A few years ago, when we were much — I mean MUCH — younger, we went to London and Paris. While in Paris, we did — as we did everywhere — everything we were expected to: dining, dancing and singing on the Bateaux Mooche while cruising the Seine We stayed at the 5-star Hotel Meurice in the 1st arrondissement — this arrondissement is one of the oldest in Paris, the Île de la Cité having been the heart of the city of Lutetia, conquered by the Romans in 52 BC, while some parts on the right bank date back to the early Middle Ages — inspecting the two restaurants in the Eiffel Tower, tours of the Louvre, Notre Dame, Montremart, and doing all the other things tourists are supposed to do.

(I will describe the other events more fully — particularly staying at the Hotel Meurice — at an extra, more propitious time.)

One night we found we had nothing planned, so we turned our attention to the American Express Parise Tourists Guide Book.

“This sounds interesting,” I said, to my wife-to-be, the darling Christine Rosack. “Muse de la Curiosity et de la Maggie,” as only an American can say it.

We went (at the time, it was located at 11, rue saint Paul, Paris — not very far) — and the first thing we learned was that Harry Houdini had stolen his name from the French magician, Robert Houdin.

I already knew that Harry was born in Budapest, Hungary, as Erik Weisz of Hungarian parents, and Robert Houdin was born in France a few years earlier, of a Parisian mother and father, and Robert had established himself even before Harry turned ‘professional’ at the age of seventeen.

At the museum we learned that Robert Houdin was the son of a clockmaker, and that he had attended France's University of Orleans and had worked as a watchmaker before pursuing a career as a magician.

Robert Houdin succeeded in elevating magic from a street show environment (of sorts) to a form-of-art that drew audiences to many fashionable theaters, including the Palais Royal — as well as lavish Parisian homes.

With his background in clocks, Robert Houdin brought electricity to the magic stage for the first time, and his inventiveness landed him the title of “Father of Modern Magic”.

For his performances, he dressed formally in top hats and coattails to lend a ‘seriousness’ to his work, an outfit many magicians still wear on stage today.

Famous for making orange trees grow where none seemed to exist before, and suspending random bodies in mid-air, Robert Houdin was forced by the French government to reveal the ‘secrets’ of his tricks to avoid prosecution for witchcraft. Witchcraft? Say what?

He became so renowned as an ‘illusionist’ that Napoleon III sent him to Algiers to try and outdo the ‘miracles’ performed there by certain religious leaders.

His magic tricks left the Arabs amazed and in awe, and at the same time he helped keep France's influence over the Algerians and their country.

As his very best trick, Robert Houdin used a simple wooden box with a brass handle and brass brackets holding it together. He easily carried it in from behind curtains and set it down on the floor in front of his audience. Although it was empty (it measured 3’x 2’), he opened it to show his audience of religious icons that it contained nothing.

He then asked their ‘strongest’ man in the group to pick it up off the floor. That man came forward and tried, but he could not pick it up. After much huffing and puffing — and sweating — he could not move it a mere centimeter — nor could he open it! The crowd of religious leaders was dumbstruck.

With a nonchalant shrug, Robert Houdin beckoned his frail female assistant to lift it up and carry it away. At the museum, we learned how the trick was performed. (The ‘strong’ man may have later committed Sudoku.)

Anyway, about our stay at the Hôtel Meurice . . . .



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