Saving Magic

by Dr. Michael Claxton, professor of English

So, what do you do when Harding is closed during a pandemic? When there are no sporting events, no chapel services, no student performances, no in-person classes, no faculty meetings? You write a book! Or at least, that’s what I did. In spring 2020, I began work on a biography of a dear friend. But truth be told, I really started that project when I was 15. That’s when I knocked on the door at a home in Brentwood, Tennessee, eagerly awaiting my first visit with David Price. 

It wasn’t just any home, though. It was a place of wonder. After all, Mr. Price was the curator of the Egyptian Hall Museum of Magic, one of the world’s richest private collections of posters, photographs, props, books, letters and other artifacts of the art of stage conjuring. Why did I care about that at age 15, when my friends were playing video games and going to rock concerts? And how did a future Harding English teacher come to write the life story of an IRS accountant who made a name for himself preserving magic history?

The short version goes like this. When I was 8 years old, several things happened at once to get me hooked on the world of sleight of hand. First, I saw a magician at my elementary school. Then, my sister gave me a deck of trick playing cards. And finally, a magic shop opened next door to the beauty salon my mother went to each week. Soon I was on my way to becoming a professional magician, and only one thing could get in the way. A lack of talent. Sadly, it didn’t take me long to realize that I would not be the next David Copperfield. As a service to the art form, I retired at 14.

Instead, my interest shifted. Since my parents bought and sold antiques as a hobby, I soon became obsessed with the history of magical artists. Names like Houdini, Thurston, Kellar, Herrmann and Chung Ling Soo became my heroes, and I was thrilled to discover that one of the world’s great museums on that subject was right down the street from my aunt and uncle in Brentwood. While I lived in Georgia, I spent time in Nashville during summers and Christmas holidays. So, I visited Mr. Price at least twice a year for the last decade of his life.  

He, too, had to abandon his dream of performing professionally. But not for lack of talent. He broke the arches of both feet in basic training in World War II. So, unfortunately, he could not stand up long enough to do a show. Yet he spent half a century building an extensive archive on his passion, using it to write dozens of articles and a monumental book titled Magic: A Pictorial History of Conjurers in the Theatre in 1985. Each time I visited, I sat in awe as he told stories of the great magicians he had known and showed me their mementoes. Those visits solidified my interest in collecting and desire to write about magic history, which eventually led to my first book in 2014 — Don’t Fool Yourself: The Magical Life of Dell O’Dell. 

Mr. Price died in 1998 at the age of 87. His son maintained the collection for two years and then sold it. But he kept an archive related to his dad, and he shared those documents with me in 2020. Five years later, I was proud to hand him a copy of Saving Magic: David Price and the Making of Egyptian Hall. The book tells the story of how a disappointed show business dream turned into a unique tribute to a beloved art form. For anyone who has ever experienced wonder as you watched someone float in the air, seen playing cards appear at a performer’s fingertips or pondered how solid rings could suddenly link together, you know the joy that a great magician can evoke. Now the story of one man’s effort to rescue the artifacts of that art form can be told. 

The book was published as a limited edition by Squash Publishing in Chicago, a company owned by a close friend who shares my love of magic history. While it is aimed at readers who are already familiar with the big names in the field, it is a story of persistence and tenacity, one that celebrates the thrill of the hunt and the joy of discovery. It has indeed been a magical journey. I firmly believe that writing teachers should be writers themselves, and I look forward to bringing insights from my publishing experiences into the classroom.