Vernon’s Elegant Selected Card Management
In the era of Hoffman’s Modern Magic, a common approach to pick-a-card tricks would be to have the selected card returned to the pack, control it via the two-handed Classic Shift, palm the card off from the top of the pack, and hand the deck out for shuffling. Upon the deck’s return, the selection is secretly returned to the top of the pack, whereupon the magical routine would unfold, eventually concluding with the magician’s revelation of the chosen card.
At the 2007 Los Angeles Conference on Magic History, in a talk about Theodore Deland, Richard Kaufman made the astute observation that while Dai Vernon’s reputation is substantially associated with expert sleight-of-hand, Vernon’s impact reached far beyond this one limited facet of his work. Among Vernon’s other impacts and contributions, he also was instrumental in offering simplified alternatives to advanced sleight of hand, thereby bringing high quality close-up card magic within the reach of a far wider group of amateur practitioners.
In support of this thesis, consider that in the era of Hoffman’s Modern Magic, two fundamental sleights regarded as requirements necessary to the performance of card magic were the two-handed Classic Shift, and the Top Change. The challenging nature of these techniques served as a barrier to many amateur magicians.
Dai Vernon, however, contributed to a sea change. Resented by some in his time as a being a popularizer, Vernon lowered the bar for entry with the invention of the Double Undercut as a substitute for the pass, and the popularizing of the Double-Lift in place of the Top Change. The Double Undercut – inspired by a tabled transfer cut in Erdnase – could be far more readily mastered than the shift. And while Vernon certainly did not invent the Double-Lift, it was not, in the early years of the 20th century, the ubiquitous sleight it is today. At the time, the Double-Lift typically relied on contrived and unnatural handlings, which is why in his early days in New York City, Vernon was routinely fooling magicians with his own pseudo-pushoff handling, which was not suspected because it was far more natural in appearance than the typical approaches. But the Double-Lift would become commonplace, and for a period of time in the mid/late century, the Top Change would fall out of favor, due to magicians’ fear of the necessary misdirection, and the feeling – exemplified by technicians like Larry Jennings – that misdirection was something only needed to assist weak technique and inferior methods.
In the mid-1980s I visited the Magic Castle and had the opportunity to session with Dai Vernon, at his regular seating area that was then located immediately outside the Close-up Gallery.[2] Although throughout the late ‘80s I spent many more visits with the Professor and got to know him better, it was late in his life and we didn’t typically session so much as chat about magic, along with many other subjects. So although this was not the first time we had met, the particular encounter has always stood out in my memory.
I began by performing two coin routines: a version of Spellbound, and then Geoff Latta’s as yet unpublished Slow Motion Coin Vanish routine[2]. During the Spellbound routine, the two coins were heard to clink a couple of times in my hand, much to my embarrassment (I had concluded the routine by displaying apparently one coin in my hand via Latta’s Deep Center Grip Recovery[3]). At the routine’s conclusion, as I apologized sheepishly for the sound, I heard it again – oddly, since the routine was over. I turned to my right to discover that the guy sitting next to me, a Castle regular, had been deliberately clinking two coins in his hands together at chosen moments. He laughed.[4] Although I was steamed, I didn’t say anything, as I was already sufficiently nervous sitting with the Professor and trying to perform for him.
After performing the Slow Motion Vanish, Vernon borrowed my English Penny, rose from his seat, and stood at the foot of the table. Then he performed Leipzig’s Slow Motion Coin Vanish – the routine that originated this plot, and which remained a pet favorite through the Professor’s life.
This was, as I say, already late in the Professor’s life, but while the experience was a spectacularly unforgettable one for me, I did not discover until afterwards how truly unusual it was. On the phone later that night with Max Maven, as I related the events of the afternoon, Max interrupted me after I mentioned the Professor’s performance of the Leipzig routine. “He actually performed for you?” Max queried, astonished. “Well … yeah. Why?” “Well, consider it a compliment. These days he very rarely performs anything. He must have liked something he saw.”
