News

Magician Mystifies with Unique Act

by PHILLIP O'CONNOR, The Kansas City Star

Know from the start that Chris Rose isn't going to divulge the secrets behind any of his tricks.

Not how he makes one foam ball turn into two, then three.

Not how he has you pick a card from a deck, place it back without him seeing it and then have a clear rubber ball emerge from his mouth with a miniature of your card inside.

And certainly not how he pushes a nearly 3-inch nail into the back of his head only to have a customer pull it from his nose using a pair of surgical tweezers.

Ask Rose why he won't share the mysteries behind his illusions and sleight of hand and he'll give you a simple answer.

"Job security."

But ask anyone who's seen Rose's act at one of several Kansas City area clubs and restaurants and they can tell you how he does it.

"It's magic," said Lenexa resident Kent Richards, who along with his wife, Shannon, and several friends, took in Rose's show on a recent Wednesday night at the 75th Street Brewery in Waldo.

Indeed it is.

And while the soft-spoken Rose may be reticent to share the tricks of the magic trade, he's happy to sit down and share his love of the craft.

"I really don't see myself doing anything else," said Rose, who earns a living performing 17 to 25 hours a week. "People have to have a goal in life. Mine has always been to touch as many people in a positive way as I can, and I've found that magic is my venue for doing that. If I can make people laugh and smile, even if only for a few minutes, I've had a positive effect. To actually make somebody laugh is a special thing."

And laugh they do, almost from the moment Rose approaches their table wearing his trademark - a black, pin-striped Zoot suit and wide brimmed gangster-style hat.

"People's first impression is usually, 'Who's this geek and what's he want?"' Rose said.

But within moments customers are usually on the edge of their chairs, staring intently, trying to figure out, "How does he do that?"

How does he have you pull a random card from the deck, place it on the table face down without his seeing it, have you press it with your finger so hard that it can't be moved, only to again have it appear in his hand? How does he have you hold a deck of cards firmly between the palms of your hands and then open them to find that the deck has been replaced by a piece of deck-sized plastic?

And how - how in the world - does he do the grand finale? Rose has the customer pick a card, sign it with a magic marker and bury it back in the deck. He then binds the deck with a rubber band and hurls it toward the ceiling 25 feet above. The deck falls back into his hand, still wrapped with the rubber band. But there, stuck on the ceiling, is your card, signature and all.

Walk into the Quaff Bar and Grill downtown and you'll see it's a trick with which Rose has some experience. The ceiling is plastered with more than 1,500 cards.

But it's not just the tricks that keep people in stitches when Rose performs. It's also the wisecracks and witticisms - the shtick, if you will.

Some of it is bawdy. All of it is funny.

"The banter and delivery is more than half of what makes a performer good," Rose said. "Anything that has been done in magic can be done again. The person doing it is what makes it new."

Rose, 25, clearly remembers when magic was still new to him.

"I was about 11 when my brother came home for the holidays and showed me a couple of tricks," recalled Rose, an Albuquerque native. "I got started because I got mad. He showed me this trick where he took this little red handkerchief, shoved it in his hand, opened it and it was gone. I freaked. I looked him up and down, checked his pockets and sleeves, and because he was my brother, I even had him take off his shoes."

"He was home three or four days and I must have made him do it 20 times," Rose said. "He left town and didn't tell me how it was done. He said if I really needed to know how it was done to look it up in a magic store."

His mom drove him to the store. Rose spent $5, a week's allowance. He was hooked and a career was under way.

He started performing for children in the neighborhood, then for children at school. Every day he would ride his bike to the magic shop and spend hours with the proprietor, a man named Ray, who would become his mentor.

"As far as magic is concerned he taught me quite a number of things, but what he really taught me was how to laugh at myself and bring laughter out of other people," Rose said.

Ray helped Rose develop a routine for his grade school talent show. Despite an impressive performance, he finished second to a girl who lip-synced.

"I felt cheated," he said.

In high school, magic helped an awkwardly quiet and shy Rose make friends.

"I was sitting in an English class practicing a vanishing trick and somebody saw it," Rose said. "This person looked over and said, 'Oh, my God, do that again.' The next thing I know I'm performing in the middle of English class and people wanted to be around me."

Soon Rose conducted performances at lunch.

In his junior year, he became obsessed with winning the school talent show.

"I knew I wanted to do classic stage magic so I went out and got birds, pyrotechnics and assistants. I probably spent $300 or $400 on the show. The prize was $50 so it wasn't really cost effective. But I blew everybody away."

Even so, Rose's parents were a bit concerned that their son would spend his life working behind the counter of some out-of-the-way magic shop.

So he put the magic away for a while and began a series of real jobs - waiting tables, cooking and trying to sell vacuum cleaners. But Rose felt unfulfilled. In the summer of 1997 he moved to Kansas City to attend the Art Institute. He thought he would be a background painter for animation movies and might one day work for Disney. But he grew disenchanted with school. He hit the streets looking for a place to perform.

"The first month and a half all I got was no after no after no," Rose said. He was rejected on the Plaza, in Westport and as far out as Lee's Summit.

Then one August day he walked into the Quaff on Broadway and met the owner, Joe Bonino.

"I said this is what I do," Rose said. "I showed him a coin trick and said 'I'd like to perform here on a regular basis and I'll give you a trial night.' He just looked at me and said 'Sure, everybody loves magic."'

Thus began a profitable partnership. "The guy's amazing and everybody down here loves him," Bonino said. "As people are leaving they come up to me and say that's the greatest magician they've ever seen. He's quite a draw."

Rose has performed at the Quaff almost every weekend since. His show can last from five to 45 minutes, but always ends when the food arrives. The tips usually flow as freely as the liquor. "Usually when people are drinking they will allow themselves to suspend their disbelief for the few minutes I'm there and have a good time," Rose said. ...

Rose says the nail trick is his favorite. He performs it only on request, "because it's so darn painful."

"I'm one of the few people in the country who actually can perform the trick," said Rose, who isn't one to boast. " In my opinion, it's because I'm one of the few people stupid enough to try it."

Just don't ask him how he does it. Rose isn't saying.

Job security, you know.