Magician Jim Smithson still has a few tricks up his sleeve after year of performing

By Brianna Bailey

Transcript Staff Writer

It's Friday night and magician Jim Smithson is making the rounds at the Vista Sports Grill, making quarters and golf balls disappear over plates of chips and salsa and pints of Shiner beer.

"People are feeling no pain this time of night," Smithson said over the din of clinking beer glasses and NCAA tournament basketball in the background. A career magician, Smithson has worked the Vista most Friday nights doing table-to-table magic tricks for the past 17 years.

Smithson doesn't wear a black cape or carry a magic wand. He's an unobtrusive type, wearing a blue denim shirt with the words "The magic of Jim Smithson" embroidered over his heart.

The room is smoky and most tables have a few empty pitchers of beer sitting nearby. You can tell what table Smithson is at by following the laughter.

The wait staff at the Vista have come to rely on Smithson to soothe irate customers on busy Friday nights. When a steak is overcooked or the wrong drink shows up at a table, Smithson usually jumps in with a few tricks up his sleeve. He can calm a rowdy group with slight of hand.

"I can usually tell everything I need to know about a person within three sentences," Smithson said.

You have to be able to read people to work the same bar every week for 17 years, Smithson said -- and the Vista regulars don't seem to mind seeing the same tricks over and over again. One man came in last week with a list of favorite tricks he wanted Smithson to perform in honor of a friend's birthday.

Smithson started his career in the towing business, and repossessing cars was one of his least favorite duties.

"In the towing business, no one you meet is in a good mood," Smithson said. "Now everyone I meet is in a good mood," Smithson said. "Or they are when I leave at least."

Smithson still performs the card trick that made him fall in love with magic when he was 24 years old.

Smithson takes out his trusty invisible deck of cards Friday at a Vista table full of single guys dressed in University of Oklahoma T-shirts. He asks one to cut the deck, another to shuffle.

"Pick a card, but don't pick something obvious," Smithson says. "Men always pick the ace of clubs, women always pick something romantic like the king or queen of hearts."

Smithson takes the invisible cards and asks the man to tell everyone what card he picked.

"Nine of spades," he says.

Smithson then produces a real deck of cards and fans them out, revealing that every card is turned face-up except the nine of spades. Oohs and ahhs usually follow.

Smithson learned the trick from a novelty store clerk when he was a young man driving a tow truck.

"You can learn how to do it for four dollars," the clerk told him.

Smithson eventually left the towing business for a career in magic and has never looked back.

"When I ask people what they think of when they think of a magician, a common answer I get is 'someone who makes a fool of you,'" Smithson said. "I just want to make people feel good."

Smithson rehearses his tricks hundreds of times before introducing them to his act. He practices at home in front of a video camera and then scrutinizes his performance from every angle. Each trick can be ended in four or five different ways if things don't go exactly according to plan.

Another of Smithson's favorite tricks involves making a small, foam rubber rabbit magically appear in the hand of an unsuspecting volunteer.

Smithson asks a participant to hold three red foam rubber balls in their fist, a rabbit appears when they open their hand again.

"I'll never forget how amazed I was when I first saw that trick," Smithson said. "I'll never forget the amazement of feeling something in my hand that isn't supposed to be there."

Smithson likes to share his awe of magic with others, and above all, make people happy, he said.

He performs about 300 shows a year and has taken his magic act to 42 states.

He once performed at a wake.

Smithson walked into a bar and looked at the bartender and said "I'm here to perform at a party for so-and-so."

'"He's in there,"' Smithson remembers the bartender saying.

Smithson walked into the next room and saw the guest of honor laid out in a coffin.

"I must have looked worse than the other guy when I walked out of there," Smithson said.

But the crowd was a good one, Smithson said.

"They were a great group," he said. "They would go and drink a toast to old Charlie and shed a few tears and then come back to the bar and party it up."

Brianna Bailey 366-3527 bbailey@normantranscript.com