I Lie for Money

by Steve Spill

  Apparently, growing up in showbiz, Sara lived in Melissa’s shadow. Sara being called Melissa was a cross to bear when Melissa was a household name and Sara was just becoming known. Sara was famous as Melissa’s little sister, but now Melissa was famous as Sara’s older sister. The roles had reversed, Sara was now better known, yet here at Magicopolis, she was still being dogged by me repeatedly calling her Melissa—especially annoying I’m certain, coming from some smart ass hippie magician.

  During a mind reading experiment I said, “Melissa, pick a magazine, any magazine. Okay, Melissa, open the magazine you selected to any page. Now, Melissa, concentrate on one word on that page. Melissa, stay focused, because Melissa, I’m going to attempt to read your mind . . .”

  I guess I was really rubbing it in. In my defense, no one ever corrected me, including Sara Gilbert, but I suppose I should have known something was up. Every time I called Sara, Melissa, she would roll her eyes while the two Peetes and party howled with laughter. Everyone was in on this joke I kept milking, except me.

  After the show a lot of photos were taken. I smiled dreamily when I asked, pleasantly, “Hey Melissa, can you snap one with me?” Everyone cracked up, and then, they all really busted a gut when she screamed, “My name is Sara not Melissa!”

  I felt like a bonehead, “Why didn’t you correct me when I first called you Melissa?” Sara immediately put me at ease, telling me she knew I was obviously not aware of my mistake, so I asked again, “Why didn’t you say anything?” Her answer, “I just didn’t want to spoil everyone’s fun, but that last Melissa was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

  HOW JOAN RIVERS GETS ME LAID

  Late September 2013, I got a call from producers of the reality series, Joan & Melissa: Joan Knows Best? They said Penn Jillette had recommended me to play myself on a magic-themed episode that he and Teller would be appearing in. I love Penn & Teller and am a big Joan Rivers fan. So, without hesitation I told them yes.

  Not long after that the details were set. Besides my two days on camera with Joan, Bozena was also booked for a day, the production would be renting some of my props, and Magicopolis was arranged as a location. Penn & Teller would be doing their bits at another location on another day. But as a special added bonus, in addition to Joan, Bozena and I would also be sharing scenes with both Melissa Rivers and Broadway star Marissa Jaret Winokur.

  On the set of Joan Knows Best? with Bozena and Ms. Rivers.

  About Joan. Joan Rivers, the legendary octogenarian comedy icon, was, on camera, a hilarious, screaming, yelling, cursing, extremely vain, self-deprecating, acerbic, ribald, egotistical personality who’s politically incorrect in every way possible.

  On camera, I played opposite her and she did a million takes as that character. Off camera she was kind, gracious, easygoing, and generous. When Joan Rivers was playing Joan Rivers, I don’t think she was acting like herself; I think she was playing the character of Joan Rivers. Sorry to disappoint you.

  Next, a quick word about entertainment shows that are referred to as “reality” programs. Cops is perhaps a close-to-reality program. Cameras follow real-life law enforcement officers and capture them during car chases, making arrests, and taking bribes. I think the singing and dancing competitions and “Got Talent” shows are a little less “real” than Cops. As far as I can tell, the least “real” of the “reality” genre are the type of shows I’ve been involved with, including Epic Meal Empire, about a chef obsessed with bacon and whisky; Pit Boss, the saga of a talent agency for little people who rescue abused pit bulls as a hobby; Candidly Nicole, showcasing Nicole Ritchie’s feigned ineptitudes; and two Magicopolis reality test episodes for new TV series.

  In each of these productions, same as Joan’s show, a story with a beginning, middle, and end was conceived. There was an outline about what needed to happen in a predetermined number of scenes or short situations to move the story forward to its conclusion.

  The outlines didn’t have dialogue. Everything said was made up on the spot. Scenes were repeated as many as a dozen times, and new dialogue was improvised each time. Favorite moments from all the different takes were edited together into the needed scenes. The edited scenes were assembled to make the reality.

