by Val Andrews
My friend illustrated to me how well he could control his true feelings and beliefs when he said, 'Quite so Mr Ernst, but I just want to put Mrs Houdini's mind at rest. Are you quite sure that you can think of nobody who might bear him a grudge?'
When Ernst referred to Houdini as a saintly man I did not dare catch Sherlock Holmes's eye for I knew that certain thoughts must be passing through both our minds. Ernst then proceeded to rattle off fully a dozen people who had never wished the showman any good, mostly rival illusionists; De Biere, Goldin, Cirnoc, Kleppini, they varied between the illustrious and the all-but-unknown names. Then there was Doctor Wilson, editor of the Sphinx Magazine; a man of unblemished character short of a dislike for the man whom he considered an upstart. A writer, Clinton Burgess, could have held a grudge over a book contract and there were other names that we did not recognize. Following this, Ernst reeled off a list of magic clubs and societies and finished by mentioning the entire Imperial German Government of the immediate pre-war era.
We did not mention the murder clause in the Acme Insurance policy, having been asked not to do so by Beatrice, even in conversation with this, her late husband's lawyer.
Mrs Houdini made our investigations rather easier by holding a dinner party to which she had invited six or seven of Houdini's friends and colleagues. She had herself cooked an excellent meal; the main course being roast pork. She announced to the company in general, 'I miss dear Harry so but I can't tell you how wonderful it is to be able to eat and serve whatever I like! Harry was not orthodox but he did draw the line at roast pork. I'm a Catholic you know and that applies to my tastes too.'
The dinner guests had not been informed of the true purpose of our presence, with us being introduced as, 'two of Harry's friends from England, the famous detective Sherlock Holmes and his sidekick, Doc Watson!' Holmes's exploits were as celebrated in America as they were at home and he was certainly the lion of the evening. As most of my readers will know, the Americans have more relaxed ways than ours, even where a faise where rly formal dinner party is concerned. For example, there is no observance of the age-old British custom of the ladies withdrawing to leave the gentlemen to their port. Instead everyone repairs to the lounge for coffee; an arrangement far more to my liking. As we drank the milky beverage from blue china cups we were, I feel sure, able to gain more information through simple conversation than would have been possible had our mission been made known.
One of the guests, Joseph Dunninger, was a rival magical showman who spoke well of Houdini which was scarcely surprising in the presence of Beatrice. He was a distinguished-looking man, formally dressed for an American as far as his evening dress was concerned. He spoke with a studied tone, rather like a man who had come from lowly origins but had taken on the speech and manners of those that he wished to emulate. He was quite unlike Houdini in this particular, for Harry had never seemed ashamed of his rough speech.
'You knew Harry of course, Mr Holmes, but did you ever see him perform?' asked Dunninger.
Holmes shook his head. 'No and this makes it hard for me to visualize that which made him so celebrated. I have spoken to those who have inferred that he simply took some old fairground deceptions and polished them for a theatre audience.'
I could see that Holmes was baiting Dunninger, in order to extract something of value to us.
'My dear sir, you oversimplify! There is a basic truth in that but he did more than polish those old gimcracks; he improved them out of all recognition and above all he presented them with a sort of dynamic charm. He was dramatic, he was exciting, but above all he was charismatic. With Harry it was all in the pre-sen-tation. (Dunninger had this trick of elongating his words, as if working to a distant gallery.) For instance, a few years ago Harry appeared at the New York Hippodrome. It's a huge house, a really big theatre. His music played, it was a Sousa march and, try to imagine this Mr Holmes, out onto that enormous stage stepped Harry Houdini, a man of less-than-average height, ever so slightly bow-legged and wearing a tuxedo suit that looked like he'd slept in it. With one hand held behind his back, like Napoleon in reverse, he walked to the centre, placed one foot onto the footlights, leant forward and turned onto that audience the most beautiful smile in the whole history of show business. He was not just a great showman, the guy was charismatic! That was the real secret of Harry Houdini.'
I glanced at Mrs Houdini and noticed a tear in her eye. I'll be frank and say that this far I had considered her to be rather a cold fish but I now realized that Beatrice Houdini really did care. As for the rest of the guests, they nodded wisely.
One of them, a John Mulholland, added, 'He was a bit of a contradiction was Harry. Off stage he could be just as charming as Joe has described. But sometimes he could be just the opposite; it depended how the mood took him. I think Bess will forgive me for saying that mood swings were part of Harry's character.' He looked a little bit uncomfortable as if he had caught a gleam in Beatrice Houdini's eye, then continued, 'Of course he was always kind to those less fortunate than himself. He gave plenty of time to beginners in magic and if you were getting up a collection for charity you could always depend upon his generosity.'
'Did the mood swings that you refer to mean that he made a number of enemies?' I enquired.
Holmes glared at me as if to say, 'Watson, don't make our enquiries so obvious.' I realized though, almost as soon as I had spoken, that I had overplayed my hand.
