Free The Magician by Sol Stein Page A

was past visiting hours, the nurse stood at the door of Ed’s room with a very tall and seemingly shy young man in uniform. They were making an exception because the young man, who had seen the news about Ed in the Times, expected to be shifted out of Fort Dix by the end of the week. Ed was very glad to see Gil and motioned him to the bedside chair.
    Gilbert Atkins, a stringbean six-foot-two, was three years older than Ed and had been inducted into the army some months previously. They had last seen each other at a meeting of the New York Chapter of the International Brotherhood of Magicians. The fact that they were the two “kids” in the organization had brought them closer than their three-year difference might otherwise have allowed. And they liked each other because they both did not merely buy or learn tricks to do, but experimented with inventing new ways of doing old tricks. Unlike some of the senior members of the brotherhood, they were both also intensely interested in the psychology of the audience, the willingness of most people under the right circumstances to suspend disbelief.
    “Don’t try to talk,” said Gil. “They told me all about it. I brought you something.”
    Even before the young soldier had unwrapped the present, it was clear it was a book, small, without a dust wrapper, and obviously much used. Ed took it in his hand. The gold printing on the cover had flaked off long ago, but the embossing of the title and author could be read. It was a copy of Jean Hugard’s little book of complex card tricks, the cornerstone of Gil’s library of perhaps three dozen volumes of books on magic.
    Ed, overwhelmed, tried to say, “But it’s yours.” The tube made his words unintelligible.
    “I didn’t have time to buy anything. Anyhow, I won’t be back for two years.”
    Ed felt the cover of the book with the moist palm of his hand. “Thank you,” he mumbled.
    Gil sat for a bit in silence, uncomfortable with the obligation of having to do all the talking.
    “The gang that got you, are they the ones you told me about?”
    Ed nodded.
    “You know,” Gil said, “the army is full of guys like that. Rednecks, from every part of the country. Beer, bowling, hunting, car Simonizing. You should hear them talk about women, even their wives. Filling the old lady’s hole, is the way they think of it. These guys don’t even go to the movies, except drive-ins, and that’s not for the movies. Biggest thing they miss in the army is TV. Booze and poker, that’s it. I kind of keep to myself. If I weren’t tall, I think I’d be in fights all the time.”
    The nurse came in to see if everything was all right and to tell Gil he’d have to leave soon.
    “Before the army,” said Gil, “I couldn’t understand all the stuff you read about violence. I mean, I know about Hitler and all that, and assassinations and muggings, but after living with those guys for a couple of months, I wonder how come there isn’t more violence, you know what I mean?” Gil studied the insignia on his cap. “Hearing what happened to you makes me wish I’d had the nerve to head for Canada.” He laughed. “Wouldn’t do any good. I’d wind up in jail surrounded by the same types. Well, look, take care, will you?”
    He wrote on a piece of paper for Ed. “That’s my address for mail. I promise to write when your letters catch up with me.”
    He stood up. “Maybe I can get transferred to some USO-type outfit, doing magic. That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?”
    Ed held up the book, thanking him again for it.
    “Take care,” said Gil.
    Going out the door, he looked very military, not just the uniform, but the way he walked. Ed hoped the army wouldn’t kill him.

Chapter 10
    The courtroom had fourteen rows of seats on both sides of a wide aisle for the townspeople to observe the administration of justice. The seats were usually empty. The walls, paneled with walnut veneer, gave the chamber a dark, brooding solidity. The one touch of