Nothing Is Impossible: The Real-Life Adventures of a Street Magician

by Dynamo

  Back then, being on stage wasn’t my forte. I’d always been a close-up, street performer so I didn’t know about projecting my voice or turning my body out towards the audience. Kevin gave me some great tips and he hooked me up with a drama teacher to help me figure out how to use the space on stage better and how to project my voice from my diaphragm rather than my throat.

  Not only did he give me his time, Kevin also invited me to join a workshop with final-year students from RADA. The workshop taught me that you have to live outside yourself when you’re in front of an audience – you’ve got to lose your ego and not be too self-conscious if you want to give yourself in a performance. You’ve got to be in the moment as a performer. It can be hard for me – for anybody – to really expose myself like that. You may have a huge amount going on in your private life, you may feel ill that day, or you may just be in a bad mood. But onstage, you have to learn to handle your emotions and control what people see.

  It was such a great learning curve. The idea had been well-intentioned but I quickly realised that I shouldn’t put anything out– even if just for friends and family – that I wasn’t completely confident in. I really appreciate that Kevin took the time out to explain where I was going wrong. It’s still something I’m working on, to be honest, but I hope I’ll be able to do a live show with more success very soon. I have a lot of ideas and I have the advice from Kevin to guide me. It will happen one day.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 5

  * * *

  THE HEROES OF MAGIC

  I WAS NINETEEN the first time I went to New York. I arrived in the Big Apple as ‘Steven, the-Hip-Hop-Magician-Kid-from-Bradford’ and left not only with the respect of my peers, but also with a brand-new name.

  It was 2001, and I had been invited by the International Brotherhood of Magicians (IBM) and the Society of American Magicians (SAM) to attend a four-day conference. It was, as usual with anything magic-related, shrouded in secrecy, so I can’t reveal too much. What I can say is that ordinarily, there are two separate magic conferences a year that take place in different parts of America. Because it was the centenary of the SAM, founded by the great Harry Houdini, the society had decided to team up with the IBM for the first time and hold a joint conference in New York as a celebration of the release of their joint Houdini commemorative stamp. It’s essentially a conference similar to that which you might get for music, art or business – but for magic. There are talks, seminars, demonstrations and shows. Because the IBM and the SAM had joined up this particular year, I knew that the cream of the crop would be descending on New York for those four days. I figured if I could get myself a spot performing there, it could have a great impact on my career.

  if you have a dream, then New York is the place to make it come true

  I wangled an invite through a magician friend who I’d met on holiday in Las Vegas earlier that year. Although I was welcome to attend, I would have to pay my own way out there. Luckily, even though I was young, I was doing OK and had built up some savings through my croupier job in the casino in Bradford. I made £795 a month and, living rent-free with my great-grandparents, I either ate Nana’s cooking (which was the best in the world) or had free meals at work because I worked nights. I didn’t drink, I didn’t smoke, and I didn’t have a phone bill because no one had mobile phones back then. On the rare occasions I had to buy myself food, I’d go to my favourite curry house in Bradford, where you could get a meal for two for £5. It was almost impossible for me to get rid of my money so I was saving around £600 a month. Not only did I not have anything to spend my wages on, but also I made sure I saved because I had a goal in mind, an ambition to achieve.

  I went to America four times that year alone, paid for by myself. I would go to Las Vegas to see the latest developments in the magic shows; I’d pop to LA for the odd gig and, towards the end of 2001, I took the opportunity to go to New York.

  GETTING ON THE plane I felt a nervous rumble. I’d been to America before to visit my grandma in Memphis, and hung out in Vegas with my magician friends. But this was different. Besides the fact that it was it a huge city with a formidable reputation that I’d never been to before, I’d also be going on my own.

  I might have been anxious, but as I boarded the flight, I had a funny feeling that things would be OK. New York was the birthplace of hip hop and it was the setting for some of film’s most iconic moments. Many of my favourite rappers, actors and film directors hailed from the place they called the Big Apple. I couldn’t wait to take a bite.

