Magicians never reveal their secrets. But sometimes, they admit they were wrong.
On Thursday night in London, members of a top British magic society came together to right a three-decade-old blunder: The rejection of what they now consider one of the greatest deception acts their members ever fell for.
“It was an amazing ruse — fooling a room full of magicians,” said Maddie Spencer, 48, who is in the group, known as the Magic Circle.
In March 1991, when the club was restricted to men, a woman named Sophie Lloyd disguised herself as a man and earned full membership. (Her alias: “Raymond Lloyd.”) But when she and her accomplice revealed their ruse later that year — at the same time as the Circle started accepting women — the society promptly ousted her.
For years, “Raymond” was like a ghost floating through the Circle; a rumor or a half-formed memory. Then, in November last year, the Circle announced a public search for Ms. Lloyd. They wanted to apologize and welcome her back.
On Thursday night, they took a step toward righting the wrong.
Being magicians, any old “sorry” would not do. They needed a performance worthy of such a daring deception.
So they invited about 100 members and guests to a show, and the surprise was revealed on Thursday morning when news of Ms. Lloyd’s reappearance ricocheted through the British press.
The evening’s performance began with a video montage, with archival photos of Ms. Lloyd as Raymond and Jenny Winstanley, her friend, teacher and accomplice.
Then — four acts, two fake rabbits and endless decks of cards later — the real magic began. Marvin Berglas, the president of the Circle, apologized to Ms. Lloyd and presented her with a certificate of membership. This time, it read “Sophie Lloyd.”
“Tonight, we do what we should have done long ago,” he said, adding, “On behalf of the Magic Circle, past and present, we apologize.”
Ms. Lloyd spoke about Ms. Winstanley, who died in 2004.
“Jenny patiently taught me all the magic I needed to know so I could pass my exam,” she said, tearing up onstage.
The Circle, which was founded in 1905, did not (intentionally) admit any women until late 1991. That had long bothered Ms. Winstanley.
She met Ms. Lloyd, then in her 20s, when the two women were in mime school. Ms. Lloyd, often joined Ms. Winstanley in her magic performances as “Claude,” her assistant, and “Timmy,” her young son.
After a while, Ms. Winstanley suggested a more ambitious role: What about an older boy, who could audition for the Circle? She pledged to teach Ms. Lloyd all the magic she would need.
Over 18 months, Ms. Winstanley instructed her in sleight-of-hand and helped her develop “boyish mannerisms.” They assembled a convincing costume. And they built a credible enough persona to get the Circle’s attention.
“Jenny was so patient,” Ms. Lloyd, now in her 60s, said in an interview. “It was a big routine.”
During the audition, “Raymond Lloyd” cut and restored a £5 note. He held fire in his hands. All while wearing gloves, Ms. Lloyd said: “You really can’t show feminine hands.”
The second (secret) test came when she and Ms. Winstanley had a drink with an examiner. Again, Ms. Lloyd said, her friend saved the day: “‘Say you have laryngitis,’” she remembered, laughing.
It worked. Raymond Lloyd was granted full membership.
“It was the best trick ever,” said Andrew Eborn, a longtime member, who remembered the days when the club did not want to admit women because of a belief they “couldn’t keep secrets.”
Seven months later, the group finally decided to admit women, and Ms. Lloyd and Ms. Winstanley revealed their ruse.
But instead of celebrating the trick, a Circle leader ruled, according to transcripts of documents that the group shared with The New York Times, that Raymond’s application was “null and void,” citing the “deliberate deception.”
“Jenny was very, very hurt,” Ms. Lloyd said, adding, “We couldn’t get our heads around it.”
On Thursday, women at the event said the evening was a sign of how far they had come, but also how hard they had to struggle to get there. Women are still fighting for recognition in professional magic. In the Circle, they account for about 5 percent of the 1,700 current members.
“It wasn’t just a celebration — it was an acknowledgment,” said Goldie Puricelli, a member who got into magic in her 50s.
Fay Presto, 76, worked the story into her performance on Thursday. As she cut a string into tiny pieces, she spoke of the club’s past.
Now, Ms. Presto said, the group was a little more whole. In her hands, the tiny pieces of string unfurled in one, uncut line. “Every now and then,” she said, “this club gets it right.”
In November, the Circle went to the press to try to find Ms. Lloyd. And Ms. Lloyd, who now lives in Spain, heard they were looking for her.
At first, she hesitated. Old wounds still hurt: “I wasn’t interested, to be honest with you.”
Then, she heard from Laura London, the first woman to serve as the chair. In January, they had lunch. “A meeting that should have lasted for two hours went on for seven hours,” Ms. Lloyd said.
For Ms. London, it was what she called a “dream come true.” She had long wanted to apologize on behalf of the Circle — and meet a trailblazer.
Ms. Lloyd eventually decided to rejoin. “It was for Jenny,” she said. “I look upon it as Jenny and I being a member.”
After the show, Ms. Winstanley received a posthumous award. Charlotte Allen, 27, her granddaughter, accepted it on her behalf.
“She really did want to be a member, but couldn’t be,” Ms. Allen said in an interview, remembering how her grandmother would perform at her birthday parties.
“It’s really inspiring to see my grandmother recognized, and Sophie, when they were so mistreated,” she added. “It means a lot.”
Amelia Nierenberg is a breaking news reporter for The Times in London, covering international news.
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