  The Rivers magic episode story outline went as follows: Joan tells Penn that her first showbiz job was as a magician’s assistant. Penn responds that he and Teller are performing a charity show at the Magic Castle. Wouldn’t it be great if Joan brushed up on her magic skills and also did the show? It sounds fun and Joan tells Penn yes. But Joan was a magician’s assistant back in 1948, was fired after only one performance, and remembers nothing.

  Winokur is manipulated into co-starring in Joan’s magic act. Joan persuades Steve to teach them some big tricks. Screw-ups occur, Winokur feels humiliated and insulted by Joan. Winokur quits. At the last minute Joan convinces Melissa to participate. Master Magicians Joan & Melissa are a hit at the Magic Castle charity show.

  On our first day, Joan and her comedy writer friend Tony meet Steve at the Magicopolis magic shop. Joan’s motive is to get Steve to teach her how to float people and saw them in half, so she can be a big hit at the magic charity show, but first she wants to ingratiate herself and see if Steve is the right one to work with.

  So, instead of coming out and saying what she really wants, Joan gives a cover story. She tells Steve she’s shopping for magic tricks to give her grandson Cooper for his birthday. Joan makes Steve show her every trick in the store ten times.

  That’s what happens for the next few hours. I demonstrate scores of tricks while Joan and Tony constantly chime in with wise cracks.

  One such example is with the Money Maker trick. I insert a blank piece of paper into a little plastic machine, turn the knob, and out comes a real dollar bill.

  Joan: “Bernie Madoff got 150 years for that.”

  Steve: “I hear if you can make it through the first 100 years, the last 50 are cake.”

  Tony: “I invested all my money in wrestling magazines.”

  Since Joan was starring on stage with Penn & Teller at a big charity show at the Magic Castle the next night, she requested that I teach her to float a lady, saw a woman in half, and perform a Houdini-like dangerous escape in the next twenty-four hours.

  For a good part of an hour we improvised and tried to surprise each other. I had to bring my A game to keep up with Joan and Tony when it came to the adlibs.

  The next day arrived, and Joan entered the theater with Winokur, who she intended to saw in half. Bozena taught Winokur how to be “sawn” while Steve instructed Joan on her part. Winokur got stuck in the sawing-in-half box. Joan and Winokur argued, and Winokur quit.

  Not a ton of on-camera time for me on day two, more for Bozena. Mostly, we got to witness Winokur, who starred in the long-running Broadway hit Hairspray, in concert with Joan. Once the outlined conflict ensued, Joan was a devastating explosion of funny as only she can be. I do not remember exactly how many various weird and wonderful things the girls adlibbed to light the fuse to that explosion, but I think what follows was my favorite.

  Bozena: The trick to the “sawing” is a combination of yoga and clever carpentry. Let me show you what you need to do with your body.

  Winokur: Impossible for me, I’m the kinda girl that pulls a hamstring opening mail.

  Joan: Don’t be a cry baby. If you push hard enough, your knee will bend the other way.

  Bozena and I staged a few rehearsal moments with Joan and Melissa for the camera. But mostly the four of us practiced two illusions off-camera, Joan making Melissa invisible, and Joan shrinking Melissa.

  Both illusions are particularly tricky because two persons’ actions need to be simultaneously performed and coordinated with precision or someone could get hurt. Both women were diligent in practicing and when we finished they were ready for their big performance at the Magic Castle. It was a satisfying end to a delightful day.

  As you may have gathered, I am very fond of the River
s girls. What Bozena and I witnessed of their chemistry and relationship was inspiring. After the goodbye and thank you, Joan took a humongous multi-jewel encrusted gold ring off her finger and gave it to Bozena as a gift. She said, “Bozena take this for good luck.” Bozena was so happy. I got lucky.

  The gift that keeps on giving.

