Flosso's Magical World

by Gary R. Brown

Al Flosso had a stage career any magician would envy. A talented, prolific performer, he graced as many as eight different stages in one day, and entertained millions at circuses, carnivals, amusement parks and on television. Political leaders, industrialists, entertainers and gangsters numbered among his fans. Whether at a Coney Island sideshow or a Fifth Avenue soiree, he amazed audiences with his original routines and singular wit. "Al was one of magic's great characters," notes James "The Amazing" Randi, "and he could do things with coins and playing cards that made your eyes water with envy."

Today, a century after his birth, Flosso is remembered not only for his performances, but also for his contributions to the magic fraternity. A knowledgeable, caring magic dealer, he dispensed advice and apparatus to neophytes and professionals. Visitors to Flosso's shop could purchase a small miracle, get a lesson or a repair on equipment acquired there or elsewhere, or just sit and chat with leading magicians. Flosso was a member of the Society of American Magicians, and a moving force behind the Magic Collectors Association. As T.A. Waters observed, "the stories of those he helped could fill a very large book."

Flosso's magic career began when, at ten years old, he saw Harry Blackstone, then Harry Bloughton, perform at the Educational Alliance, an institution offering programs for impoverished New York children. Flosso wanted to become a magician. "At that time, there were no magic libraries, no clubs, no schools and few books," Jack Flosso, his son, an accomplished magician and dealer, explains. "So how were you going to learn? You had to be an apprentice to someone else."

A kindly employee at the Educational Alliance directed Flosso to Wehman Brothers, a Bowery-area publisher that printed several magic titles. He bought The Wizard's Manual, a ten-cent treatise ostensibly written by T. Nelson Downs, but actually penned by Bill Hilliar. "The book was lousy and impractical," Jack Flosso relates. "In later years, while playing Marshalltown, Iowa [Downs' hometown], my father teased Downs about it. 'I'd like to see you do those tricks by reading your book,' he'd tell Downs. 'I went nuts trying to read that damn thing.'"

The book carried an advertisement for Martinka's, at which Flosso purchased his first magic trick. Like most magic shops of that era, Martinka's did not welcome young magicians. Aspiring conjurers were allowed to pay a small sum for a sealed envelope which they could open only after leaving the store. Flosso paid 25 cents -- his entire savings -- for an envelope containing a ribbon mouth coil and a paper barber's pole. Left without carfare, Flosso walked many miles home.

Flosso secured his first apprenticeship, acting as a shill for Henry Gordien, a street magician from Minneapolis working New York's Lower East Side. Gordien, who is sometimes credited as the inventor of the salt trick, was selling a "hoo coin," which vanished by means of a concealed hook. "Any child," Gordien pitched to street crowds, "can make this coin disappear."

"This chant served as my cue to step forth from the crowd meekly, take the coin and cause it to vanish, not forgetting to register deep surprise," Flosso wrote. "What we actually sold'em was a Dennison paper clip holder." Gordien and his young shill were frequently chased by local police. "In the evening, Henry and I would divide our day's spoils as we splurged over a nickel beer and a dime corned-beef sandwich, consoling ourselves [with] the fact that it was safer than selling French postcards," Flosso recalled, "and besides we couldn't get the postcards!"

By the time he was 13, Flosso began performing his own magic show, getting his first engagement at the Young Men's Benevolent Association, where he shared the bill with a young Eddie Cantor. At 14, Flosso quit school to pursue a career in magic, signing with a carnival in Newburg, New York run by "Ideal Monarch Shows."

The young magician became an apprentice to magician Louis "Pop" Krieger (photo), a master at the cups and balls, and Krieger's friend, Max Malini, carrying their bags while studying their craft. Each of these performers had, in turn, learned magic through apprenticeships -- Krieger picked up conjuring skills as a circus performer in Europe, while Malini served as an apprentice to a magician and tavern proprietor named Professor Seiden. Seiden's motto, "Watch the Professor," which was also used by Krieger, became a standard part of Flosso's patter. Eventually, Flosso married one of Pop Krieger's seven daughters.

Malini took Flosso to an event at the Saratoga, New York estate of Charles Schwab, head of U.S. Steel. Several industrial barons attended the event, including the Swift and Armour families, who arrived in private railroad cars, with cooks, servants and polo horses. Victor Herbert conducted an orchestra, accompanying stars from the Metropolitan Opera. Malini entertained the guests, while Flosso performed for the hired help.

