Paul Daniels (25 page)

‘Why don’t you use mine?’ I petitioned.

‘Johnny will do the Zigzag,’ came the echo through gritted teeth.

I couldn’t wait to see what would happen the following week and, sure enough, it was as entertaining as the previous one. Same box, same girl, but this time when Johnny inserted the blade, the girl’s head did something that told everybody exactly how the trick was worked. Once again, the illusion was dropped from the schedule, but now it was my chance.

My version was wheeled in the following week and I suspected the crew were wondering if all the hysteria over the past few weeks was a competition of the Zigzags. The girl got in, her head, hands, feet and belly sticking out through various holes. The blades I used were absolutely full width and I made a volunteer from the audience push the centre section out. As he pushed, I pulled as well which made him fall forward, the middle part toppled out completely on to the floor and he fell into the empty space in the centre. Feigning panic I screamed, ‘You’ve pushed too hard!’

A head was left supported by four thin poles and it was real. The combination of laughter, surprise, drama and my dad’s construction expertise had made the new Zigzag work at last. I would have loved to be in the living room of every magician in the land at that impossible moment.

The Producer of the series didn’t get my sense of humour at all. That was OK. I didn’t get the humour of the writer he had booked to write the shows. At a planning meeting, I told him of an idea whereby I would introduce a Chinese girl and claim that ‘in the Far East, magic is handed down from father to son but, as there were no boys in the family, they had had to teach her the act. She is a genuine mind-reader, the like of which we have never seen before.’ I would then introduce her, using her Chinese name and point out that, as she didn’t speak any English and I had lived in Hong Kong for a while, I would translate for her. Any member of the audience could place any object at all from their pockets or handbags and I would simply say three words, to remove the possibility of any code, and they would be ‘What is it?’ The Chinese girl would then reply and tell us what was on my hand. This would happen and the girl would say, ‘Ng luk chow,’ or something similar, and I would say ‘CORRECT, it is a pen,’ or whatever it was.

‘Amazing,’ said the Producer, ‘How does she know?’

Terry, Faith, John and I thought he was kidding. He wasn’t.

‘No,’ I said, ‘she doesn’t know. I’m looking at the object so I just say whatever it is.’

‘Well, how does she know what to say?’

‘She doesn’t. It’s a gag. She says anything she likes in Chinese so long as it is very short.’

‘Yes, I see. But how do you know what to translate?’

He never understood at all and eventually agreed to do it if we used Faith Brown in a Chinese dress.

‘You can’t do that,’ I tried to explain. ‘The gag will only work if the audience believe it is really going to happen.’

He said we couldn’t do it. I went to Manchester University and paid a Chinese girl myself to do the routine. The audience laughed (I knew they would because I had done this joke for the Bentine season with an Oriental dancer from the Trendsetters troupe). The Producer came downstairs and said that he still didn’t get the joke, but as the audience had laughed he would keep it in the show. Knowing the BBC they probably made him Head of Light Entertainment.

It is this constant drive to improve on what has already been achieved in magic that gives me so much pleasure. I never decry a brilliant magical invention; I’m just concerned to push it as far as it will possibly go. I had found out that my dad was able to turn my quick sketches into physical objects. He was unable to add anything in terms of the deception because he didn’t know the business of trickery, but knew everything there was to know about torque and stress almost instinctively and we would endlessly debate the possibilities. He would always be saying to me that I would never get away with it and couldn’t believe how simple some of the tricks were.

There are a couple of things about my business that you should understand. Magic is not just for children. Magic should be considered alongside opera or ballet, drama or comedy,
because it can be any or all of those as well as its own art form. When you go to see a magic show, let’s face it, the guy can’t really do magic. That’s OK. Stallone isn’t Rambo, nor could anyone ever be; Christopher Reeves as Superman can’t really fly. Magic is the same. When you go to see a magic show you go to a theatrical experience where the actor on stage, playing the part of a magician, can apparently defy all the natural laws of physics and science.

