter from him. I might send him a package containing a certain brand of Russian tea of which he was particularly fond. You may be sure I lost no time in shipping the little gift, and shortly I was rewarded by the letter for which I longed. Having decided that I cared more for him than did some of his relatives, he would receive me when next I played near Kötchenbroda.

  With this interview in prospect, I made the earliest engagement obtainable in Dresden, intending to give every possible moment to my hardly-won acquaintance. But Fate interfered. One business problem after another arose, concerning my forthcoming engagement in England, and I had to postpone my visit to Herr Frikell until the latter part of the week. In the mean time, he had agreed to visit a Dresden photographer, as I wanted an up-to-date photograph of him and he had only pictures taken in his more youthful days. On the day when he came to Dresden for his sitting, he called at the theatre, but the attachés, without informing me, refused to give him the name of the hotel where I was stopping.

  After the performance I dropped into the König Kaffe and was much annoyed by the staring and gesticulations of an elderly couple at a distant table. It was Frikell with his wife, but I did not recognize them and, not being certain on his side, he failed to make himself known. That was mid-week, and for Saturday, which fell on October 8th, 1903, I had an engagement to call at the Villa Frikell. On Thursday, the Central Theatre being sold out to Cleo de Merode, who was playing special engagements in Germany with her own company, I made a flying business trip to Berlin, and on my return I passed through Kötchenbroda. As the train pulled into the station I hesitated. Should I drop off and see Herr Frikell, or wait for my appointment on the morrow? Fate turned the wheel by a mere thread and I went on to Dresden. So does she often dash our fondest hopes!

  My appointment for Saturday was at 2 P.M., and as my train landed me in Kötchenbroda a trifle too early I walked slowly from the depot to the Villa Frikell, not wishing to disturb my aged host by arriving ahead of time.

  I rang the bell. It echoed through the house with peculiar shrillness. The air seemed charged with a quality which I presumed was the intense pleasure of realizing my long cherished hope of meeting the great magician. A lady opened the door and greeted me with the words: “You are being waited for.”

  I entered. He was waiting for me indeed, this man who had consented to meet me, after vowing that he would never again look into the face of a stranger. And Fate had forced him to keep that vow. Wiljalba Frikell was dead. The body, clad in the best his wardrobe afforded, all of which had been donned in honor of his expected guest, was not yet cold. Heart failure had come suddenly and unannounced. The day before he had cleaned up his souvenirs in readiness for my coming and arranged a quantity of data for me. On the wall above the silent form were all of his gold medals, photographs taken at various stages of his life, orders presented to him by royalty—all the outward and visible signs of a vigorous, active, and successful life, the life of which he would have told me, had I arrived ahead of Death. And when all these were arranged, he had forgotten his morbid dislike of strangers. The old instincts of hospitality tugged at his heart strings, and his wife said he was almost young and happy once more, when suddenly he grasped at his heart, crying, “My heart! What is the matter with my heart? O——” That was all!

  There we stood together, the woman who had loved the dear old wizard for years and the young magician who would have been so willing to love him had he been allowed to know him. His face was still wet from the cologne she had thrown over him in vain hope of reviving the fading soul. On the floor lay the cloths, used so ineffectually to bathe the pulseless face, and now laughing mockingly at one who saw himself defeated after weary months of writing and pleading for the much-desired meeting.

  IV. Houdini, Back in the United States

  Read It and Know It

  After reading this chapter, you will know more about

  New acts: The Milk Can Escape and the Manacled Bridge Jump would increase Houdini’s fame in the U.S.

  Dash: Houdini’s brother styled himself the Magician Hardeen and set himself up as Houdini’s rival, probably to increase Houdini’s fame.

  Houdini’s challenge to the public: When Houdini announced he could escape from anything, companies met his challenge by putting him in a vise, a giant envelope, and mailbags.

  The iron boiler: When Houdini nearly failed to escape this dangerous container, his fame only grew.

  After four and half years abroad, Houdini returned to the United States in the summer of 1905, intending to work for only six weeks before returning to Europe for a final tour and then retiring. He bought a country estate in Stamford, Connecticut and a townhou
se in Harlem, into which he moved his mother, sister, and two of his brothers. His brother Leo was now a physician and ran the household while Houdini completed magic shows around the country. The house was located at 278 West 113th Street, and is commonly referred to as 278.

  Houdini’s past unsuccessful career in the United States was hardly known, but American audiences now knew him as the King of Handcuffs who had wowed Europe. Determined to keep his fame skyrocketing, Houdini began to work on yet more amazing tricks. He began practicing swimming and holding his breath under water. He had a special large, deep bathtub installed at 278, where Bess would time him as he held his breath under the water. He also practiced exposing himself to cold water. These exercises were preparation for two new acts: the Milk Can Escape and the Manacled Bridge Jump.

  In the Milk Can Escape, Houdini climbed into a large can filled with water. The top of the can was closed and locked with at least six padlocks. The can was covered from view by curtains. A huge stopwatch was placed on the stage, and the audience was invited to try to hold its breath as long as Houdini had to in order to escape from the can. An assistant stood by with an ax, ready to break open the can “in case something went wrong.” Of course, no audience member could hold his or her breath for the two minutes that it took Houdini to emerge from the can. The curtains opened to a free Houdini, and the crowd could see that the padlocks on the top of the can were still intact. The secret of the escape is known to other magicians and is purely mechanical in nature.