Scarne

1. The Fledgling Years: A Decision Is Made

The summer of 1916. Later that afternoon, I was standing behind Luck y's chair when I noticed that he held a very poor poker hand. He didn't even have a pair and yet he was betting heavily. I studied his cards again when suddenly suddenl y I saw his right hand go under und er his coat toward his armpit. He brought forth a match which he struck, but my eyes were glued to the cards he had curved up in the palm of his hand. They were, no doubt, visible only from my vantage point. He quickly lit his cigar and exchanged the dealt hand for the cards he had curved in the palm of his hand. He matter-of-factly returned the dealt cards under his coat along with the box of matches. Lucky won the pot hands down. To a kid of thirteen years there appeared to be a lot of money involved. Lucky scooped in the pot and as he was straightening out the bills I was counting the money. When I reached ninety dollars I stopped, as that was my father's salary for three weeks. In about fiv e minutes, with just a little switch of the cards, Luck y had earned what Papa had to break his back for twenty-one days to earn. The idea of becoming a gambler buried itself deep in my mind. I hustled out of the picnic grounds and an d bought a deck of playing cards for twenty-five cents. I started to practice Lucky's feat, which, I learned on the following Sunda y, was called palming cards. The cards were giving me a hard time though -- they were too big for me to handle. It didn't really matter, I figured, as I realized my hands would grow larger. However, I finally had to cut a little from each side of the deck in order to conceal the cards in my hand. I practiced and practiced all that week  and with each mistake my zeal was renewed, as I was determined to b ecome the greatest card shark in the world. After all, hadn't Lucky made ninety dollars in a few minutes? My father was a stone-cutter at the time and I certainly didn't want to become a stone-cutter, especially after what I'd witnessed that afternoon. Lucky seemed to grow in stature before my eyes, and he kept right on growing as the Sundays slipped  by. Each time I saw him switch the cards my heart would leap, and when he raked in those pots I couldn't stop laughing inside. Meanwhile, I kept on practicing palming cards for about three o r four  hours each day. I figured something had to happen. Eventually I had it down pretty good and -- I felt, at least -- as smooth as Lucky's operation. About a month or so later I arrived at the picnic grounds earlier than usu al, and after a few minutes Lucky and his pals showed up. Lucky tossed me a hello with a quarter in it as he asked for his usual chairs. He seemed in a pretty good mood and inquired if I thought I could still find the queen of spades if he flipped the cards. I countered: "Let me flip the cards and see if you can find the queen of spades." Lucky looked startled and queried: "What do you mean?" I repeated my offer as the other two men said, "Give him the cards, Lucky." He obliged. o bliged. I flipped the cards and Lucky picked a card he thought was the queen of spades. He looked startled when it turned out to be an ace. He quickly turned to his friends and said: "What do ya know, we have a thirteen-year-old broad tosser*." (*Name for Three Card Monte men in th ose days.) Lucky was visibly shaken by the demonstration and his pals retorted: "Yeah, and he's better than you!" I don't think it was my rapidly acquired dex terity that hurt Lucky as much as the blow to his professional  pride. He pressed his inquiry. "How'd you know what to practice and the exact manner of holding the cards?" "Gee, Lucky, all I did was watch your finger position the day you showed me the Three Card Monte." He seemed somewhat pleased as his pride revived by inches. "Look, Lucky," I said, "I want to show you something." I reached in my back pocket and took out my deck of cards (which had been shaved off about a quarter of an inch). My big moment had arrived. I extracted the four aces from the deck and placed them under my armpit. I dealt out a poker hand and used the armpit switch I had seen pulled. Lucky and his pals had a surprised look in their eyes and their mouths hung open in wonderment. "Where'd you learn that, John?" they asked. They had learned my name over the weeks and I knew Lucky's pals were called Squint and Pete. I then related the episode of observing Lucky do the same thing in the poker game every Sunday. Lucky got really excited.

"You didn't tell Joe, did you?" Joe was the concessionaire for whom I picked up discarded bottles. Lucky hastily continued: "Johnny, you have to promise me you will never tell anyone around here what you saw me do -- not even your mother or father." 2. Inside a Crooked Gambling Supply House

 Here Scarne gains his expertise in loaded dice, marked card decks, and all manner of detecting  cheaters. 3. Carnival Experiences

One evening while I was working in the Bergen Diner, a fellow by the name of Jack Reme walked in. I was at the far end of the counter showing a card trick to Happ y, as it was rather slow at the time, and Reme called down, "Hey! What's happened to the service in this place, Happy?" "Nothing, Jack. Johnny's just showing me a c ard trick. You should see it, it's terrific!" Jack Reme was a candidate for councilman in the election soon to be held in Fairview, and as he walked over to where Happy and I were I couldn't help but feel a little proud. As I completed the trick, candidate Reme said, "Say, that is good. That's just what we need for the rally Monday night. Happy, how about  bringing Johnny down with you? You're both off Monday nights." I looked at Happy and Jack, wondering what was going to happen next, when Jack said, "There's a fivedollar bill in it for you, Johnny. How about it?" I replied, "It's O.K. with me if it's O.K. with Happy." By this time I was really excited, as I realized I was about to make my m y first public appearance and be paid for it. I could hardly wait to get home h ome that night and tell Mother the big news. My first public appearance at Nungessers Hall was a success as far as the audience was concerned c oncerned and I received a good hand when I completed the lemon trick. However, I got a little mixed up in the rope trick, which I used as an opener. I heard a few giggles from the audience which added to my embarrassment, but later I caught the audience's at tention again when I started doing card tricks which were easy for me to do and a nd I regained my composure. After my appearance at Nungessers Hall, which was encouraging, I decided really to strike out. I talked it over with Mother and she thought it would be all right if I had m yself listed with some booking agents in New York. I armed myself with some names and addresses I'd picked out of the Manhattan phone  book and off to New York I went. As I walked into the office of the first agent on my list the man listened to my m y story and politely said, "Well, young man, if you'll leave your business card we'll be happy to phone you if anything turns up." I stammered out an explanation that I'd forgotten my cards and had left them a t home. I did scribble my name and address on a piece of paper, though, and handed it to the man, thanking him for his trouble. He looked at what I'd written and said, "You must be some magician, Mr. Scarne, Scarn e, if you forget things like that." I mumbled something inaudibly and walked out of the office feeling very dejected. d ejected. As I ambled across Forty-second Street to the west shore ferry, wondering what to do next, nex t, I spotted a  printing shop and without thinking twice walked in. A tall, lanky kid was behind the counter and looked at me rather blandly when I said, "Do you print calling cards?" "That's right. What do you want printed?" "If you'll give me a piece of paper and pencil I'll show you what I want." After writing out my order I handed the paper to the fellow who read aloud, John Scarne -- Magician 68 Lincoln Street Fairview, New Jersey Available for all occasions

Banquets--Weddings--Club Meetings etc. "So you're a magician, huh? How about doing a trick for me?" I looked at the fellow and said, "O.K., but I'm in a hurry." After I'd finished a card trick he said, "Gee, that's pretty good. You're so clever you probably can turn a car into an alley!" "Cut the comedy," I said. "I just came in here to have some business cards printed. What will it cost me for a hundred?" "O.K., O.K., Houdini, don't get excited -- for you it's a buck-fifty cash." I handed the fellow his money and said, "How long will it take?" and he replied, "About an hour. If you like you can wait for them." "Right," I replied. "I'll stick around." As the fellow be gan setting the type and running off my first  business cards on a small foot press, we started chatting more affably. He told me his name was Henny Youngman and that he was interested in show business too. As he wrapped my calling cards and handed them to me, I wished him luck. The printer's devil actually did make the grade, of course, and later   became one of America's top comics on stage, radio, and TV. 4. Arnold Rothstein, et al: A Bid to Join New York's Gambling Fraternity

