While you probably have no idea who Jean Robert-Houdin was, you might think there’s something remotely familiar about his name. And there is, since that’s who Houdini (born Erich Weisz) took his stage name from.

So who was Jean Robert-Houdin?

He was a 19th century French magician, largely considered The Father of Modern Conjuring.

Robert-Houdin was the West’s first stage magician. Before him, magicians plied their trade in the streets, and though they were highly skilled by necessity, they were also of low status, considered more con men than artists.

But Robert-Houdin changed all that. He was the very picture of elegance and sophistication, decked out in formal wear and performing in only the finest of theaters. His repertoire consisted of stage illusions and other tricks far beyond the skills — and budgets — of the other magicians.

He was so successful, he became not only rich, but the toast of Gay Paree’s upper crust, and even owned his own theater. And he’s still well-known among magicians.

One event cemented R-H’s reputation and I think is his most oft-told tale. It was his mission to Algeria in 1856.

Essentially, France was in the process of colonizing Algeria, “colonizing” being a polite term for taking over and completely controlling. Understandably, many Algerians were no more enamored with France than our Revolutionary War forebears were with England. Hoping to avoid a similar full-blown revolution in Algeria, Napoleon III, the first French president (and its last monarch) asked R-H if he’d go to Algeria and dazzle the locals with his “mystical powers.” The idea was if R-H succeeded, the Algerians, especially their religious leaders called Marabouts, would realize the French’s superiority and go along with their program, instead of raising hell against it.

The Marabouts, in addition to being religious leaders, had among their number beaucoup magicians. So, in theory, if R-H’s ju-ju was more powerful than theirs, they’d bow to it and make their followers do the same.

R-H did two tricks that blew the rubes away. One was the bullet catch, where one of their members loaded a rifle and fired it at R-H, who caught the bullet in his teeth. The other was called The Light and Heavy Chest. It consisted of a small strongbox that no man in the tribe, no matter how powerful, could lift, or even budge, but that R-H could pick up with ease and hold onto as long as he wanted.

Of course, both tricks were not as they seemed.

With the bullet catch, unknown to the guy firing the gun, a blank had been switched with the real bullet. The Light and Heavy Chest, while made of wood, had a steel lining. Underneath the rug it rested on was a powerful electromagnet. So it was a simple matter of turning the magnet either on or off to get the desired effects.

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The powers that don’t be

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The result of this skullduggery was the Marabouts were so overwhelmed by R-H’s powers, they knew both he and French could not be resisted, and so they had their subjects fall in line, swearing fealty to France. That, at least, is the traditional explanation. I think it’s total doo-doo.

Let’s get real. The Marabouts were scholars, as well as magicians. So they understood both human behavior and good old trickery. And it wouldn’t take them long to realize R-H was a hustler, not a true sorcerer, and I’m sure they weren’t fooled by his performance — at least not so they thought he had mystical powers.

How’s about an analogy?

I’ve been doing magic for about 45 years. I do only sleight of hand stuff, so I’ve no idea how stage illusions are done. Still, in 1983, on one of his TV specials, after David Copperfield made the Stature of Liberty disappear, people asked me if I knew how it was done. I told them I didn’t, and that was the truth. But while I didn’t know how he did it, I do know this: He did not make it disappear. It may have looked like he did, but you can bet your bip, the whole time it looked like it had vanished, it was there, as solid as ever. It’s an illusion, remember?

And that’s the essence of magic: Whatever seems to have happened, did not happen.

And here’s the essence of magicians: We may have see a trick and have no idea how it was done, but we know it was a trick.

And that’s why I’m sure the legend of Robert-Houdin’s magic cowing the Marabouts is pure bumpf. Not that they didn’t tell their people to quit resisting the French. They did. But it wasn’t due to the power of R-H the wizard, so much as to realpolitik: The Marabouts knew if they encouraged resistance to French colonization, they wouldn’t be facing another magician, but a military incursion. And their resisting a large modern, fully-equipped and manned army and navy wouldn’t have been just futile, but downright suicidal.

So why does that legend continue to be told as if it’s the straight truth and not a neat piece of historical fiction?

While there’s no way of proving it, I think it’s just one more example of history written by the winners.

First, of course, we have no account of R-H’s doings in Algeria written by the Marabouts, or for that matter, by any native Algerians.

And second, the tale reinforces the sense of Western superiority, that could be stated in cliche vernacular as, “Why, good ole Robert-Houdin snowed those Marabouts so well, they musta thought he was a god or somepin.”

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In Dutch

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The Dutch acquiring Manhattan for 24 bucks worth of beads is of the same ilk. To start, there’s no proof such a trade ever took place, just a 1626 second-hand account from a Dutch merchant named Pieter Schagen, who’d never even been to Manhattan and who said Peter Minuit made the purchase,

Next, according to all historical research, the Native Americans did not “sell” their land — at least not in the sense that Westerners do. They may have taken the beads as a gift, or to allow the Dutch to share the land, or to lease it for a certain amount of time. But selling it outright and irrevocably isn’t something Natives did. And in the case of Manhattan, with no proof of how the exchange was conducted, it puts the entire event in a dubious light.

Of course I, like all schoolkids, was fed the $24 bead job myth, probably starting in first grade. And — also of course — I believed it wholeheartedly into my early adulthood, when I started looking into it with more objective texts and a more objective eye.

So will the truth about Robert-Houdin’s dealings with the Marabouts or the Dutch “buying” Manhattan ever be known? Who knows? But a better question is, will people ever bother to investigate the myths they’ve been fed and have automatically believed?

Underlying this is something that’s bugged me for years, which I hear all too often. It is people whining pitifully about, “Why didn’t they teach me that in school?”

Indeed, why didn’t they?

Well, that simple question might have a bunch of possible answers.

One is, the teacher didn’t know the real story either.

Another is you were taught it and learned it, but forgot it.

Yet another is that while it was being taught, you were too busy looking out the window, or carving your name in the desk, or thinking about such vital matters as your growling stomach, or tryouts for the upcoming musical, or cheerleading practice, or anything except what was going on the class.

And all of those things are irrelevant anyway, because ultimately there’s only one reason why you don’t know something, which is you never tried to find out. And note I said it’s a reason, not an excuse. Because with our access to information today, if you want to know something, you can — especially once you quit listening to the neighborhood and network yachnas.

So if you want to know something, but you don’t, it’s fine by me. But man or woman up, and don’t blame your teachers.