The Coney Island Fakir

This was one of my recent Toastmasters speeches. I thought I would share this one in written form.

Many of you know that I’ve been interested in magic since the age of 10. In my formative years my Mom and Dad chauffeured me to many Magic Shops, but it was not until my freshman year in HS that I visited "THE magic shop"

Al and his son Jackie

My first week at Xavier HS, I met John Carlucci who lived in Brooklyn. If the name Carlucci and Brooklyn conjure up any image for you, just go with it. John was exactly what you're imagining.

“Hey, come over to my house and I'll show you my magic collection” – He was my first MAGIC friend and he just - “made me an offer I couldn't refuse.“

When I stepped into his basement I was flabbergasted. He had a wealth of magic paraphernalia. Most of which I had longed for browsing through magic catalogues.

I asked him, “Where did you get all this?” He said, “At the magic shop”. I had never seen apparatus like this at any magic shop I had been to. “Ain't you never been to Al's?”, he asked. I admitted I had never even heard of it. "Well we're going on Friday".

I will try to recount for you what the experience of a visit to Al's was like. I was fortunate enough to do it many times from 1972-76.

We would take the train to Penn Station and get out the 8th ave exit, walk west about a third of a block on 34th street and we were there. Every day hundreds of pedestrians walked past it without even noticing. It was on the second floor

When you walked through the unassuming front door it looked like any other run down Manhattan office building lobby. One single 60 watt bulb is all that lit the dark green staircase. If you succeded in stumbling your way to the second floor landing, you could look down the hall and see a large wooden door. It was a portal into another world. As you opened the door from the dark hallway you were blinded by the daylight coming through the front window. Even though I'm sure the front window had not been cleaned for over 30 years.

When your eyes finally adjusted you could read the inscription:

OSSOLF
NNAMNROH
AKNITRAM


Like some magical incantation. Then you would realize you were looking at it backwards. It actually read:

Flosso
Hornmann
Martinka
Magic Shop

Flosso, was Al's last name - actually stage name, he had been born Al Levinson. It was etched on that window exactly where it had been added in 1939 when Al bought the shop.

As you crossed the door sill and looked to your right there was a wooden hanging glass cabinet filled with antique magic devices - A mini magic museum. Many of the items were manufactured by the original owners, The Martinka Brothers back in 1877, when the shop first opened. I was standing in a magic shop that had been in existence almost 100 years and still had some of the original dust to prove it.

When you stepped all the way into the shop and turned around, you'd be facing the front counter. It ran the length of the store and just like the front window; it had never been introduced to a bottle of Windex. Both the front counter and shelves behind looked as if they had been loaded to the brim with magic apparatus and then someone picked them up and shook them until there was no semblance of order.

As quaint and memorable as the environment itself was it was the man behind the counter that elevated it into a place of magic legend. Although he only stood 5 ft 2 inches tall, Al Flosso was a magic giant. He honed his craft performing 20 shows a day at Coney Island’s Luna park. His magic moniker would always be, "The Coney Island Fakir" given to him by his good friend the comedian, Milton Berle. His stage name Flosso was either taken from "floss" another name for cotton candy or more likely from his mother's maiden name, Floserstien.

The first time he spoke I remember thinking; “This is a diminutive WC Fields.” - "Hello there boys. Welcome to the magic isle of Moolagoola. Shake hands with an honest man. What can I do you for today?"

Al made every visit a magical experience. Here was a typical purchase transaction with Al.

ME: Can I see the trick, The Invisible Deck
AL: You can't afford that,
ME: How much is it?
AL: $45
ME: Oh! (with a disappointed look on my face)
AL: How much you got
ME: $10
AL: $10? This is a magic shop boy. I have to make a living. Tell you what, you can have it for $1.50 but that's my final offer.

If it were up to us we would spend every last cent on magic, but Al always asked - “Do you have enough money to get home?” We had to show him a subway token before he would let us leave.

In 1976 I was sad to read that Al had passed on at the age of 81. A few years later I stopped by the old shop and was shocked to see a spic and span, modern day magic emporium. The magic was still there, but all the charm was gone.

One day in Al’s shop, I added a book by The Amazing Randi to my pile of purchases. It’s was a book exposing Uri Geller, a mentalist who tried to convince people he had supernatural powers.

When Al saw the book on my pile he said, "You don't want that copy. Take this one." He switched my copy with one he took from behind the counter. It wasn't until I got home and opened the book that I read this inscription on the front cover.

To Al Flosso, The Coney Island Fakir who never thought I could write a book. All best. Randi Nov ‘75

Al had given me his own autographed copy and I will cherish it and his memory forever. Al, I hope you're enjoying eternal happiness sunning yourself on a sandy beach somewhere on the mystic isle of Moolagola.