When I was nineteen years of age I again visited the theatrical agent by the name of Saul Bernie who later became my favorite booking agent and who now is a top-notch Hollywood talent scout. His offices were located then in New York's theatrical district. I entered his office one afternoon, with nothing particular in mind other than finding out how show dates were shaping up, when Bernie greeted me and asked, "Say, John, how would you like to play a date for  a political club? I had a call yesterday from their chairman and they n eed an act for this Saturday night. They're holding their annual banquet at the Park Central Hotel. The date will pay you twenty dollars for  a half-hour performance, and I think your magic and card tricks will be just what they want." I replied, "Sure, Bernie, I've nothing plann ed for this Saturday." "Good," Bernie replied. "Let me call him on the phone while you're here and confirm the date." That Saturday evening found me entertaining before a group of approximately two hundred men and women of a Democratic organization. I opened my performance by doing a few card flourishes in an attempt to warm up the audience. At that period of my career my act consisted of card tricks, the rope trick, and the lemon trick, which I would usually employ as a finale. The rope trick, you will recall, was so staged that I would appear to cut a length of rope into several small pieces and then restore it to its original length. However, the card trick which was indubitably responsible for my not becoming a gambler was performed for the first time that night in public. It was the one trick which I had practiced years to perfect, and was to bring me more fame than any other trick of my repertoire. But as it happened, I introduced it only on the spur of the moment after having completed the planned program. Towards the end of my performance that evening, preparing to wind up with the lemon trick, I said to the audience, "Ladies and gentlemen, to complete the next experiment it will be necessary for me to  borrow some money from someone in the audience but before I do so, I would like to ask any one of you to examine this lemon." With that I produced a lemon from my coat pocket and handed it to an alert-looking woman in the audience for examination. "Madame, I would like you please to examine the lemon you have in your hand and make certain that it is an ordinary fresh lemon and that it has not been tampered with." The lemon was examined by the lady, who then passed it to a person sitting next to her. It made its way around the audience until they seemed satisfied it was just an ordinary lemon and tossed it back to me. I continued, "Now, ladies and gentlemen, you have examined this lemon and are certain that it has not  been tampered with. I would at this time like to borrow a dollar bill from someone in the audience." This was immediately handed to me, as were ten, twenty and fifty-dollar bills, which I also requested. I then asked for a hundred-dollar bill, which I seldom received but which was a ctually a lead line for the

following patter: "You know, ladies and gentlemen, the last time I performed this trick I received a thousand-dollar bill, but of course I was performing for J. P . Morgan." This would usually bring a chuckle from the audience, but on this particular night, much to my surprise, a man seated at the head table said to me, "Here you are, young man." And with that he handed me a  bill. As I reached out for what I thought would be a C-note, I saw that it really was a thousand-dollar b ill, the first such bill I'd seen in my life. My patter was almost lost in nervousness as I folded the on e, ten, twenty, and fifty-dollar bills, and finally the thousand-dollar bill, into a small pocket. I placed the bills under a handkerchief for the lady to hold and when I whisked the handkerchief away the bills had disappeared. With the bills gone, I took a knife from a table and held up the lemon, saying, "I will now cut this lemon in two, ladies and gentlemen, and if I'm correct, your money will be found inside." With that remark I sliced the lemon in two and extracted the vanished bills from the center of the lemon. I returned the bills, wet with juice from the lemon, to their befuddled owners and finally had just one bill in my hand, which I held up for everyone to see. It was the thousand-dollar bill, which the man at the head table had handed to me. Looking at him, I said, "Sir, you gave me the thousand-dollar bill, did you not?" He replied, "I certainly did give it to you." I then said, "Thank you very much, sir, for being so generous," and proceeded to pocket the bill. The audience howled with laughter, as I looked at the man with a broad smile on my face. However, as I met his gaze I could see that his eyes remained cold, lacking any expression whatsoever. I realized he didn't appreciate the comedy taking place at his expense. I quickly withdrew the bill from my pocket and returned it to him, saying, "Thank you for your help, sir." The audience broke in to a round of applause, calling for more tricks as I bowed in acknowledgement. I then decided to do another trick, which I'd never included in a public performance before. Bowing to the audience, I said, "Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen, for your kind applause. As a final experiment this evening I will employ a regulation deck of playing cards which I have here in this sealed card-case. You can see it still bears the federal revenue stamp. I would like one of you please to remove the deck of cards from this box and shuffle them." I handed the unopened card-case to a man in the audience who was sitting toward the front. He carefully removed the deck of cards and, after shuffling it, handed it back to me. I returned to my place and continued, "I will now attempt to cut an ace from this deck of cards, which the gentleman has thoroughly examined and shuffled. If any gambler, ladies and gentlemen, could  perform at will the following feat of cutting an ace from an ordinary deck of playing cards, he could of  course win a fortune within a very short time -- perhaps after only one cut. You've no doubt heard of  Bet-A-Million Gates cutting Diamond Jim Brady high card for a hundred thousand dollars. Now imagine what a gambler could earn with this effect." I then requested that a spectator cut the deck of cards and expose his cut card to the rest of the audience. This was done by a man in the front, who showed a king. I made my cut and produced the ace of clubs. With that, I then proceeded to cut the remaining three aces from the deck, flipping each one to the floor. As the audience started to applaud I threw the deck of cards into the air, signifying that my last trick had  been performed, and walked off the floor. Turning around to acknowledge the final applause, I noticed a number of men picking up the cards which were strewn all over the floor. But what drew my closer  attention was the man who had given me the thousand-dollar bill. He quickly moved to the center of the floor and picked up only one card, which was lying face up. It was the ace of spades, the last ace I had cut from the deck. I continued watching him as he moved back to his table and noticed he seemed to be examining the ace very closely. Then he handed it to another man who was sitting alongside of him, who did likewise. The examination went on for about five minutes, when another man from this group got up and walked to the center of the floor and picked up a few more cards. He went back to their table and they started to compare these cards with the ace of spades.

The chairman of the affair called me aside and I lost track of the men momentarily. He handed me my fee plus a ten-dollar tip, and said that he was pleased with the show. As I was packing my grip to leave, three men approached me and I recognized among them the man who had handed me the thousanddollar bill. They congratulated me on the performance and then the thousand-dollar-bill man said, "What are you doing tomorrow night, Mr. Scarne? I'm giving a little party at my apartment in this hotel and would like to have you entertain my guests." Before I could answer he continued, "What is your usual fee?" When I replied twenty dollars for a half-hour show, he said, "I'll give you two hundred dollars to be at my apartment at nine P.M." He handed me his card, which read: Arnold Rothstein Real Estate and Insurance Broker  Park Central Hotel  New York, N. Y. The next morning I looked up a local gambler in Fairview by the name of George Bottles, and he told me of Rothstein's reputation as the biggest racket man in the country and that he was without a doubt the shrewdest gambler in the East. I remembered that the night before I'd stated that any gambler who could cut the ace at will could easily win a fortune within a very short time. The question arose in my mind as to whether Rothstein was hiring me at a two-hundred-dollar fee, the largest amount I'd been offered up to that time, just to see another show or to get me to tell him how I did it. I banished the latter thought from my mind, as I recalled that he had said he was giving a party and wanted me to entertain his guests. I remembered also my boyhood ambition of becoming a great gambler -- for that matter, a crooked gambler -- and here was just the opportunity I'd always wanted: a chance to observe at close range the most celebrated gambler of the era, to see what kind of friends he had, how they acted, and how they lived. I arrived at Rothstein's apartment at the Park Central Hotel at exactly nine o'clock. When I rang the  buzzer at the door Arnold Rothstein answered and greeted me. He took my hat and coat and asked me to follow him into the living room. There were seven men seated about, and as I entered the room their conversation seemed to stop. Their gaze covered me from head to foot. If they had any feelings about me they certainly didn't show them by their expressions. Rothstein, as if sensing my uneasiness, broke the silence, sa ying, "Gentlemen, this is John Scarne, the young magician I was telling you about." Placing his arm about my shoulder, he said, "Johnny, I'd like you to meet George McManus [whom I recognized by reputation as the operator of New York's biggest dice game, which was run at a place called Warren's], and this is Fats Caldwell." Rothstein co ntinued introducing the men to me, one by one. I later learned that two of the men were his personal bodyguards. Their sole job was to see that no harm came to Mr. Arnold Rothstein. With the introductions completed, I asked Rothstein where the p arty was being held and when he wanted me to start entertaining. He smiled at me and said, "This is it, Johnny." Then I realized that this hard-looking group of gamblers was to be my only audience. I felt rather  important at having such a select group of mobsters for a private showing. In those rough and tough days of the roaring twenties, an invitation from Arnold Rothstein was practically an imperial command. In a half-joking manner Rothstein turned to me and said, "Let's go, Professor. On with the show." I then repeated the same routine Rothstein had witnessed the previous night. When I was performing I took a good look at my small but select audience and noticed their cold, impassive faces. I recalled what Bernie had so often said about opening-night audiences at a Broadway show being the most critical in the world, but I realized I was facing a much more critical audience right now. I continued to study their  expressions and they gazed right back at me. I was beginning to feel even more uncomfortable when I noticed they were talking about Jack Dempsey, heavyweight champion, and who would be his next opponent, while I was trying my best to entertain them with the rope and lemon trick. When I finally put the paraphernalia aside at the end of the act they generated a sigh of relief. I then realized that my first hunch had been correct. This hard-boiled audience only wanted to see one thing, and that was the cardcutting which was to follow.