Think about it. We are taught that matter cannot be created, and yet a magician makes objects and even people, apparently appear from nowhere. Matter cannot be destroyed and yet a magician makes things vanish without trace. Solid matter cannot be penetrated without leaving some trace and yet, as seen on television, I pushed Penelope Keith through a pane of glass. Both Penelope and the glass are doing fine. Matter cannot travel through time and space instantaneously and yet magicians again make objects and people vanish from one spot and reappear somewhere else in the blink of an eye. And we have the Law of Gravity, yet magicians make people float in the air. The list goes on.

The magic show is great theatre when it is performed correctly and should be enjoyed for what it is, pure escapism and not to be taken too seriously. The presentation can vary enormously, from high drama to low comedy and sometimes you get the full range in every show. Me, I go for comedy and hide my skills behind the laughter. I love people having a good time.

Levitations were a particular project of mine and over the years I wrestled with many ways of achieving the illusion of enabling a girl to float in mid-air. Dad would get very upset every time I came home with another suggestion as to how the product he was already in the process of building could be adapted and improved.

‘Oh no, here we go again,’ he would sigh.

Dad had at around this time turned 60, but was in no mood to contemplate retiring. I was finally earning a substantial amount of money and was in a position to employ my own father full-time. Hughie had difficulty believing this and constantly brushed aside my suggestions that he give up his job with ICI and be engaged as my personal craftsman. His job at the plant, surrounded by and working with chemicals, was not doing him any good at all. He kept feeling very dizzy and passing out. I thought that if I could find the right place, he could come and work for me as a prop-maker. I needed a house with a bit more than a granny flat.

‘I don’t want to be a financial burden to you, son,’ he would consistently murmur.

‘But, Dad, I can easily afford to employ you,’ I insisted. I showed him what I was earning and finally he agreed. He only had one last question. ‘After I am 65, will there still be plenty for me to do?’ There was.

One week in November 1978 was to be the major turning point in my career. Imagine this for a week in the life of a ‘turn’. If you don’t know that expression, it comes from the old days of Variety. Acts were called turns and even numbered. One of my earliest memories of the theatre was the red numbers that lit up by the side of the stage at the Middlesbrough Empire telling you which number turn was on stage.

Sunday – my first time at the London Palladium

I had taken a tour with Sacha Distel because it finished at the London Palladium and every act wanted to work there. For a couple of weeks, I had been driving myself all over England and Scotland. The tour went North and South and back again. Like most tours, the manager had obviously failed geography. During this tour, I was constantly in touch with Granada TV
and BBC TV. Neither knew of my arrangements with the other. This was going to be quite a week but even I didn’t know how big. Eventually, I arrived for my first ever performance at the Palladium on the Sunday evening. This was to mark the start of my extraordinary seven days.

The stage doorman handed me a parcel, which he said had been left by a gentleman a few moments earlier. I didn’t recognise the handwriting on the package, but on opening it up I had a copy of the book
Every Night at the London Palladium
in my hands.
Sunday Night at the London Palladium
was a huge television variety hit in the Seventies and this book listed all the acts, anecdotes and stories from this great theatre.

Inside the book, the inscription read: ‘Just walking by, saw your name and thought you’d like this! Yours, Graham Reed.’

Graham was an old friend from my days at the Middlesbrough Circle of Magicians, but I hadn’t seen him for more than 15 years. It was a very special moment for me and was the nicest thing he could have done. I made it my business to track him down soon afterwards and we became great friends again. In fact, Graham is my oldest friend and the most generous of men. He even became one of the ideas men on the
Magic Show
television series.

With the book sitting in my dressing room and almost willing me to succeed on the greatest stage in the world, I stepped out into the limelight. The act went down so well, it was the most wonderful sensation I had ever felt and I flew all the way that night. It was almost as if I had been in training all my life for that particular 40 minutes.

After the show, John Avery, the Palladium manager, said, ‘You were fantastic. Where on earth have you been?’

‘Trying to get here!’ I said.

‘Well you’re certainly going to make a return visit,’ he promised.

