CARL HERTZ THE IMITATOR.

CARL Hertz will be remembered as one of the greatest American magicians of all time. The story of his rise to fame is as romantic as any fairy story from Grimm, and is a triumph of pluck and perseverance. Carl's determination to succeed carried him through a thousand troubles and eventually enabled him to reach the foremost rank of his profession.

His real name was Louis Morgenstein, and he was born of Jewish parents about sixty-five years ago in San Francisco. His father owned a dry goods store in one of the meaner parts of the town, and was determined that his son should be in the same trade. Carl, however. had other ideas. He had decided to become a magician.

Curiously enough, it was not until he had seen a conjuring performance by the Great Hermann that Carl's thoughts definitely turned towards magic. But that one performance had so impressed him that he decided then and there to change his vocation.

His first step was to learn a few tricks. This he did without any professional tuition, and practised so assiduously that in a very short while he felt confident that he could present quite a passable public performance. But now he was faced with his greatest difficulty. Who would engage him?

This was only one of the many problems which beset him. His father, having sold up his own business, put Carl out as assistant at a neighbouring store. From this position he was sacked for demonstrating conjuring tricks during business hours, and he lost several other good posts for the same reason.

His parents became much alarmed at his continual failures, and threatened that, unless he could put his mind to his business, all his conjuring apparatus would be destroyed. This threat they afterwards carried out.

Carl's first appearance on the stage (as an amateur) was a dismal failure. All his tricks went wrong, and his stage fright was so obvious that the audience hooted him off the platform, In one trick, where he had to fire a revolver, he lost his nerve entirely, and fired a weapon containing a live cartridge. The bullet clipped the ear of a man standing in the wings, and it was only by a miracle that the young conjurer did not stand a trial for manslaughter. As it was, he vowed he would never again appear in public.

But a few months later he was offered a professional engagement which, against his parents' wishes, he decided to accept. He joined a touring company bound for the towns of Southern California. The tour lasted exactly two days. The manager absconded, and Carl was forced to pawn his gold cuff-links in order to pay his fare back to San Francisco.

This was a bad start, but there was worse to follow. In a short while he received another offer, this time from a well-known manager who was sending a company to tour the mining towns. Carl signed up the contract, and set off for Petaluma where the show was due to open. To his utter astonishment he found only two actors and an actress waiting to receive him. The manager told him. that other artists were on their way, and handed him several sheets of closely written manuscript.

"What's this?" asked Carl.

"Your part. We're doing 'H.M.S. Pinafore'," was the short reply.

Carl gaped open-mouthed.

"But hang it all," he protested. "I'm a conjurer."

"Rubbish! You don't know anything about magic, so you may as well play opera instead."

"I can't sing a note! I absolutely refuse."

"Listen." The manager dismissed his protests with an airy wave of the hand. "You either play the part of Dick Deadeye, or else start walking home. Please yourself." Carl was almost broke, and had no option.

The performance, which had been widely advertised as "A Special Show by Gilbert & Sullivan's 'Pinafore' Company" was a fiasco. University students attended in force, and when they realised that four artists were attempting to play every part in the opera, there was almost a riot. They booed, made cat calls, and eventually started throwing eggs. After several attempts to gain a hearing, the actors retired, and the curtain was rung down. The next day the company returned to San Francisco.

Bitterly disappointed, Carl was forced to return to the dry goods trade. He surprised his parents by working exceptionally hard, and they had hopes that he would settle down and lead the normal life of a business. man. In reality, he was saving to pay his fare to Kansas City, where he was determined to try his luck as a single turn. In the meantime, he was giving conjuring performances at private houses and charity shows, and was gaining confidence and skill. When he had saved sufficient money, he packed up his apparatus, and started on the three-thousand-mile journey to the west.

For eleven days he suffered the worst discomforts imaginable. The emigrant train which he boarded was dirty and smelly, and as he was travelling in the height of summer, the conditions became well-nigh unbearable. His food consisted of canned meats and vegetables, which his mother had thoughtfully bound up into a hamper.

"That journey was the worst experience of my life," he told me forty years afterwards. "Even though it was so long ago, it remains a vivid nightmare. I don't know how I endured it."

When he arrived at his destination, he jumped from the train and had a hurried wash, his first since leaving San Francisco. Then, after a meal which he ate so quickly that he was troubled with indigestion for a week afterwards, he went to the best hotel in the town, and reserved a room.

"My luggage is being sent on in due course," he explained to the suspicious booking clerk.