Of course I knew that many card-table decisions were made by cutting for h igh card and naturally it followed that if you could cut an ace, you could win all the decisions and consequently any money involved. I recalled, too, the high-stake stud game that Rothstein was said to participate in, and that some of these games were said to have pots which totaled well over a hundred thousand dollars. Rothstein arose from his chair and walked toward me saying, "That was good, Johnny. Now would you cut high card with me?" The undercurrent of conversation in the room among the seven men slackened, and finally came to a dead stop when I said, "All right, Mr. Rothstein." I reached into my grip and removed two decks of  cards. But Rothstein said, "You don't mind, Johnny, but we prefer you use our cards." And with that he opened a drawer of the table and removed several decks of cards. He then removed the wrapper, tore off  the revenue stamp, opened the card-case, and removed the cards. As he started shuffling I forced a smile and the other men started gathering around as close as they could. Rothstein handed the deck over to Fats Caldwell to shuffle, and then on to another one of the men, and finally the cards were handed to George McManus who did likewise and handed the deck to me. I gave the deck a riffle shuffle and placed the cards atop the table squarely in front of Arnold Rothstein. Rothstein took his cut and turned up the ten of hearts. I squared the remainder of the deck and cut the ace of spades. A hushed silence covered the room as each of the men looked at one another as if to say, did you see how he did it? George McManus picked up the deck and eying it suspiciously said, "Do it again." I riffle-shuffled the deck several times and placed the deck on the table again. Rothstein bent forward and gave the deck several cuts and then placed it in front of George McManus. McManus made a cut and showed the jack of clubs. I made my cut and brought out the ace of hearts. Fats Caldwell then leaned over and got into the act by cutting a low card, and I countered again by cutting another ace. After the cards had been reshuffled and this was repeated several more times, I turned to Rothstein, saying that my half-hour's performance was up an d that I really had to be going. I was getting anxious to get outside and relieve the mounting tension I felt. Rothstein said, "O.K., Johnny," and with that took two one-hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and handed them to me. I thanked him and said good night to the men, who scarcely seemed to notice my departure as they were whispering to one another. Rothstein saw me to the door and thanked me again for a pleasant evening's entertainment. When I arrived at the Forty-second Street pier and boarded the ferry I went right to the top deck of the  boat to get some fresh air and sort out my thoughts. As I put my hand in my pocket and felt the two crisp hundred-dollar bills I felt happy over the fact I'd just e arned so large a fee for a single half-hour show. The night air perked me up and as the ferryboat pulled into Weehawken I was really jubilant. About thirty minutes later I arrived home and fou nd Mother asleep in a living-room chair with the evening paper resting in her lap. She awakened as I entered the room and I went over to her, pressing a hundred-dollar bill in her hand. "Buy yourself a new outfit, Mom," I said, smiling hap pily. She smiled at me rather sleepily and said, "See, John, isn't it much better to do magic tricks for a living rather than mingling with all sorts of cheap gamblers and crooks?" I felt rather guilty as Mother continued speaking o f gamblers, and moved to turn off the lights and retire. I didn't dare tell her that only a few hours before I'd been entertaining some of the biggest and toughest gamblers in New York. The next morning I was awakened early by the ringing of the telephone. It was for me, and when I answered the phone a soft voice said, "Johnny, this is Arnold Rothstein. Would you like to perform again this evening? I'm having another party and you can make the same fee. Two hundred for another  half-hour show." I replied, "O.K., I'll be there. Same time, same place?" "That's right, Johnny, we'll see you tonight then. " When I arrived at Rothstein's apartment that evening I found the same seven men whom I had left the  previous night.

As I opened my grip Rothstein turned to me and said, "Skip the magic, Johnny. We like that rope and lemon trick, but anyway let's skip it tonight." It wasn't long before I was cutting the ac es again for the men. After a half hour of this I received my two-hundred-dollar fee and left as I'd done the night before. The telephone rang again the next morning. "I'm giving another party tonight, Johnny. You're hired again. Same time, same place." Before I could answer or say anything he'd hung up. That evening I was cutting aces once more for the same seven men. For six successive nights Rothstein h ired me at two hundred dollars a show, and all the group wanted to see was the high-card trick. I wondered if the rest of the m en paid part of my fee but felt it really didn't matter just as long as I got paid. I later learned the real reason that Rothstein a nd his friends went to all the trouble the y did. Two men in the group were professional card sharks and the y had told Rothstein if they saw me do the trick several times they could detect my method and do it themselves. They felt that I might reject any proposition they offered for an explanation, and this was their method of finding out how the trick was accomplished. It was also a matter of professional pride with these men who were supposed to know all the angles of gambling, crooked or otherwise. For these gamblers to admit that a young kid from New Jersey was fooling the daylights out of them was j ust too much. However, being fooled six nights in a row and paying twelve hundred bucks for the privilege was the final blow to their pride. Finally, on the sixth night Rothstein said, "O.K., Professor, give. How do you do it?" George McManus then interrupted, saying, "When Rothstein told us about this we thought at first you were using slick aces [an ace treated with a wax that permits the waxed card to be cut easily]. Then, when we gave you our own deck and you did it again we thought you were using a fine crimp [a card  bent during a shuffle]. But, we have to admit, kid, we don't know what it's all about." "Well," I said, "I always give the deck one or more riffle shuffles and hold the cards in such a manner  that I can glimpse the indices on the cards as they fly past during the shuffle. When I sight an ace I count  by feel the number of cards which fall on top of it. Then I calculate the number of cards a player cuts, and I cut down to this total and there is the ace." (At that early stage of my career I could cut any number of cards called for in the deck; otherwise I would never have given these racket men such an answer.) With that reply McManus put the deck of cards on the table and said, "O.K., now cut me twenty-five cards." I realized he was testing the veracity of my statement. I squared off the deck and made a cut which I then handed to McManus. He counted the cards aloud and reached exactly twenty-five. They had me repeat this feat about twenty times and I finally said to Rothstein, "If you do the same thing for three or four hours a day you'll be able to do it too, in about twenty years." I wasn't trying to be smart  but they had asked me a question and I was trying to give them an answer as best I could. "And how old are you?" someone asked rather skeptically. "I'm nineteen," I replied matter-of-factly. His rejoinder was quick in coming as he said, "You're nineteen and you practiced twenty years!" "No," I replied. "But I practice ten hours a day." Rothstein turned to the rest of the boys and said, "See, I told you this kid was terrific. Have you ever  seen anything like that in your life?" Then looking at one of the men he said, "You're a card shark. What do you think?" "Geez, I always thought The Hiker was good but he's nothing compared to sonny-boy here." (The Hiker was a noted card man who frequented resorts and preyed on wealthy tourists and vacationists.) As the men were discussing the trick, I mentioned to Rothstein that it was getting late and I had to be going as Mother was probably waiting up for me until I got home. He said O.K. and handed me the usual fee of two hundred dollars, and walked me to the corridor saying, "Johnny, come over and see me sometime. I might be able to get you a few more shows now and then." I thanked him for the offer and said good night. A lot of thoughts raced through my mind during the next few weeks. I realized how wrong were the ideas I previously had concerning gamblers. The foolish notion of becoming a bigtime gambler 

diminished when I remembered Lutzie pulling a knife at the Apex Restaurant. Now, after seeing Rothstein with two bodyguards who carried guns on their persons, the whole thing just didn't seem to make sense to me. It was thrilling and exciting to fool the top gamblers and racketeers of the era, but I certainly did not want to become one of them. I had heard and read of many gamblers being killed when they refused to take orders from higher-ups in the racket world. I realized more than ever that the illegal gambling and casino operators were actually mobsters themselves. It was obvious from the daily accounts in the newspapers that if any such operator tried to take over anyone else's operation and met with resistance, it was a case of killing or b eing killed. With these thoughts fixed in my mind, and as Mother's strong and constant religious teaching concerning the evils of professional gambling began to mean more to me, I recalled my promise. I vowed to myself that I would never in my life turn a crooked card or indulge in any casino gambling of  an illegal or dishonest nature. I was positive b y now that to become a bigtime gambler, by their  standards, you had to be tough and rough and that skill and strategy did not count. You not only had to use force to prevent other mobsters from moving in on you, but you had to carry a gun to protect either  your property or your life. I knew, too, at the age of nineteen, that if a man carried a gun for protection or show and was a gambler or racketeer at the same time, he would find cause to use it some day. 5. Meeting the Greats of Magic: Houdini, Thurston, Leipsig

 Now that I was a full-time professional magician, working on the average of two club dates a week, I had much more time to practice than before and I certainly took advantage of the extra time. During these practice sessions I found myself shifting back to cards more and more, but not with the same thoughts I had in mind when I was a boy. I now began visualizing myself working the nation's biggest vaudeville houses within a few years and could picture my name on the theater marquees in big bright lights: IN PERSON -- JOHN SCARNE -- THE WORLD'S GREATEST CARD MANIPULATOR  I realized that to reach the top in card manipulation there was no magical solution except hard work. This meant practice, practice, practice, and more practice. These sessions would usually run into the early morning hours, and at this time I was practicing how to shuffle a deck of cards in each hand, revolving half of the deck around my fingers while so doing. These sessions became so prolonged that the back of my fingers began to chafe and bleed, so that for awhile I had to forego this feat until the  backs of my fingers healed. However, this didn't prevent me from practicing other magical feats with cards that did not require the use of the backs of my fingers. I still practice two hours a day and I'm continuously trying to develop new moves and magical effects. There's nothing easy about continuous practice. This brings to mind what the great Ignace Jan Paderewski, the famed Polish Pianist and composer, once said to me. Paderewski had just completed one of his many piano recitals at the Plaza Theater in Englewood, New Jersey, when the chairman who had sponsored the recital asked if I would like to meet him. I was brought backstage to the music master's dressing room and introduced to him. There were three or four people present, and they were congratulating Paderewski on a wonderful evening's entertainment when the chairman mentioned to him that I also had achieved a point of accomplishment with my hands. P aderewski smiled at me and asked if I was a musician. I couldn't help but smile myself as I thought of the mandolin lessons, and the chairman hastened to explain that I was a card manipulator and magician. Paderewski then asked if I would show him what I did, and it wasn't long before I was doing a few tricks for the great artist and his friends in his dressing room. After witnessing a few fancy card flourishes and a number of card vanishes, one of the ladies in the group remarked, "You certainly must have practiced years to develop that skill." Paderewski then made a remark which I have never forgotten. "My dear lady, to achieve unusual skill in any profession or art one must endure a great deal of personal sacrifice, and from what I have seen this young man accomplish with playing cards, I am sure he has forfeited many bo yhood pleasures to  become so skilled."

