When the magician walked onto the stage, the audience laughed.
But when Max Malini started to perform…
A short and stout teapot of a man waddled onto the stage. His image evoked a ripple of laughter among the audience. By the middle of his show, everyone in the auditorium was in rapt attention. Some audience members even got up from their seats to get closer to the performer and watch more carefully.
Who was Max Malini?
Max Malini—born in 1873 as Max Katz Breit—was a short, squat man with short arms . Hands small he couldn’t conceal a standard-size playing card in them. Let alone a large block of ice, which he frequently produced from a lady’s hat.
“Dats a beautiful hat, lady. I love Parisian hats, but sometimes day surprise me.”
Pulls a cantaloupe-sized block of ice from her hat.
That’s the pick-up line!
If nature ever intended Max Malini to become a magician—let alone one of the most famous magicians in the history of magic—not even a mentalist could’ve guessed it.
His fingers were so short and pudgy that it seemed impossible they could perform manipulations requiring finesse. If you didn’t hear his guttural voice and distorted English, at first view you might guess he must be an opera star or impresario—certainly not one of the best magicians in the world.
The magician’s hands were so small . Small were his hands that when he palmed a card, part of it protruded and the secret would have been detected had he not resorted to other subterfuges.
It would seem that nature had been unkind to him and made him unsuitable for the magician profession.
Still, he dressed expensively and, in spite of a deep, guttural speaking voice, and an amusing abuse of the English language with his decidedly foreign accent, Malini spoke with dignity.
At first glance, one might assume he were an opera star or impresario.
He certainly commanded attention and impressed people; his irresistible self-confidence and overpowering stage presence could not be exaggerated.
Max Malini
Max became an acrobat when he was only twelve years old, but three years later he became spellbound by a fire-eater, ventriloquist, and magician—Professor Seiden. Seiden kept a drinking saloon on the Bowery. Seiden taught the eager student Max tricks of sleight of hand like Cups and Balls, a magic trick Malini would later feature in his act.
By age nineteen, Max was a saloon entertainer and skilled at busking. Under these rough saloon conditions, the experience endowed him with the ability to handle any situation. Into a saloon he’d waddle, introduce himself by whatever name he had adopted, then entertain with commonplace, objects within his short reach; sugar cubes, wooden matches, glasses, knives, and so forth.
The magician’s early associates were the renowned Emile Jarrow who later became one of vaudeville’s outstanding comedy magicians, and Professor Walters.
By his mid-twenties, he had become a private entertainer in exclusive circles in both Europe and America. Every Monarch in Asia and Europe heaped decorations onto magician Max Malini, as he performed before British Royalty at Buckingham Palace, Command Performances in the White House for President McKinley, President Harding, President Coolidge, President Roosevelt, the Prince of Wales, John D. Rockefeller, John Pershing, Mrs. Corneillus Vanderbilt, J.P. Morgan, the Duke of Portland, three kings of England, and the King of Siam.
Such people gave the magician rare jewels and other gifts, as they regarded Max as a close friend.
He was a product of a different era from our own. He lived and performed amid great wealth, privilege, and pomp; and though little known to the general public, he was an idol among people of wealth and distinction.
Dai Vernon, “Magic Paul” Paul Daniels, Meir Yedid of Meir Yedid Magic, Ricky Jay, David Blaine, and many other famous magicians idolize “Max Katz” and the magic of Magic Malini. In the 1990s, Ricky produced and starred in the show ‘Ricky Jay and His 52 Assistants’, dedicated to Max Malini.
These and even more famous magicians perform Malini’s Egg Bag magic trick . Aspiring famous magicians perform it. You progress through one classic magic trick after another, Cups & Balls, Linking Rings, Egg Bag, etc.
Malini’s methods were usually simple, but they were always hidden by strong misdirection. He used to sum up this theory of misdirection in the short phrase, “It’s the Eye.”
When Malini performed, he never made a quick move of any kind. He always did everything slowly (and transparently), but with the strong misdirection he used, he could make these moves slowly and smoothly and they passed unnoticed by all observers; not because they were executed so flawlessly that they were invisible, but because they were executed under strong misdirection.
Despite these obvious drawbacks, he somehow exploited them as strengths. He commanded attention and had an overpowering stage presence.
Among people of wealth and distinction, he was a demigod.
He rubbed shoulders with President McKinley, President Harding, President Coolidge, President Roosevelt, John D. Rockefeller, J.P. Morgan, John J. Pershing, three Kings of England, the King of Siam, the Duke of Portland, and many others.
He was the David Blaine of the early 20th century. Max often said, “You’ve got to mix with people with money if you want to make money.” He certainly practiced what he preached; for, this he certainly did, and whether he had money in his pocket or not a cent in the world, he always managed to live well and indulged his expensive tastes.
Throughout the history of magic, many stories have been told about the magician Malini, and the following one is backed up by Malini himself:
When traveling from Elks Lodge of Hawaii to London, magician Max Malini frequented Romano’s and became well-known to the clientele. When it became known that he had been commanded to appear at Sandringham by King Edward, on the occasion of Queen Alexandra’s birthday, there was much good advice on the etiquette to be adopted in the Royal presence.
