David Copperfield has made a career out of dazzling people

Magic seems to be one of the eternal arts.

It's older than Merlin, newer than Harry Potter. It's been used to dazzle, amuse, perplex; it's also, in centuries past, been used to trick people into losing their money.

Around Michigan (see list, Page 7), magic's history is showcased in the cozy little towns of Colon and Marshall. Its current state ranges from the intimacy of table magic at Champps to the spectacle of David Copperfield, who has four Wharton Center shows this weekend.

Copperfield, his people say, holds the records for the most magic shows performed, the most tickets sold, the most money made. In fact, he holds the Guinness record for holding the most Guinness records.

On TV, he seemed to walk through the Great Wall of China. He also made important things - a jet, an elephant, people - seem to disappear.

The hardest stunt to set up was making the Statue of Liberty vanish, he said back in 1989. "It took two years to set it up and a half-million dollars."

At the Wharton, he'll downsize only slightly. Copperfield plans to make 13 audience members disappear. (They will, apparently, re-appear.) In one stunt, he'll seem to float through steel; in another, he'll shrink and fit in a shoe box.

Chances are, all of these will be done with a movie-like flair. "I love film," Copperfield said in 1993. "I watch as many shows as I can. I'll rent out the theater during the day, so the whole crew can go."

There also will be some intimate magic involving an African scorpion. The intimate stuff was what he did first.

That started when he was 8, showing off his first trick. "I make a ring vanish from someone's finger," Copperfield recalled in 1992. "Then I make it turn up, tied to my shoelace."

By 10, he was working birthday parties. His price rose from $5 to $7.50 to $35.

He was David Kotkin then, in Metuchen, N.J. His parents encouraged him, but also had old-world values.

His dad, who managed a men's clothing store, was the son of Russian immigrants. His mom was born in Jerusalem; both wanted him to go to college and into a profession.

The college part lasted exactly three weeks, until he landed a key role under his stage name.

"Copperfield culled fine reviews in 'The Magic Man,' a song-and-dance show produced in a small theater in a bank in Chicago," Harry Blackstone Jr., wrote. He "went on to perform in nightclubs and in Las Vegas. ... His programs always surround the magic with comedy skits, music and dance - all done by Copperfield."

It was a fresh take on an ancient art.

The earliest references to magicians go back to 1700 B.C., Blackstone wrote. The Iliad mentioned conjurers; Marco Polo raved about them.

The claims were often outrageous. In the 1720s, Isaac Fawkes said he had an apple tree that could bear fruit in a minute. Josephine Giradelli put boiling melted lead in her mouth; Blaise Manfre swallowed water and regurgitated a choice of red and white wine.

It was all probably impressive, Copperfield said in 1992, but flawed. "They weren't very honest about it a long time ago. They used their illusions to attain power. They became Merlins, trying to control people."

Some magicians used their craft to peddle phony medicines. One actually managed to affect world events. In the 19th century, Blackstone wrote, Algeria wanted to be independent; Napoleon III countered by presenting his best magician. "Robert-Houdin totally convinced the tribal leaders of his - and France's - supernatural powers."

Robert-Houdin was a master showman and self-promoter. Ehrich Weiss - born in Budapest, raised partly in Appleton and Milwaukee, Wis. - paid tribute to him by changing his stage name to Harry Houdini.

For large chunks of the 20th century, Houdini and the senior Harry Blackstone were major pop-culture stars. They showed up in movies, radio shows, even comic strips. When Blackstone retired in 1960, his son wrote, "he was seemingly the last of an age of charismatic magic personalities. It was several years before the emergence of any new magic superstars."

They would come, however, with the help of TV. Doug Henning, Lance Burton and David Blaine (who has an ABC special next month) had modest success; Copperfield scored big.

That has been done with non-stop touring. Copperfield was on the road constantly, doing more than 500 shows a year.

"I love it," he said in 1990. "I absolutely do. At this point in my life, it's what I want to do."

Often, it's been at the expense of everything else. With the exception of an engagement to supermodel Claudia Schiffer, which ended after five years, he has shown no signs of a personal life.

For a time, Copperfield didn't have a steady home base. He got one in Las Vegas; that's where he often performs - and where he established the International Museum and Library of the Conjuring Arts.

The idea started in 1991 when Copperfield bought a massive Los Angeles magic library. He's gone on to buy other collections and individual items.

Now Vegas is a prime source of magic artifacts. Others include the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C., and - open only on weekends - the American Museum of Magic in Marshall, near Battle Creek.

Copperfield owns devices created by Robert-Houdin and owns about half the Harry Houdini collection. He has the rifle that may have killed Chung Ling Soo, when his bullet- catching stunt failed; he has the Wyman the Wizard coins that seemed to pass through Abraham Lincoln's hands.

He has more than 15,000 magic books, including the first one. That was Reginald Scot's "The Discoverie of Witchcraft," in 1584. It told magicians' secrets, out of self-defense: It was better to be considered a fake than to be executed as a wizard.

So tricks were revealed. Try to remember that this weekend at the Wharton Center, when people float or shrink or disappear. It is (probably) only a trick.