I thought to myself how right Paderewski was abo ut practicing and about me. I was twenty-one at the time and most of my youth had been spent with older men, working and practicing. The only pleasure I'd really enjoyed was in doing tricks for people. The rewards would be th eir bewildered expressions and encouraging remarks which usually were something like this: "Johnn y, you should be on the stage doing those card tricks. You're much better than the magicians we see performing at the Lincoln Theate r." ... One evening I entered the Bergen Diner for a cup of coffee and was no sooner seated when Happy called me aside and introduced me to a man named Samuel Horowitz, who said he was a professional magician. Sam and I soon became good friends as we talked magic and magicians in general, and it wasn't long before I found out Sam was a top-notch card magician. Through Sam Horowitz I learned of  the Hornmann Magic Shop (formerly Martinkas and now Al Flosso's Magic Shop at 304 West 34th Street, in midtown Manhattan), and he informed me it was the favorite meeting place fo r the nation's top magicians and that Houdini, Thurston, and Leipsig often visited there. Today Sam Horowitz is still my friend and a stellar performer who uses the professional name of Mohammed Bey. Several days later I visited Hornmann's Magic Shop . I was disappointed to find it situated over an average-looking lunchroom. I made my wa y up a flight of wooden stairs in a hallway, and as I opened the door and entered, a bell attached to the door announced my presence. No one was in the shop, and for a moment I thought I was back at the Lane Novelty Company in Hoboken, as this place closely resembled it. I walked over to a large showcase and when I peered in saw a ghastly number of hollow fingers and hands made of tin and painted a flesh color, Chinese linking rings, shinin g red billiard balls, lengths of  mysterious-looking ropes, a number of cloth rabbits, a string of fake collapsible frankfurters, and a top hat with a secret compartment, together with many other gimmicks. As I studied the apparatus displayed in the showcase, it seemed that it wasn't what I'd expected to find. I thought to myself that certainly the great magicians didn't use this type of amateurish apparatus to fool the public. I busied myself exploring the shop and it didn't matter that there was no one there. I couldn't help noticing that the walls of the shop were p apered with glossy publicity prints, photos, and p ictures of  great magicians past and present. The pie rcing eyes of Houdini stared down at me from a framed  picture, and next to him was Howard Thurston, the Great Harry Kellar, Alexander Heermann, Harry Blackstone, Nate Leipsig, and one magician I had never head of. Underneath it was written the name Frank Ducrot, and it occupied a very prominent spot on the wall. I head some noises in the back room and knew someone was there, but I didn't care how long it took the attendant to come out and wait on me. A clay bust of Harry Houdini, which was resting on the far end of  the counter, caught my fancy. I was quite impressed by it and began to wonder if I'd be lucky enough to meet Houdini in person. After spending the better part of fifteen minutes alone in the shop, it became apparent that whoever was in the back hadn't heard the bell ring when I entered. I opened the door again and the bell rang out. A man's voice sang out from the back that he'd be right out, and within a minute or two he filled the doorway. He was an exceptionally large person and was wearing a Buster Brown tie which he had tied into a large bow. His sleeves were rolled up and his hands were dirty. He looked at me and said, "Sorry to keep you waiting. I've just been wrapping up a trick for Harry Houdini which he needs immediately." My rabbit ears perked up at the mention of Houdini's name and I asked, "Where's Houdini now?" "Oh, he's appearing in Chicago," the man replied. "Boy! I'd sure love to see him. I've never seen Houdini perform." "Well," the man said, "he'll be here every afternoon next week between shows when he plays the Hippodrome. Now what can I do for you, young man?" "I'm John Scarne," I replied. "Is this your shop? " "Yes," the man replied. "I'm Frank Ducrot." I remembered the picture I'd seen hanging on the wall with the other great magicians and stammered, "Why, I'd like to take some lessons in card magic. Do you give lessons?"

"Yes, I can give you some card lessons if you'd like. My fee is three dollars a half hour, and you can make it any morning next week." I thought rapidly of what Ducrot had said about Houdini and realized that next week was when he would  be at the Hippodrome. Most likely he'd stop in the shop between shows, as was his custom. The Hippodrome was a two-a-day vaudeville house and the time between shows was from five-thirty to eight P.M. I replied, "Could you possibly make it next Tuesday about six P.M.?" I'd figured that Houdini would probably be busy on Monday, his opening day at the Hippodrome, and would most likely be unable to get away. Therefore, Tuesday seemed like a better chance of seeing him at Hornmann's. Frank Ducrot looked at me and said, "Okay, let's make it Tuesda y night for the first leson, but from then on it'll have to be in the mornings."  Next Tuesday at five P.M. I entered Hornmann's and found a comely young redheaded woman standing  behind the counter. I inquired if Mr. Ducrot was in and she smiled. "You must be Johnny Scarne. I'm Daisy White, Mr. Ducrot's assistant. He told me you were ex pected., but unfortunately Mr. Ducrot had to take something over to Harry Houdini at the Hippodrome. He should be back before six and asked that you wait." I thanked Miss White for the message and said I'd wait until Frank Ducrot returned. An hour o r so later  Ducrot arrived wearing a great big smile. As Ducrot w alked in I felt a little disappointed that Hou dini was not with him. He burst into the room saying, "That's some show they have over at the Hippodrome! Houdini is greater  than ever and packing them in. Nora Bayes, the singing star, is terrific, lovelier e ach time I see her, and Ben Welch, the Jewish comedian -- well, he's always good for a laugh. What a show!" Ducrot apologized for keeping me waiting and invited me to step into the back room with him. The room was crammed with stage tricks, and parts of many big illusions were scattered about here and there. I recognized a number sliding die boxes and sword cabinets, which I'd seen at many of the different side shows. A girl would enter the cabine t and then the magician would pass a number of  swords through small holes in the box without any harm to the lady assistant. I also saw a number of  duck vanishes, similar to the ones I had seen in Dagmar's workship, as well as a number of production cabinets and many other magic gadgets. It didn't take Ducrot long to clear a table and arrange two chairs for us to sit down. My first card less was about to begin. I reached into my pocket and took out three dollars which I'd folded for the occasion and handed them to Ducrot, who accepted it with thanks, pocketing the money. He walked over to a dusty shelf and removed a deck of playing cards. As he returned, shuffling the cards, he said, "The first requisite of a magician is to be able to do several tricks with an unprepared deck of cards." I sort of nodded my head to indicate yes, but was anxiously waiting for Ducrot to get started with the lesson, as time was flying and the lesson was onl y for half an hour. I hadn't mentioned to Ducrot that I'd  been practicing with cards since I was a boy. He went on, "The first thing you must learn to do when performing a card trick is to learn how to force a card." This is a term used to describe the act by which the magician compels a spectator to select a specific card -- the magician's choice -- while the spectator believes it was a card of his own free choice. Ducrot then pretended that I was a spectator while demonstrating the force to me. As he ran through it, I dared not tell him that the method he was using was a favorite method of mine, one I'd used since I was fourteen, and since then I had added a number of improvements to it. Instead, I listened in awed attention and appeared as interested as I could. Ducrot went on, saying, "To become a good magician, Johnny, you also must learn to palm a card," and with that remark he started demonstrating a magician's palm to me. It appeared so amateurish compared to the palms which gamblers used and with which I was familiar  that I finally asked, "Mr. Ducrot, can't I take a lesson in some other form of magic instead of cards? Maybe coin or handkerchief magic?" "What's the matter, don't you want to learn card magic?" Ducrot said in a startled tone. "Sure," I replied. "In fact I've already learned a few card tricks from some card mechanics I know."

