Club keeps the magic alive in Hightstown

Local magicians unite at club

By: Dick Brinster
   HIGHTSTOWN — These people are tricky.
   And it would be no cliche to say they have something up their sleeves.
   They lie. They cheat. They steal. And they show no remorse. In fact, they’re kind of proud of themselves.
   Welcome to a meeting of the Society of American Magicians, Assembly 181.
   "Count your fingers" on both arrival and departure, cautions Bruce Langrock of Kendall Park, president of the 22-member chapter.
   One night last month in the meeting hall at the First United Methodist Church, Mount Holly’s John Cennimo, deceiving under the name Johnny Cee, is bending nails and offering one-liners.
   "You know, you can’t get these gimmicks at Home Depot," he said, moving quickly from the nails to a tiny replica of a Christmas present which seemingly hangs in the air as he demonstrates there are "no strings attached."
   Standing in the crowd is fellow magician Garrett LaMarra of Burlington, one of more than 30,000 members of 250 SAM chapters around the world, and not the least bit shy about ribbing a fellow illusionist by laughing at a card trick.
   "Yeah, Garrett loves this one," says Johnny Cee, SAM’s guest lecturer of the month.
   He was late arriving on this night, an unexpected illusion that didn’t escape the notice of Mr. Langrock.
   "That’s OK," he said. "We’ll just sit here and make fun of him until he gets here."
   Fun is exactly what it’s all about for the likes of mainstays Dennis Giovine of East Windsor, John Gross of Plainsboro and Patty Perla of East Brunswick. Hiding in the shadows are figures such as Doc Craver of Hamilton, who bills himself as Professor M. T. Hed; Dennis James (aka CoCo the Clown) of Bordentown, ready to peddle any items from his portable flea market of tricks; and Barbara "De … Lite" DeVilbiss of Matawan, whose job titles range from clown to wizard of almost anything.
   No matter where or when, getting an audience to believe whatever is said and presented is the key to good magic, Mr. Giovine insists when asked about the gimmickry.
   "It’s all about personality and performance, the way you relate to the audience," he said. "You can take the simplest of tricks, but the way you present it gets the audience involved and anticipating what happens next."
   Mr. Giovine, whose day job is with an entertainment company that books magicians and other entertainment acts, considers himself more of a family and children’s entertainer than a magician. Still, he’s been snatching stuff from subjects and giving them things they didn’t have for more than 30 years.
   It’s all about practice, the only way to refine one’s skills.
   "Sometimes we do a card trick, and the card’s gone," he said, refusing to answer an inquiry as to how it possibly got into a subject’s wallet. "It’s magic."
   Neither Mr. Giovine nor Mr. LaMarra will break the magicians’ rule. They treat it sort of the way the Mafia is supposed to honor the code of omerta: never give away a secret of the society.
   Mr. Langrock has been pulling off stunts since he was 11 and put himself through college with his sleight of hand. He won’t talk either, saying only that most tricks are not very complicated.
   "It’s the presentation, the acting, the skill of the performance that makes it come alive," he said.
   Harry Houdini was the world’s most famous magician.
   "He was the greatest showman who ever lived," Mr. Langrock said. "Not to take anything away from his skills, but that was another era."
   Houdini would hold his breath for more than 2 minutes after asking the same of his audience, and people would stare at a train case in the middle of a stage for several minutes as the tension grew.
   "Today, an audience would grow bored of that sort of thing," Mr. Langrock said.
   Mr. LaMarra can captivate his subjects by doing what seemingly are the easiest tricks slowly. He steals a hair from the back of someone’s head and claims it’s somehow connecting balls in a juggling act he’s performing.
   He laughs easily, recalling once being stopped by a policeman and told to blow into a balloon. Instead, he twisted one into a French poodle.
   "He wasn’t amused," said Mr. LaMarra, who claims to have worked in 46 states and performed for former President George H. W. Bush.
   Mr. LaMarra uses two rubber bands to perform a trick so basic that it’s easy to see what must be done. He seems to move so slowly, yet the subject is unable to recognize the subterfuge that allows one band to seemingly pass through the other. The subterfuge returns when a pen becomes rubbery in the hands of Mr. LaMarra, who also turns two singles into a $2 bill inches in front of the audience member’s face.
   "I guess that proves the hand must be faster than the eye," Mr. LaMarra explained.
   Mr. Langrock has another explanation.
   "What we try to do is create an atmosphere that allows for the willful suspension of disbelief," he said.
   Mr. LaMarra is asked if he has stolen any wallets on this evening.
   "Twenty years ago I might have done that," he said with a big laugh. "But not now."
   Was he lying?
   "We never lie," Mr. Craver later insists in defense of his colleague. "We’re 100 percent truthful. I like my ex-wife."