In 1947 we have the thrilling Out of This World radio series. Or one episode at least, a story about a ventriloquist adapted from the British movie Dead of Night (1945). The show featured a spooky Out of this World intro.
These items have nothing to do with Paul Curry. The phrase ‘Out of this World’ could well have been a bit of cool slang that found a place in the language during the 1940s. We shouldn’t forget that Paul Curry was 25 years old when he released Out of this World. Not that anyone ever described him as cool. Curry did not have a university education. He began his career working in the mailroom of the medical insurance company Blue Cross. He stuck to it and rose in the ranks to become vice president in 1964, retiring ten years later.
The trick, Out of this World, has been published in books on magic for the public but before that had remained firmly in the domain of magicians for several decades.
Fred Braue wrote in the May 1946 edition of Hugard’s Magic Monthly:
‘So far as we know, no one has yet pirated "Out of this World". Everyone protects Curry on this one, and that's good.’
As we’ll see in a moment, this desire to protect the secret of Out of this World did not last forever.
One year after Curry became vice president of Blue Cross, Paul Curry wrote a magic book for the public called Magician’s Magic. I loved that book, not least because Paul Curry gave a full explanation of Out of this World. But many of the magicians of the time disliked the book, not just because they considered Curry had gone too far in releasing magic secrets to the public but because its contents were also serialised in newspapers.
Francis Haxton, writing to Stewart James, said:
I went into Davenports today to get my copies of the GENII and while I was there Bob Harbin came in. While we were talking to he and Pat Page, Betty Davenport having joined us, Bob Harbin picked a book off the counter, this being Paul Curry's Magicians Magic. After looking through it he spoke very disparaging of Curry for putting this out to the public and said that it was a hotch potch of material - it does not appeal to me either does not compare with the Curry material I am familiar with.
John Young, reviewing the book in The Magic Circular, wrote:
As Martin Gardner points out in his introduction, this book has been written for the Layman. In that event the professional or amateur magician may be pardoned for expressing concern at some of the disclosures that occur in the book. Admittedly, the sawing in half, the levitation with cranked bar, Stodare's Sphinx and the broom levitation have been described many times before, but one can only hope that those laymen who read the description of Paul Curry's own excellent "OUT OF THIS WORLD" will find the description too detailed to remember.
Bayard Grimshaw, writing in The Stage, and annoyed by a press article promoting Curry’s book, was blunter:
Can anyone explain to me just where the difference lies between picking a man's pocket and " lifting" his wallet, and robbing him of a part of his livelihood for personal gain? Which is what this amounts to.
Paul Curry addressed the question of exposing magic in the book, saying:
Exposing the secrets of professional magicians merely for the sake of letting someone know how tricks are done has little to recommend it. Revealing the prosaic and mechanical means by which a delightful and entertaining illusion has been worked out is deplored and opposed by magicians’ societies for the same reason that parents had rather not have their children made aware, at too early an age, that Santa Claus is partly made up of a false beard and two plump pillows. In the performance of magic, as in the beneficence of Santa, the effect succeeds only as long as the element of wonder is preserved.
He also explained what drew him to magic as a young boy when he saw the head on sword illusion performed at a fairground sideshow and why he decided to write a book about magic:
It was, the boy thought, the most wonderful thing he had seen in all of his nine years. On this day, however, something new was added. Possibly because of the end-of-season falloff in attendance, the barker promised that anyone buying a ticket would be permitted to step up on the platform and see how the trick was done. The youngster couldn’t believe that he had heard correctly. A chance to learn the answer to the wonderful puzzle that had been tantalizing him all summer! He was off like a shot, only to return quickly, half-dragging a reluctant father who dutifully bought two tickets and lifted his son onto the platform so that the boy could steal a behind-the-scenes glimpse of how a head could be made to exist without a body.
And now that the long-awaited secret was revealed, the boy found himself entranced by the sheer brilliance of it all. Why, he wondered, was there so much talk about Edison and Marconi and other so-called great men, when there were geniuses around who could in¬ vent real miracles such as this?
