Kreskin Confidential

            I realized at the intermission that I had been cheated. Days later, I was in another part of the country. I received a call from a national press dispatch. The information that I had been taken advantage of and duped unfairly had gotten to them, and for some strange reason the Psychology professor was not available for comment for a number of days. It seemed as if he had left town. In some way, karma being what it is, I expect that he paid his price.

            So, although almost half of the failures were not because of my inability to read the thoughts of the committee, but because of cheating, I was still unsuccessful nine times. They were traumatic failures. You can probably tell that I still really haven’t gotten over them. Even though it was “only” nine times out of thousands of performances, it’s never fun giving away your salary. So I made a decision that should I ever fail a tenth time, I would cease to do the test.

            I still dwell on the legitimate failures, as perhaps you can tell, and distinctly remember the one that had nothing to do with the committee. It had to do with my own reasoning. I am a big fan of Sherlock Holmes and sympathize with him in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous story, A Scandal in Bohemia, where the great detective’s reasoning is bested by the person he called “The Woman,” Irene Adler.

            My “scandal” took place in Atlantic City, New Jersey. It was a performance for the American Medical Association College of Surgeons. The room was packed —so filled, in fact, that folding chairs were set up for overflow doctors who wanted to attend. Time came for the check test. As I can recount in almost every situation and setting, this gigantic room was dead silent as I walked through it. Every step was weighed and observed by this audience — an audience of scientists and medically trained minds.

            My “Irene Adler” was a woman in the audience who I asked to get out of her chair. She wasn’t sitting on the check. It was a folding chair, and I turned it over but the check simply wasn’t there. I had to sit down. I felt maybe I had a poor mind-reading subject, so I asked another committee member just to follow me and concentrate.

            It was perplexing. I circled around the auditorium, came back to “The Woman” again, and again, and again. Some four or five times I found myself at the same destination. I turned the chair over again. I tried to find any folding of cloth or wrappings around the chair … anything that could hide a check. I was absolutely flummoxed.

            I finally made a decision that I dreaded making…. ”Ladies and gentlemen, I can’t go on. I failed.” There was dead silence. The president up on the dais said, “Well, of course, Kreskin, we’ll pay you.” I said, “No. I can’t jeopardize my career. This is not a magic act. Things are not done over. I failed.” 

            But back to the search. Oh yes, I had successfully perceived the thoughts of the committee member. The Woman did have to get out of the chair. I was correct in picking up the chair. The problem is that my mind and reason interfered. The check was under The Woman. It was under the chair. I was literally standing an eighth of an inch from the check.