by Dynamo
CONTENTS
COVER
ABOUT THE BOOK
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
TITLE PAGE
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE – THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM
CHAPTER ONE – A MAGICAL AWAKENING
CHAPTER TWO – HUSTLE AND BUSTLE
CHAPTER THREE – MAGIC YOU CAN TOUCH
CHAPTER FOUR – AVOIDING THE STRAIGHT LINES
CHAPTER FIVE – THE HEROES OF MAGIC
CHAPTER SIX – REMEMBER MY NAME
CHAPTER SEVEN – OUT OF THE REALM OF NORMALITY
CHAPTER EIGHT – WHO’S THE MAGICIAN?
CHAPTER NINE – THE MAGIC OF TELEVISION
CHAPTER TEN – SOUNDTRACK OF MY LIFE
CHAPTER ELEVEN – THE LOOK ON PEOPLE’S FACES
CHAPTER TWELVE – LEAP OF FAITH
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – FLYING HIGH IN THE FAVELAS
CHAPTER FOURTEEN – REALITY IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT
CHAPTER FIFTEEN – DREAMS CAN COME TRUE
EPILOGUE – KEEPING THE MAGIC ALIVE
PICTURE SECTION
PICTURE CREDITS
COPYRIGHT
About the Book
When you’re a kid life can seem tough; tougher for some than others. But the darkest of times can also be the most enlightening.
When his late granddad showed him magic for the first time, Steven Frayne knew there was more to life than hiding from bullies. He had a destiny. A calling. In that moment Dynamo was born: the most exciting magician of the 21st century.
Since then, Dynamo has shocked, thrilled and amazed men, women and children from all walks of life, all over the world. With his mind-blowing illusions, he has catalysed a whole new era of magic.
Now, in his very first book, Dynamo invites you to join him on a breathtaking journey across the globe. Be prepared to levitate Lindsay Lohan in Singapore, transform snow into diamonds in the Austrian mountains and walk on water across the River Thames. Along the way, he reveals how to make the impossible possible, what it takes to pull off the greatest stunts man has ever seen, and why everyone needs magic in their lives.
This is no illusion. This is the real story of the awe-inspiring Dynamo.
About the Author
Dynamo was born Steven Frayne in December 1982 in Bradford. He grew up on the notorious Delph Hill housing estate, where he was raised by his mother while his father spent long periods in prison. At the same time, he was forced to battle a debilitating form of Crohn’s disease as well as playground bullies.
After being introduced to magic by his beloved granddad and receiving a loan from the Prince’s Trust, he carved out a career as one of the most respected magicians and illusionists in the world.
His TV series Dynamo: Magician Impossible broke all viewing records for UKTV channel Watch and won three Broadcast Awards.
Dynamo now lives in London where he continues to dream up even bigger and better illusions to prove to the world that really nothing is impossible.
Dedicated to the man who inspired all of the magic in this book,
Kenneth Walsh (1927 – 2012)
* * *
PROLOGUE
* * *
THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM
STANDING ON THE banks of the River Thames, I shivered slightly in the early evening breeze. With the Houses of Parliament lit up in front of me, and the doleful toll of Big Ben ringing in my ears, I could feel my stomach churning nervously.
This was it. This was the moment I’d been building up to for what seemed like the whole of my life. It all felt so surreal.
Back home in Bradford, I knew the man who had got me here, Kenneth Walsh, my great-grandfather, or ‘Gramps’ as I call him, would watch this; maybe even the kids who used to pick on me and push me around. As I teetered on the edge of the riverbank, a crazy kaleidoscope of everything that had happened in the last twenty-eight years raced through my mind. As clichéd as it may sound, my whole life flashed before me.
I thought of all the people who had told me I’d never amount to anything; the tough times growing up on my estate; Gramps showing me magic for the first time; the teachers who sneered at my dreams of wanting to be a famous magician; the years working clubs around the country to make ends meet; shuffling my cards for hours in a hospital bed; impressing everyone from Prince Charles and Jay-Z to Will Smith and Chris Martin; the knock-backs that at one time threatened to derail my career; and the moment I was given the name Dynamo.