  As the jumbo jet landed in New York, I glimpsed the city through the smog. It looked tiny from the plane and I wondered if it would live up to my huge expectations.

  I collected my bags and jumped in a taxi into town. The cab sped through Queens and the nerves returned; the area looked quite rough. There were huge project buildings, run-down shops and dubious-looking people hanging out on the corners. Who knows, perhaps I passed a young 50 Cent up to no good on those mean streets! My butterflies increased tenfold.

  When the taxi finally hit Manhattan after about an hour, the contrast was remarkable. We passed Grand Central Station and crawled through the rush-hour traffic. It was mind-blowing, like something out of a film. Huge buildings towered above me, yellow cabs honked their horns at the thousands of people hurrying past, their focus firmly fixed on whatever important destination they were headed to. I looked to my left and could just about see the Empire State Building. As a film fanatic, it felt weird to see these iconic landmarks in real life. New York was like one big movie set.

  Although I’ve been to New York a lot of times now, I still have the same funny feeling when I first land there. It’s like anything is possible in that city; if you have a dream, then New York is the place to try and live it. Its energy is like nowhere else. The city truly never sleeps!

  I HAD DONE my research before going to New York and discovered that you could stay cheaply at the Hilton Hotel, where the magic conference was being held, if you were prepared to share with someone else.

  My roommate was a tall ginger guy whose name I have since forgotten, and his assistant, who was also his girlfriend. It was a bit awkward, sharing a room with a couple, but we rarely saw each other. My roommate and his girlfriend had an act called the Quick Change where they would dance and do twenty outfit changes in three minutes. He would throw glitter in the air and the next thing you knew, her red dress would be changed to a glittery one. It was made famous by David and Dania, who did it on America’s Got Talent. It was a real eye-opener to share our ideas of magic and to be amongst all that creativity. Lying back on my bed the first night, I was excited about getting to the conference the following morning. I was looking forward to being exposed to new thoughts and the greatest magic I had ever seen. My stomach fluttered with anticipation.

  As I had hoped, it was amazing. On the first day I saw Siegfried and Roy and watched a magnetic David Copperfield deliver a seminar about his life in magic; how he had fallen in love with magic as a little boy.

  I was so busy running about meeting people I barely got time to see much of the city. I just about managed to visit Times Square, and the only places I went were within walking distance of the Hilton, which was on the Avenue of the Americas where all the skyscrapers are. Looking up at them, towering above me, memories of Spider-Man leaping from rooftop to rooftop and scaling down the sides of huge buildings came back to me. Finally, I was living in the movies – just like I’d always wanted to.

  There were 2,000 magicians at the conference, so I made lots of friends, many of whom I’m still in touch with. It was the ultimate networking spot for magicians. I got to know an escapologist called Spencer Horseman, who was from New York, and a girl who, it turned out, was Houdini’s great-great-great-niece. Spencer was also recently featured on America’s Got Talent. Me, him and Houdini’s distant relation would go out each night when the conference was finished and find pizza on the not-so-mean streets of uptown Manhattan.

  Com
ing from Bradford, where I was the only person that I knew doing magic, it was a revelation to meet people my own age who were into the same things. For the first time ever, I felt like I really belonged. We might have all been misfits in whatever town we had grown up in, but here, we were all like-minded individuals interested only in the pursuit of bigger and better magic.

  I HAD NEVER felt pressure like it. I might have been in the anonymous surroundings of a beige and brown conference room in New York, but I was encircled by magic’s most famous practitioners. David Blaine leant expectantly against a wall, while Aaron Fisher, a highly respected sleight-of-hand manipulator, jostled for space alongside Paul Wilson, the magician from BBC3’s The Real Hustle. We had gathered together to share our particular style of magic with each other.

  As a musician or actor can testify, there’s nothing tougher than performing in front of your peers. Here I was, a teenager from Bradford with half-baked ideas about being a magician, surrounded by a ‘who’s who’ of modern magic. What had I got myself into?

