Brothers work their magic
Ambitious youths, 9 and 13, dazzle with polished routines and intelligence
The basement is the giveaway.
There's the stage for starters. You don't see too many of them in the bowels of a house. It's a homemade job rising half a foot off the floor with wrap-around curtains that open and close. On it stands a small table covered with black tasseled material. There's a black hat over in the corner and a pile of unrecognizable gear in the rear.
This is where Jonah and Eli Conlin pursue their magic with focus, dedication, and ambition. It is on this stage where they develop and polish their routines. Jonah, 13, has already performed in a number of magic shows and will return this summer for a second round of magic summer camp in Philadelphia. Eli, 9, follows in his brother's footsteps with brio.
Why magic, I ask Jonah. Simple: "I love to fool people." A worthy goal.
And fool he does. The Observer, hailed across the globe for his keen eye, was unable to deconstruct the classic card manipulation trick where you pick a card and, mirabile dictu, it resurfaces in different places in the pack. It would be nice to say that I went along to make the kid happy, but as Richard Nixon once said, that would be wrong.
We all love magic because we can't figure it out. We're asked to figure out everything else, from quantum physics to a car engine. Magic confounds and dazzles. If I were president, I would make magic classes required for all kids K to 12. To perform magic well takes creativity, skill, and elegance. Isn't that the package we want in life?
Jonah's specialty is billiard balls. He tells me the term comes from back in the day when magicians used billiard balls in their acts. Today he uses small silicone ones - he goes with orange and white - that magicians manipulate and multiply miraculously through their fingers. God bless sleight of hand.
Jonah puts on a black vest for his performance, a move the Observer finds suspicious. Then he stuns me as the balls come and go and come again. I'm enchanted. Even the names of tricks are sublime - Champagne Miracle, the Zig Zag Girl, and my personal favorite, Snow Storm in China.
Meanwhile, Eli - a classic scamp of a younger brother - is gearing up for his tap dance routine. He puts on his tap shoes, fans some cards, and starts making a few moves. (He tap dances his way through card manipulation and silk (large silk handkerchiefs that come out of nowhere), among other acts.
Eli is a kid for all seasons. He takes lessons in chess, cello, piano, and French. This strikes me as major overload, but so far he's game. You may catch him after school playing chess on the tables in Harvard Square.
The brothers must have been beamed in from Plant 9. They are smart, polite, and articulate. They look you in the eye when they give you serious handshakes. Worse, they are nice to each other. (They may attempt to gouge each other's eyes out daily, but I doubt it.)
Jonah is working to extend and refine his billiard ball performances from their usual two to three minutes to six. He used the six-minute version in a recent magic performance in Sharon, where a bunch of budding magicians showed their stuff. He is a proud member of something called the Society of Young Magicians, and he edits its newsletter.
In one magic competition last year, he won the John Calvert award for his blend of magic and music. He uses "The Bittersweet Symphony" for his act , which begins innocently enough with violins only to explode into techno music.
Calvert is a 97-year-old magician who still performs around the world, as he has for decades. As Jonah tells it, Calvert had a boat that sank in the Mediterranean, and years later he sent a team of scuba divers down to bring up what was left. That would be wood, and Calvert made 36 wands out of it. You can't make this up.
"I got number 16," says Jonah. "You have it for one year, then you give it to someone else."
The Conlins' road to magic begins with homeschooling. Jonah had three years of it after struggling with dyslexia in the Cambridge public schools, before returning last fall to start seventh grade. Eli is being homeschooled now. Jonah got hooked when he read about magic classes in a homeschool newsletter. He has trained ever since with a magician who still stops by to help Eli and see how Jonah is faring.
The Conlin parents hired multiple tutors to teach them. "It's expensive, but not as expensive as private school," says their mother, Liz. And it sure beats well-meaning parents trying to explain the Peace of Westphalia to their offspring. (There are two older brothers in high school who finessed magic and homeschooling.)
On balance, Jonah is delighted to be back in public school. He craves grades. There are none in homeschooling, and that bothered him. "I need a structured environment. I need to know what I'm doing," he says. "I love to be measured. I'm a person who can get down on myself. I worry that I'm not working enough." (He gets straight A's).
He is, God help him, already his own harshest critic. I share his pain. But then consider what he's got up his sleeve (I know, I know) - a lifetime of magic. I suggest he and Eli include an act or two during job interviews. I'd hire a guy who did billiard balls on the spot. Whatever else happens, they will always dazzle.
Sam Allis can be reached at allis@globe.com. 