The Last Greatest Magician in the World

by Jim Steinmeyer

  When Harry arrived in Moundsville, West Virginia, where the props were stored, Tampa assumed that he had been sent an ally. Instead Harry became the enemy and accomplished his job the only way he knew how, with Chicago-style threats. He sided with the musicians, ignored Tampa’s suggestions, and held to two simple demands: he wanted the Thurston contract torn up, and the props loaded into the truck.

  When Harry was finished, he sent his brother a list of his expenses that expressed his exasperation as well as his techniques.

  $10 to Mr. Rat Tampa to go home after we had finished at Moundsville, to keep him from telling the hotel owner that Howard had robbed him of his show and all his money, and left him in the town broke. $200 for railroad fare to bring [your props] to Beechhurst to keep the Rat from breaking up your furniture.

  JANE HAD ALWAYS BEEN a tomboy; as a little girl she had relished opportunities to climb trees, engage in swimming races, and impulsively run away from home on impromptu adventures. Her years with the Thurston show—when she was in her late teens—precisely corresponded to her most rebellious time. Adding to the problems, as the pretty costar of a touring show, she found handsome young men waiting to meet her at the stage door. Herman Hanson and George White were given the task of not only assisting with Jane’s act onstage, but also rebuffing the young suitors and acting as chaperones offstage.

  In January 1930, Jane met Harry Harris. She was nineteen and he was twenty-four. His late father, John Harris, had been a wealthy theater owner and state senator: an old friend from Thurston’s carnival days, Harris had loaned Thurston a dress suit when the Great Country Circus took the stage.

  Harry Harris followed the show from city to city, and Jane and Harry quickly fell in love, scheming to be married. When Harry casually asked Leotha if she’d like to have him for a son-in-law, Mrs. Thurston was clearly surprised and discouraged them. On January 18, a matinee day in Pittsburgh, the couple escaped between performances and were married under assumed names. Of course, they had to announce what they’d done; that was the purpose of getting married. Howard and Leotha were devastated. They arranged another marriage, a legal one, on February 22 in Newport, Kentucky. And then the couple endured a third marriage on March 1, a proper Catholic marriage in Cincinnati, to satisfy his family.

  But three weddings didn’t prove lucky. Jane had seen him as a wealthy, carefree playboy. Years later, Jane admitted “blundering into a marriage with this footloose and fancy free scion of society.” Howard made him an assistant stage manager to try to keep Jane on the show. But Harry was too irresponsible and careless to take on the job. He borrowed money from the Thurstons and had Jane sell her car to finance his lifestyle. He was also an alcoholic, prone to explosive accusations and bursts of violence. Jane endured black eyes and missing teeth. Just months after the couple were married, Howard Thurston and Harry Harris argued, and the young man shoved the magician, fracturing a rib. On another occasion, Harris pulled a blackjack, threatening his new father-in-law. Thurston decided to carry a tear gas pen for protection.

  Jane and Harry left the show to return to his family in Pennsylvania, and their relationship meant that Jane bounced back and forth between the tour and Harry, complicating life for everyone working in Thurston’s show. The couple’s problems resulted in headlines in March 1931, when the show played Detroit. Thurston heard a commotion in the couple’s hotel room and pushed the door open to find Harris drunk, ripping away Jane’s clothing and kicking her. Thurston shoved him down, Harris bounded to his feet to swing at Thurston, and the magician removed a tear gas pen from his pocket, spraying it in Harris’s face. He then calmly summoned the police and followed up by filing a lawsuit.

  Days later, Jane sent a letter to Harris’s brother, John:There are two sides to every story, and I am compelled to tell you a few things you don’t know. I’ve been beaten up for the last time, cursed and insulted for the last time. This morning your brother spat in my face twice after he had come from sharing his bed with a prostitute. He said I had been intimate with my father, that my mother was queer for women, that I was a whore, and a million other horrible things. He has called my mother a nigger lover, and some names I can’t write. My dad, too.

