name	Alexander Herrmann
birth date	February 10, 1844
birth place	Paris, France
death date	December 17, 1896
death place	Ellicottville, New York, U.S.
occupation	Magician, illusionist, card scaler }}

Alexander Herrmann (February 10, 1844 – December 17, 1896) was a French magician, better known as Herrmann the Great. He was part of the Herrmann family name that is known as the "first-family of magic". Those who witnessed Herrmann the Great perform considered him the greatest magician they ever saw.

Biography

Early years

Alexander Herrmann was born in Paris, France, the youngest of sixteen children to Samuel Herrmann, a German Jew, and Anna Sarah Herrmann, of Breton descent It was said that Samuel Herrmann was a physician who occasionally performed throughout Europe as a conjurer.

Samuel Herrmann

According to the Herrmann family lore, Samuel Herrmann was a part-time magician and full-time physician. Samuel Herrmann was a favorite of the Sultan of Turkey, who sent for the magician often. The Sultan paid a princely sum for the entertainment. Alexander Herrmann was carrying the gold watch on the day of his death. It was passed on to his widow. he decided to settle down to continue his practice. Samuel Herrmann played small towns around from 1817 in Germany and moved his family to France. He played the institutes and lyceums of Paris and gave performances until 1855. He taught his skills to his oldest son Compars, also known as Carl. He played in colleges in Paris and Versailles. Samuel entertained the pupils of the grandes écoles near Versailles. With this performance, his son Carl was admitted to the school tuition-free. Samuel Herrmann continued even after his son Carl succeeded him as a magician. Samuel retired about 1860.

Compars "Carl" Herrmann

Alexander's brother Compars Herrmann (January 23, 1816 - June 8, 1887) left medical school at an early age to pursue a career as a magician and served as a role model and inspiration for Alexander. When Compars (also known as Carl) returned to his parents' home in Paris in 1853, he was thrilled to find out that his eight-year-old brother Alexander was already showing an interest in magic. Without his family's consent, Carl 'kidnapped' his younger brother and took him to Saint Petersburg, Russia to teach him the art of magic. While there, he took his younger brother with him on a tour that started in Russia.

Five weeks of full houses brought Carl receipts totaling $35,000 (about $700,000 in today’s dollars). When the American Civil War broke out, the Herrmanns left the United States for Central and South America.

A few years later, they parted company. Alexander appeared on his own until he met up with Carl in Vienna in 1867. They formed their second co-partnership and returned to the U.S. to resume their tour there. According to Walter B. Gibson’s book ''The Magic Masters'', they "implanted the name Herrmann quite firmly there." The Herrmann name eventually became synonymous with magic. Eventually the two magic brothers would go their separate ways.

Career

With the departure of Carl, Alexander began his independent career in 1862. Carl returned to play to the capitals of Europe.

Despite his performances' humorous elements, Alexander still mystified his audiences. His intense eyes, imposing mustache and goatee gave him a satanic appearance; in person he looked like a magician. According to H. J. Burlingame, Alexander Herrmann's personality presented "an atmosphere of mystery about the magician." Burlingame also noted that Herrmann was one of the kindest and gentlest of men.

To achieve most of his tricks in the first act, Herrmann would rely on what is referred to in magic as "body loads", one of the seven principles of sleight of hand. Herrmann carried his loads on his body and inside his coat, placing them where he needed them.

One summer evening, Herrmann was sitting backstage in his dressing room after packing his jacket. He had draped the tailcoat over his chair. He was talking to the theatre manager, who also had his evening jacket off. When the first bell rang for the beginning of the show to start, the manager got up, put on his coat, and left.

Herrmann put on his coat and gloves as he walked towards the stage. The music played his march and he entered stage right.

He took his bow and went into his opening act. He took off his gloves in preparation to make them disappear when he realized that something was wrong: he wasn’t wearing his coat. Without his coat, he could not go on with the first act. Instead of panicking, he set his gloves aside and picked up a pack of cards that was on the table.

He did some elegant card flourishes with them. As he was closing with some fancy cuts, he was wondering about his coat. Suddenly he had the answer. The theatre manager was also wearing a full dress suit. He must have taken Herrmann’s coat. He gave the deck a final flourish. He snapped his fingers to the wings. One of his assistants came on stage. Herrmann was flinging cards out to the audience. He leaned over to the assistant and whispered, "Find the manager. He’s wearing my coat." He flung a few cards until half of the pack was left. He added, "And bring me more cards." The assistant left.