Since the age of twelve, magic had been my life. It was all I’d thought about, all day, every day. Every waking hour (and even in my dreams) I’d be conjuring up new ideas, new illusions, new ways to bring something special to the world. But never had I faced anything on the same scale as the challenge that lay before me now. I was about to walk across the River Thames.
Taking a deep breath, I nervously lifted my right leg. As my foot touched the surface of the increasingly choppy water, I heard a loud gasp. Above me, a crowd of people had gathered on the banks of the river and on Westminster Bridge.
Shock, surprise and anticipation clouded their faces. I felt the water flowing beneath my feet, soaking through my trainers, sending shivers through my body. I could feel a strong wind gusting across the river, making my heart beat even faster.
I was doing it. I was standing on water. There was no turning back now.
As the audience swelled from ten to 2,000 people, I tried to clear my mind. I had walked on water before at a swimming pool but never on a natural body of unpredictable water. The Thames is a different beast. It has incredibly strong, incalculable undercurrents and there’s always a lot of traffic. Completely unpredictable. One wrong move and I could be sucked under the murky water – the kind of vanishing act I would never want to undertake. Over fifty people a year lose their lives to this almighty river, so I had to carefully judge each step as the waves rolled around me. Until now, I hadn’t understood the gravity of what I was attempting to do.
Nevertheless, I could feel the excitement running through the crowd as more and more people gathered. The energy made my hair stand on end. The power from the spectators was keeping me up there, keeping me afloat. I looked across to the Houses of Parliament, a view I had admired many times, but not really looked at until today. These grand old buildings had seen so much history unfold but would also be witness to me, Steven Frayne from Delph Hill, trying to make his own mark on the world.
For my very first television series, I wanted to do something iconic. It was vital that I captured the hearts of the nation. I had one shot to communicate and connect with people – fail, and I would be back in my hometown of Bradford, making ends meet with my street magic. Succeed, and I would take a giant leap towards being among the great entertainers of our time. I knew that if I was to make my name in the competitive field of magic, then I had to do something huge. Until relatively recently, the idea of walking on the moon was as inconceivable as walking on water. I wanted – needed – to prove that with hard work, determination and a little bit of magic, nothing was impossible.
I’d joked with my manager and close friend, Dan Albion, for years about walking across the Thames. I always said that if I ever got my own TV programme I would walk on water. And now, what seemed like the impossible had happened. I had my own show and I had to live up to my word.
I continued on. The water rippling under my soles. The crowd cheering. My knees knocking… Normally, when I’m nervous, I touch my tummy. But, given the importance of keeping my concentration at that particular moment in time, I managed to resist the urge. I swallowed my fear, steadie
d my nerves and carried on. Determination gripped every cell of my being and I took another step and another. And then I heard the roar of a speedboat engine and the flash of a blue light came into my peripheral vision…
It was my intention to walk the entire width of the Thames (a mere 826.8ft), but unfortunately the police had other ideas. I was in the zone at that point – adrenalin was coursing through my system and I was intently focused on reaching the other side of the river. So my memories are a blur of the actual moment I got picked up and dropped into the police boat. They put me on the floor and I could hear them asking me questions, but it wasn’t computing. I was just so caught up in the moment that I had no idea what they were saying to me. ‘What were you thinking? Are you all right?’ they shouted, as they tried to figure out who I was and what I was doing. Luckily, there’s no law against walking across the Thames and they let me go. I guess they’d never imagine a law was needed!
They took me back to the riverbank. I went home, texted my Gramps (‘I’ve just walked across the River Thames, it was amazing!’), and then wrapped myself in warm towels and fell into a deep sleep.
