I was supposed to be long gone. I kept being delayed. I kept delaying myself. I found out on my last day in Nashville that Eric Jones was in town. He’s one of the best sleight of hand artists and commercially successful ones around.
We met at a hookah lounge that night. It was loud, we didn’t talk much. He showed me some tricks. I showed him some. He gave me a better ending to a routine I’d been working on and some great advice.
“Slow down,” he said to me. After I did the same thing, slowed down, he said it again “slow down. Your technique is great, trust it, and give me the time to appreciate it.” The joint closed early, and we went to another spot.
Much quieter, a bit dead inside. Maybe fifteen people total. We performed magic for the people hanging around. It was cool to see what he performed for them. It was funny seeing him have a card selected as he danced to the club music. He had a unique way of waltzing around any joint we were in. Talking to any and everybody.
I said to him “so this is how the business works?”
He said “this is how it works.”
We sat down and talked, he asked if I ever worked on the action-palm he showed me the last time I saw him. Honestly, I was surprised he remembered who I was, we’d only met twice before. Each time years apart. I showed him the palm, he seemed pleased.
He said “yeah, I love that.”
We left the club and I drove him to his hotel room. We talked about what I’d been up to and what I’d been writing. I was reciting parts of my Trick for Richard Potter script. A lot of people tell me it’s the best written piece in my show. He stopped me when I said “I’m mixed, I’m not black.” He said “Look at your hair bro, you’re a black ass magician.” Then we talked about the nature of “blackness.” When I came to the end of the script he asked “does it make them uncomfortable?”
I said “very.”
He said “good.”
I started to understand him and his perspective a lot more. We stopped at a gas station, a cop was outside waiting. Eric kept talking to the person behind the counter. For longer than he actually seemed interested. I didn’t understand why until we walked outside. The cop was just then leaving.
Eric said “that cop has been sitting there. That’s why I talked to her for so long. We’re two black men in Nashville, Tennessee, way past midnight. The longer we are in there the more obvious it is we’re not causing any trouble.”
That was partly what I meant by I’m not black. Whereas I saw the police officer and was uncomfortable with him, I wouldn’t have thought to do that. My day to day experience doesn’t feel quite the same.
We got to the hotel room. We philosophized about magic for the next five hours or so. We just talked, him and me. He said a lot of really nice things to me and about me. He told me about his history and his story. I read him some articles I wrote, that I told him I would never publish. He had me stop reading at one point so he could think about what I wrote and we talked about it and debated. Whether or not he agreed with it didn’t matter, it made him think. That’s usually good. He said I should publish and gave me some tips on how to make it a bit more commercial, less adversarial. He gave me some advice on making it in this business. He gave me some of the pieces I was missing. Man, I had been long gone. I had been delayed. Because I had been delaying myself.
Both directly and indirectly, a lot of my growth in magic has been because of Eric. We share a mentor, technically the only one I’ve ever really had, all because Eric told me where to go a long time ago. I’ll write about that later… He left in a limo in the morning. He left me the hotel room until checkout. He left me inspired. I practiced my trick over and over thinking to myself “slow down.”