Vernon sat back down across from me, and I took out a deck of cards. He asked me about the Diagonal Palm Shift. I demonstrated the move for him, using a follow-through I had been shown by Roger Klause. In brief: as the DPS is completed and the right hand carries the deck forward and out of the left hand (leaving the card in left-hand bottom palm), without hesitation and in a continuing action, both hands simultaneously rotate clockwise at the wrists; the right hand is turning palm up, the left hand turning palm down, and the left hand seizes the deck at the face, thumb along the now rightward long side, first fingertip gently curled at the face, and the remaining fingers grasping the deck along the left long side. To complete the action, the left hand now either hands the deck out or tables the deck face-up.
Vernon immediately and strenuously objected. “No, no! That’s no good. It’s an extra action. It’s unnecessary.” He then executed his famous double-choke handling of the DPS, immediately tabling the deck with the right hand.
But the lesson was only beginning.
To illustrate his point, the Professor explained that at one time he had added something to the Erdnase Top Palm, by making a counter-clockwise quarter turn of the deck after secreting the cards in the palm, leaving the deck gripped in the right hand from above by its long edges. While today this added gesture can be seen on occasion, Vernon was dismissive and self-deprecating. “I thought I had improved Erdnase! Imagine that!” He laughed out loud. “Improved Erdnase!”
Then he executed the Palm without the additional turn, demonstrating how he believed it should properly be done. And then he demonstrated his flawless execution of the Erdnase Bottom Palm. This remained one of the Professor’s pet techniques to demonstrate for magicians, late into his life after he had essentially ceased performing. He would draw attention to the fact that there was absolutely no movement of any fingers, including the left first fingertip, throughout the course of the palm.[5]
(As an aside, it’s worth noting that Vernon, never one to waste good work, eventually found a logical use of that quarter turn as cover for his small packet Spring Palm.[6])
Meanwhile, Vernon then returned to the Diagonal Palm Shift, repeating his expert execution, and discussing his elimination of the right forefinger dragging down the side of the pack, as in Erdnase’s original description. (Vernon also executed the move with the pack lower in his hand, close to the palm, as described in Revelations.[7])
But now Vernon showed me something truly fabulous: a complete sequence by which to control and manage a selected card, during which the deck is handed out to a spectator for shuffling.
The selected card is centered in the deck and outjogged, in preparation for the Diagonal Palm Shift. (I will offer some thoughts below as to how to achieve this situation.) Execute the DPS, leaving the card in left hand bottom palm, while in a continuing action, the right hand hands the deck to the spectator for shuffling. When the spectator receives the deck, allow the right hand to be seen empty, without making a deliberate display of it. An excellent misdirective dodge here is to briefly pantomime the action of an overhand shuffle with both hands as you say, “Give the deck a little shuffle,” meanwhile concealing the palmed card from audience view. (This apparently casual gesture works, by the way, to conceal a card palmed in either hand, while allowing the audience a slight glimpse of the inner surface of whichever hand is actually empty.)
While the spectator shuffles, casually execute the Vernon Transfer[8], secretly transferring the palmed card from the left hand to the right hand. Now extend the empty left hand, palm up, in order to receive the pack from the spectator, who will, in response to this gesture, set the deck into the performer’s open left hand.
The right hand comes over the pack to square, and secretly returns the card to the top of the pack. (There are many methods for this. One of my preferred approaches is essentially the reverse of a palming technique, in which the left thumb and fingers extend, contacting the opposite long sides of the pack, and pull the card onto the top of the pack beneath the cover of the right hand.)
As to getting into position for the Diagonal Palm Shift: From the very first time I began to study the DPS – perhaps the greatest single sleight in all of Erdnase, rivaled only by the System of Palming – I found the initial starting requirement troublesome. I hate the idea of the magician physically taking the card from the spectator and inserting it into the deck. It is the opposite of creating any sense of openness, and indeed is innately prone to creating suspicion and resistance on the part of the observers.