  Harry Harris apologized sweetly and Jane relented. They both returned to Harris’s family estate in Pennsylvania and cut off communications with Howard and Leotha, further tormenting them. “Now that you have gone back to each we advise that both of you do everything possible to promote a continuous happy married life,” Thurston wrote to his daughter, attempting a reconciliatory tone and promising “our past attitude of non-interference with your marriage.”

  IN THE SUMMER OF 1930, just after Jane’s marriage was announced and the season closed, Howard circled back through Chicago for another session with Dr. Schireson. His face-lifts now required regular maintenance. The paraffin was finally removed and his skin was peeled and smoothed. This operation seemed to be especially successful, and many friends remarked on how youthful he appeared. But not everyone was fooled; at a Society of American Magicians’ dinner, he met Adelaide Herrmann, the grand dame of magic. Madame Herrmann was proud and matronly, with a shock of white hair. Thurston casually asked her if she was considering retirement, and Madame Herrmann took immediate offense. “My hair might be white, Mr. Thurston,” she sneered, “but at least I’ve never stooped to having my face lifted!” Allan Shaw, Thurston’s old associate from Australia, was especially blunt in a letter to his friend, Charles Carter: “Thurston has had what is left of his face upholstered once again.”

  Thurston used the face-lift to advocate for his latest health fad—insisting that his youthful energy and appearance was a benefit of a new diet. A printed card detailed a special mix of starches, sugars, vegetables, and fats in specific combinations. He gave away thousands of the cards, urging friends and acquaintances to follow the chart:To be able to lead you into the ways of health, youth and continued days is indeed a pleasure.... Starches and sugars require an alkaline solution in the stomach for proper digestion; Proteins and fruits require an acid solution....

  Thurston first encountered the diet at the Penn Athletic Club in Philadelphia, and there’s no question that he believed in its benefits; he even prescribed it for his brother Harry and Harry’s business partner, Rae Palmer. But the combination of face-lifts and diet cards was one of his most effective deceptions.

  When he visited Chicago, Howard and Harry shared breakfast at Harry’s State Street apartment. Their relationship had always been difficult. Harry had developed an annoying way of lecturing his older brother on business, enterprise, and loyalty. Howard understood that Harry’s perspectives on show business, from his Chicago peep show and dime museum, were narrow, and his latest obsessions had been typically lascivious and small-minded. Most recently, he’d wanted Howard’s lawyer to trademark the title “Miracle of Life” to promote a “pickled punk” show, the sideshow term for aborted human fetuses preserved in bottles of formaldehyde. Or Harry had tried to purchase a live manatee from Florida, surmising that the animal’s humanlike breasts would fascinate audiences and allow him to bill the attraction as a genuine mermaid. But Howard had relied on his younger brother to bail out his business ventures, and he gradually ceded power to Harry, forced to listen to his schemes and naïve homilies.

  That summer morning, Harry was surprisingly expansive and disconcertingly blunt. “Howard,” Harry began, hitching his chair closer, “I think it’s time for me to take out my own show. My own Thurston magic show.” Harry sketched out a rough plan. He wouldn’t rely on theaters, but would have a first-class tent and truck show, playing smaller Midwest cities. He’d present the best illusions from his brother’s show—the same basic formula that Thurston had proposed for Dante and Tampa—and would bill it as “Thurston’s Mysteries of India.”

  Howard took a deep breath. He tried to imagine Harry performing magic.

  “It’s like this, Howard,” Harry continued. “I’ve been happy to support you. I’ve been happy t
o take care of your dirty work. I think that I was proven right with that Tampa.” Harry lowered his voice. “Howard, I took care of that rat, because blood is thicker than water. I’ve worked hard for twenty years to erase any black marks upon my character—to stop the kootch shows, to avoid contact with any of those people.” Howard started to cut off the conversation but Harry insisted.

  “No, no. This time you’ve got to let me talk. You left me out of your book, and that hurt me. As a brother. As a friend. And this time, I’m asking you to include me.”

