Twenty Years of Spoof and Bluff

by Carlton

It was about this time that I started to work an illusion of my own which I called “The Mysterious Cross.” It created a big sensation all over the country, topping the bills wherever it was shown; but as I am no believer in the saying about good wine needing no bush, I used a device of my own to further advertise it at all the towns where I showed it. Of which more anon!

The trick consisted in having a wooden cross, to which my sister Olive, who has a very beautiful figure, was bound securely. Only one long rope was used, this being fastened round her waist and neck, and finished off at the wrists, which were extended to the ends of the arms of the cross, the two ends of the rope being then held by two members of the audience.

While the rope was thus being held, she used to vanish from under a curtain that had meanwhile been drawn round her, and my assistant was found, on the curtain being withdrawn, to have taken her place. The whole thing was practically instantaneous, and the illusion has, I may say, baffled some of the biggest experts in the world. I used no mirrors, wires, trick scenery, or trap-doors, one or some or all of which in conjunction form the basis of most illusions of the kind, and the secret has never been found out by anybody to this day.

Now as to the advertising stunt I mentioned! I used to pay a man to rise from his seat amongst the audience on my opening night, and call out to me that he knew quite well how it was done—that I used a trap-door in the stage. Of course I would pretend to be very surprised and indignant, and protest that it was not so. But the man would insist that he was right, and challenge me to prove the contrary by doing the trick openly, without the aid of the enveloping curtain, so that the audience could judge between us.

“No,” I would say, “I cannot do that, for this trick is my livelihood, and if I let the people see how it is done, it will be no attraction for the rest of the week and I can never come back here again with it.” Then I would go on to say that if the interrupter could come behind the scenes after the show, I would show him privately how it was done.

But, no! The man would insist that what he wanted was a public exposition. He knew there was a concealed trap-door. I had as good as called him a liar. And so on.

By this time the place would be in an uproar. Some few of the audience, possibly, siding with the interrupter, but the bulk of them, almost invariably, being on my side. Then if the manager was a sport, I would have him come on the stage from the wings, by prior arrangement between us, and pretend to whisper a few words in my ear.

Whereupon, on his retirement, I would advance to the footlights and, with a sob in my throat, hold forth somewhat as follows: “Ladies and gentlemen, if I expose this trick now, on my opening night, nobody will come here during the week, and business will be ruined. As I have been publicly challenged, however, I as publicly promise that on Friday night I will perform the trick openly without drawing the curtain, so that everybody will be able to see with their own eyes how it is done, and that I do not use a trap-door on the stage.”

The next day, and all through the week, the town would be placarded all over with bills (previously printed) headed “Sensational Challenge to Carlton,” and giving particulars of the forthcoming exposure of the “Mysterious Cross” illusion. The result was that Friday, usually the slackest night of the week, saw the theatre packed to suffocation at both houses.

I kept my word, too, and performed the trick openly without the curtain. But so quick were our movements, the whole thing only lasting about two seconds, that even then the audience were quite unable to detect how it was done. They could, however, see that there was no trap door.