EDI BULL
EDI BULL by Mike Rogers
Here's
a trick. I can call Magic, Inc. from any location
in the country and I've never known their phone
number. Curious? Read on .......
My last
offering in this series of columns for GMN discussed
a cell telephone effect called High Tech Wizard.
The idea came to me while working in Australia
where it seems everyone, carries a small cell
phone. I have to admit, I too am taken by the
cell phone craze as you will seldom find me
not having one clipped to my belt. Moreover,
it's difficult to pick up any daily newspaper
without finding a multitude of full page ads
offering free cell phones just for subscribing
to the service.
In recent
years it seems to me the frontiers of what might
be called "Consumer High Tech" could be the
Hi Fi/Stereo craze, the Home Video Craze, the
Home Computer Craze, and the Cellular Phone
Craze, though I think the latter has yet to
peak.
Now I'm
going to tell you of still another trick using
the telephone. This is not a magic trick, and
it is well known to many of my generation. Yet,
I think it will be new to some readers. The
trick is simply this: I can call Magic, Inc.
in Chicago from any where in the world using
any phone, yet I have never known their phone
number. Also, I think I have actually made such
calls from various parts of the world at one
time or another. No, I don't have an information
operator place the call for me. So what's the
deal? Simply this: EDI BULL.
Let's
go back several years to the early 60's when
the Ireland Magic Company moved from the Chicago
Loop to their present location at 5082 North
Lincoln Ave. and reorganized with the new name
Magic, Incorporated. At the time Frances Marshall
was a prolific writer with her offerings being
found in several magazines, booklets, notes,
newsletters, and their house organ called Trick
Talk. She informed all readers that the new
phone number at Magic, Inc. spelled the strange
name EDI BULL on a dial phone. (Touch tone phones
were yet to be invented.) EDI BULL is a strange
name you only have to read once and you'll remember
it forever. To this day several of my friends,
like me, have never known the actual number,
yet they all remember EDI BULL. Had the name
related to magic we might have all forgotten
it the next day, but for some reason that absurd
name sticks with you always.
With
that knowledge here's a true anecdote. Back
in the early 60's I was a guest at Magic, Inc.
for one of Frances Marshall's anniversary parties
which were held once every five years for an
extended period. Frances and Jay kindly provided
me lodging on a folding cot in the canyons of
Jay's extensive library. Ali Bongo shared the
venue a few aisles away in another canyon of
books. My cot was directly beneath one of those
large industrial heater/fan type contraptions
seen in older industrial buildings of the period.
Keep in mind the Magic, Inc. complex is much
more than just a corner magic shop. It is an
entire industrial type complex having different
floors, several rooms, a little theatre, a library,
a manufacturing area, a shipping area, a home,
and all sorts of hallways. So the giant heater
contraption I've mentioned is not the type thing
you'd find in your home. This was a major gadget
made for heating an industrial type building.
It also turned itself on with a major LOUD blast
announcing it's presence. I had just returned
from one of the troubled hot spots of the world
and was attuned to instant loud noises. Quite
frankly, loud unexpected noises SCARED THE HELL
OUT OF ME! The large heater periodically coming
on brought me straight out of bed several times
during the course of my stay. Jay Marshall still
enjoys reminding me of this story.
I'm rambling.
The above has nothing to do with telephones
or EDI BULL, but it sets the scene. Late one
evening during the function Dave Bendix, Earle
Christenberry, Ed Marlo, Eddie Fields and I
all joined forces in Dave and Earle's motel
room for a late card session. The evening went
on and on well into the next morning. The motel
was about four blocks from Magic, Inc. and my
instructions were to call Jay just as I left
the motel and he'd open the door to let me in.
Sounded like a good idea; however, back in those
days many motels and hotels didn't have dial
phones in the rooms. All calls had to be placed
from an office switch board. Also, back then
many smaller motels closed their offices for
the night around 10 p.m. Hence there was no
way to call Jay from the room. It was probably
three in the morning, I had four blocks to walk
and no way to let Jay know I was home once I
got there. The area is what might be called
"Nice but Noisy" having lots of small store
front businesses such as tailor shops, small
appliance repair shops, a few bars, and corner
food markets. Not the type of area where you
really want to be walking alone at three in
the morning, but still not one to cause much
worry. There were also a few pay phones along
the way, so my problem was easily solved, or
was it? I figured I'd just pop into the first
phone booth, dial EDI BULL, and quickly turn
in for the night under the monster heater that
would jar my socks off once or twice before
the real morning came.
No such
luck. The phone booth had no light and I couldn't
figure which numbers amounted to EDI BULL on
the dial phone. Now I'm starting to worry. It
was cold, late at night, and I'm a stranger
in town wandering about in an area not really
known to me. I imagined myself trying to explain
to some cop that I couldn't go home because
I didn't know how to find EDI BULL in a phone
booth!
There
were a few other wandering souls on the street.
Not many, but as I looked around there were
a few here and there. I approached one and was
able to borrow a book of matches which afforded
me enough light to make the phone call. Today
I can't imagine even being out at 3a.m. let
alone borrowing a book of matches from a stranger
also out at that hour. Times have changed!
A groggy
Jay Marshall met me at the door and for no real
reason, before almost falling asleep again,
he asked me if I enjoyed my session with Ed
Marlo. I replied that indeed I did enjoy it.
I didn't have the guts to tell him that trying
to get home was actually more interesting. EDI
BULL has meaning beyond what he could ever imagine.
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