by Mark Setteducati with Robert Reiss
Jeff Sheridan died in Frankfurt, Germany, on November 26. He had suffered from Parkinson’s disease for years, and had lived in that city with his wife, Candy.
There are many magicians in the world, and some of them are great, but Jeff was one of very few real magicians I have ever experienced. Every part of his being was magic. He lived, thought, and breathed magic: from his deep knowledge and understanding of its history, to the way he looked, dressed, and carried himself. He had a remarkable impact on magic in New York, and then around the world. There’s no doubt that many fascinated audiences remembered “the magician,” or “the man in black,” whom they had seen at the Walter Scott statue in Central Park.
He started with a stage act, performing with parakeets as Jeffrey Sheridan, “The Mod Magician,” but soon he reinvented street performing. In the 1970s, he was working with Al Flosso in New York and was inspired by how, in the early part of the 20th century, Flosso had performed as many as 50 shows a day at Coney Island’s Dreamland park, perfecting his art. With those venues no longer available, Jeff calculated that he would need to perform on the street. In 1975, he started performing in front of the Hallmark store on Fifth Avenue and was inspired by his results with the crowds. He performed at different locations around the city and became famous for his shows at one spot in Central Park.
Jeff had an art degree from the School of Visual Arts in New York, and was a remarkable artist, philosopher, and theorist. He was devoted to surrealism, and considered himself a surrealist artist. He deliberately performed without music, allowing the magic to speak for itself, and soon accrued a repertoire of engaging material that was enhanced with his elegant timing, gestures, and glances to the audience.
He was tall, handsome, and distinctive, with a carefully coiffed mane of hair and always dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and pants. Jeff’s card fans were amazing! I’ve never seen anybody produce fans of cards as large and impressive as Jeff’s. When he performed the street act and finished with his card manipulations, it was truly thrilling. I saw him perform it a hundred times—onstage, in a parlor setting, impromptu at a restaurant, or with a small gathering of people. Every time I watched it, it was as exciting as the first time I saw it.
On many occasions, dining in a restaurant or coffee shop in New York with Jeff, a stranger would approach the table and ask, “You’re the magician from Central Park, aren’t you?” To put this in perspective, the last time Jeff performed in Central Park was maybe 20 years before—that’s how much impact he had on his audiences. Jeff would answer yes. Often he was asked to perform. Most magicians would politely decline. Not Jeff. He would put down his sandwich and without saying a word would stand up and go into his performance mode, as if beginning a hypnotic trance. He would make a fist with his left hand while picking up the saltshaker with his right, balancing it on his left fist. At this point others in the coffee shop would start to watch. He would stare at the saltshaker, unscrew the top, and proceed to pour the salt into his left fist. Nobody dared to take their eyes off him. Never saying a word, he would dramatically open his fist, reveal the salt had vanished, reach and grab into the spectator’s jacket with his empty fist, remove his hand, and pour the salt onto the table.
I watched him receive a standing ovation from every customer in the restaurant. Jeff would take a bow, sit down, and continue to eat his sandwich. I never knew anybody with the charisma, power, and theatricality who could spontaneously and silently have that effect, nor perform so brilliantly.
For most of the 1990s, Jeff was living in Frankfurt, where he would regularly perform at the Tiger Palace, one of the finest cabarets in the world. It was an intimate theater that featured acrobats, singers, and all forms of variety arts. There he would present his famous street act for some of the most sophisticated audiences in the world. He would work for seven minutes, twice a night, and at the end of each show all the performers would come out to take a final bow.
His influence was remarkable. His innovations were distinctive and inspiring. He was a wonderful friend and he made an important impact on the world of magic.
Photo courtesy of Richard Kaufman