Harry Houdini. Probably the greatest magician who ever lived. An American born in Hungary who went on to become the byword for acts of magic and startling, death-defying escapes. An icon of the seemingly impossible stunt.
Do you know about Doctorow's handling of Houdini in Ragtime, Yvette. I couldn't find Doctor's passage I was looking for, about the psychological meaning of confinement and escape for him. But here's a nice account of what he did:
"His life was absurd. He went all over the world accepting all kinds of bondage and escaping. He was roped to a chair. He escaped. He was chained to a ladder. He escaped. He was handcuffed, his legs were put in irons, he was tied up in a strait jacket and put in a locked cabinet. He escaped. He escaped from bank vaults, nailed-up barrels, sewn mailbags; he escaped from a zinc-lined Knabe piano case, a giant football, a galvanized iron boiler, a rolltop desk, a sausage skin. His escapes were mystifying because he never damaged or appeared to unlock what he escaped from. The screen was pulled away and there he stood disheveled but triumphant beside the inviolate container that was supposed to have contained him. He waved to the crowd. He escaped from a sealed milk can filled with water. He escaped from a Siberian exile van. From a Chinese torture crucifix. From a Hamburg penitentiary. From an English prison ship. From a Boston jail. He was chained to automobile tires, water wheels, cannon, and he escaped. He dove manacled from a bridge into the Mississippi, the Seine, the Mersey, and came up waving. He hung upside down and strait-jacketed from cranes, biplanes and the tops of buildings. He was dropped into the ocean padlocked in a diving suit fully weighted and not connected to an air supply, and he escaped. He was buried alive in a grave and could not escape, and had to be rescued. Hurriedly, they dug him out. The earth is too heavy, he said gasping. His nails bled. Soil fell from his eyes. He was drained of color and couldn't stand. His assistant threw up. Houdini wheezed and sputtered. He coughed blood. They cleaned him off and took him back to the hotel. Today, nearly fifty years since his death, the audience for escapes is even larger."
Robin: What a wonderful excerpt. Thanks for posting it. I think people like Houdini are meant to remain mysteries, no matter if some doctor or other claims to know otherwise. There are theories, sure. But at heart, I think whatever drove the man that was Houdini is not something you can label and put in a jar.
He died of peritonitis (I think that's how you spell it.) possibly because he was too stubborn to seek help when he was ill and insisted on going on with the show.
What great poster prints, so macarbe. Would be perfect on somebody's wall I'm sure!
ReplyDeleteYou are SO right, Lucy. I wish I owned them. :)
ReplyDeleteOh, the posters! Always so good. I never would have found these, but these oldies are goodies.
ReplyDeleteOh, great posters, for sure. I just found them online. You know how much I love vintage!
ReplyDelete"Oldies but goodies" applies not only to old r&b music, but definitely to movie, travel and other posters and artwork.
ReplyDeleteFor sure, Kathy. I use that expression to mean a lot of things.
ReplyDeleteDo you know about Doctorow's handling of Houdini in Ragtime, Yvette. I couldn't find Doctor's passage I was looking for, about the psychological meaning of confinement and escape for him. But here's a nice account of what he did:
ReplyDelete"His life was absurd. He went all over the world accepting all kinds of bondage and escaping. He was roped to a chair. He escaped. He was chained to a ladder. He escaped. He was handcuffed, his legs were put in irons, he was tied up in a strait jacket and put in a locked cabinet. He escaped. He escaped from bank vaults, nailed-up barrels, sewn mailbags; he escaped from a zinc-lined Knabe piano case, a giant football, a galvanized iron boiler, a rolltop desk, a sausage skin. His escapes were mystifying because he never damaged or appeared to unlock what he escaped from. The screen was pulled away and there he stood disheveled but triumphant beside the inviolate container that was supposed to have contained him. He waved to the crowd. He escaped from a sealed milk can filled with water. He escaped from a Siberian exile van. From a Chinese torture crucifix. From a Hamburg penitentiary. From an English prison ship. From a Boston jail. He was chained to automobile tires, water wheels, cannon, and he escaped. He dove manacled from a bridge into the Mississippi, the Seine, the Mersey, and came up waving. He hung upside down and strait-jacketed from cranes, biplanes and the tops of buildings. He was dropped into the ocean padlocked in a diving suit fully weighted and not connected to an air supply, and he escaped. He was buried alive in a grave and could not escape, and had to be rescued. Hurriedly, they dug him out. The earth is too heavy, he said gasping. His nails bled. Soil fell from his eyes. He was drained of color and couldn't stand. His assistant threw up. Houdini wheezed and sputtered. He coughed blood. They cleaned him off and took him back to the hotel. Today, nearly fifty years since his death, the audience for escapes is even larger."
Robin: What a wonderful excerpt. Thanks for posting it. I think people like Houdini are meant to remain mysteries, no matter if some doctor or other claims to know otherwise. There are theories, sure. But at heart, I think whatever drove the man that was Houdini is not something you can label and put in a jar.
ReplyDeleteHe died of peritonitis (I think that's how you spell it.) possibly because he was too stubborn to seek help when he was ill and insisted on going on with the show.