The Secret Life of Houdini (51 page)

The crowd buzzed with excitement. Houdini picked up some sheets of blank paper, some envelopes, and a few pencils and began to walk among the audience, distributing them seemingly at random.

“If you will be so kind as to write upon the blank paper a question that you would like the spirit world to answer…then fold the paper and seal it in the envelope provided so there is no chance whatsoever of my seeing the particular query,” Houdini said.

When he reached the table where Herbert and his bespectacled friend, Theodore Roosevelt, sat, Houdini gave the astute card observer a blank piece of paper. As the man began to write his question, holding the piece of paper in the palm of his hand, Houdini walked back to the table carrying an
Atlas of the World
, a book that was part of the ship’s library and had been sitting on a nearby table.

“Pardon me, Colonel,” Houdini said, handing him the
Atlas
. “Use this as a support.”

Houdini winked at Victor Herbert.

“Turn around. Don’t let him see it,” Herbert counseled his friend. “He’ll discern what you write from the movements of the pencil.”

The Colonel followed his advice, turned his back, wrote his question on the blank piece of paper, then he turned back around and handed the book to Houdini.

“Fold that paper so that no one can read what you have written,” Houdini said, and then walked back and replaced the book on the other table.

“Now place that paper in the envelope and seal it please,” Houdini said as he walked around the audience and collected the other envelopes in a hat. Returning to his own table, Houdini put down the hat and picked up two slates. He walked back to the Colonel’s table.

“I am sure that there will be no objection if we use the Colonel’s question,” Houdini said. The audience murmured agreement.

“Now you have written down a question that you would like the spirits to answer, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” the Colonel said.

“And you have sealed that question in the provided envelope, and no one other than yourself knows the aforementioned question, is that correct?”

“That is correct,” the Colonel agreed.

Houdini showed him the slates—which were basically small two-sided chalkboards in a wooden frame.

“Can you confirm to the audience that there is absolutely nothing written on these slates?” Houdini asked.

The Colonel nodded as Houdini showed him each side of the two slates.

“They are blank,” the Colonel affirmed.

“Now if you will be so kind as to place your envelope between the two slates,” Houdini opened the slates and, after the envelope was placed between them, he sandwiched the paper.

“Can you please tell the audience what your question was?” Houdini asked.

“Where was I last Christmas?” the Colonel said.

Houdini opened the slates and held them up for the audience to see. On one slate was a detailed map, in colored chalk, of Brazil with the River of Doubt in the Amazon highlighted. The other slate contained the message: “Near the Andes” and it was signed by W. T. Stead, a Spiritualist journalist who had drowned when the
Titanic
sank.

Now you see them, now you don’t. Houdini retouches out fellow passengers on the
Imperator
and leaves Teddy Roosevelt in the picture.
Library of Congress and the collection of Kevin Connolly

The audience screamed in astonishment, and the Colonel jumped up, waving his arms and laughed uproariously until tears began streaming down his cheeks.

“By George, that proves it!” Colonel Theodore Roosevelt, the ex-president of the United States shouted. And the passengers applauded Houdini even more vigorously.

The next morning, Houdini and Roosevelt took their usual constitutional around the upper deck of the steamship. Roosevelt stopped halfway around the deck and put his arm around Houdini. He looked him straight in the eye.

“Houdini, tell me the truth. Man to man. Was that genuine Spiritualism or legerdemain last night?”

Houdini was amazed that this brilliant statesman, who would go down in American history as one of its most colorful characters, was undecided whether the effect was genuine or not.

“No, Colonel,” Houdini shook his head. “It was hokus pokus.”

Houdini didn’t have the heart to tell Roosevelt exactly how he performed that miracle. It wasn’t until years later, when “this craze of Spiritualism” started “running through the world,” that Houdini, seemingly as a public service, revealed his methods.

