Mines, puppeteers, clowns OH MY! They were his friends, colleagues, cohorts, regular visitors to his Chicago shop, Magic, Inc., the oldest continuously family-run magic store in the country.

He was best known as a professional magician, having appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show 14 times as well as numerous other television spots. He played at the Palace in New York, the London Palladium, and in the Broadway show “Love Life” he sawed Nanette Fabray in half.

In 1992 he was honored with the title of Dean of the Society of American Magicians, keeping that title until 2005 when his wand was broken at his funeral service in a magician’s ritual. “He was one of magic’s most beloved figures,” said Siegfried of Siegfried & Roy. He was Jay Marshall. He was my father-in-law.

Jay was not what you’d call a family man and that bothered me when I was a young mom. It wasn’t until we were both much older that I came to appreciate the man and his style of aging in good spirits.

Articles on good aging often suggest being involved, being active, having interests. Jay had interests, and the first thing I think of was his penchant for books. Of the hundreds of thousands of books piled in his warehouse and in every nook and cranny of the house behind the shop, 4,000 were cookbooks. He never opened any of them, never cooked, but did say he read all the titles. We gifted many friends who loved to cook with out-of-date books they’d been trying to find for years.

Jay repaired watches and was into photography. He was a ventriloquist accompanied by his well-known hand puppet, Lefty, and carved and painted wooden clown heads and various other oddball characters that reside in my husband’s office today.

Our youngest grandkids say they’re spooky. Jay had a huge stash of circus and magic posters and when a fellow magician retired, he would buy all their equipment. The man was a collector.

Roaming through the three-story building that housed Magic, Inc. was an adventure. Books on the stairs, dolls propped in every corner, glass figurines, odd pieces of furniture, strings of beads and other jewelry, hundreds of records, a puppet stage from the old kids’ show Kukla, Fran, and Ollie, Punch and Judy puppets.

And somewhere in the melee, Ali Baba the cat roamed freely. If you wandered out front to the magic shop you might run into Aye Jaye, one of the first McDonald’s clowns who greeted you with a laugh and a hug, or comedy writer Jack Clemens ready with a new joke.

A puppeteer might stop by and perform a skit, or a mime with little to say. If it wasn’t for my association with my father-in-law and his eclectic group of buddies, I would never have been able to write the novel Dearest.  

 Like those of us fortunate enough to see our seventies, eighties and beyond, some things changed for Jay. “I never thought about my father getting old,” my husband said, “But on our last Costco trip he used a motorized cart.”

Yes, aging brings new challenges, and some folks handle them well. Jay rallied from heart surgery and losing an eye to cancer. During one of his hospital stays he was asked by a grandson if he wanted anything. “I want to see Ali Baba,” his reply.

The next day Ali Baba the cat was smuggled into his room in my son’s violin case. Lying in his hospital bed a few days before his death, Jay was making plans for a trip to England, setting up dates with every female nurse that came into his room, and performing card tricks.

His passing was peaceful. Arriving at the funeral home for his memorial service, we were met by a long line of people waiting to pay their respects; hundreds of folks, famous faces, fellow performers, neighborhood friends all with memories and enchanting stories. It was truly a magical ending.

Carole Marshall is a former columnist, feature writer for a national magazine, author of three books. She writes today about the often fun, often daunting concept of aging in good spirits. She is Mom, Grandma, Great-Grandma to some spectacular kiddos.