This month’s column is devoted to a man of distinction, Wiljalba Frikell. According to Houdini, he was one of the longest performing magicians in the world. He appeared before kings, queens, and royalty but came from humble beginnings. Most important, he is credited with entirely changing the style and pre- sentation of stage magic that persists to this day – an occurrence only made possible because of a tragic fire.
Frikell was born in Sagan, Schlesien, Prussia, on July 27, 1816. He was the son of a physician and the youngest of nineteen children. When only a boy he traveled across Europe as an assistant to a magician, but by 1831, he was presenting his own magic show.
In that era, magicians often filled their stages with tables of glistening apparatus and automatons. Many performers appeared as wizards in flowing robes and conical hats. Frikell was no exception. That continued until, at some unrecorded date, he was booked to appear in Hamburg; his entire show, most of which was in sterling silver, his costume trunks, and stage settings were consumed by fire. The despondent Frikell decided to cancel his show and rebuild.
The famous German poet Heinrich Heine insisted that Frikell proceed with the show and perform with whatever props he could scrape up. The result was a pure sleight-of-hand performance on an essentially bare stage. As Houdini notes, “…the audience went wild over the innovation, the mere absence of draperies and flowing sleeves by which the performer could so easily deceive the eye.” From that day forward Frikell was famous for the sim- plicity of his performance and built a large fortune.
During continental tours he was honored by the King of Greece, the King of Denmark, the Viceroy of Egypt, and received expensive pins, rings, and other jeweled gifts for his dexterity. He performed before the Czar of Russia and in 1857, appeared in London with a two-hour illusion show. On New Year’s Day, 1858, he performed by command of the Queen before the Royal Family at Windsor Castle.
Frikell also toured in America twice. We have an account of his performance in Philadelphia from Frederick Eugene Powell, who attended the show with magic dealer Thomas Yost. In condensed form, here was his show.
Frikell usually opened with the disappearing gloves, but this night he produced three large bowls of water and goldfish from an empty shawl. Upon command, one bowl of liquid burst into flame. Next, a borrowed watch showed any hour called for and then the hands spun rapidly. The watch was smashed and the pieces loaded into a gun. Two rose bushes were brought on stage and one selected by the audience. The gun was fired at the rose bush and upon it being pulled up roots and all, the selected watch was found among the roots. The owner of the watch was allowed to remove his property.
Six bullets marked by the audience were loaded into another gun, which was fired point blank at Frikell. With a sweep of his hand he caught the bullets and returned them for identification.
Other smaller effects followed, but his most puzzling trick involved a canary, an egg, and two oranges. Simply, the audience was given the choice of which orange would contain the egg and
which the canary. Canary and egg were vanished; upon a small hole being cut in the chosen orange, inside was the egg, which could not be extracted without further damaging the orange. Cutting a small opening in the second orange, the canary emerged unharmed. Both oranges never left the audience's sight from the beginning.
A dove wrapped in a piece of brown paper turned into a bouquet of flowers. Frikell then poured drinks from a wine bottle for a few audience members; breaking the bottle, he displayed the missing dove.
The second half featured “Two Hundred Silver Goblets from a Borrowed Hat.” The stage remained empty except for two saw horses with two long boards across them. A hat was borrowed and shaken a little and then shown to be overflowing with silver goblets. These soon filled the table. The hat again was shown empty but soon disgorged more silver goblets. Powell said, “The tricks produced in most cases a complete illusion. I was sorry to see the curtain fall.”
Houdini attempted to meet and interview Frikell on a number of occasions, but because of his reluctance to accept visitors, as well as Houdini’s crushing schedule, the event kept being postponed. Finally a date was agreed upon. In advance of Houdini’s visit, Frikell and his wife had a new photograph taken of themselves and the magician proudly arranged all of his ribbons, photos, awards, and evidence of his career for Houdini’s inspection. Arriving at the appointed time, Frikell’s wife met Houdini at the door and said, “You are being waited for.” To his dismay, Houdini found that Frikell had passed away a few hours earlier.
And so, we owe a debt of gratitude to Frikell and the unfor- tunate fire for moving magic from suspicious apparatus-clogged stages to the realm of real magic with everyday objects. In his book Lessons in Magic Frikell wrote, “It has been my object in my performance to restore the art to its original prominence, and to extend that to a degree which it has, I believe, never yet hitherto reached. I banish all such mechanical and scientific preparatives from my own practice, confining myself for the most part to objects and materials from everyday life. The success that I have met with emboldens me to believe that I have followed the right path.” Frikell died October 10, 1903.
—Tom Ewing Frikell’s last photograph, taken the day
Nielsen Notes: What is significant about this poster is not only the magician, but that it was designed and signed by Jules Chéret, who is the father of modern lithography. This poster is not only collectible among magicians but also among French poster collectors.