A Magic Message

Doug Malloy is a full-time magician who plays the Magic Castle in Hollywood one week and boards a cruise ship bound for Bangkok the next. So, a scrubby camp in the San Bernardino Mountains was not the sort of stage he had in mind, but it had one thing to offer that theothers did not. He could try mixing his professional skills with his religious faith, an idea that only recently occurred to him.

Answering an invitation from the camp’s director, Malloy followed directions to a road sign tacked to a tree. There he turned onto a canyon road and parked at Camp Axios. The word means “worthy” in Greek, and the site belongs to St. Sophia’s Greek Orthodox Cathedral in Los Angeles. For years it was reserved for the children of the parish. Last summer, for the first time, cathedral dean Father John Bakas opened it to area children whose families are struggling with unemployment and who have absentee parents or face other setbacks. The children are recommended for a free week at Axios by their schools, community centers or churches.

After dinner in the mess hall, where 50 preteens swapped rattlesnake stories and chanted “We want dessert,” Malloy set up a stage beside the swimming pool. Dipping into a cupboard full of paper flowers, puppets, balloons and soda pop, he began to weave a magic show with a message.

“I used to think, ‘I’m just a guy who does magic tricks. How’s that going to serve the Lord?’ ” says Malloy, raised Catholic but now a member of a Baptist church. The answer came to him through his three sons, all students in a religious school. He started putting on shows at the school, which led to requests from other churches. Then, about three years ago, he went to a convention for jugglers, clowns, ventriloquists, puppeteers and magicians who add a religious spin to their performances.

Several such groups have a national or international reputation, an annual membership and regular conventions. One of the oldest is the Fellowship of Christian Magicians, which was founded in 1953 and has about 1,800 members. Many of them are professionals who perform in churches, religious schools and hospitals as volunteers.

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In some ways they are a modern version of the acrobats and aerialists of the Middle Ages who performed outside the great cathedrals of Europe on saints’ feast days.

“There were no official religious teachings offered by these performers,” says medieval historian Joseph Goering, chairman of the department of religion at the University of Toronto in Canada. “But their performances represent a very important part of lay spirituality.” Clergy did not perform, but some did write song lyrics and religious plays for the musicians and actors.

Malloy learned his craft from a Catholic priest who put on a magic show for the school when Malloy was in the seventh grade. Twice a week after that, Malloy took magic lessons in the rectory, but religious themes were not part of the program.

“It was in high school that I decided to make magic my goal,” Malloy says. “I had been a struggling kid, but that changed my life. Kids need a purpose.” As he got better at making magic, his grandmother drove him to the local library where he put on shows for free. Now, at 36, he makes and sells his own magic tricks and is still figuring out ways to adapt his “secular” tricks to religious themes.

In his show at Camp Axios, Rudy the Puppet’s head mysteriously shrinks because all he does is watch TV. Meanwhile, Malloy interviews a volunteer from the audience.

“Do you like to read?” he asks Christian, a bashful boy with a tough crust.

“Hate to read,” the boy says under his breath.

“People might make fun of you if you can’t read.”

“Go ahead, make fun of me,” he taunts the audience.

“Kids are the hardest audience,” Malloy says later. Once at a show he put on for a boys’ club the whole room started shouting, “Make our teacher disappear.” Another time someone came up on stage and bit him.

Tricks and teachings keep the Axios campers guessing. Two solid-color handkerchiefs go into a bag and come out with polka-dots. “The friends we hang out with can influence us,” Malloy says. It’s a quick lesson about gangs, the good and bad kind.

A wrapper slides off what appears to be a soda can but turns out to be beer. The shouting storm from the audience turns to cheers when the beer once again becomes soda pop.

“Say, ‘No,’ ” Malloy leads the group.

“Say, ‘I’m the boss.’ ” Fingers wag, hips cock to one side.

“Say, ‘I’ll make the decisions.’ ”

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He counsels them against drugs and alcohol. “You won’t get to be what you want to be when you grow up. You can’t travel the world if you’re in jail.”

After the show some of the campers give a recap of the highlights.

“No drugs,” says Carlos, 11. “And read! Because you’ll be smart if you do.”

“Don’t be friends with bad kids,” say cousins Vanessa and Yvette, both 9 1/2.

“Three years ago I realized I could use my talents and tools to bring a message to kids,” Malloy says. “The art of illusion, tricking the eye, is a good way to teach them values.”

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Mary Rourke can be reached by e-mail at mary.rourke@latimes.com.