Herrmann took the next card and gripped it between the first and second finger of his left hand. Then he flicked his wrist, sailing the card into the audience. He then scaled two or three more cards in quick succession into the audience. His assistant came back with a few more cards. He told Herrmann that he had sent someone to look for the manager. Herrmann took the cards and scaled those. He told his assistant to bring on more cards.

The audience was waving for them. So he flung them with great speed one after another. He flung a few at the balcony into the hands of a waiting spectator. The audience was getting excited over his remarkable aim. More cards were brought on. News was relayed to him that they were still trying to find the manager. Herrmann was scaling cards to the farthest reaches of the gallery with even more accuracy. The audience went wild.

He was down to a few cards. He was exhausted and didn’t know what else to do to stall. He looked over at the wings and saw the surprised manager. Herrmann scaled his last card and bowed. The applause was deafening.

He went offstage and quickly removed the manager’s jacket. Then he carefully pulled off his own from the startled manager. Herrmann checked the contents. Everything was still in its place. He carefully put on his coat and smoothed it up. He strode on stage as before. He bowed as the applause crescendoed again. He then went into his original routine.

Herrmann the Great

In 1883, after solidifying his name in the United States, Herrmann embarked on another world tour. His first stop was South America. Emperor Don Pedro II of Brazil attended nineteen performances in Rio de Janeiro. The emperor was so fascinated with Herrmann's magic that he presented him with the Cross of Brazil.

After touring the rest of South America, Herrmann headed to Russia. His tour led him all the way to Siberia.

From Russia, Herrmann returned to the place of his birth, France. At the Eden Theatre in Paris, his performance was witnessed by the Prince and Princess of Wales (later to become King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra of England, aka Alexandra of Denmark).

Alexander met his brother Carl again in 1885 in Paris. In their patter, magicians often refer to the legend of 12 magicians that have died doing the trick. ("Will I be be number 13?") Even though most things magicians utter is hyperbole, there is real danger associated with the bullet catch.

A version of the act was designed by Hermann the Great with the help of his assistant, Billy Robinson. (Years later, Billy, as Chung Ling Soo, would be killed with the same style gun.)

Old fashioned muzzle-loaders were used for the act. The so-called bullet was actually a lead ball rammed into the gun together with a small charge of gunpowder. When the firing mechanism was activated, the gunpowder exploded and caused the lead ball to project forward down the barrel like a miniature cannon shot. In truth, most versions of the trick had either a fake bullet inserted into the gun, or had the ball secretly removed immediately before discharge. What came out the gun's muzzle was just a flash of fire, giving the illusion of an exiting projectile.

Herrmann the Great performed his own version of the bullet catch. The bullet was still marked, but the danger of the trick was avoided. The gunpowder never came near the firing mechanism, with the result that the bullet never left the gun. The trick was safe—or so Herrmann thought; he would never live long enough to see his one-time assistant die from it.

However, he did make the most of the trick. Not a normal part of his act, the trick would be presented on special occasions. Herrmann announced in May 1896 that he would attempt the bullet catch for the seventh time on the stage of the Olympia Theatre as part of a fundraiser for the Sick Babies Fund.

A female reporter was dispatched to interview Madame Herrmann. She went to the Herrmann Manor at Whitestone Landing for the interview. As she walked in she was greeted with a voice that said, "What do you want?" She turned around and saw a black bird sitting on a perch. Just then an animated skeleton sprung out at her. She shrieked, which brought a maid from down the hall. She found the Herrmanns waiting for her.

Madame Herrmann said, "I lock myself into my dressing room whenever Alexander faces a firing squad."

"Nonsense," Herrmann the Great said, "I have already caught bullets successfully six times. Seven, you know, is a lucky number." He mentioned that he had applied for a life insurance plan with Connecticut Indemnity Association, but that the plan would not be in effect for the trick. Apparently he had not mentioned the bullet-catching stunt when he applied for it.

On the day of the performance, Herrmann looked somber. He wore a white shirt with frills on the sleeves. He had five muzzle loaders marked and loaded. They aimed their rifles at him. Madame Herrmann was nowhere to be seen. Herrmann held a china plate in front of him like a target. When he gave the orders, the gun was fired and he caught the bullets on the plate. Calmly he handed the bullets out for examination; they appeared to be the very same bullets.