As it turned out, the boy would never forget that first glimpse into the world of magic. The fascination of that moment was to remain with him always, never lessening, but, in fact, deepening as his years and his knowledge of the subject increased.
Then one day there came the idea of sharing some of the things he had learned, an idea that others might also be caught up in the fascination of this most ancient of the arts — the art of magic.
And that is why he wrote this book.
I found Magician's Magic at my local library in the late 60s. It was far from the first book I read on magic, but the writing style conveyed Curry’s enthusiasm for the subject in the same way that Henry Hay had in The Amateur Magician’s Handbook.
Magician’s Magic featured some stage illusions that had inspired Curry including the head on sword trick he saw at the sideshow, but it also contained many of Curry’s own inventions, the jewel in the crown being Curry’s full handling of Out of this World.
It was in this book that Paul Curry created something of a myth when he told the story of magician Harry Green baffling Winston Churchill with Out of this World:
It seems that one evening during World War II a group of Winston Churchill’s friends arranged a dinner party in an attempt to lighten, if only for an hour or so, the burdensome responsibilities that went with being a wartime prime minister.
The dinner proved to be a pleasant, relaxing, and welcome interlude in Churchill’s hectic, almost round-the-clock, schedule. But eventually duty called and even as “Winnie” lighted his after-dinner cigar, he realized he was behind time and at that moment he should have been on his way to an evening session of parliament. However, friends prevailed upon the Prime Minister to linger a moment or two, just long enough to permit magician Harry Green to demonstrate a new and baffling card trick.
The card trick was Out of this World and Churchill was so baffled he asked Harry Green to do it six times:
Finally giving it up, Churchill left to keep his belated appointment. The London Times, in reporting the incident, noted that when he finally arrived at parliament at 2 A.M., the Prime Minister was “befogged.”
Curry repeated the story in the book Worlds Beyond in 2001:
My warmest memory concerning this trick goes back to a day during World War II, when the mail brought a note and a newspaper clipping from a magician friend in London. “Congratulations,” the note read, “You’ve done something Hitler couldn’t do - you fooled Winnie.” The clipping from the London Times told how actor-magician Harry Green had, at Prime Minister Churchill’s insistence, performed “Out of This World” six times in a row. Still baffled, the report states, Churchill finally left for Parliament where his delayed arrival prompted the story. It’s something, I think, to know that an effort of yours occupied the thoughts, however briefly, of one of the world’s greatest men - particularly at a time when diversions could not have come easily.
The true story of Harry Green and Winston Churchill is a little different. I told it in Cardopolis 20 but I’ll repeat it here.
The incident occurred in June 1946. The war was over, Churchill had been ousted as Prime Minister and was now Leader of the Opposition. He had attended a show called Fifty-Fifty, a farce starring actor Harry Green who was also famous for his card tricks. According to Hannen Swaffer’s account in The People (June 30th, 1946), it was at a party after the show that Harry Green performed Out of this World.
‘Winston, one of a party of ten taken by the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough, his kinsmen, to see “Fifty-Fifty,” went behind the scenes, met the company and then supped with the Greens and the other guests in a private room at the Savoy.
Afterwards, Harry produced a pack of cards, shuffled them, and then said to Churchill, “Lay them down in what order you like, backs up and in two rows – trying to put the reds in one row and the blacks in the other.”
‘When Winston had done his guessing, Harry turned the cards over. All the reds and all the blacks were in separate rows!’
Hannen Swaffer was a well-known newspaper columnist and drama critic. He was also a magic enthusiast, serving at one time on the committee of Will Goldston’s Magicians’ Club. He was probably aware of Out of this World, one of the most popular card tricks of the time and sold by UK dealers. He went on to say:
‘Churchill made him repeat the trick six times and then do others, hour after hour, over and over again. It was perhaps with his head full of millions and billions that, at 2.30 in the morning, he felt really capable of going down to criticise the Budget.’