Ducrot started laughing and said, "Card what?" "Card mechanics," I replied matter-of-factly. "What's a card mechanic?" Ducrot asked. "Why, a card mechanic's a man who manipulates cards for cheating purpose s," I replied. "That's a new one on me, Johnny. In fact, it's the first time I've heard of a card shark bein g called a card mechanic. Suppose you show me what you've learned from these card mechanics." Ducrot handed me the deck of cards, which I placed face down in the palm of my hand with my index finger curled around the narrow portion of the deck. Ducrot said, "I've never seen a magician hold a deck in that manner." "That's called a mechanic's grip," I replied, "and all the top-flight card mechanics hold a deck in that  position. It facilitates the action of dealing seconds or dealing cards off the bottom of the deck when  pretending to deal cards off the top of the deck." Ducrot appeared spellbound by my actions and said, "Can you deal a card off the bottom?" I ran through the deck and removed the four aces from the pack and placed them on the bottom of the deck and said to Ducrot, "I'm going to deal five hands of poker and I will deal to myself the four aces from the bottom of the deck. Watch." I dealt out the five poker hands and before I turned up my hand Ducrot said, "Don't tell me that the four  aces are no longer on the bottom of that deck." When I exposed the five cards I'd dealt myself, the four aces were among them. Ducrot immediately grabbed the deck of cards from my hand and turned the deck over to see if the aces were still there and found that they were not. He then shouted, "Daisy, Daisy, come in here. I want you to see something." As the redhead sauntered into the room, Ducrot asked me to repeat the trick which I'd just done. It wasn't long before the magic lessons were forgotten and I found myself doing card tricks for Ducrot and Da isy during the next hour. Ducrot finally looked at me, saying, "Are you a professional gambler? The magicians I know c an't do this type of card moves -- why, they're positively sensational. Daisy, we've got to have Harry Houdini see this. He's been talking about the Hearst papers being after him to do a series of articles on exposing  bunko men, and he'll get a real kick out of this!" "Does Houdini do card tricks, Mr. Ducrot?" I asked. "He used to, Johnny, years ago, before he went into the escape act." Daisy walked over to a drawer and pulled out a large rolled-up theatrical advertisement which she unrolled. It depicted Harry Houdini in his younger years with a deck of cards in his hands and the cuffs of his shirt rolled up. It read, "Houdini -- King of Cards." "That's something," I said. "I never knew Houdini was a card man." "Yes, Johnny," Ducrot replied, "but Houdini will flip when he sees you deal those bottoms, and especially that card in the wallet trick you just did for us." "Well," I replied, "I'd sure like to meet Houdini. Ca n you arrange it?" "Sure," Frank replied. "This is Tuesday. I'll see Harry tomorrow. How about Friday, Johnny? I'm sure he'll be here after what I have to tell him. Let's say Friday night around six o'clock. Harry doesn't have to  be at the Hippodrome untilafter eight for the evening show." "I'll be here, Mr. Ducrot," I replied. "And I don't know how to thank you." As we shook hands and I turned to leave, Ducrot called me back and reaching into his pocket handed me  back the three dollars I'd given him for the card lesson, saying, "I should be paying you. I'm the one that got the lesson today!" Wednesday evening I was sitting in the front row at the Hippodrome Theater in New York watching The Great Harry Houdini perform. It was the first I'd seen him in person. I was greatly impressed by his showmanship that evening and wondered if it would ever be possible for me to acquire such stage  presence. The first trick of his act was a needle-swallowing routine which he called the East Indian Needle Trick. This was the effect: Houdini passed several packa ges of needles for examination to the committee h e

had summoned to the stage, and he then asked the committee to examine his mouth to confirm that he did not have any needles concealed in his mouth. He then placed a quantity of needles which he'd removed from the packets on his outstretched tongue and then withdrew his tongue into his mouth. He would then pull off about four feet of sewing thread from a spool, and after folding the four feet of  thread into a small packet he would place this into his mouth also, leaving a bout six inches of thread  protruding from his lips. Houdini then reached for a glass of water which he drank, apparently swallowing the thread and needles as well, with the exception of the six inches of thread which still could be seen hanging from his bottom lip. Harry Houdini then announced in a very dramatic fashion that he would thread the needles while they were in his stomach. The bright spotlight played directly on his face and shoulders as he slowly started to pull the thread from his mouth. As he slowly pulled it, the needles began to appear and were threaded on the thread, each neatly separated about one inch apart! As he finished the Hippodrome shook with applause, which he acknowledged. Then he went into the preparation of his next feat. He proceeded to do an escape from a strait jacket and another escape from a number of handcuffs which were locked on his wrists... Thursday night I didn't sleep much wondering what Harry Houdini would think of my card manipulations, and by the time morning rolled around I'd worked myself into a nervous lather. I was up  bright and early. The day seemed to drag out, but finally it was five o'clock and I stepped into Hornmann's Magic Shop. Houdini arrived about six P.M. in the company of his head assistant, Jimmy Collins. Ducrot introduced us by saying, "Harry, this is the young fellow from Jersey who does the gambling sleights. His name's Johnny Scarne." Houdini noticed my short haircut and remarked, "Pleased to meet you, Pat Rooney." (Apparently Pat Rooney, the dancer, also had a very short haircut at the time.) It wasn't long before Houdini, Ducrot, Collins, and myself were in the back room of the magic shop. Daisy White asked Frank if she couldn't join us in the back to watch and looked rather glum when Ducrot asked her to remain out front in case any customers came in. After they'd settled themselves about the small room, Houdini took out a deck of cards from his inside coat pocket and when he removed them from the card case they really appeared worn and beaten. He took a number of cards from the deck and started to make them disappear by back-palming them one at a time. After he had back palmed about four cards, he asked if I could back-palm cards. I replied I could, but before I had an opportunity to do so Frank Ducrot said, "That's easy for Johnny, Harry, and that's not what I want you to see him do." Ducrot threw a new deck of cards on the table and said, "Go ahead, Johnny." I felt a little nervous as I reached for the deck and removed them from the card case, spreading them ribbon fashion across the table. Looking up at Houdini I said in my best professional manner, "Would you be so kind as to select a card, sir?" He removed a card and smiled at his assistant, Jimmy Collins, when he showed him the face of the card. I then said, "Now, sir, if you'l be so good as to mark your name on the card you've selected I'll--" "That's O.K., son, I know the name of the card," Houdini said. I was beginning to get flustered as I wanted Houdini to mark that card, and was glad when Ducrot insisted that he do so. I then asked Houdini to replace the card into the deck, which I now had scooped up from the table. As he replaced the card into the deck he didn't appear to be watching very closely, for  if he had he would have seen me take my wallet out of my inside coat pocket and place it on the table. It had all happened in a split second. When I opened the wallet and removed the four of spades from the  billfold section, Houdini quickly examined the card to see if his identifying mark was on its face. He then said, "You caught me napping that time. I didn't even see you take the wallet out of your pocket." And he started to smile. From the expression on Houdini's face I could see that I had completely fooled him and he hadn't seen me cop the four of spades from the deck. "What else can you do?"

I went on to cut the four aces from the deck, the same effect that I had performed for Arnold Rothstein, and Houdini looked much more puzzled. After about twenty minutes of my card tricks, The Great Harry Houdini said, "Johnny -- that's your first name, isn't it? -- would you like to come over to the Hippodrome tomorrow afternoon? I'd like my wife, Beatrice, to see some of those gambling tricks o f yours. I know she's never seen any card moves like that." Of course I leaped at the opportunity, and that Saturday I spent a delightful afternoon doing the same card tricks for Houdini and his charming wife, Beatrice, in their dressing at the Hippodrome Theater. Houdini didn't do much talking during this performance but asked a lot of questions as to the gambling moves I used when performing these tricks. I could tell from the expression on his face, and by the types of questions he asked, that I'd completely fooled him on a number of occasions. Some tricks he probably could see through but I was certain that the card-cutting trick completely mystified him. When I got home that evening I told Mother about meeting Houdini again and the great thrill I got on going backstage with him and meeting his attractive wife, Beatrice. But I dared not tell her that I thought I'd fooled Houdini with a card trick. I had too much respect for Houdini to ever tell Mother that I'd fooled him and, furthermore, if I did, I thought she wouldn't believe it. ... Hornmann's Magic Shop shortly became my favorite stop in New York City. Each and every Saturday afternoon I could be found draped over the magic counter, smoking a cigar, and doing card tricks for the many magicians who visited Frank Ducrot's shop. It was in this little shop during the next few years that I performed for practically all the greats in magic. Leroy Talma and Bosco, Carl Rosini, Horace Goldin, Tommy Nelson Downs, Roland Travers, Carter the Great, S elbit, The Great Okito, Nicola the Great, Dante, and many other magicians too numerous to mention, frequented Hornmann's. I learned the secrets of most of their favorite tricks by scouting their acts and later b y discussing the tricks they  performed with them. On many occasions I would go backstage to visit these magicians after their performances and man y of  them would discuss with me how their illusions or tricks worked. I soon learned the secret of all the top illusions, such as the sawing of a woman in half and the rising lady, which were two of the favorite illusions of the period. In some instances, a performer would do his favorite sleight-of-hand trick for me,  but most of the time they had me performing for them. By this time I was smoking cigars regularly and usually had one in my mouth whenever I was sitting around Hornmann's and gabbing with Frank and Daisy. Whenever a magician came in whom I didn't know, Frank would always introduce us and ask me to do a few tricks. I'd lay my cigar aside, start a trick, and occasionally pick it up to take a puff or two. Man y of the magicians began saying that the cigar was my misdirection and if it wasn't for my cigar-smoking I wouldn't fool them so completely. However, they soon found out that this wasn't the case, for when I appeared at my first magical convention to perform, I was minus the cigar. Nevertheless, even to this day some magicians credit the cigar-smoking as one of my magical props. But if it is, I'm not telling. As my friendship with the amateur and professional magicians grew, some of them began inviting me to their homes; but I soon learned many of these invitations were made not on a social basis, but as a means whereby they could find out one or two of my magical secrets. On one such occasion I caught my host's wife behind an open door taking shorthand notes of all the conversation going on between her  husband and myself when he was shooting questions at me a mile a minute. Naturally I began, after that, to avoid invitations for dinner when proffered b y a magician I didn't know too well. Frank Ducrot finally put a tag line on me while I was entertaining several magicians in his shop one afternoon. He looked at me rather seriously and said, "Johnny, from now o n bill yourself as: The Magician Who Fools Magicians." And it wasn't long after that that my new business cards read: John Scarne The Magician Who Fools Magicians While all of the professional entertaining was going on, the magicians would often say among themselves, "Scarne -- why, he doesn't care about working paying dates for lay audiences. He'd rather 