It didn’t hit me properly until a few days later and I started to see the coverage on the TV news and in the newspapers. On 25 June 2011, I like to think that, in some way, I created history. I’d done what I’d set out to achieve. I’d brought a feeling of wonder and amazement to the people. I’d proved the power magic has. For as long I can remember, all I have wanted to do is amaze people; to take away the stress of everyday life – if only for a minute – and show them something truly astonishing.
Ultimately I had showed that you really can do something that is seen as impossible by others – even if I had ruined a great pair of trainers in the process.
Walking across the River Thames was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done. But sometimes you’ve got to go for your dreams, no matter what the risk. It’s better to try and to fail than it is to fail to try.
I’ve gone from being an insecure kid growing up on the Delph Hill estate in Bradford to travelling around the world, meeting people from all walks of life, sharing the most wondrous thing I know: the power of magic. Now, I want you to join me on the ride.
This book is about my life, sure, but it’s also more than that. It’s about how determination and hard work can change anyone’s life. I hope it will provide inspiration and that the lessons I’ve learnt will help you on your life’s journey. For this reason, I haven’t written it in the usual chronological way – I’ve organised the chapters around places that have been important to me, and sometimes I will jump back and forward in time when a certain location brings back memories. I like to keep it playful, keep you guessing, and to shuffle things around like a deck of cards – just like I do in my magic. The world-renowned American magician and pickpocket Apollo Robbins once told me that the best magic isn’t linear – it doesn’t follow straight lines. I can only agree, and I have been influenced by this idea in the writing of these chapters.
This book really is about proving to you that nothing is impossible. It’s about showing that whatever you want to achieve, you can make it happen. For me, magic has been my path – maybe it could be yours too? After all, everyone needs a little magic in their life…
* * *
CHAPTER 1
* * *
A MAGICAL AWAKENING
‘COME ON STEVEN, get in the bin,’ the boy cackled as his brother lumbered towards me. For a second, I almost gave in. I’d been in that dustbin so many times it was almost my home away from home. The younger brother, let’s call him ‘Paul’, and his older sibling, ‘Ben’, would pick me up, and as I struggled against their grip, they would force me inside. Thanks to my small frame, I was no match for the two of them. Then, once I was cowering inside the stinking plastic, they’d kick the bin and off I’d go, tumbling down what we called The Tits. They were two hills next to each other in the school grounds that were shaped like… well, you can probably guess. Inside, I’d feel every bump and pothole as I rattled around inside that bin, my pointy elbows banging into the sides, my ankles and knees twisting and turning. But the worst pain was the fear I felt deep inside me. My chest would constrict so tightly, I could barely breathe, but that feeling was something I slowly became used to. I was rolled down those hills so often I could have mapped out every rock and stone.
Being thrown down a hill in a rubbish bin wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience. The bins always stank of old nappies and mouldy sandwiches and I would hear Paul and Ben’s jeers as they ran behind it. Careering down the hill towards school, everyone would laugh as the bin picked up speed. A car or kerb would bring me to an abrupt halt. Dizzy and disorientated, I’d crawl out, ashamed and embarrassed, new bruises joining my old ones.
On that day, though, things were different. I didn’t want to get in that stupid bin any more. I was fed up with being humiliated. As Paul towered over me, I made a decision. ‘Pick me up then,’ I said to him. Without questioning, he put his hands under my armpits and lifted me off the ground with ease, as always. ‘Now put me down and I’ll show you something. Go on,’ I pleaded, ‘I want to show you something amazing.’ Reluctantly, he dropped me back on the pavement. ‘OK. Try again,’ I murmured, steadily fixing my eyes on his. This time, he couldn’t move me. He tried and tried, grunting and sweating, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t pick me up, no matter how hard he tried.
I had taken away all of his strength. ‘How did you do that? Show us,’ the brothers begged, exasperated. I just smiled, picked up my bag and walked down the hill to school.
