Jul 26

Jul 26 November '25: A Local Show with Arkansas' Masters of Illusion!

In 2014, I started juggling in magic shows with a group called Arkansas’ Masters of Illusion, and since then, we’ve had a blast performing public shows around Arkansas and in Branson, Missouri. The group started back in 2001 when some local performers, led by Richard Knoll and Bill Fulton, decided to put their resources together and bring a series of magic shows to theaters across Arkansas. For this November show, we were asked to put on the annual public show hosted by Little Rock’s chapter of the International Brotherhood of magicians, so our group of five joined up in Central Arkansas for a fun evening with lots of family and friends.

Since we live in different parts of the state, the day of the show is often the first day when all five members of the Masters of Illusion finally get together to work out the final details and get everything set up for the show. Some things just can’t be figured out until the day of, so we always show up early enough to get it all set. We were familiar with this venue (and its stage’s limitations) so we knew we’d be putting up our own stage lights, sound system, and curtains.

When it was finally showtime, we hit the lights, played an intro track, then took the stage. I opened with the Candlestick (an act I had been working on throughout the year, but the first time some of my friends got to see it) and also performed some of my favorites like the Knife & Lemon and Hoop & Glass (this time, I managed not to cut myself like the night before). Paul Carlon, a favorite among kids in the audience, made a hot dog balloon animal for a kid and magically restored the pieces of a torn up newspaper. Joey Williams, a classical magician from the Northwest corner of the state, performed the beautiful Snowstorm, where thousands of little confetti-like snowflakes fill the air and stage (a trick previously banned at this venue, but Joey was given special permission). Jimmy Rhodes, former mayor and funniest guy in our group, kept the whole audience laughing with his spontaneous comedy, and kept us entertained backstage too. And finally, Richard Knoll, the 87-year-old patriarch of Arkansas’ Masters of Illusion who co-founded the group 25 years earlier, wowed the audience with a table that defied gravity and mysteriously floated a few feet above the stage. The show was a hit, and we were happy to hear compliments from fellow performers, old friends, and other members of the community who came to watch.

But even the best shows always have a surprise. The biggest one of this show came right at the onset. After my Candlestick opener was a blackout of the stage lights, and when Paul came on stage to follow me, some lights didn’t get turned back on, leaving him in partial darkness. The music had already started, so he continued as normal, but he knew it didn’t look as good as it could’ve. Lucky (?) for him, it was even darker backstage, and as I crossed through after my act, I tripped right over one of the power cables that kept the sound system on, and the booming music came to a screeching halt. Paul rolled with the punches, and without knowing exactly what was going on, said “we’re gonna do that one more time.” By the time he came backstage, we had it fixed, so we hit the music, the lights came on, and he re-emerged with a big, exciting start to a flawless routine. Jim Henson, the owner of Little Rocks local magic store, confessed that the funny bumps that transformed into a grand entrance had him questioning whether the whole thing was planned. He said we should do it like that next time too. It’s always awkward when the juggler is the clumsy one backstage—at least it worked out this time.

Because this public show took place near where some of us live or grew up, and because of its affiliation with the magic organization we’ve all been a part of over the years, all kinds of local magicians, family members, and friends came out to watch, and it was fun catching up with folks before and after the show. I was particularly happy that two of my favorite people—my Dad, who has always been supportive of this strange juggling path I’ve taken, and Adam, my childhood friend turned doctor, who learned magic and juggling with me when we were teenagers—came to watch the show, like they both had many times before over the years. As it would turn out, I’d lose them both a few months later, making this show the last time either of them would watch me on stage (Adam was even pulled up to help with one of Joey’s tricks, and it was hilarious). They both had enjoyed the show, and even though I didn’t realize it at the time, it was really special to have them each cheering me on from the audience one more time. Whether it’s the close friends I share the stage with, the loved ones in the crowd, or just being around other local lovers of live entertainment, I’m grateful I get to do shows in my community, surrounded by plenty of supportive people.