  As the host introduced me, I looked around the room at the gathered greats and pulled myself together. This could be my big break and I wasn’t about to blow it. I delved deep inside and went for it. The first thing I did was make coins disappear and reappear in people’s pockets, under watches and even under someone’s hat. It drew murmurs of appreciation, my next illusion, a gasp or two. As I grew in confidence, my magic got better and better. I was good, and I knew it. I had spent the last six years obsessively practising in my bedroom, waiting for an opportunity like this. The crowd may have been a hard one, but I was more than ready for them.

  I felt Blaine lean forward as the buzz in the room began to grow. I paused to ready my recently invented card shuffle, inspired by the breakdancers of this very city. It was a risky strategy because, back then, I didn’t always pull it off. I danced with the deck, the cards coming to life in my hands before I stacked them on top of each other so that they came to rest perfectly on my cap.

  ‘This kid’s a f***king dynamo!’ a voice shouted from the fifty or so gathered greats. ‘Dynamo?’ I thought, but quickly dismissed it because, to be honest, I didn’t really know what it meant. I thought it was just some American slang word.

  It was about a year later, when I finally turned professional, that I looked up the word in the dictionary. It said, ‘A small generator that gives massive electrifying results.’ It couldn’t have summed me up any better. I might be small, but I like to think my performances are larger than life. I still don’t know who shouted it out, but both Aaron Fisher and Paul Wilson claim to be the person who inadvertently named me that day. Apparently, before I had met Aaron, Paul had described me to him, saying, ‘The kid is like a dynamo.’ Aaron insists that he was the one to shout it out that day.

  I was surrounded by a ‘who’s who’ of modern magic. What had I got myself into?

  They’re both good friends of mine now, so whoever wants to take the credit, I thank you!

  WHILE I WAS at the centenary celebrations, I got to meet David Copperfield’s assistant and a few of his people, though I didn’t meet the man himself on that trip. A year or so later, I went back to Vegas and connected with Chris Kenner, who is Copperfield’s business partner and right-hand man. Even though I wouldn’t see the man himself again, Chris still had some great plans up his sleeve. ‘So, do you want to come to Copperfield’s place?’ he asked. David wouldn’t actually be there, but I decided that just hanging out in the great man’s lair would be insightful enough for me. I bet you could absorb the magic by osmosis! I jumped at the chance.

  To me, David Copperfield is like the Michael Jackson of magic. Copperfield was from the same era as Michael and they are both on a level as performers – true entertainers. Copperfield has won the most awards and has sold more tickets to his own shows than anyone else in the world, ever. He still does over 500 shows a year, sometimes performing two in one night. His wealth is vast; he owns eleven islands and is the world’s largest private collector of magical artefacts.

  Although I’d never felt inclined to be like Copperfield in terms of the style of magic that I do, I was certainly inspired by the manner in which he had achieved such greatness. His love for magic was so obvious. It had never been about the money, power and fame for him; that was just a by-product of his hard work, determination and passion for magic.

  I didn’t need to be asked twice to experience a glimpse inside the mind of one of the greatest entertainers of the twenty-first century, so, along with a couple of people, including Danny Garcia, a magician who now works closely with me and who I had met at a conference in Vegas, we arranged to meet Kenner later that evening.

  We arrived at a very nondescript-looking street, on the outskirts of Sin City, and all we could see were lots of warehouses. Kenner was waiting for us outside a bra shop, of all places. ‘Welcome, everybody,’ he said, ushering us in through the doors of the lingerie emporium. It turned out that in order to enter Copperfield’s cavern, you had to walk through the lingerie store. When you leave, everyone who has been invited to David’s studio is given a mug from the bra shop! Only those who are in the know, know. I still have that cup in my kitchen today.

  We walked through the store, bras and topless mannequins everywhere, until we came to a door. Like the back of the wardrobe leading to Narnia, the entrance opened up into a magician’s box of delights.