That same evening he was lounging outside the hotel entrance, when he noticed a young man in shirt sleeves giving instructions to another man who was dressing the windows of an adjoining shop, known as the "The Boston One Price Clothing Store." Carl, who felt badly in need of human companionship, started a conversation, and almost before he realised it, he had told the other of his theatrical ambitions, and of the many disappointments which had come his way.

"So you want to get on at the Theatre Comique?" asked the shop assistant, who had introduced himself as Hano. "Well, I guess you'll have to wait awhile. The theatre is being repaired, and won't be finished for another three weeks."

Carl whistled.

"That's bad," he remarked. "I'm staying at the best hotel in the town, and haven't enough money to pay for one week, let alone three."

"That's alright," returned Hano. "You clear out of that hotel right now. I can fix you up until your engagement starts. I happen to have taken a liking to you, and I reckon you'll make a success. Get your luggage sent along to my rooms."

Carl was not slow to take advantage of his new friend's kindness. He straightway handed in his notice at the hotel, and moved his luggage and his precious bundle of tricks to a small room at the back of the clothing store. Had it not been for Hano's generosity, more likely than not he would have returned home, and might well have finished his days behind the shop counters which he hated so much.

On the following morning the young conjurer set out to visit the manager of the Theatre Comique.

"I'm Carl Hertz, the great conjurer," he said by way of introduction. "I believe you're re-opening in three weeks. I'll hang on if you care to engage me for a week."

The manager smiled thoughtfully.

"So you're a great conjurer, are you? Well, I've never heard of you. Nor has anyone else I daresay. Let's see what you can do." Carl gave a demonstration, and was relieved to observe that the manager seemed impressed.

"That's enough," said the great man. "What's your price?"

"Sixty dollars a week."

"That's absurd. I might pay you thirty."

"That's equally absurd. As a sacrifice, I can come down to fifty."

"Far too high."

But at last everything was arranged amicably. Carl was engaged for one week at forty dollars, a figure which was then considered excellent payment. He filled in the three weeks before his engagement by doing various odd jobs in the "Boston One Price Clothing Store." On one occasion, he was allowed to dress the window, and this he did with such success that the proprietor begged him to give up the idea of stage life, offering him an excellent salary as chief window dresser to the firm. Needless to say, Carl declined with thanks.

His performance met with extraordinary success, and the manager was so delighted that he extended the contract for a further fortnight. Meanwhile the conjurer wrote to agents in all parts of the United States, enclosing his programme and several press cuttings in praise of his Kansas City performance. As a result, he obtained further engagements which lasted for another twelve months. In 1884, when he had become a popular figure in America, Carl decided to visit England. In July, he sailed for Liverpool with the intention of remaining a few months. Actually he stopped three years. Strangely enough, the Liverpool managers would not look at him, although he assured them he had definitely established himself as one of America's leading magicians. So, more in disgust that in anger, he travelled on to Manchester, where he persuaded a manager to book him for one week on the understanding that if he were a failure there was to be no payment.

His performance was well received, and he was engaged for a further fortnight. Flushed with success, he came to London, and, as news of his northern triumph had already trickled south, he had no difficulty in obtaining further bookings.

It was at this time that Beautier de Kolta was astonishing audiences at the Trocadero with his celebrated "Vanishing Lady" illusion. This trick was different from anything, that had been seen before, and was the talk of all London. Anxious not to miss anything which might be of use to him, Carl saw de Kolta's performance, and came away greatly impressed.

He altered a few of the details of the 'Vanishing Lady,' re-named it, and used it as his own trick. He created a profound sensation in all the towns he visited, and within a comparatively short space of time, he found himself famous. That, in brief, is the romantic story of his rise to fame.

For nearly twenty years he remained the undisputed king of vaudeville magicians, and it was not until Horace Goldin first appeared here, at the beginning of this century, that the American's position was seriously challenged. Hertz saw Goldin's performance, and realised that he had now a serious rival. He became panic stricken, and decided to alter the whole of his programme. From that moment, he seemed to lose all his old artistry and showmanship.

He purchased a number of new illusions from Basch, a well-known German manufacturer. This was a great mistake. Clever mechanic though he was, Basch was no inventor, and obtained the ideas for his illusions from the programmes of the best Continental performers.

Carl soon lost the reputation which had cost him so much to build. He became known as an imitator, and lost caste not only amongst his brother magicians, but with theatrical managers as well. He was content to appear at second class theatres, and indeed, had it not been for his wonderful bird-cage trick, it is doubtful if he would have secured engagements at all.