In 1885 Herrmann returned to America, receiving the best terms given to any star on the road. He lost a lot of money to outside investments. For the upcoming season, he estimated he would make $85,000 to $95,000 profit (about $2 million in today's money).

Death

Herrmann the Great was a generous person despite his Mephistophelean appearance. He was the first magician to perform at Sing Sing prison. He lost lots of money helping other actors who invested in bad theatrical venues. When the manager of the Chicago Opera House needed three thousand dollars, he met the debt by sending him a check. He was generous to a fault. These losses didn’t bother him. He felt that he could always recoup them. He was only 52 years old. His best years were still ahead of him.

On December 16, 1896, Herrmann was finishing a week engagement at the Lyceum in Rochester, New York. He invited an entire school to his matinee performance. That afternoon, the house was packed. Because the throng was so enthusiastic and gave him many ovations, Herrmann extended the length of the performance.

Between shows, an agent pleaded with him to meet the overdue hotel bills of a theatrical company that was stranded in Rochester. Herrmann was moved by this request. Then the agent asked to buy railway tickets for them. Herrmann paid for their train tickets to Manhattan and paid their expenses. He also invited them to his evening show before they left.

After the show, he was the guest of honor at a banquet given by the Genesee Valley Club. The group from the party was to occupy his special train for Bradford, Pennsylvania, which was to leave early in the morning. The festivities lasted until after midnight. He performed for the group, doing card tricks and telling amusing stories about his adventures around the world. "My nephew Leon, who is in Paris, will be my successor when I retire."

The next day, he located the train and waved goodbye to his friends who had ridden with him from his private carriage to the railroad station. One of them was a young drama critic of the Rochester newspaper. His name was John Northern Hilliard. (Hilliard later became America’s foremost author on magic.) The trip would be three hours.

While on board a train to next performance, Herrmann suffered a heart attack. The train stopped in Ellicottville, New York. Alexander whispered to Adelaide, "Make sure all in the company get back to New York." The local doctor arrived a few moments later, but it was too late. He failed to recover. On December 17, 1896, at the age of 52, Herrmann the Great was pronounced dead.

The Herrmann legacy

Alexander Herrmann, known to the world as Herrmann the Great, was mourned the next day. The obituary that announced his death was the most extensive obituary ever for a magician. There was a commotion in the little town of Ellicottville. Herrmann’s company sent wires to New York theatrical agents seeking new jobs. Herrmann’s body was taken to New York for burial services. Thousands attended and tried unsuccessfully to get close to the coffin. He was buried at Woodlawn Cemetery in New York.

When Herrmann died from heart failure in 1896, Adelaide continued performing her husband's illusions; she had to. Her husband’s failed investment had left her with little money; his extravagances had matched his income. And the well-publicized life insurance policy had been just publicity. On January 11, 1897, she was joined by Alexander's nephew, Leon Herrmann (March 13, 1867 - May 6, 1909). Leon gave a press conference at Hoyt's Theater in New York.

The Herrmann name still drew crowds, but because of clashes of temperament, Leon and Adelaide parted company after three seasons. He further annoyed his aunt by billing his own show as "Herrmann the Great". Even with the famous name, the public still missed their star. The show failed to draw audiences. This decline in the show led to Kellar taking over the mantle of the leading magician in America. Leon later trimmed his show to a short vaudeville act. While on a holiday trip to Paris, Leon died on May 16, 1909. Even after Leon's death, Madame Herrmann continued to perform. Even though she would never watch her husband when he presented the bullet catch, she too did this dangerous trick.

Madame Herrmann ventured on her own in vaudeville, billed as "The Queen of Magic". She condensed her show, calling it ''A Night in Japan''. Madame Herrmann continued performing for 25 years with dramatic and lavish shows, which had become the hallmark of the Herrmann name. She did this until the age of 75, when she retired.

References

External links

The Art of Magic by Alexander Herrmann

Herrmann-related memorabilia

Herrmann's Book of Magic by Alexander Herrmann

Category:Cardiovascular disease deaths in New York Category:French emigrants to the United States Category:French magicians Category:Naturalized citizens of the United States Category:Vaudeville performers Category:Professional magicians Category:1844 births Category:1896 deaths

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