I don’t know where Paul and Ben are now. Last I heard, one of them was a nightclub bouncer and the other had apparently been murdered. Who knows? When you’re from the kind of place I’m from, not much is expected of you. If you grew up on the Delph Hill estate, more often than not you ended up on the dole or inside. The only time people round my way got near royalty were when it was at Her Majesty’s Pleasure.
Standing up to Paul and Ben that day would change my life forever. I might not have known it at the time, but over the coming years, millions of people would watch me perform the same magic as I had that day, aged twelve, when I finally beat the bullies…
I WAS BORN Steven Frayne, but nowadays most people call me Dynamo. I came into the world very quickly; my mum arrived at Bradford Royal Infirmary at 22.50 and I was born twenty minutes later, at 23.10 on 17 December 1982. I’ve been in a rush to get on with things ever since.
I was born six weeks premature, so I had to go straight into an incubator for twelve hours to get warmed up. I was super-tiny, just a couple of pounds, so they kept me in hospital for three weeks, until I weighed 4lb 15oz.
Because I was so small my mum had to feed me non-stop, every hour or so. When I was finally allowed out of hospital, she brought me home to the modest maisonette where I would live for the first five years of my life. The flat only had three rooms, and it was winter so it was absolutely freezing. Because I was so tiny and my mum was worried about me getting cold, she’d have the heating on full blast and would wrap me head to toe in a blanket, coat, scarf, hat and mittens. My granddad still jokes that that’s the reason I’m so small – my mum shrunk me when I was a baby!
Money was tight when I was a kid. I was the oldest of four; my sister Jessica and my two little brothers Troy and Lee came along later. But they don’t have the same dad as me. While it was just me and Mum she would always do whatever she could to make sure I felt loved and cared for. When I was four, she said I could have a birthday party. I was so excited. I invited all of my school friends from Hill Top, the local primary school that was a short walk from where we lived in the Laisterdyke council flats, on the Delph Hill estate. All Mum could afford for my birthday present was a six-pack of Kinder Eggs – but she had scrimped and saved to create a wonderful birthday spread for me: sandwiches, crisps, sweets and a birthday cake with four candles.
On the day, I waited and waited by the front d
oor, running into the living room to look out of the window, craning to see the arrival of my friends. Minutes went by, then an hour, then two hours. No one came. Eventually, my mum gently told me that my friends weren’t coming. A couple of the mums had rung with feeble excuses, but the truth was, they were too scared to come to the estate. I can’t blame the parents for not wanting to bring their kids to our flat. Hill Top was a nice school with nice middle-class children. The thought of visiting Delph Hill, with its tower blocks and hooded teenagers, was probably pretty scary. I wasn’t surprised to hear that the Laisterdyke flats were knocked down a few years ago. Even back in the eighties, they were rough and really run-down.
I was so disappointed I can still feel that lump in my throat now. I half-heartedly ate my Kinder Eggs, taking the toys to bed with me. I hated birthdays for years after that. Even now when I have a birthday or a launch party, I always worry that no one will turn up.
IT WAS AROUND that time that my dad went into prison for the first time. He would remain inside, off and on, for the next fourteen years. He did time for loads of different things: petty crime, gang crime, drugs. He was a small-time criminal.
I remember very, very little about him because he was barely around for those first four years, and since he has come out of prison I’ve only seen him once. I don’t even know his name. My mum and I rarely, if ever, speak about him.
My granddad tells me that when my parents first got together, my dad used to come round to my granddad’s to see my mum. He’d arrive with loads of bikers – Bradford’s equivalent of the Hell’s Angels. My granddad said they were nice enough, quite polite despite their leather jackets and long hair, but he’d never be able to get them out of the house. They’d stay there all night. My dad wasn’t a biker, but I think he hung out with them because they protected him in some way. I don’t know. I’ve no idea what the truth is. I hear lots of different stories from lots of different people. To me, he’s become a myth. I don’t know the truth about him, and I don’t really want to know.