  Nowadays, I mention the humongous multi-jewel encrusted gold ring and she’s in the mood. Like a soothing pleasant melody, Joan’s words float through Bozena’s mind with an intensity that brings back feelings from that special day. “Bozena take this for good luck.” Déjà vu. Bozena is happy. I get lucky. It’s positively Pavlovian. Thank you Joan.

  BACKWARD

  I had to slowly walk backwards through my memory, to write what’s between the introduction and here. Now that that’s done, to bookend this book’s introduction, what’s left to do is to write this . . .

  Do magicians instantly recall every single show they’ve ever done? Maybe some do, but I sure don’t. Certain performances I’ll never forget doing, while others, for whatever reasons, don’t come to mind. A high school friend whom I hadn’t seen since 1973 was at Magicopolis the other night. She brought up the weekly teen showcases I performed at in the late sixties at Sir George’s Royal Restaurant on Roscoe Boulevard in Canoga Park. I instantly remembered, but had forgotten not because those shows weren’t exciting and interesting for me at the time, but they just weren’t uppermost in my thoughts over forty years later. Were it not for the elephantine memory of my former classmate, those appearances may have escaped posterity.

  For those who crave incidental facts, someone else reminded me about my performances at Six Flags Magic Mountain and Universal Studios Hollywood. Others remember me from a college show or an appearance at their company party, all of which I’d also forgotten. I’m certain there are many other forgotten shows.

  One of the most important things to remember is that, like a lot of performers in my age group, over the decades and with many thousands of shows behind me, I’ve met thousands of people and simply can’t remember them all. Oftentimes, I am out somewhere . . . where some guy greets me, and the dialogue goes like this:

  “Hello Steve. Long time no see.”

  After an embarrassing moment, he follows up.

  “Look . . .” he says, “you don’t remember me, do you?”

  “Let’s see . . .” I reply, fumbling, “it was at . . .”

  “Yeah, I thought you didn’t remember.”

  “I’ve . . . uh . . . ah . . . your name is Chad . . . but you used to be taller and you took your mustache off. What a change!”

  “My name is Nick.”

  “You changed your name too?!”

  I hate to hurt anyone’s feelings by admitting that meeting them made so little impression on me that I’ve no recollection of doing so, but lying about it is usually worse.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  “I can’t believe I would have met a girl like you and forgotten about it.”

  “Fantasy Springs, 1995,” she said.

  It was an Indian casino near Palm Springs where I’d done a show.

  “And I was one of the dancers.”

  “Of course you were, now I remember!” I lied.

  “I had the operation six months ago.”

  I probably had seen her dancing, but as a boy dancer. Now he was a girl, and a gorgeous one at that with newly installed anatomical features.

  Around 1978 I was with my old buddy Bob Sheets at a magic convention in Wichita, Kansas. Approaching us was a rising young teenage magician, who later became a Vegas star, named Lance Burton. I urgently whispered to Bob, “That guy coming toward us. I’ve met him at least a half-dozen times. I have a terrible time remembering names.” “That is young Lance Burton,” Bob told me. “Lance, how nice to see you,” I said when we met a moment later. “How are you?” I turned to my longtime buddy then. “Lance I want you to . . . uh . . . ah . . . to meet . . . uh . . . my old friend . . . ah . . . umm . . .”

  Sooo, you who are reading this, if we should ever cross paths, help me when we meet, tell me who you are, and how you know me, if you do. The jolt of your words may bring a revival of half-forgotten nouns, that is to say, a resurgence of persons, places, things, from long ago. A good place for us to bump into each other is at Magicopolis in Santa Monica, where you can enjoy a magical mystery tour de force of sleight-of-hand, illusions, levitation, mind reading, disappearances, and a nail-biting Houdini-inspired escape.

  As a special bonus, when we meet, tell me you purchased this book, not that you borrowed, or stole it, or just read this blurb in a bookstore, and I’ll feature you on stage as a star in my next show or write about you glowingly in my next publication—if I remember.