entertain the magicians for free or do tricks for his friends in that lunch wagon in Jersey, instead of   playing a professional date for a hundred dollars." Without my realizing it, this statement contained a great deal of truth. I was really getting a bigger kick  out of doing tricks and fooling the magicians than calling on some theatrical agent and cooling my heels off in his office until he was good and ready to give me a date. It soon became generally known that the only way I'd play a show date was for an agent to get in touch with me, either at home or through Hornmann's Shop where they often left word. Strange as it may seem, I have stepped into an agent's office only twice in the last twenty years. Mother and I were happy with what I was earning and the rest didn't really matter, so I continued merrily on my way of fooling the magicians and having a grand time doing it! As this went on I realized the reason I could fool the professional magicians was because I'd become ambidextrous and could palm cards and do many other card moves with either hand. These card sleights that I'd perfected were far superior to the card sleights used by the magicians of the day, for many of  them were based on gamblers' moves. With all the excitement of foolign magicians, I realized tha t I'd not met the one man I'd most wanted to see -- The Great Nate Leipsig -- the world's greatest card manipulator. I'd heard and read of his fabulous career, that he had climbed the heights of magic with nothing but his ten fingers and a deck of cards. One afternoon at Hornmann's, an amateur magician by the name of Eggers mentioned that Leipsig had returned from his European tour and that he'd seen him the previous day. I became excited all over  again. Eggers had mentioned me to Leipsig and Leipsig had replied that he would like to meet me. When Eggers told me this I said, "Gee, Eggers, I'd sure like to meet Leipsig. Do you think you can arrange it?" Eggers excused himself to make a phone call and returned in a few minutes saying, "It's all set, Johnny. Let's go." In about half an hour Eggers and I were knocking on the door of Nate Leipsig's suite at the Claridge Hotel in mid-Manhattan, a favorite hotel of the theatrical greats of the day. Leipsig answered the door  and asked us to step in. I felt really proud to meet him, and I said, "Mr. Leipsig, this is really an honor. I've been wanting to meet you since I was fifteen when Charlie Dagmar first told me you were the greatest man with a deck  of cards." Leipsig smiled and said, "Why, thank you, I've been anxious to meet you too. I've heard many glowing reports about your work from magicians in Europe." I couldn't quite fathom what Leipsig meant by the magicians in Europe, so I said, "I'm surprised to hear  that magicians in Europe have heard of me. I can't quite understand that, Mr. Leipsig." Leipsig laughed and said, "In our business, Johnny, a good trick flies as fast as bad news whenever  magicians are concerned. Yes, I heard your name mentioned often when magicians visited me backstage after my show at the London Palladium. Does that surprise you?" "It sure does!" I gasped. Leipsig introduced his wife, Leila, to me and we were soon comfortably seated around his living-room table. I noticed that Leipsig and his wife were watching me like a cat watches a mouse prior to pouncing on it, and their gaze became even more intent as Leipsig brought out a deck of cards. Leipsig tossed the cards on the table and said, "Johnny, would you mind doing some of those card miracles I've been hearing about?" I started to give the deck a shuffle, allowing myself time to think, because I was intent on fooling the Great Nate Leipsig but realized that to do so I'd have to do a different trick instead of those I'd done for  Houdini and the other magicians. Leipsig, no doubt, having heard of the card in the wallet trick would certainly be on guard. I began to feel a little nervous, realizing that I was about to do a trick for the man who was rated by all magicians as being the greatest card manipulator in the world. As I thought of  Rothstein, The Hiker, and Houdini, my nervousness slackened somewhat. I requested Leipsig to select a card from the deck and tear off a corner. Leipsig obliged and I handed him the deck asking him to return the card to the deck and shuffle the cards.

After Leipsig had shuffled the deck he h anded me the cards and after indulging in a few fancy shuffles I handed the cards back to him. Suddenly I clapped both my hands and pointed to my mouth. While Leipsig, Leila, and Eggers directed their attention to my mouth, a card, folded in quarters, came sliding out. I permitted the card to drop from my mouth to the table, and after Leipsig unfolded the card, which was wet with saliva, and fitted the corner h e had torn from the card everyone saw it was the same ace of  spades Leipsig had originally selected. Leipsig looked at me and said, "I didn't see you put that card in your mouth, Johnny. You certainly have a style all your own, it's most unusual." I continued doing tricks for about an hour, and from that first meeting with Leipsig we bec ame warm friends. I soon found myself seeing more and more of Nate Leipsig and was equally impressed by his method of handling cards for magical purposes. As we became better acquainted I learned a great deal more about magic from Leipsig, especially his method of doing tricks with coins, thimbles, handkerchiefs, and other small magic. Nate Leipsig was the first magician to make a half-dollar piece dance back and forth across the back of his fingers and I recognized in him the polished performer and great showman that he was. To be sure, he was a subtle deceptionist who ranked tops in the magic  profession. I also learned a great deal about showmanship from watching and listening to him, and I could see he was intrigued and often mystified by my own way of handling cards. He'd often say to me, "Johnny, I think you must have been born with a deck of cards in your hands; they fit you like a glove." One day while visiting Leipsig at The Lambs (a theatrical men's club situated in midtown Manhattan), I was performing a gambler's version of manipulating the Three Ca rd Monte for Nate Leipsig and several members of The Lambs who were gathered around watching, when Leipsig said: "Say, Johnny, you should write a book covering the various ways gamblers fleece unsuspecting players with the Three Card Monte." I looked up and replied, "Mr. Leipsig, if you promise to write the introduction to such a book, I'll  promise to write it." "That's a deal, Johnny, you write it and I'll do the introduction -- with pleasure." About a month later I arrived at The Lambs looking for Nate Leipsig. I had a fifty-page manuscript on the Three Card Monte in my pocket, and after I'd found him and he'd read it over he reached for some Lambs' stationery. Taking out his pen he wrote the foreword for my proposed Three Card Monte book. It read as follows: For those who are not acquainted with the author of this book, I wish to say that John Scarne is the most expert exponent of wonderful card effects and table magic I have ever seen in my life. I have met and known personally some very fine performers, both amateurs and professionals, but I have yet to see such fine work and originality as John Scarne has command of. This book he has written is, as far as I know, the onl y one of its kind in existence and has some very original and puzzling effects.  Nate Leipsig Having a manuscript and getting it published were two different things. It wasn't as easy as I'd thought and it wasn't until a number of years later that I had my Three Card Monte Book published and included  Nate Leipsig's foreword. I recall with pleasure the many hours I spent with Nate Leipsig, who added to my magic education and who was aways a gentleman to his finger tips. 6. Charlatans and Fakirs, and the Houdini-Rahman Bey Rivalry 7. Hypnotism, Extra-Sensory Perception, and Psychokinesis are Fakes 8. Show Business--Boxing and Gambling-- The World's Heavyweight Championship