  Harry sketched out an ambitious plan for a sixteen-week tour under canvas, during the summer and fall months. He wanted the same consideration that Dante had received; they would split expenses and split profits. As he spoke, Howard watched his brother light a cigarette and noticed Harry’s smooth, placid features in the sunlight. That’s what the face-lift was for. Harry had been planning his own career as a magician.

  “Now the only way to make this show work is to mention me in articles, to include me in publicity,” Harry continued, the words spilling out. “Here’s what you’re gonna tell ’em. Years ago, when we toured India, I stayed behind, to study the profound mysteries of the Hindu. Right?” Howard furrowed his brow.

  “It’s crap, a’ course, but this is what you tell ’em,” Harry chuckled. “They’ll eat it up. I learned the secrets of the mystic. Then I had a successful real estate operation in Chicago, because I always felt that one entertainer in the family was enough. That’s why I never revealed my training as a mystic. And today, you consider me a peer of all mystics. You get it? You’re boosting me, because I’m just as good as the Indian mystics.”

  The cigarette dangling from his lips and the thick Chicago drawl didn’t enhance the effect. But Howard knew that he was trapped: business, enterprise, and loyalty. Harry may have learned the routine from Hinky Dinka Kenna, Al Capone, or any of his other Chicago associates, holding the financial reins so tightly that he couldn’t be denied.

  Howard conned himself into believing it could work: Mysteries of India could earn a little money, and Howard could secure some good, talented magicians to perform under his brother’s banner. He nodded. “It’s an interesting idea, Harry.”

  OF COURSE, it was a terrible idea. Harry spent lavishly on the tent, the orchestra car and trucks. He knew this part of the business inside and out, but his priorities were upside down. He had banners painted and electric lights and generators ordered. But he had no idea how to perform magic. Harry hired a troupe of assistants, including Chicago magicians Vic Torsberg and George Boston. Meanwhile, Howard located some dependable performers—Percy Abbott, an Australian magician and magic dealer, and Eugene Laurant, a well-known Lyceum performer—to step in and supervise the magic.

  For Howard, the most interesting part of the deal was the elephant. Harry agreed to share the costs for a baby elephant. This would finally allow Howard Thurston to present the Appearing Elephant Illusion from Fasola. It was just the sort of sensational publicity he needed for the show. During the summer months, the elephant would be a special feature in Harry’s tent show.

  Harry and Rae bought a cute baby elephant named Grace for $2,500. Since Grace was now an unfortunate name, Harry called her Delhi. Through his carnival connections, Harry found an elephant trainer, John Robinson, who joined the Howard Thurston show.

  THURSTON HAD JUGGLED various lawsuits through his career: the assistant who stole money; the audience member who was cut by one of Thurston’s thrown cards and was awarded $500 in a court judgment. But the Korfmann Monkey Case was especially agonizing as it dragged through the New York courts. Thurston, Leotha, and George had given depositions that they neither recognized the monkey nor owned it, that it was the property of Dante’s son, Alvin Jansen—this might have been technically true, as Alvin took possession of Mickey, and the monkey died when the Dante company was traveling in Europe. For some time, Thurston was confident that the nuisance suit would be rejected. But court papers suggest that his lawyers bungled the case hopelessly, failing to obtain the proper medical examinations, or testimony from Dante and Alvin. A psychiatrist (“alienist”) testified that he believed that the boy’s epilepsy had been “super-induced” by the monkey bite, but there was evidence that the boy had suffered from epilepsy before the incident.

  The family originally sought as much as $125,000, but when it was finally settled at the end of 1930, Thurston was ordered to pay $20,000. The judgment couldn’t have come at a more perilous time. Howard’s investments were failing and the magic show was continually strapped for money, suffering along with the country’s failed economy.

