I was born in Detroit, Michigan; in a Catholic-Methodist neighborhood. Polish Catholics on one side of the street, Southern Methodists on the opposite side... During summer months we Polish altar boys lived in relative harmony with the Methodist kids, but come winter -- we launched our snowball crusades to convert the heathens (I said I was kinda holy). We failed to lead them to the True Faith mainly because they had snowballs of their own... which sort of made us wonder if God was on our side even though we were positive God was a Polish Catholic.

We had other theological discussions, the main one being whether the nuns at our school of the Immaculate Conception, and the Pope had to go to the toilet. We came to the conclusion the nuns probably did, but not the Pope -- he was too Holy (which made two of us).

I loved the library, that's where my interest in magic began. A book of magic, wish I could remember the title for nostalgia's sake. The interest became a passion at a Father and Son dinner in the church basement where The Great Oswald performed.

One quick story which has nothing to do with our kind of magic, but does with the magic of a nun's delightful humanity. We liked Sister Florence even before the 'Incident'. She was fun, not the stern type associated with teaching nuns at that time.

One afternoon she told my friend Donald and me to stay in class when the bell rang to go home for lunch. Naturally, we bellowed we didn't do anything wrong. She assured us that was not the reason.

Alone with us she asked if either of us had a small radio that would fit in her schoolbag. Donald did, and was asked to bring it to class after lunch before the other kids got there. He did. She tried it, and it fit snugly in her schoolbag. Well, we were going crazy with curiosity, why did she want the radio?

Sister Florence could not tell a lie, she said, "Well, boys, we sisters have to go to bed at nine o'clock... but Joe Louis is boxing at ten and I just CAN'T miss that fight."

Need I say we then loved Sister Florence as no nun has ever been loved before or after. I still adore her. Just the image... a nun sneaking a radio into her bedroom, listening to a championship boxing match with head and radio under a blanket to mute the sound. God, Sister Florence, I wish I could hug you right now as I write this sweet recollection.

In High School the interest in magic continued; Milt Larsen and I became friends... and nemeses of the R.O.T.C. where we competed to see who could get the most demerit points by the end of the semester. I won!

I think he still broods about that. Although major irritants to the student officers who took the R.O.T.C. too seriously, and the attendance office where we once offered confrontation with an escaped circus tiger as excuse for cutting a morning class, we devoted a huge amount of time to Play Production that became refuge for us, and other teenagers that were not of the rah rah sports persuasion. We worked like hell in the drama classes, backstage and onstage. It was during that time I met William Larsen, Sr. He got me started doing illustrations for GENII and articles.

At nineteen I went to New York to study painting at the Art Students' League. Even the thought of a mundane job to survive being abhorrent I spotted a sign in the window of a tea room, The Gypsy Tea Kettle, FORTUNE TELLER WANTED. Well... I worked there for a time, no salary but for meals and tips. I salted my tip tray every day with half dollars and dollars so none dared put in less. Some hilarious things transpired because I didn't know the first thing about palmistry, tea leaf and card reading... but I had the gift of babble. Unfortunately, they're too long to include here.

After a year I returned to Los Angeles, spent some time in college seriously considering majoring in paleontology and/or archaeology, another fascination since childhood (at present I have a 3,000 year old mummy hand, we take walks hand in hand, people stare -- what do they have against part of a dead Egyptian? I detest prejudice).

While still in high school I had received a paleontology scholarship to the County Museum. One weekend I dug around in local mountains, found some fairly large fossil seeds. The next week at the museum I proudly poured the discovery into my hand presenting the seeds to the somewhat reserved and stuffy paleontologist in charge of the class. He looked, he nodded, I beamed. He said, "Gene, you're showing me a handful of fresh rat shit." I should have known then my talents lay elsewhere.

Along with college I did a lot of drawing and writing for GENII; readings at private parties; and some birthday shows for children (at one the seven year old outraged birthday boy punched me in the stomach because I 'accidentally' cut his daddy's tie in half before magically restoring it. No, don't be ridiculous -- I didn't smack the kid back... he looked kind of tough).

