Badly at first. The catalogue is what survived.
We began by cutting decks, which is a quiet trade. Then a performer asked whether we could build the cane he produced from a silk at the end of a card routine, because the one he had bought kept opening in his coat.
We built him one that did not. Word went round, and the catalogue grew in the least strategic way possible: one awkward request at a time, from people who had been let down by apparatus that looked right in a photograph.
That is still roughly how it works. If you want something we do not list, describe the effect and we will tell you whether it already has a plate number.
Fig. 1The house back, unchanged since the first run.
“If the audience can work it out, we have not finished making it.”
The workshop rule, 1908
The method ships with the apparatus, every time. A shop that keeps the secret has sold you an ornament and called it a trick.
Almost nothing is. Where a move is hard, the sheet says so and tells you roughly how many attempts to expect.
Everything on the four plates is cut, folded or turned here. When we cannot make something well, we leave it off the list.
Plate numbers, awkward requests, and descriptions of something you once saw someone do are all equally welcome.