With the invention of talking pictures and the depression years of 1930, 1931, and 1932 a dark cloud  began casting ominous shadows over The Amazing World of John Scarne. The country was gripped by

a business recession, but the movie industry, with the introduction of sound, continued to move ahead. A combination of these factors took their toll of club dates and vaudeville bookings from me. ... The next day I walked down to the Safe Drug Store in Fairview and handed Doc Reiter a dollar bill, asking for twenty nickels in change. Doc counted out the nickels and said, "What are you going to do with so many nickels, play the slot machine across the street?" I pocketed the twenty nickels and replied, "You should know me better than that, Doc. The only gambling I do is on Friday night at the Fairview Athletic and Social Club, where the boys and I play a little quarter-limit stud poker." Doc grinned as he handed me the nickels and said, "So I hear. I also understand that when the deal comes to you, you must pass the cards and are not permitted to deal. Isn't that right?" "That's only half of it, Doc," I replied. "They've cooked up a special set of house rules to take care of  me. John Mahoney even went so far as to have the rules printed and he passed the printed slips around to the club members. Would you like to see one?" "I sure would," Doc answered, and I reached into my pocket and handed him the printed set of rules the  boys had composed. This is it: Stud Poker Rules Pertaining to John Scarne The World's Greatest Card Manipulator 1. Due to his liking for practical jokes and bec ause his ability to deal himself the winning  poker hand is so highly developed that he often deals same unintentionally, Scarne must  pass the deal when it is his turn to deal out the cards. The above rule also holds true when it is his turn to cut the cards. 2. Due to the fact that Scarne can change a deuce into an ace simply by passing the card from hand to hand, he shall not be permitted to pick up any of the cards dealt to him. He can only look at his hole card (face-down card) by lifting its corner slightly with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. 3. Due to Scarne's highly developed skill in palming cards without being detected, h e shall not be permitted to touch the deck, the discards, or for that matter any card other than his hole card. 4. Any infraction of these rules automatically results in a misdeal and a n ew deck of cards shall be put into play. I watched Doc reading and I couldn't help but notice he was struggling to keep from bursting out laughing. I said, "If you think that's funny, you should have been at the club last Friday night when the  boys decided to waive those rules." "What happened?" Doc asked. "Well, when it came my turn to deal the first time, I gave the deck a couple of dove-tail shuffles, two riffle shuffles, and an overhand shuffle just to convince the boys that everything was on the up and up. George Brown cut the deck about three times, and then I picked up the cards and dealt each player a down card and the first up card. The boys started betting like mad. I'd dealt Erwin De Cresengo a pair of  tens back to back, Dan Pesce had a pair of Jacks, John Boylan a pair of eights, Alfred Massaro a pair of  nines, and George Brown a pair of aces." The Doc then said in a quizzical tone, "And what did you deal yourself?" "Doc, I had a small deuce in the hole and another showing face up. I dealt each player his third, fourth, and fifth card, and what do you know, Doc? No one bettered his hand except me. I was lucky. I caught the third deuce." "What happened then?" Doc asked. "The boys simply called the hand a misdeal, and the Scarne house rules were instantly put back into effect." As I walked over to the telephone book rack, I thought I could hear a chuckle coming from behind the  prescription counter. [We skip forward to just after Scarne's friend Jim Braddock wins th e world heavyweight boxing  championship...]

A few days later Jim and I were watching the races at Hialeah when two gentlemen in Broadway sombreros approached Jim and said, "Hello, Champ. Say, that was a terrific shallacking you gave Max Baer. Me and my pal here were at ringside that night." In no time at all the boys were inviting Braddock and me, whom they had mistaken for Joe Gould, Jim's manager, up to their hotel room for a little game of cards. Jim readily ac cepted the invitation as Jim liked nothing better than to see me sit in at a poker game and deal him the winning hand. That evening the Champ and I entered a luxurious suite at the Roney Plaza in Miami Beach. As we walked in we observed that there were in the room three good-looking blondes, our friends from Hialeah, and three other prosperous-looking men whom Jim and I spotted instantly as shills. After Jim and I had had a drink and a little chat with the girls, the boys motioned to us that the card game was already in progress in the next room. Jim and I sat opposite each other at the poker table. The boys started to go to work on us in a hurry. They stacked a couple of hands, palmed cards out of the deck, and signalled each other when to play and when not to play. A blonde was constantly offering us a drink as an excuse to come close and see our   poker hands, in order to give signals to the boys. Jim was starting to get impatient as he shot me a glance which I knew meant, "Get going, I'm out a hundred bucks already." I nodded my head and went to town with the deck of cards. Those characters never saw so many four of a kinds and full houses in all their   poker-playing days. By now Jim was all smiles as he'd got back his hundred bucks and was winning eight hundred dollars of the boys' money. I had just dealt Jim four aces and one of those characters four kings, and Jim was just scooping in a twohundred-dollar pot, when the door opened to admit a portly gentleman named Trigger McGurn, formerly Scarface Al Capone's chief triggerman and then the racket boss of Miami. McGurn was accompanied by two sinister-looking henchmen who were well-heeled with au tomatics. He took one look at the gathering and after flashing a smile and saying Hello to the Champ, he turned to the two characters we had met at the race track and pointing a finger at them he said in a loud voice, "Out of the twenty thousand suckers in Hialeah you dopes have to pick out John Scarne to clip in a poker game!" The boys chirped out, "John Scarne, the guy who fooled Arnold Rothstein and The Hiker? We thought he was Joe Gould. No wonder we were dealt such good poker hands." Jim shot back at them, "So you muggs thought I was a sucker! The last time that happened was when Maxie Baer signed to fight me thinking I was a sucker for him. I ought to belt you. But why should I? We won a thousand bucks for being taken for suckers!" Trigger McGurn then hollered, "That's the same Scarne, all right. The guy who made Rothstein and his gang blow their lids!" Trigger then turned to me and said, "Scarne, would you do me a favor?" "What is it?" I said. "I'd like to call some of of the boys from the casinos around Miami to come up here to see you handle a deck of cards. Will you do it?" I looked at Jim and before I had a chance to say anything he said, "Call up all the wise guys you want. John will fool them all." Immediately the phones were bus y and an hour later every top card mechanic, dice cheater, croupier, confidence man and top mobster of Miami was in the hotel suite. Trigger  introduced me by saying, "Boys, this is Scarne. You've all heard about him, and you all know the champeen, Jimmy Braddock." The group all said hello to the champ and nodded to me as Trigger went on, saying, "Scarne is going to show you lugs how to really cheat at cards. Are you ready, Scarne?" "O.K. All ready," I replied, and for the next hour I did tricks for about sixty of the toughest hoodlums that ever infested Miami. Braddock got a real kick out of my exhibition, especially when he saw all the thugs and wise guys looking so amazed. When I'd finished mystifying this gang, McGurn reached into his pocket and pulled out a large roll of   bills and said, "Scarne, what do you get for a show of this kind?" Jim, quick as a flash, popped up, "He usually gets a thousand bucks for this type of show." McGurn peeled off ten hundred-dollar bills and looked at Jim and laughed, saying, "You're not his manager, are you?" "Sure I am," Jim said. "I'm Scarne's manager!"

McGurn then handed the thousand dollars to Jim, who added this to the thousand he had won, making a total of two thousand dollars for the night's outing. 9. My Crusade Against Dice and Card Cheaters During World War II

After a number of disheartening attempts to interest several national ma gazines to run exposés on the subject, I stopped by Max Holden's Magic Shop in midtown Manhattan and while there ran into my friend, Clayton Rawson, a top-flight mystery writer and amateur magician. After exchanging  pleasantries Clayton said to me, "Johnny, how about you and I doing a book on sleight of hand for  magicians?" I replied, "Forget it, but do you want a magazine article that's so hot it sizzles?" "Sure," Clayton said, "On what?" "The magicians of the underworld. The crooked gamblers who think that every G.I. is a chump and that the Army is a soft racket that any smart guy can beat. Maybe I'll teach you how to do a card trick, too," I concluded. Rawson shook his head, "You don't have to bribe me. Not with a story like that under your hat." Clayton Rawson and I subsequently did a series of articles for True Detective magazine, which was to run for six months. However, the first of the series would not appear for three more months. Three months was a long time to wait to bring my message home to the G.I.'s so I said to Rawson, "The True  Detective series is great, but this thing needs all the publicity it can get and it needs it in a hurry. How about Life magazine? You know George Karger -- he's an amateur magician and a professional  photographer and is a regular  Life contributor." Clayton agreed to approach Karger and immediately called him on the phone. George promised to do all in his power to help. The next day George Karger introduced me to several editors of  Life in their offices at Rockefeller Plaza. I explained my entire plan of eradicating crooked gambling from the armed forces and what I had accomplished to date. I tried to impress the editors how essential it was for  Life to help in my crusade and emphasized the urgency of the matter. My pleading was successful, for a few weeks later Georger Karger, with Clayton Rawson acting as his second assistant, photographed me in action  before an audience of Army boys in a canteen in Bergenfield, New Jersey. Three weeks later, June 8, 1942, the pictures appeared in Life. The magazine devoted three pages to my crusade, depicting the water test for loads, mis-spotted dice, ho w to detect strippers, and several other  necessary tips for the servicemen. The bold caption in Life read, Magician warns soldiers of new plague of dice experts and card sharps. And it continued, "Biggest gambling boom since World War I has  brought magician John Scarne a new job lecturing to soldiers on tricks of dicemen and card sharps." After reading Life magazine I felt at last that my crusade was really und er way. Four and a half million copies would be distributed that week, and the Army's top brass would also read it and, I hoped, would do something about it. ... Shortly after the end of World War II, I walked into the offices of Yank and thanked Colonel Forsberg and all the staff members of Yank for their great aid in helping bring my message to servicemen all over  the globe. Colonel Forsberg patted me on the shoulder and said, "John, you've done a great service to the boys in the service. God bless you." As I left Yank 's offices that day after saying good-bye to my many wonderful friends, I went home and told Mother that the crusade was over and she need worry no longer. She looked at me and said, "I know, John, but I think you should know there's only five dollars left in your savings account." 10. My Greatest Performance

In the fall of 1944, the critical year of World War II, I was just about tired out following my return from an extensive lecture tour on gambling at military installations throughout the United States and Alaska.