Mulholland, however, did not take my question as being unusual. 'Doctor Watson, all great showmen, all great magicians, in fact, all great men make enemies. They don't have to do much more than succeed in order to gain them. But there are a couple of Harry's professional colleagues, straight-shooters at that who were scarcely crazy about him. Take Horace Goldin, for example, a lovely guy, a great magician and very inventive. He made a fortune out of sawing women in half - why that illusion is perhaps the most famous theatrical draw in the vaudeville field that we are ever likely to see. The demand from managements was so great at one point that Horace had to hire at least half a dozen other illusionists to tour road companies while he presented it himself in the prime venues. Servais Le Roy and Harry Jansen, for example; these guys were big names already but happy to glean some of the pickings from the sawing illusion. But Horace is a big gambler, he loses fortunes as fast as he makes 'em! Right now he is back to playing the variety houses in your country Mr Holmes...even plays picture houses in between the movies. I tell ya he needs the dough.'
I could see that Holmes was anxious to gain information of a more pertinent nature without making this too obvious. Almost casually he asked, 'I wonder why he disliked Harry Houdini?'
Bess gave a sharp glance in Dunninger's direction, so I imagine the reply that Holmes received was milder than it might have been had Mrs Houdini not been present.
'Oh it was a storm in a teacup really. You see, Houdini was already famous when Horace was still making his way. Goldin thought that once whilst they were in Martinka's magic shop that Harry treated him with less than the respect that he figured he deserved. Afterwards, when Horace became a big name also he would leave a room if Harry entered it and would refer to him as Dime Museum Harry.'
'Goldin is a nobody, not good enough to clean Harry's boots!' Bess interrupted. There was a gentle murmur of dissent but nobody commented. Dunninger hastily changed his subjective comment. 'There is also De Biere. Now there is a highly respected guy and a consummate artist. But Harry latterly spoke rather harshly about him. I don't know the reason.'
'Arnold De Biere invested in one of Harry's movies,' Bess chimed in. 'It lost money and Harry lost a fortune. De Biere lost some money too, but he went into the deal with his eyes wide open. He is just a cry baby. Show business is a gamble. God knows I can vouch for that. Harry was always bold in his ventures and if he lost out he would pick himself up and start over.'
Joseph Dunninger was the first to take his leave, departing, it seemed to me, as soon as he decently could. He was effusive in his farewel
ls to Bess but she was icily polite. He turned to Holmes as he departed, 'I'm starting a new radio show soon, Mr Holmes. The formula will be as before, where I show a trick to a different celebrity each week. I'd like to include you if you are still in town. It would be great to bill myself as the man who fooled Sherlock Holmes.'
My friend smiled and nodded politely but after Dunninger had departed he murmured to me, 'Watson, I wonder if he has considered the possibility that after appearing on his wireless entertainment I might be able to have some cards printed to the effect that I am tthe that Ihe only man not to be fooled by the Great Dunninger?'
Other guests lingered longer. The youngest among them, who was little more than a boy, told us that his professional name was Milbourne Christopher. When I enquired what his off-stage name was he said, 'Christopher Milbourne, I just changed them around. I got into magic after seeing Horace Goldin from the back of the gallery in Baltimore when I was five years old. He really inspired me and I'd like to present a show just like his. But I have another ambition, to be a famous writer and what I would really like to do is work on a biography of Houdini. That really would make a great book.'
Beatrice Houdini breathed heavily. 'Harold Kellock is working on Harry's biography, under my supervision. Say kid, why don't you go write about Horace Goldin if you admire him so much?' Christopher blushed and murmured some apologetic and placating words, then melted into the background.
Bess turned to Daisy and enquired in a stage whisper, 'Who invited him?
'I certainly didn't!' Daisy hissed. 'I think he came with Dunninger - pity he didn't leave with him!'
Soon the magicians present were showing each other card tricks whilst Bessie held court with their wives. Holmes and I repaired to the back garden where we could smoke our pipes without giving offence to the ladies. 'Watson, there would appear to be no shortage of rivals and those who disliked Houdini for one reason or another but so far I cannot imagine any that we have met as wishing him dead,' commented Holmes.
'How about this Horace Goldin that Dunninger spoke of?'
'The man is famous, almost as famous as Houdini himself. He would have a lot to lose. No, there is a great deal of ground to cover, I'll be bound before we gain even the whisper of a lead in this affair. Moreover, it is extremely likely that we are on a fool's errand and that no foul play is involved. And yet...'
I caught the gleam in his gimlet eyes. I could tell that
Sherlock Holmes was intrigued and intended to continue an open-minded series of enquiries.
The following day Beatrice Houdini invited us to visit the New York film studio where, she told us, Harry made a couple of his movies. I found that this diversion was most interesting and entertaining but I could see that Holmes wondered a little at her motive. None the less he did not question the purpose of our visit and seemed also to be intrigued with the business of making a movie. We were taken into a structure, rather like an aeroplane hangar where scenery had been erected, before which actors played their roles. Between us and all of this there existed a vast collection of paraphernalia in the form of floodlights and a very large moving picture camera upon a wheeled tripod, plus a number of other contraptions the purpose for which I had no inkling. After we had spent an interesting hour watching the director coaxing the actors and actresses through their performances, Bessie took us to the office of a Mr Burton King, who she introduced to us as the man who directed for Harry in The Man from Beyond.
