Julian's Big Trick

by Joseph Weisberg

 

Did you ever see anyone juggle 16 balls at a time? No matter what you've heard, it can't be done. Only one person ever came close. 

 

See that fellow in the black suit sitting all alone at the bar? The skinny one with the crick in his neck. His name is Julian. That's the guy I'm talking about. He used to be a juggler, one of the best. Now he can't even balance his checking account. A terrible thing happened to him just when things looked brightest. If you have a few minutes I'll tell you about it. 

 

Julian Bordeau. His middle name was versatility. He did things that other jugglers could only dream about and he did them with class. 

There was a gypsy named Ernst Waller who was supposed to be able to juggle 10 balls at a time but that was hundreds of years ago and the evidence for it is very flimsy. In fact, a reputable French mathematician proved that 12 was the absolute limit. 

 

Julian laughed at that number. His goal was 16. Before he was 20 he could juggle eight clubs riding a unicycle on a high wire. He gave up that stunt because once when he was was practicing blindfolded, he dropped a club and nearly decapitated a jaywalker. 

 

In spite of his remarkable talent Julian was very modest. He never bragged, and insisted that anybody who concentrated hard enough could do it. When the New York Yankees heard about Julian they wanted him to try out for third base, but catching one ball at a time was no challenge to Julian. Besides, he was short and didn't look good in pinstripes. The Yankees might have won the pennant that year if they wore different uniforms. 

 

What Julian was looking for was something dramatic, an act his audience would never forget. He experimented with all sorts of tossable objects. Eagle feathers and watermelons were aerodynamically unsuitable for juggling. Dead fish, baseballs and dining room chairs were not, but other jugglers were using these props. Julian wanted something different. 

 

He had achieved quite a reputation by the time he was 30, but he wouldn't be satisfied until he devised a blockbuster stunt. He improved his technique to the point where he could handle 10 objects at once, but was not able to find the missing ingredient which would make the act unforgettable. His search became an obsession. 

 

Walking along Madison Avenue one spring afternoon he spotted a demolition crew tearing down an old building. The way the crane operator swung the ball and chain gave Julian an idea. In fact he might solve two problems with one solution. He could attach a ladle to his nose and use his head to juggle! Not only would that add novelty to his performance, but the use of the extra appendage would increase the number of objects he could manipulate.

 

What to juggle was a problem. Ping pong balls were too light, baseballs too heavy. Basketballs were too big, grapes too small. But eggs, medium large, were just right. It turned out to be more of a problem than Julian anticipated. In order to develop a proper rhythm the eggs had to be uniform. A tiny blood- spot could throw his timing off, so the eggs had to be candled before he could use them. Also, some eggs squished around inside the shell. He solved that problem by hard-boiling them. 

 

While still in the experimental stage, Julian had to choose between a large size ladle, with which it was easier to catch, and a smaller one, which he could toss with greater precision. He adopted the smaller one, but had to work very hard to make the perfect catch. 

 

Julian started in a small way, just four eggs at a time while he developed his technique. Only after the head toss was perfect would he try to synchronize it with his hand and arm movements. They couldn't look jerky. 

 

During the second month of these practice sessions Julian felt an ache in his spine just above the shoulder blades. A chiropractor diagnosed the pain in the neck as Sycophant's Syndrome, but giving it a name didn't make it hurt less. 

 

A simple calculation told Julian he could achieve the magic number, 16, by tossing four with his head and six with each hand or six with his head and five with each hand. He decided to concentrate on the second method. 

 

While he practiced at home with 10, 12, and then 14 balls, he limited his on-stage performances to juggling six eggs with his head. His neck pain increased, but Julian wouldn't give up. This act received a cool reception. His technique was perfect. He never missed, but his audience was distracted by his bobbing head. Julian was disappointed but not surprised. Six eggs is not very many, just enough for a large size omelet. 

 

When he escalated his performance to juggling 12 hard-boileds at once his audience livened up. He developed a fair-sized following, even got an occasional standing ovation. Some theater managers asked him to do two shows a day. He couldn't. After each performance he had to have an acupuncturist relieve the pain. He used whatever time was left he to upgrade his act. Sixteen was the number he was shooting for. 

With each addition to the egg count he had to make an adjustment in his routine. The more eggs he used the higher he had to throw them, and he had to do it with topspin so that the eggs on the way up didn't collide with those on the way down. 

 

When he could handle 14 eggs at once Julian decided it was time for a debut. Audiences watched in disbelief as Julian's arms and his nose rose and fell in a marvelous syncopation. The lukewarm receptions he was used to receiving became a bittersweet memory. His shows were the hottest ticket in town. The only fly in the ointment was the pain he suffered. Even the acclamation of his fans couldn't cancel his discomfort. 

 

The show had been on the road for seven weeks when disaster struck. With 14 eggs in constant motion the wear and tear was just too much. The eggs weighed a ton. He had a huge blister on his nose. 

 

It was a matinee. A teeming rainstorm kept all but the most eager fans away. Julian looked thin. His feet hurt. A less professional performer might have found an excuse to cancel. Not Julian. 

 

It was obvious to the stage manager watching in the wings that Julian was in trouble. In the penultimate toss of his career Julian made a gallant effort, too gallant perhaps. The high toss was too much for him. He missed the next egg and it fell onto the stage. Julian, trouper that he was, tried desperately to continue with 13, but he was out of synch. By a tremendous act of will power he threw his head up one more time... and it stayed that way. 

 

So there he was at center stage, looking ceilingward and bewildered, surrounded by 14 broken hard-boiled eggs. 

 

It was his last appearance on stage. He got a standing ovation. Even the stage manager thought it was part of an Easter Sunday special event.