All this shop work happened at a time when Norm, now a married man with small children, stilled his yearning to hear his opening music, and started a magic shop and manufacturing plant. He wasn't unhappy, because he thoroughly enjoyed making fine magic. He wasn't thoroughly happy because his destiny lay just outside the sound of the lathe and the stroke of the paint brush.
"There comes a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their lives is bound in shallows and in misery." True? It must be.
It was a hot and sticky day in Chicago, summer of 1965. The little theatre of Magic, Inc. boasts no air conditioning, and the fan was no help against the gathering thunder-storm heat. Norm Nielsen was in that theatre, trussed up in a black tail suit, stiff white collar holding his head high, gleaming white shirt front trying hard not to wilt. His throat was dry, his hands fought to be steady.
Seated with the tiny audience was a white haired, slightly over-weight man in shirtsleeves, sweat pouring down his face and the back of his shirt stuck to him. He ignored the heat. He was a pro, doing a job. He was Mark Leddy, agent for the far famed Sullivan Show, come there to privately audition Norm Nielsen. Norm ignored the heat. He was a pro, come to do a job. He wanted to go into show business. He wanted to be what he didn't know existed, at the time - a Super Star.
Six months later, he went to New York to do the Sullivan Show. See how fate plays with an artist like a cat with a mouse. At the rehearsal, they told Norm he had to cut - he was running overtime and thereby throwing off the schedule of the other acts. He only had to cut by a few minutes, but he was set to do the violin sequence, and to cut meant to re-choreograph. He only had 45 minutes to do it. So, he dropped the violin in the dressing