It was a brilliantly executed effect, showing both Houdini’s opportunistic genius and his marvelous flair for showmanship. It also revealed that Houdini was well versed in the techniques of spies. He began to plan for the effect before he had even boarded the ship that would take him and Bess home to New York for his summer 1914 run at Hammerstein’s. When he went to the Hamburg-American Steamship Company offices to pick up his tickets, the clerk tipped him off that Teddy Roosevelt was going to be a fellow passenger. Knowing that he was scheduled to perform, he began to think of an effect that could fool Roosevelt. The ex-president had been in London after making a long trip to South America, and Roosevelt’s story of his trip in the Amazon was about to be published by
The London Telegraph
, so Houdini immediately took a taxi to the
Telegraph
offices and procured inside information, including detailed maps of Roosevelt’s explorations, from his friends in the newsroom.

Houdini then conceived the idea of presenting the information in the context of a Spiritualist séance, so he prepared the two slates with the map and the actual signature of Stead, which he traced from an original letter from the Spiritualist in his collection. Once on the ship, Houdini met Roosevelt, and the two men began an early morning walking regimen. One morning, Houdini steered the conversation to Spiritualism, and then arranged for a ship officer to interrupt the two men to remind Houdini of his upcoming performance. The magician asked Roosevelt what he would like to see Houdini do; of course, the Colonel suggested a séance.

On the night of the show, Houdini had already loaded the hat that was to contain the passengers’ questions with envelopes that all posed the same question: “Where was T. R. last Christmas?” Houdini claimed that he planned to palm the legitimate questions and pick one of his loaded slips, but he didn’t even have to do that. Houdini was able to discern Roosevelt’s question without ever opening the envelope it was sealed in because on the morning of the show, Houdini went into the Grand Salon and picked two books off one of the tables. He took them to his stateroom, where, with the aid of a razor blade, he lifted back the cloth of each of the book’s front and back covers, then inserted a piece of paper and then a carbon on top of the paper. Leaving a small string on the edge, he then pasted all four covers down. When this procedure was done, he returned the books to the salon. When the gimmicked book would be used as a support to write out the question, the pressure from the pencil would make a carbon impression on the loaded paper, revealing the query.

Houdini’s thoughtful gesture of giving Roosevelt a book to lean on ensured that the magician would obtain his question. Houdini himself was amazed when, as he was returning the book to the table after Roosevelt had used it, he pulled the string, peeked underneath the cover, and found that Roosevelt had asked, “Where was I last Christmas?” obviating the need to use his own loaded questions. Houdini’s séance was the talk of the ship and an account of his “hokus pokus” was relayed by the
Imperator
’s radio operator to Newfoundland, where it was then dispatched to New York. Before the ship even docked, the story made all the New York papers. The success of the fund-raiser was another matter. After collecting 707 marks, half of which went to the German Sailors Home, Houdini was able to present the Magic Club treasurer Stanley Collins with a check for a little over £17. “You see the passengers are returning home and are broke,” Houdini explained.

They may have been broke but they were certainly glad to be returning home since the world was teetering on the verge of catastrophe. The
Imperator
set sail from Hamburg on June 17, stopped in Southampton, England, to pick up more passengers, and arrived in New York on June 25. Three days later, the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, threw Europe into chaos. By August 4, Germany, Russia, France, and Great Britain were all at war. This would be the last trip the
Imperator
would make until the war ended.

Houdini had foreknowledge that the present war was brewing and “just managed” to get out of Germany in time. Roosevelt’s fortuitous departure from London suggests that the ex-president might have been advised to get back to the States before the conflict began. There were other intriguing characters on board the
Imperator
for that last ride home, including Robert Goelet, who besides being one of America’s wealthiest men and a member in high standing of New York society was also a captain in the military intelligence section in Washington. Goelet’s clout was shown when the
Imperator
actually stopped before reaching New York Harbor and discharged Goelet and Teddy Roosevelt’s party, who were picked up by a private vessel owned by Goelet.

That a U.S. spy would be traveling aboard the Hamburg-American lines was no shock, considering that the German-owned line was actually a front for the Imperial German Navy since the 1890s. By 1908, the Hamburg-American Line officials were routinely encouraging their employees to transmit sensitive intelligence on the Royal Navy. In addition, the offices of the HAL in New York City became the hub for German spies who were operating in the United States for years before she entered the war.

Mike Caveney’s Egyptian Hall Museum

Fighting Our Way to the Grave

T
HE LAST THING THAT THE AUDIENCE
expected to see was bricklayers. But there they were onstage, with their dowels and mortar and bricks.