Lucy had stopped by our house for a visit and, together with Mom, we had planned a homecoming family dinner party. I was in my room, just finishing dressing, when Lucy called me to the telephone. I picked up the phone and said, "Hello." A voice from the other end echoed, "Hello, Mr. Scarne? This is General Hap Arnold calling. I was wondering if--" I cut into the sentence. "O.K. Hap, you old goat, how's everything?" "What did you say?" the voice snapped. "Now, Hap, quit kidding," I shot back. "I've a lot of things to do tonight, and I can't waste all night guessing who's calling." The voice at the other end of the telephone said, rather matter-of-factly, "Mr. Scarne, I assure you I'm not playing guessing games. This is General Arnold speaking. Lieutenant Colonel Spence gave me your  telephone number and--" With the mention of Lieutenant Colonel Spence 's name, I realized I'd put my foot in it. My first impression, that one of my friends had called to kid me, was dead wrong. I'd known Spence as a former  editor of Yank magazine and knew he was now stationed in Washington, D.C., with Army Air Force s Headquarters. The voice on the telephone could be that of General Hap Arnold, Commanding General of the United States Army Air Corps. My reply ca me fast. "General, I want to apologize for my rudeness. The boys at the corner have a habit of calling me in a disguised voice and announcing that President Roosevelt or Governor Dewey is phoning, and I thought this was another one of their practical jokes." The General laughed and seemed to enjoy the joke himself. Then he continued in a more serious vein, "Of course I understand, Mr. Scarne. But I was wondering if it would be at all possible for you to come down to Washington on October 11 and give a performance at a dinner party for a selected group I'm entertaining. We want something very special for this o ccasion, and I believe your gambling demonstrations and magic tricks would be just the thing." "I certainly can make it, General, and I'm indeed flattered by your kind invitation." The General then informed me that a letter of confirmation would be forwarded containing further  details. When I'd thanked him and hung up, I turned to Lucy, saying, "What a fine mess you almost put me into. Do you know who that was that just called?" "Well, I heard you say General half a dozen times. Was it General Marshall?" she cooed with a wry sort of smile. "Quit joking," I retorted. "Why didn't you tell me it was General Hap Arnold calling?" Lucy explained that when she had answered the telephone the operator had merely said it was Washington calling John Scarne, and that she had simply left the telephone off the receiver when she went to call me. "Look, Lucy," I said, "if I'd known that was long-distance calling, I certainly wouldn't have said what I did." I guess I didn't eat much that night, and I didn't sleep well for the next couple of nights from wondering what would happen after my faux pas. My anxieties were put to an end with the arrival of a letter. It was  precise in its military language, which made things syllable-clear and removed any doubts which I may have had. I was ordered to proceed directly to the Mayflower Hotel in Washington, D.C., where a reservation had been made in my name, and await further instructions. The letter was signed, H. H. Arnold, General, U.S. Army, Commanding General, Army Air Forces. During the train trip from New York City to Washington, D.C., I bumped into a friend, Navy Lieutenant Eddy Duchin, famed pianist and orchestra leader. The train was packed with G.I.'s and sailors, and it didn't take Eddy long to find a deck of cards and ask me to do some card tricks for the servicemen in our  car. With the G.I's asking me many questions pertaining to gambling, the hour or so from Baltimore to Washington went by quickly. On the afternoon of October 11, 1944, I registered at the Mayflower Hotel, Washington, D.C., under my true name. A minute or two after I'd got to my room, the phone rang. It was Lieutenant Colonel Hartwell Spence calling from the lobby. "Good to hear you, Spence," I said into the phone. "Come on up and tell me what this is all about."

"John," he said as he settled himself in a chair, "General Hap Arnold has selected me to be your  chauffeur and escort you during your stay in Washington." "Not bad when a poor civilian like me has a colonel for his chauffeur, especially during a war," I replied. Spence laughed. "There's only one Scarne." We caught up on each other's personal news, and then Spence explained that he was ordered to drive me to our destination. I refrained from asking any further questions, which had been a practice I'd learned from the outset of the war, but I did ask when we were to leave the hotel. "We have time yet," he replied. "It's a short ride from here. You'll want to freshen up after your trip from  New York." "Get yourself something and order a cup of coffee for me from room service," I called as I disappeared into the shower. Twilight found us moving across wartime Washington with its traffic dim-out regulations in effect. It was hard to tell when daytime officially became nighttime without the bright lights to mark the break. The drive to Bolling Field, Maryland, was short and pleasant and Spence and I chatted about the war and things in general. We finally pulled over in front of a building which Spence announced was the Officers' Club, and he told me to follow him into the downstairs bar. I was beginning to wonder what would happen next and why all the secrecy. After a while I asked Spence where I was to perform, and he replied "Upstairs, John." "Well, let's go," I said. "I wish I could," Spence said with a twinkle in his eye, "but I'm below rank." "You're a lieutenant colonel and you're not allowed upstairs because you're below rank? Who have you got up there?" I asked Spence. He brushed aside my inquiry with the statement, " I'm still below rank," and continued, "I'd like to catch your performance, John, but this show is for top brass only. My job's over, and I'm sure you'll give them something to think about. I'll wait for you in the bar over there." ... The top of the stairs opened into a huge reception room and it appeared Spence was right. He surely was  below rank, as everyone I spotted was either a general or an admiral. The lowest rank was either a  brigadier general or a rear admiral. At this point I began to feel a little weak, and my condition didn't improve any when I recognized Admiral Ernest J. King, Commander in Chief of the U.S. Naval Operations, across the room talking to a group o f men. I was just making a half-turn to go back  downstairs and get Spence, the deserter, when one of the generals broke away from the group and covered the distance between us in a mean military stride. He threw out his hand and said, "Scarne, it's good to see you." The three stars on his collar told me he was a lieutenant general, but he introduced himself as Barney Giles. I recognized his name as that of the Chief of Air Staff directly responsible to General Hap Arnold. He asked about my trip and made a few comments about the inconveniences of wartime Washington, and then pointed toward the group he had just left standing in the center of the room and said, "John, you know the bunch, don't you?" "General, I'm sorry but I don't," I said. "Well, come on over and meet them," he replied, and he took my by the arm and escorted me to the group of military leaders. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he said. "I'd like you to meet John Scarne, the man who can make a deck of   playing cards talk. John, this is General Arnold." The General smiled and said, "Are you in good form for tonight's show?" "I think so, General," I replied. I was then introduced to... Admiral King asked me many questions regarding m y gambling-lecture tour of naval installations, and we discussed my writings in Yank , the Army weekly, and in the Navy publication, Our Navy. The Admiral told me how much he appreciated the service that I had been rendering to Navy personnel by my lectures and exposures of crooked gamblers.

General Hap Arnold then put his arm over my shoulder and said to Admiral King and the group, "This is the man who called me an old goat." My face must have reddened immediately, because he quickly assured me that he had already explained the telephone incident to his colleagues. They all had a laugh over it, and Hap Arnold turned to me and said, "John, you're the only one that's not drinking in this  party. How about a cocktail?" I was thinking of saying no, simply because the punch bowl was about thirty feet from where we were standing, and I felt that once I left this distinguished group of military men it would be awkwa rd for me to return and re-enter the conversation. However, General Arnold's commanding voice forced a decision which had me saying, "Yes, General, I believe I will have a Manhattan, thank you." As I started to excuse myself from the group to go toward the punch bowl, the General caught my arm and held me back, saying, "Stick close to me," and turning to a major general who was passing by said, "Oh, General, will you please get Mr. Scarne a Manhattan?" The major general headed for the punch bowl and returned with the drink, which he handed to me. I accepted it with thanks and said, "Sorry to have troubled you, sir." He seemed to enjoy my apparent embarrassment as he laughed and said, "Think nothing of it, Mr. Scarne, orders are orders." In later lectures and demonstrations at various camps around the country, I often related this incident to the delight of the servicemen, who always got a chuckle at the thought of a major general serving Scarne cocktails. 11. Gamblers, Racketeers, and the Mafia 12. Mission in the Caribbean 13. Teeko, Scar-nee, and I.Q. Solitaire -- The Greatest Achievement of My Life