"The Saratoga trip made a great impression on my father," Jack Flosso recalls. "Here was this kid raised in the tenements hobnobbing with America's wealthiest families. But the most remarkable thing was watching Malini -- here was this little guy with stubby fingers who could barely speak English captivating the most powerful people in the country with his tremendous personality. It became clear to him that show business had much to offer."

At 15, Flosso joined the circus. "The performing conditions in the circus were often discouraging to the youthful beginner," Flosso later wrote. "The minstrel showband would be blowing full blast, ticket takers and barkers out front yelling to get the crowd, and all this time you're shouting at the top of your voice to be heard while doing your act." In 1921, Al G. Barnes Circus Wild West Show hired him as a sideshow manager -- Flosso, equipped with a ten-gallon hat, called himself "the Jewish Cowboy from New York."

While traveling with various circuses, Flosso formed bonds with leading magicians around the country, meeting Floyd Thayer in California, "Doc" Talbot and Vaughn Klein in Spokane, Dr. A.M. Wilson in Kansas City, and Werner "Dorny" Dornfeld and Ben Badley in St. Louis. In 1929, historian David Price recalls, Flosso played Nashville while travelling with a circus or Wild West show. During this period, according to magic scholar Stanley Palm, that Flosso played the New York Hippodrome as part of a sideshow.

Flosso developed a magic and pitch act, which he performed on a platform at Coney Island's Dreamland. The pitch featured a ten-cent magic kit which included a hoo coin, diminishing cards, a tin Punch and Judy whistle, and several other gizmos. Bud Abbott worked as Flosso's shill, purchasing a kit after each demonstration to get the crowd rolling. Flosso, who referred to Abbott as a "poker faced sales stimulator," paid the comedian eight dollars a week. In addition, Flosso did a Punch and Judy puppet show at Dreamland, which he performed as many as fourteen times a day. On three occasions, he accidentally swallowed the whistle used in the show. "These were silver ones, and quite digestible," he told an interviewer, "I never did swallow one of the tin ones I sold on the pitch!"

Flosso moved on to vaudeville, and began playing club dates around the country. He performed for the Roosevelts at the White House and Hyde Park, the Kennedy family, William Randolph Hearst, Thomas Edison, Jack 'Legs' Diamond and Irving Berlin. At several affairs, Flosso amused guests while George Gershwin entertained at the piano. Flosso's improvisational style easily adapted to television; he was the first magician to appear on "The Ed Sullivan Show" and the last to perform on "Wonderama." Flosso also appeared on a television special called "It's Magic."

In 1939, Flosso was in the midst of his second season in "The Palace of Mystery," a big illusion show at Atlantic City's Million Dollar Pier, when he purchased Martinka's magic shop, then called the Hornmann Magic Company. Fortuitously, he found enough antique equipment and collectibles in the shop to recoup his initial investment, and establish a reputation with collectors of magic memorabilia. Ted Anneman and Keith Clark, his first two customers, searched the shop's archives, pulling out original Houdini documents and other treasures. "It was this eccentric old place where secrets were lurking under piles of stuff," said magician Jeff Sheridan, who worked for Flosso from 1969 through 1971, recalling his first visit to the shop. "It was filled with relics from a bygone era of magic."

Flosso provided a full-service magic dealership, unlike any before or since. Having mastered the art of troubleshooting through years of experience, Flosso was constantly repairing, soldering, building and tinkering with equipment and illusions. Customers could bring in their favorite deck of cards, and, for a nominal fee, have it made into a stripper or Svengali deck. He custom-painted thumb tips to match his customers' skin tone, and hand-crafted costumes and reeds for puppet shows. On one occasion, Sheridan recalls, a customer stopped in the shop after tearing his pants on the way to a performance. Flosso took out a sewing kit and stitched them up right on the counter.

His dedication was not lost on his fellow performers. "There is only one true, non-commercial magic shop left in the world," the Great Virgil once said. "It belongs to Al Flosso. It's a magician's heaven on earth." Al Flosso continued to work as a dealer and magician until his death at age eighty-one. "From ten performances a day on the platforms at Luna Park and Dreamland to numerous appearances on national television," said magician Dr. Arnold Boston at his funeral, "he never gave a bad show."

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