  IN OCTOBER 1930, when little Delhi joined the show, she was too sick to be used on stage. Robinson nursed her backstage and Thurston had a special blanket ordered for her to keep her warm. “Don’t worry about the elephant,” Howard wrote to Harry and Rae. They were obviously concerned about their investment, but Thurston reminded them that they’d always made money from him. It was, after all, the Maid of Mystery, the peep-show device from their amusement business, that had netted Harry between $40,000 and $50,000 of profit over the years. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have the Maid.”

  But despite these reassurances, the elephant died just days later. The trainer Robinson wrote, “Harry, I am writing you to let you know that your brother was in no way responsible for Delhi’s death. He had just given her medicine. I loved the little thing and she loved me.”

  But Delhi’s fate seemed to trigger Harry’s wrath. To him, the incident represented Howard’s carelessness and his lack of support. Robinson gave several accounts of Delhi’s last days, inspiring a rambling letter from Harry that boiled over with frustration:Howard, you put the elephant on the street without any boots, you ordered the heat in the theater turned off at night, you allowed the dirty rat John to leave the theater and sleep with a broad all night and return at 7:00 a.m. when Delhi was dying. This is John’s own story substantiated by your own crew. You wanted to give my elephant to Jane. From that moment on we knew she was doomed to die.

  Harry noticed that Howard had reneged on their agreement and had never mentioned Harry in publicity.

  I do not want to be an actor, but I do want to commercialize on the name of Thurston and I know that I can do things that I did on the fairground and do them right. You, or no living soul, is going to stop me from getting out of the terrible, disgraceful life of a kootch show owner. I have put in years on how to speak the English language and with the help of my friends I believe I will be able to master gestures enough to satisfy the public.

  Harry ended with a long accounting of the money owed him—for taking care of Tampa and driving him out of the business, for buying the elephant, for investing in his projects. But he was sure that Bernard Hyman, Thurston’s lawyer who had heavily invested him in failed real estate deals, would be ready to step in.

  When you reach Chicago, the Jew will make it his business to meet you there and clip you for the amount of money you have available. The whole United States knows that this Jew is trimming you for every dollar you make. The $1500 you sent him from Cincinnati you could have given to me. Your Brother, Harry

  Of course, the elephant’s death had devastated Howard. He had planned on this feature for the new tour and couldn’t afford the loss. Harry’s wrath knocked his older brother back on his heels.

  For years, Harry had reminded Howard of all of his worst qualities—his embarrassing background, his criminal associations, and the dirty show business that he had left behind. Howard had these elements erased from his life. But Harry, the portrait of Dorian Gray, represented all of the worst secrets hidden away at that State Street address in Chicago.

  Howard was increasingly horrified by the thought that the portrait was about to climb out of the dime museum and take center stage.

  Billboard announced:What is without a doubt the biggest magic news to break in many years is the announcement just made by Howard Thurston, world’s best known magician, that he, in
association with his brother Harry, will shortly launch a new magical enterprise, Mysteries of India, under an elaborately equipped waterproof tent theater.... Harry Thurston is well versed in the art of magic. Many years ago Harry Thurston managed Howard Thurston’s show, when the latter made a tour of the world. Harry Thurston decided to remain in India and make a detailed study of the mysteries presented by the magic men of that country. During the last 20 years, while engaged in business in Chicago, he has never failed to make a trip to India biennially to learn the new stunts practiced by the magic men there. Howard Thurston stated that his brother knows as much about the mysteries of India as any man living.

  Howard was exasperated with each line of the ridiculous ballyhoo, but was now trapped into the partnership. Mysteries of India became one of the most infamous productions in the history of entertainment.

  DELHI’S FATE SEEMED to represent the hopelessness of the times, the mounting disappointments and business failures—Fasola’s death, Harry Thurston’s inevitable show, the Monkey Case ruling, and, of course, Jane’s marriage, which had managed to alienate her from her parents. Thurston was typically stoic about it all. He would have retired, if he could have—if the breathing device, the gold mine, or the real estate investments had ever paid off. Leotha took to her bed in a dark personal depression. It was as if her enchanted world of magic had collapsed around her.