Sabbatikos

For over three years, The Magic Castle, like an illusion, remained just out of reach. Like a well-performed magic trick, the method behind it eluded us. An exclusive and private club for magicians and their guests, the spired and stained-glass mansion perched above Hollywood Boulevard is part restaurant, part theater, and part speakeasy. But access is the real magic. You need to know a working magician who is a member in order to receive an invitation. And despite our many adventures, our social circle has yet to include a patron of the magical arts.

Then, of course, Tawny found the loophole!

Tucked nearby is the Magic Castle Hotel, a former mid-century apartment complex that has been transformed into a small boutique hotel. It is a modest little hideaway painted canary yellow, with bright blue umbrellas, retro vibes, and amenities that feel like they came straight from Willy Wonka’s dreams. Unlimited full-size candy bars and snacks available around the clock? Check. A red phone by the pool that magically summons cold popsicles on a silver platter straight to your lounge chair at any hour? Check. A self-serve soft-serve ice cream dispenser located next to the Coca-Cola Freestyle machine, ready to make your wildest ice cream float dreams come true? Surprisingly, also check (but only between 10 a.m. and midnight). And apparently, if you are lucky, staying at the Magic Castle Hotel might earn you an invitation to dine at the Magic Castle itself.

So we schemed. We watched the calendar. We waited.

And finally, for our anniversary, the stars aligned. A two-bedroom suite became available on a weekend when we had already planned to be in Los Angeles. We pounced, made the reservation, and began preparing for a magical night.

Preparation, however, was no small feat. The Magic Castle is not a place for the casually clad. This is old-school Hollywood with exacting expectations: men must wear matching suits and ties, and women must wear cocktail dresses or gowns, with many restrictions and stipulations. They are serious about it. Show up in a sport coat and jeans, and you will be asked to disappear. So we did what some in this family do best, we went shopping. And then we went to Los Angeles.

Before it became an academy for sleight of hand (also the name of one of our favorite wineries), The Magic Castle was known as the Lane Mansion, built in 1909 in the Gothic Renaissance style. Over the years, it fell into disrepair until 1963, when Milt Larsen, a television writer, and his brother Bill Larsen, a magician, transformed the dilapidated manor into the clubhouse for the Academy of Magical Arts.

Behind its red velvet ropes and trick bookcases, the Castle has hosted everyone from Neil Patrick Harris, a former president of the Academy of Magical Arts (who is also featured on a label for Sleight of Hand winery), to David Copperfield, perhaps second only to Harry Houdini himself. Another loophole to access the Magic Castle is through renting the Houdini Séance Room for private engagements, which grants you an honorary one-day membership to the Academy. The mansion is rumored to be haunted by a former stage magician and by Irma, the ghost who plays the piano on request in the parlor. She is apparently impossible to stump.

We checked into the hotel early and were greeted with glasses of champagne. The service here was phenomenal. We only had one night here and we wanted to make the most of it, and the most of the pool, popsicles, pop and unlimited snacks. And we did! We lounged by the pool, and battled kids for access to the soft-serve, soda, and free popsicles before (full of sugar) we made ourselves cocktails, and squeezed ourselves into our suits and gowns.

We headed up to the Castle via the hotel shuttle and waited in a long line of invited guests. Our attire was deemed satisfactory, and so we stopped for one last photo opportunity. They sternly explained that once inside, photography of any kind was expressly forbidden. We were allowed to keep our phones, but if we were caught taking pictures, we would be asked to leave. We crossed the red velvet ropes and entered the lobby, where we were charged an entrance fee for the evening. Then we leaned toward an owl on the bookshelf and said, “Open sesame.” The bookshelf slid open, and we stepped through the secret entrance into a magical evening, where all night long we heard the echo of a hundred gasps of “How did you do that?” lingering in the air.

We got ourselves a couple of drinks and wandered upstairs, passing through the crowded dining room. Our reservation wasn’t until 8:00 p.m., but we had arrived around 5:20 p.m. and didn’t make it into the mansion until about 6:00 p.m. A word to the wise, get there early. They open at five.

While we had gone upstairs, we somehow found ourselves winding back down, and down again, deeper into the Castle’s maze of hidden corridors, until we arrived at the Cellar Theater, an intimate little room with space for perhaps 30 guests. A “Thought Influencer” named James Night had just begun his act. We slipped quietly into the front row.

He performed an uncanny series of tricks. He guessed the name of a man’s childhood dog (“Boscoe”) and correctly divined that Clara had drawn a butterfly on a hidden card.

Then he asked, “Are there any couples here who are soulmates?” We raised our hands. It was our 26th wedding anniversary in a few days, and we had been together for 31 years. He invited us to the front. We sat side by side with our eyes closed. He tapped me twice and asked, “If I tapped you, raise your hand.” Still with eyes closed, we simultaneously raised our hands. “How many times?” he asked. We both held up two fingers. “Point to where I tapped you,” he said. We each pointed to our right shoulders. Gasps and applause rang through the room.

Tawny was told to return to her seat. “What just happened?” she whispered to Clara. “He never touched you,” Clara replied.

I remained standing at the front. Tawny was asked to silently choose a card from a deck and then, as soulmates, think the card to me. No one saw it. My eyes were closed, and I was told to plug my ears. And then something strange happened. I heard a woman’s voice slowly repeating in my mind: “two of diamonds, two of diamonds, two of diamonds”. I spoke the words aloud. Tawny revealed her card. It was the two of diamonds. The audience erupted. We were stunned.

And that was just the first magic show of the night. The rest of the evening vibrated with the same sense of wonder and amazement. We roamed through the castle’s maze of salons, each room revealing new tricks, new wonder, like Irma playing the piano to any song requested. We eventually sat at a table in the Palace Bar, where a magician performed a series of close-up card tricks that left us completely dumbfounded.

We had our dinner in the dining room, which was surprisingly good. We filled ourselves with appetizers, followed by main courses of tenderloin, prime rib, Beef Wellington, and red wine. After the meal, we received tickets to the main event, the 10 p.m. show at the Palace of Mystery, the Castle’s primary theater with about 130 seats. The performance featured grand illusions, including new twists on sawing a woman in half and a comedic pickpocket routine involving an audience member brought on stage. Afterwards, we went to the Parlour of Prestidigitation, where we witnessed an incredible trick in which a magician made a volunteer’s wedding ring disappear, only to have it reappear in the most unlikely of places. It was hilarious and left us absolutely flabbergasted.

By this time, it was nearly midnight and most of the shows were coming to an end, although the bars at the Castle remained open late into the night. As we walked past the Close-Up Gallery, we noticed one final performance scheduled for 12:30. Little did we know it was a show featuring Larry Wilmore. I had always known him as a comedian and had no idea he was also an accomplished magician. We found ourselves in the front row of this intimate little theater, with space for only about 25 people, where we were invited to participate in extraordinary magic happening just inches from our eyes. It was the perfect act to end the night.

The Magic Castle was glamorous, uncanny, and mysterious. It was everything we had hoped for. We left the Castle elated, and perhaps just a little inebriated. Around 1 a.m., we paused on the Castle steps to take in the view of Hollywood and snap a few photos. Then we made our way back to the hotel, a little too loud and still a little tipsy. We approached the front desk and asked for all the snacks. All the snacks. And as if by magic, without blinking and without a hint of judgment, the receptionist made them appear.