The Father of Chicago-style MAgic
By William Pack | Magician, Historian, and Educator, https://libraryprogramming.com/
Matt Schulien
B. November 19, 1890 – D. March 1, 1967
The “1800” was an old-fashioned saloon in an out-of-date neighborhood four miles west of Chicago’s Loop. But when night came, both rich and poor filled the table and stools of Schulien and Sons. The little German restaurant was known across the city, some say the world, as the place to go if you sought fun with your food and drink. Second-generation restauranter Matt Schulien provided the fun.
In 1914, Joseph Schulien opened a saloon at 1800 N. Halsted with his son, Mathias (Matt) Joseph Schulien. At a young age, Matt developed a fondness for puzzles. Armed with an ever-increasing catalog of jokes and gags, he entertained his patrons with mathematical tricks and bar stunts. Then one day, by chance, he met a magician who was working a party at the restaurant. Matt convinced the magician to teach him some sleight of hand. At the restaurant, he thought he had plenty of people to practice his magic on. His father thought differently.
“Lay those cards down and get out there and take care of business!” Joseph bellowed. However, his attitude changed when he noticed the fun patrons were having and that they were returning to the restaurant for more. “Go show that table some tricks!”
Matt was no great technician or originator of tricks. He performed his magic by brute force rather than subtlety. It was a blue-collar style of magic, perfectly fitting with Matt. He could adapt any trick to his outsized personality. It wasn’t so much about the trick as it was about the man.
Little did Matt realize that he was developing a new type of magic: the “Chicago Style.” The typical style was to stand at a table and do a formal close-up magic show. Matt sat down at the table like a friend, and then an informal, formal performance would take place.
“I’ll do six tricks while another magician is doing one,” he’d say when talking about his performance. “The spectators can’t get bored when one trick is finished, and another is started before they can catch their breath.” The whole time, he would also keep up a nonstop verbal onslaught of stories and jokes, roaring in laughter at his own silliness. The laughter was contagious. He would point out that the real secret of his success was to have more fun than the people, and then they couldn’t help but want to join in and come back to share the fun with their friends.
The spectators can’t get bored
when one trick is finished,
and another is started
before they can catch their breath.
The magic also helped Matt when he least expected it. In 1920, Prohibition closed the saloons. The “1800” reopened as a restaurant. “We tried to go straight,” Matt said, “but we were bad boys. Prohibition officers found the place a little damp.” He was sentenced to ten days in jail.
The way he figured it, he was making a profit. “I made $100 a day in jail. The judge said $1000 or ten days, so I made $100 a day.”
Matt had just settled in his cell when the sheriff’s son came in selling candy bars. Matt performed a few tricks for the boy, who then ran off and got his father. The rest of the afternoon, Matt entertained the sheriff and his son.
The next morning, the sheriff took Matt for a little ride. It seems the sheriff’s wife was having a bridge party, and he wanted Matt to perform those card tricks for them. When they got to the house, the sheriff offered Matt his choice of beer or whiskey. “Well,” Matt said, “since I got arrested for selling both, I guess I’ll take both.”
The ladies loved Matt’s tricks. The card game never even got started. After Matt’s show, the sheriff turned to him and said, “Now, if you want to go to the movies, get in by ten o’clock.”
For eight days of his ten-day sentence, Matt followed the sheriff from one party to another. The only time he spent in his cell was to sleep. He called his wife, Katie, to tell her of the wonderful time he was having, but she didn’t believe it.
Two days before his sentence was up, an order came from the Federal authorities to stop the lax treatment of Prohibition violators. Matt was back in his cell when Katie came to see him. She cried the whole time while talking to Matt through a wire screen.
Back at the restaurant, the word was spreading. The famous and not-so-famous came for Matt’s particular brand of hijinks. For example:
Matt would stand behind the bar and set a fishbowl in front of the spectators. “Folks, have you ever seen anyone eat goldfish?”
He’d dip his hand in the bowl, catch a fish, and display it. “This is the right season to do it. They don’t spawn until next month.” He shook the water off and popped it into his mouth with the fishtail flapping between his lips. Finally, he’d suck it in and swallow it.
“Here, try one!” he’d say to a woman as he held the squirming fish in his hand. They usually recoiled. Then he’d run up and down the bar offering the fish to shrieking spectators. No takers were found, so he popped the fish into the bowl. “Really?” Incredulous, he tried to convince the spectators. “They’re really delicious.” He’d pull another fish out, and when no one wanted it, he ate it himself.
Folks, have you ever seen
anyone eat goldfish?
Pandemonium ensued. Matt tried to feed more fish to the spectators. Sometimes he would get a taker, especially when he flashed to them that he was not actually eating the fish but switching it for a piece of carrot cut to look like a fish. Those who partook loved being in on the joke. But Matt could be a bit devilish; sometimes, he’d flash the carrot to someone and then switch it, shoving a real fish in their mouths. It was there only for a second before they spit it back into the bowl. The whole routine was performed in such a spirit of fun that it was impossible to get mad at him.
One night a college boy from back east was visiting the restaurant and was impressed by the way Matt downed the fish. Without ever knowing it was a gag, he returned to Yale and started the famous goldfish-eating fad. It got newspaper publicity everywhere. When the boy returned to Schulien’s, Matt let him in on the gag—only Yale boys with college educations eat real fish; smart bartenders eat carrots.
In 1949, Matt and his sons moved their restaurant to 2100 W. Irving Park Road. By 1952, he semi-retired. Part of the year, he spent at his farm, and the rest he’d spent in town, socializing with old friends at Schulien’s. Until he died on March 1, 1967, whenever a crowd would form, he’d still pull out a deck of cards and drive them into hysterics.