There are, however, many ways to avoid this procedure, the simplest of which is to simply ask the spectator to touch a card whereupon the magician outjogs it before tipping up the deck for the spectator’s view. This is, of course, a common procedure for most approaches to Spread Cull Controls. There are also perfectly useful strategies for allowing spectators to return the card themselves, while the performer prevents it from being inserted entirely into the deck.[9]
However, this will not suit all needs, particularly in the case of a card that is handed out for signing by the spectator.
My preferred approach is one of the few valuable things taught to me by Roger Klause, and eventually described in Roger Klause in Concert by Lance Pierce, utilizing LePaul’s Automatic Jog Control from The Magic of LePaul by Paul LePaul, combined with a clever handling touch that enables the application of the Diagonal Palm Shift. Briefly: A card is selected. The magician executes a pressure fan, offering the fanned deck for the return of the selection. The spectator inserts the card, further tapping it into the fan for its entirely length. The magician executes a one-handed close of the fan, and then gently tips the left hand outward, allowing the deck to square at the outer end against the left first fingertip. The result – remarkably! – is that the selection automatically ends up injogged. The sleight requires some practice and finesse in order to master the touch, but it is not terribly difficult, and comprises one of the subtlest controls in all of card magic. Indeed, on the rare occasion when a spectator offers any resistance or difficulty when asked to return a card to the pack, I always instantly execute a pressure fan and say, “Just put it anywhere you like.” This never fails to disarm the most obstreperous of participants.
Typically, one would now use the right thumb to lift the injog and obtain a break under cover of squaring the pack, thereupon proceeding into any of an infinite array of control options, from shifts to a simple Double-Undercut. However, Klause devised a way to transition from the jogged condition directly into the Diagonal Palm Shift, under cover of a natural squaring action. The right hand approaches the pack from above, apparently in Biddle Grip. I say “apparently” because as the right hand now strokes rightward, apparently squaring the pack at the ends, while the right fingers genuinely stroke along the outer edge of the deck, the right thumb travels along the portion of the deck that lies above the injogged card, along the inner end, without disturbing its condition. Continuing without hesitation, the right hand reverses its action, stroking leftward back to the point whence it began. Still continuing without hesitation with a third and final sideways stroke, as the right hand strokes rightward once more, this time the tip of the right thumb, beginning just leftward of the jog, contacts and angle jogs the card in the course of its rightward movement, pausing at approximately the halfway point (that is, the center line of the length of the pack), and leaving the card in perfect position for the DPS. This is a lot of words to describe what is in essence the appearance of a right-left-right squaring action, in which the thumb first passes above the injogged card, and then moves it rightward into angle-jog on the second pass rightward.
Further and still without pausing, the right hand now carries the deck outward, through the left fingers in a continuing stroking action along the long sides; continuing still, the deck is carried inward until it reaches suitable position to suitably contact the right edge of the angle-jogged card with the left fourth finger in preparation for the DPS; whereupon the deck is carried outward, under cover of which the DPS is executed. Without hesitation the right hand continues to carry the deck outward, handing it to the spectator or tabling it, as the card is palmed.
This may sound like a lot of action but it’s not, and appears perfectly natural. In appearance, the fan is closed, the deck gently squared side to side in a brisk one-two-three count followed continuously by a lengthwise one-two-three squaring along the length.
In truth I know of no better procedure for having a card returned to the deck and immediately handing the deck out for shuffling, all while instantaneously and invisibly stealing the card into a palmed concealment. The entire sequence is breathtakingly quick – the work of perhaps three seconds – and, properly executed, utterly undetectable, and entirely free of suspicion.
