Threads of Time
Unseen Influence
Life has a way of weaving invisible threads between us, sometimes resulting in profound influences we don’t recognize until much later. Although I didn’t perform professionally until I was 22, my interest in magic began with a boy in a colorful costume who had unknowingly influenced a shy kid sitting in the audience, watching in amazement.
Thinking about the beginning of my journey, I realize how I never took the time to honestly know my childhood friend who later, when I began my magical career—shaped my first path towards being a professional magician in a way that still resonates today as I reflect on those early memories. David Slusser was a kid in my class who most kids found a little eccentric because of his alternative interests. He wasn’t the hip kid who played football or was in a rock band. Instead, his curiosities and interests were clowning, magic, ventriloquism, juggling, and the variety of arts, and he had an uncanny ability to breathe life into the tired school assemblies and talent shows, igniting a spark of interest in those of us who might have otherwise seen them as dull.
His Dad, Chester, was the fire chief and a friend of my father’s through the Masonic Lodge. He taught and inspired his three sons, David, and his brothers, Ken and Clyde, to pursue their interests in variety arts. He’d show up at local parades and productions, teaching kids about fire safety through clowning and magic, and he was always approachable, so the children loved him. But it was David who was our class clown and magician, and he was a natural leader, so he involved himself in our school newspaper and helped publish our yearbook. So David wasn’t just another classmate; he was a whirlwind of energy, a performer whose magic tricks and clowning routines brought joy and a sense of community to our school. ( HERE is a link to Carpet Clown, a video with cinematic qualities about David produced by his brother Clyde. In addition to his magic shows, he was an exceptional photographer at school, entrusted with capturing the moments that defined our years together in the yearbook. His photographs were more than images; they turned out to be portals into our shared experiences, capturing the spirit of our school life, from assemblies and sports events to quiet, candid moments in the classroom when, in later years, we would scroll through them, recalling fond moments together.
David’s family. David pictured far left and his brother Clyde on the far right in the front. In the back brother Kim Slusser and parents MaryLu and Chester.
One day David came into my geometry class for some quick candid photographs, and I remember thinking, “Oh no, here’s David to take photos.” But he spotted me, my hair in pigtails from early morning swimming, wearing my favorite top — a Peter Max print culotte set and he caught my glance as I bowed my head, pretending to be lost in a world of numbers, hesitant to draw attention to myself. Earlier in the year, he had asked me several times to model for him for business advertising for the yearbook, but I was too shy to say yes. So he maneuvered around the room, camera in hand, coming near my desk. Without hesitation, he snapped away, capturing my contemplative expression—a moment of vulnerability transformed into my favorite picture of myself. Because this was the analog world and the photo was probably taken sometime in the late winter, I didn’t see it until it appeared in the yearbook, which we received a week or two before the year ended. By then, I had forgotten about him looking at the image in my class. I was mortified that I had a permanent spot in this book when I saw it. But everybody loved it and thought it was cute. The yearbook sat on a shelf for decades, and then one day while moving, I dusted it off and flipped through the album, and the familiar image caught my eye—the snapshot David captured of me that day in class. The photograph I’d forgotten about was me with my head slightly down and the smirk on the face of a Timmy Corkins, the kid behind me frozen in time. It was as if the image had been waiting to be unearthed at that moment, a window to the past. The faces of the other girl and those not pictured, which had once been a significant part of my daily life, now appeared distant, yet their expressions sparked a surge of recognition, awakening memories long buried.
I could hear the chatter of their voices that filled the four walls of the classroom, each echoing in my mind. I remembered the desk arrangements, the teacher I liked, and how the sunlight filtered through the windows as I looked out, daydreaming and forgetting about geometry. It all burst forth from the photograph, bringing vivid recollections of lessons learned, friendships forged, the bittersweet feeling of adolescence, and its transient youthfulness. It reminded me that although memories may fade, the most straightforward triggers preserve their essence.
The person I reconnected with the most from that photograph was the photographer himself, my friend David, who I wished had been there to talk about our shared experiences of bringing joy to so many people through our magic. I just wanted to step into that photo and return in time, hug him, and thank him for loving magic. So, I did what most people did when Facebook became popular. I searched for him but couldn’t find information about him. Then I remembered his younger brother Clyde, who was about my brother Kelly’s age, and I saw Clyde, also a clown, performing magic. I was disappointed that I had just missed David by about a year. He had passed away in November 2009. May he Rest in Peace.
Clyde informed me when he left high school, David joined the John Strong Circus as a professional entertainer performing magic tricks as HI-HO the Clown and later working as an advance man for Circus Vargas, where he acted as the road manager arranging the show needs in advance for when the Circus came to town. He’d worked out everything about the show, including publicity on its route, before managers working out of the show's road office took over the details. I also learned he opened a successful clown school in Virginia but eventually moved back here to our hometown to care for his ailing, aging parents. I thought about growing up with him, and the first live magic show I saw was David performing at a Junior High School assembly when I was twelve. I was excited to tell him about my life, and I wanted to hear about his journey, but that never happened in this realm.
This experience has taught me the importance of expressing gratitude while we still can. In life, we often overlook the subtle ways we touch one another’s lives—sometimes, it takes years and a sense of loss to truly understand the impact of those influences and contributions to my life. I would have seized the chance to thank him while he was still here. Instead, I carry forward his inspiration, forever grateful for the unseen influence he wove into the fabric of my career. I learned that even the most minor influences can create ripples that span a lifetime. David’s love for making people happy through clowning reminds me that magic isn't just about illusions; it's about the genuine power we hold to touch the lives of those around us.
Special thanks to Clyde Slusser for providing all the photos and link to Carpet Clown , a video about David
A photograph in a newspaper showing David and his students at his clown school in Virginia
What a beautiful memoir, Charlotte. And so beautifully written. The Slussers were such a gifted family. Chet & MaryLu visited us on Whidbey Island back in the mid-80's after we had left Porterville... they were the most wonderful people. Thank you for your story!
Bruce Klassen
What a beautiful tribute. So well crafted Charlotte