Yesterday’s news is today’s magic trick. Clutching an old copy of the Sooke News Mirror, magician Guy Simmons tells his audience he’s about to perform the classic torn-and-restored newspaper trick – but with a twist. “Because I tell you exactly how it’s done,” he says. “But before I show you this, I want you to know that everything that I say is absolutely true – except the lies, of course,” he adds with a wink. He begins to rip the pages into strips, insisting he’s only pretending, then pressing the paper into a tight, small parcel. “But this was all a trick, and I really haven’t done that,” he says. Then, with a quick flick of his wrists he shakes open the paper, magically restored, as if nothing had ever happened. Cue rapturous applause. It’s an illusion Simmons has performed countless times over a magical career that has spanned decades – one of his favourites, he says. But after years away from the spotlight, he’s returning to performing for reasons that go beyond entertaining a crowd. Like the newspaper he brings back together, the 74-year-old hopes revisiting his old stagecraft wizardry might help him rebuild some joy in his own life – though he knows it won’t be as simple as waving a magic wand. Recent years have been hard on him. Ongoing legal proceedings following a relationship breakdown have left him without a home, living aboard his boat in Sooke, about a half-hour west of Victoria, since late 2023. Now, with more legal costs looming, he’s facing the possibility of having to sell the boat too. “So I’ll be homeless,” he said. “I’ve been having a really bad, bad year and been very depressed.” While he has been receiving mental health support, Simmons has decided he needs to take an active role in helping himself. It was a chance meeting with a palliative care nurse that gave him the idea to return to magic – not for applause this time, but for healing. “I thought maybe I should go out and do a little bit of my magic act for people that are maybe worse off than I am – maybe that’ll make me feel better,” he said. Now he’s hoping to bring his act to local retirement homes, hospitals and palliative care units, offering a few moments of wonder to people who might need it most. “Everyone needs magic at this time of year.” Simmons’ love of magic stretches back to childhood, when his uncle and “an old lady” he knew taught him card tricks. That early fascination carried him into a life spent creating, performing and dreaming up illusions. His early career began performing in front of children to build confidence and learn how to hold an audience. As his skills grew, so did his ambitions. He connected with other magicians, including his longtime mentor, the late Len Ventus – a founding member of the International Brotherhood of Magicians – and with other like-minded friends, he formed a troupe called the Magic Alliance, performing as the Wizard of the North. In the late 1980s and through the ’90s, they staged everything from close-up magic to large-scale illusions, appeared on television, and even performed at the International Brotherhood of Magicians convention in Montreal. Their act also earned them a spot on the front page of The Linking Ring, a respected magic journal. “We were doing crazy stunts, building wild props – just creating all the time,” he recalled. Simmons recalls performing one of magic’s most notorious stunts, the bullet catch, using a real pistol and a bullet with the initials of an audience member carved into it. His first wife Leeann would fire the shot, Simmons would “catch” the bullet in his teeth and spit it onto a plate. “It was the most dangerous trick in the world. “That’s how I broke my tooth,” he jokes, pointing to one of his front teeth. Simmons wasn’t just a performer; he was a builder. An artist by nature, he designed and fabricated his own illusions, sets and props. For years, he poured his creative energy into a personal project in Richmond Hill, transforming his childhood home into what he called the Magic Castle, part workshop, part museum, part TV-set-in-progress. He and a small team of artists and builders produced everything from jewelry to large custom pieces for clients, including props and architectural features for Toronto collector Bill Jamieson’s private museum of oddities. But a septic hip infection in 2010 derailed everything. The two-year recovery forced him to abandon the Magic Castle, sell the house, and let go of his long-planned television projects. He shifted from performing illusions to flipping homes to earn a living – work that eventually brought him to Sooke. Still, he never lost his love for magic. What draws him in, he says, isn’t just the sleight of hand, but the storytelling and the chance to make someone smile, to spark a moment of wonder. “I like telling stories, making people laugh,” explained Simmons. “If someone walks away happy – if they say, ‘Wow, how did you do that?’ – that makes me happy too.” Anyone who can help Simmons connect with an audience that would benefit from some magic in their lives, can email him:
[email protected].