Monday – a hotel somewhere near Gatwick

The next evening wasn’t as grand as the Palladium but it was still very important for me. I had been booked to do my first ever ‘posh’ after-dinner cabaret at a corporate function. This was, of course, in completely different surroundings and conditions to the clubs I was used to and I was very happy when the show went really well. Although it was a late gig, I drove through the night to get to Manchester. I had to be in Granada’s television studios the next morning.

Tuesday – Granada Television Studios, Manchester

I had been offered and accepted the host’s job on
Be My Guest
for ITV and rehearsals started early in the morning. The Producer was Johnny Hamp again. The concept of this show was that it would feature guests chosen by the host. I got to pick the guest for the first show. At the end of each show, all the guests’ names would be put in a hat, a name pulled out and that performer would choose the guests for the next show. Showbusiness was inviting the showbusiness it liked.

On my first presentation I chose Del Shannon, famous for his pop hit ‘runaway’; The Bachelors singing ‘I Believe’; The Drifters and ‘Saturday Night’s the Night for a Party’; and comedians Ken Dodd and Dougie Brown. Doddy was a Nutty Professor character and was one of my all-time favourite comics. He still is. Doddy can make you laugh with one twitch of his knee. I did magic between the acts and even got a sketch with the Incredible Dodd.

During rehearsals, he knocked on my dressing room door.

‘Can I come in, Paul?’

‘Of course you can, Mr Dodd.’

I was delighted to have any opportunity to be with the
‘master’, and I really wish that I could remember the exact gag we talked about.

‘Just a little bit of advice, you know. It’s much funnier if you say the tag-line the other way round,’ Doddy suggested.

‘Why?’ I genuinely wanted to know.

‘I don’t know,’ confessed the joke-smith, ‘it just is.’

The genius was right of course. I went out a few moments later, changed the punchline around and the laugh was ten times as loud. Comedy is a very strange thing and Doddy knew from experience how to get the very best out of a gag. No one can explain the gut feeling of a grafting comedian, having tried it every way round until suddenly it’s in the right order.

During the day in the studio, I noticed how others there were giving me surreptitious glances. People were whispering in corners and it was obviously at my expense, or so I thought. Summat was up. I grabbed Johnny Hamp and asked him what was going on.

‘We’ve had a telephone call from the Palladium,’ he confessed. ‘You were there on Sunday night and they liked you so much, they are trying to fit you into the
Royal Variety Show.’

‘But that’s next Sunday night!’ I said.

‘That’s right and the running order is already set, but they still want to try and get you on board. No one wanted to tell you in case you didn’t get in it.’

I couldn’t believe it.

‘Well, they’d better make their minds up fast because on Saturday night I’m in Spain.’

Wednesday – recording at Granada Television Studios

The next day, Johnny returned with the news that the
Royal Variety Show
was ‘on’. From years of dreaming about working at the London Palladium, here I was about to appear twice in one
week! Johnny explained how Mervyn was working on flights to get me back from Spain early on Sunday, but I was a little worried recalling the last time I had an important flight to catch when it had gone down the runway without me.

Determined that the transportation of my props was not going to be a problem, I hurriedly asked my newly hired craftsman to make a duplicate set of everything and deliver it to the stage door of the Palladium for the Sunday. Dad happily obliged and the twinkle in his eye showed how proud he was, although I still don’t think he could believe what was happening. The show that night went well and Granada were very happy. I said goodnight to everyone and drove through the night to London. Granada didn’t know I was recording the next day for the BBC.

Thursday – the BBC and
The Magic Show

The BBC were doing a series of magic shows with each one being hosted by a famous magician. I remember that Fred Kaps from Holland did one and Harry Blackstone from the USA was another host. These names may not mean much to you but believe me, they were very big in the world of magic. They needed a token British host, I suppose, and I got the job. Not only was I performing but I also had other magic acts on as guests. This wasn’t as loose in its format as the magic shows I was to do in the future, but it was a quality show and I had a good day, rehearsing in the daytime and recording that night. I only travelled a short way that night as I had most of the next day to travel to the next venue.