Said one client, “Max, whenever the King addresses you, remember to fall on your knees.” Max replied, “On my knees, good, I tink I remember.” Another sportsman said, “Don’t forget to address the King as Your Royal and Sacred Majesty.” “Royal and Sacred Majesty…Good, I remember,” said Max. Another advised, “Keep walking backward all the time, Max.” “Valk backwards, good. I remember dat,” replied magician Max.
The day after this command performance, his advisers clustered around him at Romano’s, eager to ply him with questions. Max chuckled, “You tink I swallow all dat foolishness. Dis is Max Malini…I know de Royal ettiket bizness all rite. Ven de King come up to me an’ say, “Ferry cleffer magic trick, Mr. Malini, ferry clefer indeed,” I no fall on my knees or say ‘Royal and Sacred tommy-nonsense.’ No, I said, ‘Much obliged Royal Mister,’ and de King he laff and say ‘Haff a cigar’ and I say, ‘You bet.’”
Max Malini performed from Shanghai China to the Elks Lodge of America. He married Elizabeth Isaacs in Chicago.
The stories of the magic of magician Max Malini are legion, both his stage magic and close-up magic. Everywhere he walked, Malini performed miracles with anything in sight—a rubber band, a sugar cube, a chicken, even a bathtub.
Max would introduce a trick in an understated way, “I’ll show you a little magic trick.”
You would need a tricks index to keep track of each magic trick that could make Max a legend.
But here is one last Malini story. His card tricks were out of this world. One of Max’s signature card tricks was the blindfold card stab.
A table center stage. A borrowed knife on the edge of the table. On the table, the cards were mixed and swirled around and around by a lady in the audience.
The crowd would blindfold Malini with borrowed handkerchiefs. According to Dai Vernon, a few times during these performances, a gentleman in a front-row seat pitched his suit jacket over Max’s head and tied it snugly with a rope around Max’s neck.
Blindfolded-Max stabbed down the knife into the hopelessly mixed face-down cards.
The magician then requested the name of a playing card, and when someone called out a playing card, Max Malini raised it in the air, and it was seen he had impaled the correct card.
Max told the lady to scatter the cards around more, and she did.
Again, he stabbed a face-down card.
Then Max asked for another card to be called out.
She called out a playing card. He raised the knife with the correct playing card impaled on the tip of the knife.
This went on (with some variety, such as stabbing two cards at once, or stabbing it and showing its back to the audience for suspense) until about a dozen cards were stabbed.
Malini always stabbed through the final card dramatically and into the table itself. He then tipped the table and all the remaining cards fell to the stage. The knife was pulled free to disclose the face of the impaled card which was seen to be the final card selected.
Max Malini was one of the most extraordinary personalities in the history of magic. The legendary magician of the late 1800s, Max Malini was unlike the measured, elegant style and polished demeanor that could describe most magicians of the era.
Max once ran up to a statesman (or waddled up to him) and bit a button off the man’s suit coat, only to wave his hand over it and restore it. I’m sure you’ll agree, that’s a magic trick. It’s a Malini story. That story makes a legend.
Such was Max Malini’s audacity, and this event landed him high-end magic shows for politicians.
To the magician Max Malini, an effect had to be simple, direct, and easy to follow. His methods were usually simple, but they were always hidden by strong misdirection. His general theory was never to do a sleight when attention was focused on his hands. He was a master of Delayed Action, the sleight occurring when least expected.
One time, Charlie Miller asked Malini, Max, how is it you can always fool people with these lights of yours?
Max replied, well, you don’t do it when they are watching.
What do you mean? asked Charlie.
Well, take this side slip I do, Max replied, oh I wait I wait.
What do you mean by I wait I wait?
While I wait until they aren’t looking!
But how long do you wait?
Malini replied, “I’ll wait a week.”
In other words, Malini would never do a sleight while he was being closely observed. He would always wait until he could distract attention in some way. He used this theory of misdirection in the short phrase, It’s the eye. Now, nobody knows what Malini meant by that. But here in my conclusion
Most people in Magic know an audience will look in the direction that the performer looks. This is one meaning of Malini’s phrase, but what I think you meant was this. Malini had an infectious way of talking, and when he addressed you with a sudden remark or spoke to you, it was always impossible to keep from looking him in the face. When you caught his eye, you could not watch two things at the same time, then his hand would make the secret maneuver.
If I had in a few words the true secret of Malini’s misdirection, I would say he never, never made a quick move of any kind.
He always did everything slowly. Many magicians make a quick move and try to deceive with quickness. Malini did everything slowly, if you happen to be looking at his hands at the time he made some of his moves, you would see every detail of the move, but with the strong misdirection he used, he can make these moves slowly and smoothly are they passed unnoticed by all observers.
Malini rarely did tricks for anyone unless it meant either money in his pocket or some other personal gain.
