National Post

MAGICIAN’S ART DEFIED BOTH LOGIC AND PHYSICS

MASTER STUDENT OF ‘DECEPTION IN ALL ITS FORMS’

- Harrison smitH

While other magicians breathed fire, sawed women in half or made entire buildings disappear, Ricky Jay performed remarkable feats using little more than the pads of his fingers. These were, strictly speaking, nothing more than tricks or illusions, sleights of hand performed by a master magician.

But to those who witnessed Jay up close, turning over a row of red Bee playing cards to reveal an unexpected hand, or flinging them across the room like wild projectile­s, his magic tricks were nothing less than works of art, head-scratching, wonder-inducing achievemen­ts that made him “perhaps the most gifted sleightof-hand artist alive,” as journalist Mark Singer wrote in a 1993 article for The New Yorker.

Jay, who was also an actor, film consultant and renowned scholar of confidence tricksters and exotic entertaine­rs, was 72 when he died Saturday at his home in Los Angeles. His manager, Winston Simone, said the precise cause was not immediatel­y known.

A heavy-set figure who sported dark suits and a short grey beard, Jay followed his mentor Dai Vernon, a Canadian magician known as the Professor, in treating a deck of cards as a living being, to be carried with seriousnes­s and handled with sensitivit­y.

Nonetheles­s, he was also prone to toss a card into the air like a boomerang, then slice it with scissors as it returned toward his hand. In some shows, he impaled a watermelon rind — he dubbed it the “thick pachyderma­tous outer melon layer” — with a card thrown at speeds approachin­g 90 miles per hour.

Raised in New York City, Jay began performing magic tricks at age 4, and went on to hone his act on TV variety shows and on tours with musicians such as Ike and Tina Turner. Long celebrated by fellow magicians, he began to reach an internatio­nal audience by the early 1990s, receiving a special Obie Award citation for “Ricky Jay and His 52 Assistants,” which premièred off-Broadway in 1994 and was later performed in England and Australia.

Originally directed by his friend David Mamet, the one-man show featured a non-stop comic patter from Jay, who invited audience members onstage as he performed tricks with playing cards, a ball and cup and a menagerie of windup toys.

“Instead of a magician’s cloak, he wears an authoritat­ive, invisible mantle of accumulate­d traditions,” wrote New York Times reviewer Ben Brantley.

His work was informed by a deep knowledge of “deception in all its forms,” as Jay once put it. A collector of decaying dice, faded advertisem­ents for circus artists and magic books that dated to the 16th century, he probably knew “more about the history of American conjuring than anyone else,” Marcus McCorison, a former president of the American Antiquaria­n Society, told The New Yorker.

While Jay was loathe to reveal the secrets to his tricks, he was hired to create cinematic deceptions for movies such as The Escape Artist (1982) and The Natural (1984), for which he taught Robert Redford how to pull a coin out of someone’s ear.

With his friend Michael Weber, a fellow magician, he formed the consulting company Deceptive Practices, which offered “arcane knowledge on a need-to-know basis” and devised the wheelchair for Gary Sinise’s character in Forrest Gump (1994), a military veteran and double amputee.

“Since Gary was unwilling to actually have his legs amputated for the film, they had to call us in,” Jay explained to the Los Angeles Times.

He also performed as an actor, appearing as a card sharp in the first season of the HBO Western Deadwood, as a villain in the James Bond film Tomorrow Never Dies and as a cameraman in Boogie Nights, director Paul Thomas Anderson’s 1997 epic about the California porn industry.

But he seemed most at home performing his deceptions live, in front of small, rapturous audiences in theatres or at private parties. Once, while performing at a New Year’s Eve event in Los Angeles, Jay was asked by a guest named Mort to “do something truly amazing,” according to Singer’s profile in The New Yorker.

Jay asked him to name a card, and Mort settled on the three of hearts.

“After shuffling,” Singer wrote, “Jay gripped the deck in the palm of his right hand and sprung it, cascading all 52 cards so that they travelled the length of the table and pelted an open wine bottle.” After asking Mort to name his card once again, Jay instructed the guest to “look inside the bottle.”

“Mort discovered, curled inside the neck, the three of hearts,” Singer continued. “The party broke up immediatel­y.”

Richard Jay Potash was born in Brooklyn on June 26, 1946, and guarded the details of his early life as fiercely as the secrets of his tricks.

Survivors include his wife, Chrisann Verges, a film and television producer.

While Jay’s legacy seemed firmly secured in recent years — he was the subject of the 2012 documentar­y Deceptive Practice — he said that he sometimes struggled to convince people that his tricks were those of an artist, little different from the work of an actor in the theatre or a musician in the symphony.

“I’d have been more easily understood in Elizabetha­n times,” he told People magazine in 1987. “All my life I have been on the fringes of this world and have been seen as something of an eccentric. I am eccentric. It seems people are now willing to attach some label of respectabi­lity to me. That is not displeasin­g. It is rather gratifying. But it has made me no less eccentric.”

 ?? CHARLES SYKES / INVISION / THE ASSOCIATED PRESS ?? To those who witnessed Ricky Jay up close, his magic tricks were nothing less than works of art which were head-scratching, wonder-inducing achievemen­ts.
CHARLES SYKES / INVISION / THE ASSOCIATED PRESS To those who witnessed Ricky Jay up close, his magic tricks were nothing less than works of art which were head-scratching, wonder-inducing achievemen­ts.

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