ROLLING STONERS

When we last left Houdini’s biggest fan and namesake, The Great Saltini, back in the Sixties, he had just been royally dissed by one of the editors of Rolling Stone.

As we’ve noted, Saltini, like Houdini, fancied himself something of a writer, as well as a magician. Houdini had written a regular column for the New York Dramatic Mirror, a show business weekly.

Saltini’s dream, emulating his hero, was to write for Rolling Stone.

Distraught, Saltini called his literary agent, the charming and cunning Anita Cross.

“So am I washed up at Rolling Stone?” Saltini wailed. “They're paying no attention at all to my piece?” 

“I know that editor, Paul Block,” Anita said. “He’s a hound dog. Tried to get me to pose nude for a cover.”

"You’ve got to impress them,” she said.

“Any ideas?”

“There’s a party out at Stinson Beach this Friday. Commander Cody is unveiling his portrait of Jerry Garcia. Rolling Stone’s gonna be there. I’ll get us in to the party - your job is to dazzle them!”

Stinson Beach, California

Stinson Beach on Friday evening was, in Commander Cody’s words, “the grooviest place on earth.” Amateur chefs with French accents were roasting pigs over smoldering coals. Canvas sacks of perfumed Michoacan buds lay open on the sand.  

Saltini had used the intervening days to prearrange a small bit with Commander Cody, who was already an acquaintance and a fan of magic. “The Commander” was a fine painter as well as the lead voice on the hit single “Hot Rod Lincoln.” 

Cover art: Chris Frayne, RIP

Jerry Garcia, lead guitarist and songwriter for another popular local band, was The Commander’s next-door neighbor.

Garcia had recently moved to Stinson Beach after a dustup at a San Francisco nature museum had encouraged him to seek sunnier climes. The kindhearted singer had turned all the snakes loose. 

Jerry Garcia in front of his home at 710 Ashbury Street                                                                (photo: Gene Anthony)

“I like to set things free,” he told the police, who were not amused.

When Saltini and Anita arrived at the party it turned out she had not been mistaken. Jann Wenner, founder and editor of Rolling Stone, was there. Paul Block peeled off from Wenner’s entourage and made a beeline for her.

“Anita, my dear,” he said, snaking his arm around her.

“Paul, you know my favorite client, The Great Saltini, right? Have you read that piece we sent you, ‘Magic is My Business?’ It’s quite amusing.”

“Why, er -- we're gonna pass on it,” he said, ignoring Saltini completely. “Come, Anita, let’s have a drink.” As Block led her toward the libations, she looked back at Saltini and silently mouthed, "Daz-zle."

After pig was served, the painting was unveiled.

Jerry Garcia by George Frayne, AKA Commander Cody

Saltini was ready. He bounded up to the easel and led a round of applause. Then he appeared to reach into the painting itself, remove Jerry Garcia’s rose-colored glasses and put them on the Commander’s nose.

The crowd went wild!

Saltini spotted Jann Wenner in the front row and asked if he would assist him in another trick. Wenner agreed. The trick was not filmed, but Saltini later taught it to a magician named Schindler who taught it to a magician named Farquhar who, on TV years later, used it to fool the pants off two magicians named Penn and Teller. Wenner's role is here played by Penn:

Saltini bowed and exited to wondrous applause, led by Commander Cody and Wenner himself.

The day after, Paul Block called Anita to say “Magic is My Business” would be published in the next issue. Would Saltini care to come in to discuss more story ideas? They made a date. Before Block hung up, he added, in a hungry voice, "And please Anita - you come too."

TO BE CONTINUED....


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LAST OF THE "-INIS"
SALTINI'S CHAINSAW MASSACRE


(Images via Google unless otherwise credited.)