I was watching the movie Nutcracker this afternoon. During the opening credits there was a scene of a magician automaton performing the cups and balls trick. I’ve seen this mechanical wonder before, and I have been fascinated by the history of automata for years.
Mechanical wonders like the magician have existed (or at least are rumored to have existed) since the ancient Egyptians. There are stories throughout history of amazing performances of lifelike birds, animals, and even people. Automatons could dance, sing, and even write (the movie Hugo was based on such a writing automaton, which, if not actual, was matched in abilities by other historical creations).
Seeing the magician reminded me of the mechanical wonder that I saw most often when I was a child.
When my Dad moved out to California from North Dakota, he lived with his Uncle Jerome and Aunt Urbanie. After meeting and marrying my mom and having four children, my dad regularly took his family to visit his Aunt and Uncle, particularly during the holidays.
I remember almost always enjoying these visits. Jerome and Urbanie were kindly and fun. Both of them were born in Belgium and moved to North Dakota as young adults. After many years of farming, they moved their family to Los Angeles where they raised their daughter Bertha.
Their house was always wonderful. In front were dozens of whirligigs and windmills, all hand made by Jerome, and in the house there was a special room where kids could play with many unusual toys.
There were Wheel-os, Slinkies and a bird that repeatedly dipped its beak in water. But the best of all was the Bartender.
The Bartender (Later study told me that this character was based on Charley Weaver, but I had not yet watched the Hollywood Squares) was not a pure automaton because it ran on batteries, but the complexities of its routines governed only by gears and switches amaze me to this day.
As pictured above, the Bartender held a shaker and a cocktail glass. He would first shake the drink and then pour it into the glass. Bringing the glass to his lips, he would “drink” and smack kid lips. Finally his cheeks and nose would light up red and smoke would come out of his ears. Then the routine would begin again. I could watch forever until my Uncle would turn it off, his Belgian frugality shoeing through not wanting to wear out the batteries.
You can see a video of the routine here
Though I don’t remember the details, I remember at some point when I asked to see the Bartender, I was told it was broken. I don’t know what ultimately happened to it.
I am amazed by computers and robotics, but my amazement cannot equal the joy I felt watching the little jerky Bartender running on gears and springs and batteries.
As always, I welcome your comments.