Magician Max Malini was not given to visiting private homes socially; to go professionally was a matter, for that was his livelihood. He did not like accepting invitations to visit private homes because he was frequently served food which he did not enjoy. Afterward, he was expected to perform parlor tricks and tell funny stories. He intimated he was old at the game to “sing for his supper” and use the expression that “charity begins at home.”
On each visit to Shanghai, Max usually stayed about a month, during which he gave at least two public shows, usually in the ballroom of the best hotel. By special arrangement with the hotel management, a dance followed the entertainment which brought revenue to the hotel. In between, Max worked the better class clubs and rich homes. He was always on the lookout for important people to visit.
Having the gift of self-introduction and knowing his value, he had no difficulty making contacts. According to records, Malini charged 21 guinea gold coins (worth $2300 in today’s money) for a society engagement of 30 minutes duration.
His favorite food was chicken. Max always dressed well and was about his shoes. There was nothing down-at-heel about him. His victim was If he looked clean and had good clothes on his back, he could always get engagements. He was a stickler for personal cleanliness and took two baths per day, morning and evening. I called for him at his hotel and had breakfast with him before we proceeded to my place for lunch.
One Sunday morning when waiting for him to dress, I remark he was not taking his usual hot bath that morning. He told me why. It seems that some time previously he was taking a bath in the morning after the night before, and left the hot water running.
Being still a little under the influence, he was unable to turn off the taps. He had to yell for help and was saved in the nick of time from being boiled alive. From that day on, he never took a chance in a hot bath unless he was in good shape, and had not been drinking.
Malini could be outspoken when needed. Some years ago at a dinner party in a home in Shanghai, there were about 25 people present including several news correspondents, commercial Travelers, and magicians.
After dinner Max performed his cups and balls routine, using ordinary tumblers covered with newspaper, with medicine bottle corks instead of the standard balls.
A vivacious young French lady persisted in raising the glasses at inopportune moments, which annoyed the magician intensely. Max stopped his performance and addressed the ladies, “Madame! You come here to enjoy yourself—you had a goot dinner—and everythink to make you happy. You are now being entertained by vun of the greatest matchishuns in da world, and you aren’t satisfied. What do you want?”
Max was adamant and said, “If the lady don’t know her manners, she must be teached.”
Malini’s magic was not of the finger-flinging type—his tricks were simple in plot—never complicated like many of the tricks we see today. They seemed to work themselves, without any apparent effort on the part of Malini.
To see him throw a glass tumbler into the air when surrounded by an audience and seemingly cause it to vanish in mid-air was an experience never to be forgotten.
Many notable people saw him perform this feat several times and were astonished by the illusion.
Another of Malini’s specialties was his button biting trick ( biting a button from the coat of a member of the audience and restoring the coat). This trick has been done by performers since Malini, but never in the same telling manner as the magician Max Malini.
Malini’s hands were small, which made his manipulations all the more remarkable. He wore a 5 and 1/2 size glove.
Malini was a magical opportunist—he was always on the lookout to surprise people when they least expected he was going to work. Many of the effects or miracles attributed to Malini were performed by him perhaps only once or twice in his lifetime. Conditions had to beright and he was never in a hurry— he would wait for hours, even days, to gain publicity by performing a seeming miracle.
One of Malini’s idiosyncrasies was his reluctance to accept cigars from anyone unless he knew the donor well. Experience had taught him to beware of practical jokers. Someone in high office once gave the magician what would seem to be a most excellent Havana cigar. Max didn’t light up at the time but later handed it to the Secretary of a fashionable Club—thinking to impress. The secretary lit up, and after taking a few Puffs, the cigar blew up in his face. The result was that Malini lost a good engagement. “Never again,” said Max.
It would seem Malini was not fond of fraternizing with magicians, either amateur or professional, and was not given to indulging in private conversations or confidences about his work or family life.
He did not suffer gladly intrusions into his private affairs, but to those who he liked, after due trial ( which took a long time), he was a staunch friend for life. Max was understanding and tender-hearted under the skin, and he shed tears when misfortune had fallen on those he knew and loved.
Perhaps the floodgates of his memory were opened on those occasions by fleeting thoughts of his own battle with life, for Max had his ups and downs. He could be as close as an oyster, or as communicative as an open book. It all depended on his mood, but he rarely spoke about his Private Affairs ( outside of show business) to anyone, a lot of interesting information concerning this wonderful little man has been lost to posterity. Unfortunately, people who knew him in his early days are either no longer with us, or are lost track of.
Malini—the last of the footloose magical troupers, has joined the Immortals in, we hope, a more peaceful place than the world we now live in.
The magician Max Malini’s business slogan was, You will wonder when I’m coming—you will wonder more when I’m gone.
Max has been gone for 82 years, and I am still wondering.
Max Malini died on the 3rd of October, 1942 in Honolulu, Hawaii. For several months, he had been so sick and weak that his last performance (entertaining Soldiers and Sailors) was given while seated in a chair.
So passed one of the great figures of magic.
Magician Jon Finch is one of the top entertainers in the Midwest and entertains with magic and mentalism.
