I'm the only techie left from the Majestic's early days. I was hired two weeks after the movie theatre shut down and the place opened up again to show live acts. We had all kinds of people here, back then, and I've got some great stories, especially about the magicians. It was one of those that wrecked the stage back in 68'. The Great Ezmanzeraldo, Magician and Illusionist, had one of the most popular shows. On average, I'd say he cut three pretty girls in half every night. I ran the light board for his acts and we went out for drinks after a good show sometimes. That's how I found out he'd been trying to avoid his wife Trudy for seventeen years.
Trudy was a perfect little hausfrau. She was one of those rare women who likes doing the laundry and having dinner on the table by the time hubby's home. Ezmanzeraldo, real name Joseph Smith, couldn't stand it. She was always badgering him about his tuxedo,ss whether there was something for her to let out or hem or drive to the dry cleaner's. She worried over him when he was sick with aspirin and chicken soup. She never left him alone, never let him be. She called herself Mrs. Joseph P. “Ezmanzeraldo” Smith. In public. He looked for comfort in the flask in his breast pocket and his assistants. She never once raised a fuss. After the house emptied, we would go to a bar. Over my Pabst and his Smirnoff, I would always ask him if he wanted a divorce. He said he couldn't hurt her like that. Besides, he wasn't sure if she could survive on her own.
Anyway, one night, she called him six times in half an hour. The last time, it was to tell him she was on her way to his dressing room with six dozen roses. There wasn't much that needed doing, so I went out to get a pizza for the boss. I got back to find that he had climbed into this steel cage he had, an antique piece he was really proud of, a giant bird cage. It had claws and gilding and filigree, the whole nine yards. That thing was nine hundred pounds before you put the anorexic assistant inside. Well, he hadn't set the lift up right, and because I wasn't there to help, he only used five hundred pound rope. I knew when I saw it I had a disaster on my hands. Lucky for his little woman, he'd made good money as a magician the last fifteen years or so and had one helluva life insurance policy. Trudy became a feminist and was just fine by herself. As the rope broke, he waved at me, smiled, and shouted his last words:
“Cage before Trudy!”