King was an impressive, active-seeming man of distinguished appearance. We sat in his office over the inevitable cup of coffee as he told us something of his association with Houdini.
'We shot most of the e Mmost offootage in New Jersey and combined it with some location stuff shot in Hollywood and at Niagara Falls.' Holmes was interested in the need for these location scenes.
'We could never set up a big outdoor scene in this studio but it's cheaper to get scenes shot in California and then back-project them onto a big screen and have the actors work in front of it, reshooting the whole thing. A lot more economical than sending a whole bunch of actors out to Hollywood. Why you'd need to keep them up there in hotels, where here they go home nights. Saves a fortune. Of course there are companies in Hollywood to whom money is no object, they waste it on all manner of things. They'll put people on their payroll at the drop of a hat, just because they have some special knowledge or claim to fame, so to speak.'
He picked up a handful of photographs and spread them on the desk in front of us. 'See this guy here?' He pointed to a figure in a group of four actors. The man indicated was wearing, like the others, the sort of clothing that one would associate with that worn on the great prairies. He had a weather-beaten face and sported a hard stetson-type hat. King continued, 'His name is Al Jennings for present purposes but he claims to be the famous outlaw Jesse James.'
I was astonished, having believed that James had been shot in the back by a man called Bob Ford; the London newspapers having made much of this fact a few years earlier. I mentioned this, but King said, 'Well, that is what everyone believed, but according to Jennings another guy got shot and buried, believed by everyone to be Jesse. I tell ya Doc, this guy Jennings knows so much about Jesse that it doesn't seem possible that it ain't him! You can ask him about Jesse's background and associates and exploits until the cows come home and get convincing answers, all of which get substantiated by enquiries. One of the big companies have signed him up, to play Jesse in a movie. In fact, they are making enquiries and discreet negotiations right now, to be sure that if they reveal him as Jesse, he doesn't get arrested before the picture is finished. I think it will be OK. I don't believe there is any state that wants Jesse for anything after so long.'
Holmes was intrigued, I could tell, and his usually sharp eyes glistened with amusement. He turned to me. 'Imagine what might happen, Watson, if it was decided to make a moving picture about the late lamented Professor Moriarty and an individual presented himself, claiming to be the professor, with a convincing story to the effect that he did not in fact perish at the Reichenbach Falls?'
'But his death was proven beyond doubt.'
'So was mine, Watson, so was mine.'
I could give no answer to this but King obviously found Holmes's words both amusing and intriguing. 'Say Mr Holmes, would you consider playing yourself in a movie?'
Holmes made light of this. 'William Gillette does it better and looks more like me than I do.'
This was all but true and I entertained King with a retelling of the events of some twenty years earlier in which Holmes had capitalized upon the likeness between himself and Gillette and which I had titled in my mind as 'The Adventure of the Eminent Thespian'.
Burton King then placed another photograph upon the table, this one of a much earlier vintage than those depicting Jennings and others. The picture was a sepia-toned, whole-plate studio portrweestudio ait of a man of some thirty years dressed in what I can only describe as formal Western attire. He adopted the stiff pose required from a long exposure and his right hand was placed upon the hilt of a huge Colt revolver which rested in a holster at his waist, his jacket raised slightly to accommodate this pose.
'This is an authentic portrait of Jesse James, taken at about the time when he quit being an outlaw and took to family life,' said King. 'If you compare it with those stills of Jennings I think you will see why his claim to be Jesse has been widely accepted.'
Holmes laid the most graphic photograph of the group and the authentic picture of Jesse James side by side. His eyes closed down to sharpen his vision and he made comparison. 'Allowing for the passing of a decade or two there is a more than significant likeness. Not only are the features in general extremely similar but the ears in particular,' Holmes said, at length.
I understood why he made this emphasis, because many a case of mistaken identity has ultimately been resolved through a study of these appendages. Medical authorities have assured criminologists that no two pairs of ears are exactly alike.
'We must assume that no record of James's fingerprints exist, otherwise the matter would have been resolved beyond doubt.' Holmes took his lens from an inside jacket pocket and scanned the pictures again with its aid. Then he chuckled and his shrewd old face fell into countless creases as he could not contain his amusement. Sherlock Holmes pushed the photograph of Jesse James back towards Burton King, 'Study the hand which grips the Colt butt and tell me what occurs to you.'
King studied the picture. 'He had a large hand, with long thick fingers, just as does Al Jennings.'
The detective passed his lens to the director, 'How many fingers do you see?'
'Well, I'll be gosh darned, Jesse was missing his third finger!' gasped King.
'Exactly, study again the very clear modern pictures of Jennings and I think you will agree that he has his full complement of digits. But, if any doubt lingers, a personal interview with Jennings will completely resolve the doubt. I think I can safely say that Al Jennings is not Jesse James. Of course, he could be related to him, or at least be a close compatriot, someone who was a member of the notorious James gang, known by reputation even to a simple British subject. This would account for his knowledge of James's background.'