Couple of nights ago, I sat at my computer doing some work while the Thriller took a break from studying and turned on the History Channel. What I heard for the next 30 minutes was a bizarre tale — totally new to me. I was surprised to have never heard of it before, so I had to dive in and research him. Perhaps you know about this guy, so this won’t be new. But in case you haven’t, read on…

This is the ultimately tragic story of the famous magician, Chung Ling Soo (1861-1918). It is a fantastic tale, in more ways than one.

Why fantastic? Well, see…Soo was not Chinese at all, for starters. His real name was William Robinson, born to Scottish parents in New York City. He was indeed a talented illusionist, but uncomfortable with performing in front of people as “himself.” He struggled with connecting with an audience. So, much like his real Chinese counterpart, magician Ching Ling Foo, he adopted the Cantonese persona of Chung Ling Soo. This enabled him to retreat into silence while doing his act, relying only on his amazing talent as a magic master to wow audiences everywhere.

He claimed to have never mastered English, and gave interviews through an interpreter (even though he did not speak Chinese…whaaa?). No way would that fly with today’s media. But the public of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century ate it up. The guy was a hit. He traveled the world with his act, which thrilled audiences and featured his wife as his assistant (she was also American).

Soo’s most famous trick was the “bullet catch.” An assistant would load a rifle with a bullet in full view of the audience, then aim it at the magician and shoot. Soo would catch the bullet in his teeth, wowing the shocked crowd. Actually, the barrels of the guns were modified so as to expel a burst of gun powder, but not fire the bullet. In an article in the Guardian, I discovered that magicians of the time thought the trick was cursed, because several performers had been hurt or killed. And unfortunately, such was the case with Mr. Soo:

On that early spring evening in 1918, the theatre was buzzing as Chung Ling Soo prepared to perform the trick. The rifles were loaded by his assistants; they took aim with the muzzles pointed directly at the magician. The command to fire was given, the sound of two shots was heard, and Chung Ling Soo fell to the ground. But he was never to get up again. Within hours the greatest conjuror of the age – friend to Houdini, and a man who claimed to have performed for the emperor of China himself – would be dead from the real bullet that entered his body and pierced his lung, causing massive haemorrhaging.

Yikes. It was reported that, after an entire career feigning to know only Chinese, his last words were spoken in perfect English: My God, I’ve been shot. Lower the curtain.

And with that, the “marvellous Chinese conjuror” was no more. Bill Robinson died from his wounds the next day in a London hospital.

A very interesting account of his 1909 Australia tour is here. Bizarre, sad, fascinating. We got it all here at RtB.

Happy Saturnday!

Pearl Harbor and September 11 — surprise attacks followed by war. It’s been a long, sad 70+ years in that respect. We need peace, and I pray it’s on the horizon somewhere.

Some thank — or shake their fist at — Hallmark for “inventing” Mother’s Day. Turns out that’s not the case at all. (Now Grandparents Day? Sweetest Day? I haven’t researched, but I’d be less than surprised to find they had something to do with those.)

Indeed, it was Anna Jarvis, not the Hallmark company, who picked up and ran with the idea of Mother’s Day: a concept originally conceived a few years earlier by Julia Ward Howe (of “Battle Hymn of the Republic” fame) to honor mothers and celebrate world peace.

According to MothersDayCentral.com (paraphrased):

In 1908, Senator Elmer Burkett of Nebraska proposed making Mother’s Day a national holiday, at the request of the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA). The proposal was defeated, but by 1909, forty-six states were holding Mother’s Day services. Celebrations also took place in Canada and Mexico.

Anna Jarvis quit her job and devoted herself full time to the creation of Mother’s Day, endlessly petitioning state governments, business leaders, women’s groups, churches and other institutions for support. She finally convinced the World’s Sunday School Association — then a key influence over state legislators and Congress — to back her. In 1912, West Virginia became the first state to officially recognize Mother’s Day, and in 1914, Woodrow Wilson signed it into national observance, declaring the second Sunday in May as Mother’s Day.

What a big to-do, eh? The best part about it, for me, is getting to see/talk to my children, their wives, and my grandchildren. I think any mom prefers that over just about any other gift.

So if you’re fortunate enough to have your mother still with you, give her a call. She’ll love you (even more, if that’s possible) for it.

Nice hair

…in 1796, Napoleon Bonaparte married “Josephine.” I write her name inside quotes because her name was Rose, but Napoleon didn’t like it.

In 1987, I glued myself to a miniseries on TV called Napoleon and Josephine. I was immediately smitten with its dreamy star with the French name, Armand Assante. I’d never heard of him before that show. Even with the unattractive Napoleon hairstyle, I thought he was divine; diviner than any other actor I’d ever seen play the notorious emperor. Anyway, back to the history.

Now Nappy was no saint; aside from his well-documented megalomaniacal tendencies, he regarded adultery by a man acceptable (as did many in past societies), but grounds for divorce if a woman committed it. Indeed, his misogyny is also recorded for posterity:

Women . . . should not be regarded as the equals of men; they are, in fact, mere machines to make children” – 1817

Still, the little nutter had a soft side, and no one exposed it in its most painful manifestation as completely as the lovely Josephine. This morning (since I was up at 3), I happened to read some lectures about her, and she wasn’t a victim, either. To be sure, she was a conniving and heartless wench at times. Napoleon, away on a conflict, constantly wrote to her, confessing his love and entreating her to come join him in Italy. He was hopelessly devoted. Yet, Josephine was far too busy to bother with him, because, well…she had parties to go to and men to entertain. Lots of men to entertain. But he forgave her because he loved her. That was his first mistake, apparently.

When it finally came time for Napoleon to crown himself Emperor of Europe (a move that so infuriated composer Ludwig van Beethoven, he scratched out the name “Bonaparte” on his new symphony and named it “Eroica” instead), he brought the Pope all the way from Rome to Paris to preside over and bless the ceremony. It was at that inopportune time that Josephine “let it slip” that she and Napoleon had never had a church wedding. Back up the truck, Chuck. Party’s over, Pope goes home, and Nap has to make nice and not divorce Josephine. The thing plays out like a dime novel.

It all ended badly, unfortunately. I just thought it was interesting to read that, as happens pretty often, a powerful man can control everything in his life, except his woman. HA.

And there’s your history lesson on this lovely Finkday. Happy weekend, yay!