  Everywhere I looked in the cavernous warehouse were antique posters, original artwork, letters from Houdini, Houdini’s straitjacket, incredible props that had been used by the greats over the years, as well as vast sets from Copperfield’s elaborate shows. What was apparent was how deep his love and respect, for magic went. Going to the warehouse inspired me to read up much more on the history of magic. I don’t know that I’d pass a GCSE in it today, but I left there determined to find out much more about my chosen career.

  I finally met the man himself in 2012 when he invited me to see his show in Las Vegas. My friend and I were given front-row seats and treated like royalty. ‘Thanks so much for coming,’ he said when we were introduced after the show, his blue eyes as piercing as I had imagined. It’s funny, people always say that I have unusual eyes too; perhaps it’s the sign of a great magician! ‘Thank you also for telling your Twitter followers,’ he continued.

  Apparently they’d had a spike in British bookings because I’d tweeted that I was going. It was just after Dynamo: Magician Impossible had been on in America, and I had around 250,000 followers on Twitter. We took a picture together and he not only tweeted me, but he also tweeted links to some clips of my show online. I could only hope to be so gracious and charming when I’ve been in the game for as long as he has.

  Never in a million years would I have pictured meeting David Copperfield, let alone winning his respect.

  WHENEVER I’VE MET one of my heroes, it often seems to have happened by chance. Maybe us magicians are all cosmically connected in some weird way? Back in New York, at the Hilton Hotel where I was staying for the conference, I was standing outside when I heard the screech of tyres and the gasp of the crowd. ‘Is that David Blaine?’ squealed a tourist who happened to be passing by.

  I looked to where everyone was pointing as Blaine skidded up on his motorbike. His show, Street Magic, had been on American television for about a year and he was a total and utter rock star back then. Dressed head to toe in black leather, he got off this gigantic Harley, helping his passenger – the actress, Daryl Hannah – to dismount. I looked at him in awe – not only was he a famous and respected magician, but he had a hot actress on his arm too. My eyes and mouth were wide open.

  ‘David, David, can I get a picture?’ Everyone was hassling him for a photo, but I decided to try something a little more subtle. I’d already impressed him with my magic back in the Hilton’s stuffy conference room; here was my chance to show him I was always ready and waiting. He spotted me doing my special shuffle and laughed. ‘OK, kid, let’s see what you got today,’ he grinn
ed. I showed him something new that I was working on, involving a series of complex card effects that he seemed impressed by. He called over his rock star-style friends who were waiting for him in the hotel lobby. ‘Man, this kid’s good,’ he said in his deep rumble, shaking his head. ‘He really knows what he is doing.’ Years later, he kindly allowed me to use those very words on the cover of my first DVD, Underground Magic.

  And those words will stay with me forever too. For him to say something like that about me was an incredible moment. Like magic, I found it hard to believe.

  On that first trip to New York, I not only found my name, but I also learnt that real magic comes from the heart. Without passion and self-belief, I could end up like any of the other thousands of struggling magicians out there. Instead, while everyone else stood around taking pictures of Blaine, I did what I had gone to New York to do: learn the art of magic.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 6

  * * *

  REMEMBER MY NAME

  ‘I DIDN’T ASK you to come every day,’ I moaned, hating myself the second the words were out of my mouth. My mum and Nan looked down at me with a mixture of confusion and hurt. ‘Well, fine by us,’ snapped Mum. ‘We won’t bother to come again then.’

  As I watched Mum and Nan leave the ward, I felt more miserable and more alone than I’d ever felt in my whole life. I was facing a life-saving, and potentially life-threatening, operation and I’d just pushed away two of the people closest to me.

  Just after returning to Bradford from the Houdini celebrations in New York, my Crohn’s worsened. I had been managing it with limited success; I was often very sick and would struggle to get through even a week without some kind of complication. I was constantly in pain and always felt weak.