Farewell J.C. Wagner

My friendship with J.C. Wagner began in 1987 when his book "The Commercial Magic Of J.C. Wagner" arrived at Tam Shepherd's Trick Shop in Glasgow.

I was eighteen years old and had an insatiable appetite for close-up sleight of hand methods and effects. J.C.'s book was an instant classic and fast became one of my favorite books.

The advice on how to use the Gambler's Cop, the chapter on Estimation, the rubber band revelation, Card On The Ceiling and the last trick in the book, Sweepstack have all been part of my repertoire over the years.

The book was a thrill to read. Every trick was worth learning and trying out and, whoever this Wagner guy was, I wanted to meet him. It was sixteen years before I got the chance.

When I heard JC had been booked for Ron McMillan's International Convention in London, I made certain that I would be there. I called Jim Patton and asked him to put in a good word on my behalf, loaded my bag with ammunition and went to London to hunt big game.

My plan was to ambush J.C. in the traditional close-up magician's battleground - the convention bar. I had a feeling J.C. had seen a bar or two in his time so I brought the big guns:

Impossible locations? Check.

Gambling techniques? Check.

Obscure methods? Check.

Commercial routines? Check.

Unfair, impractical but impossible miracles? Absolutely!

I didn't just want to meet the man, I wanted to prove my worth and try to go toe-to-toe.

I should have brought a bigger boat.

I've learned a great deal over the years. That night in London I learned to chill out and stop trying so hard. J.C. Wagner turned out to be one of the nicest, kindest and most generous people it has been my privilege to meet.

J.C. and I met around 7.30 on the first night of the convention. We were still going strong at 3.30am.

What impressed me the most was his humility. J.C. seemed almost baffled by his own status. He almost apologized as he performed one miracle after another. For me, it was everything my eighteen year old self could have hoped for.

I tried to hold up my end of the table but J.C. never seemed to dry up of great effects, subtle touches and priceless advise. It's an evening I'll never forget.

By 3.15 there were just a couple of us left and J.C. realized he was working the next day. I asked him if he would like to see one more thing. Naturally he did, so I went for the big finish.

I asked J.C. to think of any card. To change his mind until he was sure - positive - that it was a completely free choice. He named the seven of clubs.

I dealt through my deck and J.C.'s card was missing. Gone. Vanished.

J.C. looked at me and said "That's it?" 

I said "That's it." and handed him the deck. He checked it again and the seven was still missing. He nodded and we got up to leave. J.C. kept looking for the missing card but I simply said goodnight and we got in the elevator together to head for our rooms.

As it turned out we were on the same floor. I wished J.C. a good night and went into my room. He entered his own room, which was a few doors down.

I was sharing with Ryan Swigert who was still up preparing his own lecture for the next day. I told him to expect a knock on our door.

We waited.

Within a few minutes, there was a short, sharp knock. I opened it up to find J.C. wearing his trademark grin from ear to ear. He was holding the seven of clubs, which he had found under his pillow.

"Who are you, Paul? The fucking card fairy?"

It became a running gag between us. I even pulled it off over the phone when J.C. was at the TSD convention (which I missed thanks to a spider bite!).

This year, at the Magic Con convention, I spent a few wonderful days in J.C.'s company and, thanks to my dear friend James Patton, I got to enjoy the best treat of all: a visit to The Little Club where J.C. held court every Saturday.

My, what a day. 

Accompanied by Tony Cabral and Tom Frank, Jim and I took the water taxi to the island and walked to the unimpressive, dark little bar where miracles might happen.

First we chatted and J.C. fired a few shots at us from across the bar. We shared a sandwich as Tony Cabral dealt bottoms and pitched them onto the bar (and into the ice bucket). J.C. then showed us a few tricks he was toying with including one of my own effects. I was elated.

The bar was quiet and J.C. told me it was usually like this. Then a crowd walked in. At first, I thought they might also be magicians from the convention but they were just tourists. Laymen. 

J.C. was on.

Reading his book as an eighteen year old, I met J.C. Wagner as a powerful performer who could tear it up behind the bar and that day at The Little Club I saw J.C. at the height of his powers. 

How strong was his set? He opened with the bunnies. If you've ever worked a professional gig with the sponge bunnies (aka rubber rabbits) you know what powerful, shocking, hilarious effect it can be. Imagine that as your first effect, then building from there.

Each effect J.C. did was a closer. He walked away after each one, with a facial flourish I will never forget. He was digging it just as much as they were and I learned a powerful lesson.

Every time J.C. blew them away they begged him for more - and he delivered. Those routines I had read many years before came alive in that dark little bar. I saw my friend come alive. I saw a master at work.

Later that night, J.C. was due to perform for the magicians at a bar near the convention. I decided not to go. I knew that it might be the last time I saw J.C. work but I wanted The Little Club to be that memory.

The last time J.C. and I hung out was the last night of the convention. The cool kids were all going for dinner up the street but a few of us opted for a more intimate dinner: burgers and a shake.

J.C. was tired. He fell asleep several times. As we parted he gave me a hug and whispered, "Getting old's a bitch".

I recently extended a trip to LA so I could see J.C. at the Magic Castle. He never made it. We all knew it was bad news and, sadly I couldn't stay any longer to go and visit him. 

Last night J.C. Wagner lost his battle with cancer. The last year was a gift he might might not have shared had it not been for his friends Jim Patton, Jamy Ian Swiss, John Kovarovic and Jeff Pearson. 

It's a very sad day for magic. 

P