Swaffer said that Churchill had been noted for his recent ‘absenteeism” from Parliament and so it was a surprise when, left ‘befogged’ by Harry Green, instead of going home he turned up at Parliament at 2.30 in the morning! He wasn’t late for work; he was exceedingly early. And perhaps a little worse for wear after a night out on the town.
The ‘millions and billions’ refers to an interesting line that Green used during the presentation. After the trick, he said to Churchill, “If you had bet £1 on being right over the first card, Mr. Churchill, and then doubled your bet each time, you would have won something like £2,000,000,000.” That might be an idea for anyone who wants to apply a gambling presentation to the trick.
Harry Green, real name Henry Blitzer, was, like Paul Curry, from New York. As an actor, he had appeared in many movies and moved to England where he became a popular figure in British entertainment, having his own TV series and even running a club called The Jack of Clubs in Berwick Street, London. You can see Harry Green and the club here Harry Green.
A PARTING OF THE WAYS
As Fred Braue had noted, magicians kept the secret of Out of this World to themselves for many years. Prior to Magician’s Magic, you’ll find the trick referred to in books for the public but all you’re told is that it is brilliant and you can buy it from a magic store for a dollar. For example, Bruce Elliott, writing in Professional Magic Made Easy (1959), said: 'I recommend that you purchase this miraculous seeming trick, since I am not at liberty to reveal it here.’
Paul Curry released Out of this World to the public in 1965, but Paul Clive, a magician in Blackpool, had beat him to it. Paul Clive described the trick under the title of The Parting of the Ways in his book Card Tricks Without Skill. This book was first published in 1946, while Out of this World was being hailed by magicians as the world’s greatest card trick. However, the trick did not appear in Clive’s 1946 book but it did appear in the revised 1959 edition published for the public by Faber & Faber at the same time that Bruce Elliott was saying it was not his to reveal.
Clive did credit Curry, and even give the original title, but there’s no indication he got permission to describe it. Neither did there seem any objection to its description in any of the complimentary reviews of the book I’ve read in the magic press.
Card Tricks Without Skill was another book I read as a kid. But I totally overlooked The Parting of the Ways. Maybe it was the way Clive described it. The description in Magician’s Magic was much more inspiring, possibly because of the tale about it baffling Winston Churchill, and that’s where I learned it.
PAUL CLIVE
Time for a little side quest. I met Paul Clive. He ran a magic and novelty shop on the North Pier at Blackpool. As a teenager, I spent a lot of time frequenting the magic shops of Blackpool: The Mark Lewis Magic Studio, Murray’s Magic Mart, and the Paul Clive Magic Shop.
I’d read Clive’s book and knew who he was when I saw him but I was far too shy to engage in conversation.
I spent a lot of time in his shop because behind him were a couple of shelves of second-hand magic books. He’d pass them to me, one at a time, to allow me to browse through them in the hope I would buy one. The first thing I’d look at was the pencilled price on the first page. I couldn’t afford most of these, but there was the thrill of browsing their pages and seeing all the illustrations for tricks I’d yet to understand.
While I browsed, Paul Clive walked slowly behind the counter producing bird calls with a little device he had in his mouth called a Ventrilo. People in the shop would pause and wonder where the chirping sounds were coming from. I should add that Paul Clive bore no resemblance to a showman, performer or prankster. The idea that the bird calls came from him was never considered. Eventually, he’d reveal the secret and sell another Ventrilo to a tourist.
I’ve since learned more about Paul Clive. He had been a salesman, selling canned goods, and doing magic shows in his free time. He moved to Blackpool in 1931 and had the shop on the North Pier since at least 1947, and a business address, Paul Clive & Co Ltd, in Cocker Street, Blackpool, since 1949. From there he marketed his ‘Witchcraft’ brand of tricks directly to magicians and wholesaled them to magic and novelty shops across the UK.
