T
he trouble began with Harry Houdini’s beaver-skin top hat.
Tim Moore — known in Columbus, Ohio, as Dr. Magic Smile — was a dentist and magician, in one. He performed sleight of hand to settle his patients’ nerves, and he helped run MagiFest, a longtime Columbus magic convention. But Moore didn’t just love magic. He had spent much of his life collecting antique posters and tricks that once belonged to history’s greatest magicians.
One day in April 2011, Moore said a friend came to him with an irresistible offer: Houdini’s top hat. It was tall and dignified, nestled in the plush red lining of a weathered hat box, and Moore eagerly bought it. Soon, there were cuff links and walking sticks, monocles and stick pins — all of which, it seemed, had once belonged to the most revered magicians of the 19th and 20th centuries. Moore bought them all.
Not long after, on a frigid January night, Moore invited a group to his home magic museum, a 1,000-square-foot space above his garage. Guests strolled the room with their mouths agape. Spotlight after spotlight fell on top-of-the-line display cases filled with the personal effects of magic’s forefathers.