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I’ve been thinking about Vernon’s brief but breathtaking and enlightening demonstration for the past 35 years, and the more I think about it, the greater my conclusion that it perfectly captures and reveals an aspect of Vernon’s brilliance. Vernon’s sequence – the Diagonal Palm Shift and the hand-to-hand transfer leading to the capping of the deck – provide yet another reminder of the depth and breadth of the Professor’s influence and contributions. In a case like this, he examined a time-honored procedure and contributes two entirely different and influential alternatives. In one – with the Double-Undercut – he utterly simplifies the traditional approach. In the other, he vastly improves upon the norm with expert technique and subtle misdirective thinking. By contrast, a Classic Shift and palm appears positively ham-fisted.
Consider the beauty and effective deceptiveness of this expert alternative to the ancient approach of controlling the card (perhaps via the Classic Shift) to the top and then palming it. In Vernon’s strategy, first the right hand is seen to be empty as the deck is handed out, and moments later, the left hand is obviously empty as the deck is returned. It’s an ingenious and elegant management, and an exemplar of Vernon’s sophisticated approach and influence, evolving magic’s progressively sophisticated evolution[10].
Of course, these reflect only two aspects of Vernon’s multi-faceted influence. He also radically advanced our thinking about the Think-of-a-Card plot – notably with his creation of “Out of Sight, Out of Mind,” which also explores the notion of multiple outs in ground-breaking fashion, and which in turn leads to his invention of the iconic Trick That Cannot Be Explained. Then too there are the great plots, such as Triumph and Travelers, for which Vernon provided definitive and breakthrough methods. And far beyond the shores of card conjuring, Vernon created the true and universal standards for the Cups and Balls (transforming the effect from centuries of platform performance into a genuine close-up routine) and the Linking Rings, both routines containing not only new and instantly standard sleights, but also deeply creative and analytical thought about construction.
Along with, of course and above all, the notion of close analysis, to a degree previously unprecedented in conjuring, and which forms the critical foundation for the Spanish School, as repeatedly acknowledged by its leading exponents, including Tamariz and Giobbi.
And by the way – as with Vernon’s eventually finding a useful application of the turn of the pack – I too eventually found a useful application of Klause’s turning over of the pack following the Diagonal Palm Shift. But that is a story for another day.
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[1] After the fire of 2011 this was moved to what its present location in what used to be the Blackstone lounge.
[2] See “Latteral Slow Motion Vanish” in The Long Goodbye: Latta on Coins by Stephen Minch and Stephen Hobbs.)
[3] Ibid.
[4] I believe, although I am not absolutely certain, that he was a magician who Vernon had once sent in his place to an expected appearance on Johnny Carson’s show. The Castle insiders were outraged, but Vernon had made a politically clever strategic choice. Once he opted to not appear himself, had he selected one of the cognoscenti – Jennings over Cervon? Cervon over Jennings? – the resentments would never have subsided. By sending a less than outstanding candidate, everybody was equally part pissed off and part mystified, and the controversy quickly blew over, attributed to some inexplicable thinking of the Professor’s. He was often smarter than his acolytes.
[5] Details of Vernon’s handling were described for publication by Richard Kaufman in Genii, Vol. 7 No. 8, August 2008.
[6] https://conjuringarchive.com/list/search?keyword=vernon+spring+palm
[7] Revelations by Dai Vernon, 1984. Also Revelation by Dai Vernon, 2008.
[8] https://conjuringarchive.com/list/category/1290
[9] See, for example, Paul Chosse’s approach in L.I.N.T. by John Luka.
[10] It is fashionable among a tiny fringe coterie of magicians today – mostly young, but a few old enough to know better – to take an historically revisionist approach to Vernon’s standing, deriding or minimizing his contributions and impact, expressing skepticism about his importance (invariably while overestimating their own). (I would add that presenting an idea that Vernon did not himself write down is poor evidence that Vernon never had the thought himself a lifetime beforehand, when in fact the notion is embodied in his actual work; to conclude from an absence of evidence that one is an original genius is an extremely faulty piece of logic.) This group, and their influence, will be forgotten while they are still alive. Indeed, most reading this wouldn’t even know about this movement if I hadn’t mentioned it here – which is perfectly appropriate – as is this relegation to a footnote rendered in small type.
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