On April 15, 1934, Benjamin Rucker, magician, seer, spiritualist, and fortune teller extraordinaire, appeared at a Louisville, Kentucky theatre where he and his entourage had been giving regular performances since February. What nobody suspected at the time was that this would be the famous magician's final performance.
Though he had already been warned by his doctor about overwork, the 45-year-old Rucker, known affectionately as "Black Herman" to his fans, refused to slow down even after nearly collapsing on the day following his performance. While convalescing in bed, he took time to write a letter to his wife, Eva, advising her that his end was near and that she would need to carry on without him. Then, while chatting with his associates, he began coughing up blood. After what doctors would later determine was a hemorrhage affecting his overtaxed heart, Herman Rucker died that same day *.
It probably said a lot about "Black Herman's" reputation as a magician and seer that news of his death left many people skeptical. Already well known for his colourful stunts and flamboyant performances, rumours that he had faked his death as part of an elaborate trick spread all through his beloved Harlem. That he was justifiably famous for his "buried alive" stunt (more on that later) probably helped feed the rumours even as Herman's body was sent home to New York and prepared for burial.
So, who was Herman Rucker? And why was his death so hard for many to accept? Well, to understand that, you would need to learn more about his colourful history.
Born in Amherst, Virginia on June 6, 1889 to Harry and Louisa Rucker, Benjamin's early years seemed unremarkable enough. Despite rumours that he had been born in Africa and had actually brought to America (at least, that's what his obituary suggests), he seemed to have had the typical upbringing shared by all African-Americans of that era. That included being educated in Lynchburg and working in various odd jobs including being a farm hand, construction worker, chef on the Pennsylvania Railroad, and as a bellhop in a local hotel.
But Benjamin Rucker quickly became tired of his home town and moved to Wheeling West Virginia at the age of 20. It was there that he became an assistant to The Great Keller, a well-known magician who soon took made Benjamin his apprentice. After apprenticing under Keller as well as a second magician, Prince Herman, Benjamin Rucker soon embarked on his own career as a performer. He and Prince Herman worked together both as stage magicians and in selling patent medicines. When Prince Herman died in 1909, Rucker took on the name "Black Herman" in honour of his friend.
Along with working the theatre circuit with his magic act, Benjamin became extremely popular in African-American communities across the southern states. Not only was he a devoted Christian, but he typically gave much of his income as a magician to local churches which helped save many of them from going under financially. He also became a nationally known star with performances at state fairs, theatres, and music halls. In 1923, he premiered at Liberty Hall in Harlem and all 4,000 seats were filled with enthusiastic fans. In an era of rigid segregation and racial disharmony, "Black Herman" Rucker was a star who appealed to everyone, regardless of skin colour though, due to Jim Crow laws, he was often unable to perform before white audiences in many southern states.
Perhaps his greatest feat was what he called his "Black Herman's Private Graveyard" trick. What this involved was, a few days before his next performance, his assistants would sell tickets allowing people to watch his "lifeless body" being placed in a coffin and buried near the venue of his next scheduled show. To verify that the body was indeed lifeless, ticket holders could even check for a pulse. On the day of the show, tickets were sold so the audience could witness the coffin being dug up. They then watched as Black Herman emerge from the coffin alive and well. He would then lead the crowd to the theater for his performance.
But things weren't always rosy. In 1926, his wife Eva petitioned for divorce (a difficult undertaking in those days) on the grounds of adultery. Not only did she accuse him of cheating with numerous women, but also that he fathered at least three children out of wedlock, all of whom he brought home for Eva to raise. It likely says a lot about his charismatic appeal that he and Eva reconciled and that she continued raising the children as her own.
But Rucker was a businessman as well as an entertainer. He was continually searching for new business ventures including selling herbal concoctions and patent medicines from his own "Herb Garden" as well as starting his own "beneficial society" for customers eager to buy his products. After buying his own printing press, he began publishing a regular magazine, "The Spokesman" in which he provided pronouncements on all matters spiritual and metaphysical. Customers could also buy his other publications, including "Black Herman's Dream Book" and "Black Herman's Secrets of Magic, Mystery, and Legerdemain" by mail order or at his performances. While these various side business made him wealthy, they also provided jobs to dozens of people in New York, Philadelphia, and Wilmington, all of which made him more popular than ever.
But these sidelines also caused major legal headaches as well. The police seemed determined to run him out of business though after years of investigation got them nowhere. Getting any of his customers to testify against him was next to impossible though they finally resorted to a "sting" operation using an undercover policewoman. Not only did the "seer" fail to realize the true identity of the supposedly eager young woman but his usual attempt to hustle her into buying some of his herbal remedies backfired on him. Along with making vague pronouncement about the woman's marital problems (she was actually single), he also tried to sell her some of his remedies for a medical problem which she didn't actually have. All of this was more than enough for the police to charge him with fortune telling and practicing medicine without a license.
Still, a brief stint at Welfare Island Prison wasn't enough to keep "Black Herman" down for long. Though he was a little more careful about who he offered private readings to, he was soon back in the limelight and and doing his regular circuit along with his entourage and fellow performers.
Despite being warned about overwork, Rucker wouldn't, or couldn't. slow down. And s0, after his death in Kentucky, his body was returned home to a public funeral at the Mother African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church in Harlem that brought out hundreds of fans. While Eva and the three small children Rucker left behind received condolences, the people in attendance were still half-expecting the great magician to emerge from the coffin for one final trick. It probably added to the surreal atmosphere that his one-time assistant, Washington Reeves, even charged admission to view the body in the funeral home (some viewers brought pins to stick in the body to verify his death). Given his reputation, it is any wonder that many of these fans followed the funeral procession to Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx, half-expecting him to rise once more?
But the fans were disappointed and Benjamin Rucker remained quite dead. People can still visit his grave at Woodlawn to see for themselves if they're still skeptical. Still, his legacy as one of America's greatest magicians and a legitimate African American superstar (especially in that era) continues to be felt even today. Black Herman was a tough act to follow.
*Though a popular legend stated that Rucker died on stage and that audience members believed it was part of the act, contemporary newspaper accounts reported that his death occurred off-stage. FYI.
While article is riddled with inaccuracies, the author does travel into areas of recently discovered truths - including his tutelage under the Great Keller. A fact that did not come to light until Harvard's investigative report in 2010. This hidden fact explains Ben Rucker's style and polish: as Prince Herman was never more than a second rate magician. This misdirection at every turn was his style - to keep the audience guessing and wanting more. For those cynics that degenerate his style; his philanthropy aptly overcomes any suggestion that he - a common confidence man. There are things that I would touch upon but will not on this eighty-fifth anniversary of his passing; in deference to Eva, my great aunt, who finally succumbed to old age and passed in 2010 aged 111. What I will conclude with is a strong feeling that Herman has been the template for many of the modern heroes in film and literature. 'Once every seven years shall I rise' he promised. Brace yourselves he's coming again!
Posted by: George Patton | April 15, 2019 at 12:06 AM
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Posted by: George Patton | April 15, 2019 at 12:15 AM
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Posted by: Adam Axford | May 14, 2019 at 06:57 AM