I began writing short stories for men's magazines, eventually scripts for Father Peyton's Family Theatre. One featurette won a bronze medal at an international film festival in Venice, Italy. I also starred in it. I bring this up only because it indirectly relates to magic. I played the part of a village idiot --which some in the magic community would say was an inordinately brilliant example of type casting.

I made two appearances on the original "You Asked For It" television program. The first billed as: The Artist Who If He Can't Sell His Paintings--Eats them! 

I created a landscape from wildly chopped up vegetables. I believe it now hangs in the Louvre... or should. The second appearance was performing my illusion, 'Creation of A Woman', where, in a laboratory setting I produced Bill Larsen Jr.'s first wife Dorothy from a concoction of moonbeams and chemicals in a mortar. I was to make a third appearance doing an oil painting under water in a swimming pool full of lovely exotic fish. When the lunatic writers of the show insisted on adding a few sharks among the fishies I found I had matters of greater import that demanded my immediate attention.

Concentrating on writing for television and eventually some movies I dropped out of magic for some years, and married. The marriage was not made in heaven... nor in Hell. After six years it simply wasn't working, we parted amicably. Hmm, in retrospect I'm not sure about the Hell disclaimer. I mean... when I did the You Asked For It show it was aired live. Just before my cue to go on my wife to be whispered, "Just think -- millions and millions of eyes are going to be watching you." I'm not sure the motivation was pride in hubby to be. Hmmmmmm...........

Returning to magic, I continued doing illustrations and articles for GENII; wrote two books of my illusions; worked as an editor with Carte Blanche Magazine, then as Art Director for an advertising printer. I did more religious television scripts, and for a change of pace a Jesse James segment; a PBS Special for children, and eventually the Katharine Hepburn movie "Olly Olly Oxen Free" and book with the same title.

Since then I have continued contributing short stories, cartoons and routines to magic magazines and now the electronic networks -- quite a few of the latter routines being rather weird. Probably has to do with genetics, some goofy genes slopping around inside me". For instance:- 

Many years back Poland was divided by Austria, Prussia and Russia. As a child my father lived in the Prussian sector. Prussian military controlled the town. The Colonel in charge liked to have coffee in a little restaurant. My father's older brother got to know the Colonel, played chess with him over coffee until he was fully trusted -- then he blew the Colonel away, assassinated him. So is it any wonder I had it in for the R.O.T.C.? In the genes. Don't mess with a Poinc.

 During the second World War one of my uncles was executed by the Nazis for being an organizer of the Second Warsaw Uprising. He didn't take kindly to Nazi domination. In the genes, I tell you. Don't mess with a Poinc.

After the war another uncle, who had a cushy job all his adult life employed by the Polish Consulate, ended up working as a laborer in a factory after having an action photo of himself in the newspaper. When the Soviet Union took over Poland the political powers wanted him to continue working for the Polish Consulate here in the United States. He refused to have anything to do with the Commies. The photo was of him spitting contemptuously on the Consulate steps. In the genes. Don't mess with a Poinc.

Then on my mother's side there was Grandpa. One quick story, of many, about HIM. Back to Poland. Grandma was very sick with Thyphoid Fever. Grandpa whitened his face with flour, darkened his eyes with a lump of coal, draped a sheet over himself, got a scythe from the barn and walked into the bedroom telling her he was Death and that he had come for her. What a scamp. Grannie recovered quickly. "

"In the genes, Weird genes, Don't mess with a Poinc." 

You can read more about Gene, his illusions, effects and writings at his website at which now lives on within The Secret Passages area here at Dragonskull,  to go there click HERE

Gene died at 9.42 a.m. on Tuesday 23rd July, 2002. He was 73 years young.

You can read more as well as see and hear Gene if you now visit the Eugene Memorial Area by clicking HERE.