Card Tricks Without Skill was originally self-published, and featured some photographs, including photographs of his wife and daughters to whom the book was dedicated The book was universally praised and reputedly sold 3000 copies in 5 months. One year later, 1947, another 3,000 copies were sold of what was called ‘the second edition’ though it might have been a simple reprint. Those are incredible numbers for a book aimed solely at magicians. It was the expanded edition of 1959 that featured Out of this World.
The version I had was the 1968 paperback edition from Faber & Faber. No photographs and a little dull if I’m honest, at least compared to other magic books published by Faber & Faber, even though the tricks were well chosen.
Clive travelled to the USA, around 1949, with his wife Muriel and daughters Gloria and Francis. That trip was announced in Abracadabra as, ‘Starting 18th March, Paul Clive is to make a series of appearances on television in San Francisco.’ He must have liked it because he stayed there, living and performing in the San Francisco area for some years before returning to England in 1958.
A biography of Paul Clive appeared in The Berkeley Gazette (March 2nd, 1949) where it described him as, ‘a round faced chubby Britisher with a delightful personality and keen sense of humor not generally associated with an Englishman’ In addition to performing he operated a magic and novelty store as he had in Blackpool.
Paul Clive told Goodliffe Neale that magician and ventriloquist Douglas Craggs was his brother, a claim also made in the Berkeley Gazette article though Paul Clive also says his father was a John Clive, a chief inspector at Scotland Yard. So maybe Clive was joking with Goodliffe Neale when he said that to avoid confusion it was Paul who changed his name by deed poll. Anyway, when back in England Paul Clive brought out the 1959 edition of his book and added to his income by performing magic and pitching tricks, at homes and garden exhibitions.
That’s enough of a digression. Let’s get back to where we started. Out of this World wasn’t the first trick Paul Curry published. In 1937 he marketed Touch, a prediction effect that proved incredibly popular with magicians.
By 1939 his friends were calling him a ‘magical genius.’ One of them, Oscar Weigle, wrote about Curry’s idea of the perfect effect (Genii August 1939), and it wasn’t Out of this World:
A group of us New York magical enthusiasts were having a typical Saturday afternoon gabfest over sandwiches and coffee at a local cafeteria recently, when friend Paul Curry, a magical genius if ever there was one, remarked on what he considered the perfect card effect. A card would be placed face down on the table. The spectator would be asked what he would like that card to be. Having named a card, the one on the table would be turned around and it would be the same!
I wonder if this connects with his development of the Curry Turnover Change which was published the same year (More Card Manipulations No 2). 1941 saw the publication of Curry’s first booklet for magicians, Something Borrowed, Something New. In the Foreword to the book Curry gives us an insight into his thinking in devising tricks:
My purpose, then, was to attempt to make more practical those tricks which I liked best and which I considered open to improvement. In some cases, this meant strengthening a method to allow for a better effect. In other instances, it was the effect which required the going over. in all cases, I tried to make a change for the better. I hope I have succeeded.
The effects in Something Borrowed, Something New are notably very direct. Take the following as an example:
THINK OF A CARD
A spectator fans thru a pack of cards, thinks of one, and the deck is placed aside. The mentalist, after painful (?) concentration, names the thought-of card!
The Curry Turnover Change is described there along with nine excellent uses for it. There is also an effect called Potpourri. Readers of Magician’s Magic will recognise it as The Joker Knows. It was one of my favourite tricks from the book.
Paul Curry’s magic was not only direct but there was always a novel core principle at work that made the effect possible. There was minimum effort for maximum effect. He explored familiar territory but took different routes. The shortest route too and that’s what makes his tricks so practical.
I’ve taken a long and winding route to get to the point of this article. Was Paul Curry inspired by a university theatre production in choosing a name for the world’s greatest card trick? I don’t have any concrete evidence that he did. But, like Harry Green’s performance for Winston Churchill, it makes a good story and I like to believe that it might be true.