DAD AND HIS MAGIC SHOP
Gave up a lucrative life for happiness
Phil and Evelyn Matlin, my parents, own a beloved Montreal institution called Perfect Magic. It is, fittingly, a magic shop that’s been serving the community for more than 43 years. Walk in and you’re likely to find amateur hobbyists alongside pros chatting about technique. Or a seasoned performer giving some tips to a kid just starting out. It’s a unique experience.
My dad is 83 now, and my mom is 79 and undergoing treatment for ovarian cancer, yet they still go to work every day. Whenever I ask them about retiring, my dad shakes his head. “What would I do?” he asks. They’re happy. And I’m happy for them. My dad followed a dream and it led them to not only run a business that supported a family with four children, but also left a mark on the magic community. It’s funny how we got here. When my grandfather died, three years before I was born, my dad inherited his business. My grandfather had been a successful fruit and vegetable purveyor, supplying some of the biggest restaurants and hotels in the city. When I was born, the last of the four children, we were living in a beautiful house in an upscale neighbourhood. My father was miserable.
When I was five, my father made the decision to sell the business and pursue a dream — to open a magic shop. He’d always loved magic, but there had been other plans for him. The first location was the basement of our house.
We had people in and out of there all the time. Customers who found us then are still with us today.
But a magic shop doesn’t support the kind of lifestyle we were living. We sold the house, moved to a working-class neighbourhood, rented a lower duplex and opened the shop in the basement there. When that became unsustainable, my parents opened a real shop on Van Horne Ave. in Côte-des-neiges, where they remain to this day.
The adjustment was hard for me. I was young and couldn’t understand my father sacrificing our luxury for a magic shop. All I knew was that my friends had everything they wanted, and I did not. Throughout my adolescence and teenage years, I was self-absorbed and resentful of the situation. My father, on the other hand, was thriving and he was around — two things I failed to notice at the time.
Despite that one rather large obstacle, I’ve always shared a close relationship with my parents. My mother is still the first person I turn to when something goes wrong — which, when you factor in the cancer, is really kind of selfish. And in the end, my father turned out to be a real role model for me — twice.
When I was in my early 20s, finishing up university, I set my sights on the film industry. It was such a ridiculous notion that even my mother, who encourages me in everything, tried to dissuade me. But I thought about the risks my father took, and decided to go all in. I ended up having a really satisfying 20year career in the business, which I still have a toe in.
As I approached 40, I went through a bit of a mid-life crisis. What started as a dream job had evolved into me supervising a team of people doing my dream job. Like my father before me, I was miserable. What I really wanted was to quit, stay home and be a writer.
I’m 48 now, and when people ask if I made the right call, I always say, “I thought I’d be somewhere else financially at this stage of my life, but I never dreamed I’d be this happy.” And, I realize, that’s probably how my dad felt. But it gets better. Because of my dad’s particular dream of opening a magic shop, I meet people all the time who tell me how much my parents have changed their lives. Magicians, hobbyists, jugglers, clowns, comedians, writers — people from all professions. Even businesspeople tell me how doing magic as a kid boosted their confidence, brought them out of their shell. Magic is a balm for the soul and it never goes out of style.
And everyone has memories to share. They tell me about their first trip to the shop, and how my mom showed them their first card trick. How they loved the Saturday afternoon magic shows and auctions. Their annual convention Magie Montreal, which attracted world-renowned magicians between 1979 and 1998, is fondly remembered and missed.
When I met one of my husband’s closest friends for the first time and he realized who I was, he ran up to his room and brought me back an armful of Perfect Magic catalogues. “These changed my life,” he said.
So many people talk about the catalogues — the very same ones I spent Sunday nights cutting and pasting with a hot wax roller (these were the days before computers) and wishing I was anywhere else. Those catalogues meant so much to so many people. It was their wish list, the reason they got parttime jobs, their means to putting together an act. My father gave that to them.
People tell me how much they love my parents, how influential they were, and still are, in their lives. It’s a strange feeling to discover that the two people who formed me shaped so many other lives along the way. It’s a gift to know this, and to hear it so often. And it makes me realize how well my father chose.
Because of my dad’s particular dream of opening a magic shop, I meet people all the time who tell me how much my parents have changed their lives. Magicians, hobbyists, jugglers, clowns, comedians, writers — people from all professions. Even businesspeople tell me how doing magic as a kid boosted their confidence, brought them out of their shell. Magic is a balm for the soul and it never goes out of style. Julie Matlin