Background to the Writing of This Book
The expression “never a dull moment” does not begin to describe what it was like growing up in the household of Henry and Bella Muller. Firstly, all the phone lines from Muller’s Meats also rang into the house. At all hours of the evening and into the middle of the night, truck drivers were calling that their refrigeration units had broken down or that they had a flat tire, customers were calling looking for their product, the night watchman at the plant was calling because the hot water tank burst, or an employee was calling confidentially to inform Henry of the latest union organizing effort.
And that was only part of it. For decades, Henry was President of the B’nai Jacob Congregation and President of the Hebrew Burial Society. As such, he fielded calls daily from congregants and from others in need of help — including being buried when the time came!
And that was only part of it. There was a constant stream of visitors with new business ideas looking for financial backing, ranging all the way from evangelists looking for a backer to make Christian videos (he said yes to that!) to a group wanting to make a new type of wall-board (he said yes to that too!) to a group wanting to make hydraulic lifting systems for the back of trucks (he said yes to that too!). We have a warehouse filled with files called “Aborted Projects.” And that was only part of it. For decades, the house was a central point for magicians, illusionists, spirit mediums, magic collectors, and aficionados from the world over. David Copperfield, Penn & Teller, David Merlini, The Amazing Randi, Doug Henning; Walter Gibson, Milbourne Christopher–all guests in the Muller household over the years.
It was quite a ride.
A man named Jay Garfinkel wrote the following letter after Henry’s
passing in 2017:
I met Henry more than 25 years ago. He was the most generous man I ever met, who placed his trust in me on just his instincts. It was momentous as no one before that or since had done so to as high a degree.
In 1992 I was a documentary filmmaker contracted by the Library of Congress to produce a one-hour program on Harry Houdini. The Library is the repository of many documents and paraphernalia of the famed Hungarian-Jewish illusionist and escape artist Erik Weisz a.k.a. Harry Houdini. After Houdini’s death many of his artifacts became part of the Houdini collection in the Library. However, the collection was incomplete with dozens of items scattered in the hands of private collectors. I interviewed a dozen magicians to find out who had the more interesting pieces the Library was missing. The name that kept coming up in all my interviews and conversations was Henry Muller. Penn Jillette (of Penn & Teller) told me that there was a man in a small town in Canada who owned many parts of the collection and who had created a Houdini Museum. For some reason I became fixated on the idea that this Muller fellow was a “German” with whom I would have a difficult time. The name “Muller” sent a wave of flashing amber signals to me. “Enter with caution,” I thought.
Then there was the issue of having to fly to Buffalo, renting a car, hiring a U.S. camera film and audio crew, drive to Niagara Falls, Canada, and staying overnight for a two-day shoot. What if this was a dry well and this German Muller didn’t have the goods? My loss on the contract would have been substantial as my margins were thin to begin with.
I called Henry, who arranged for us to stay in a motel at a reduced cost and closed parts of the museum for several hours so we could film without distraction. We hit the motherlode of artifacts…but I could not imagine what would come next. While my crew took their lunch break, Henry invited me to his house to have mine. What a house it was. Collections of cups used for washing bodies in a “tahara,” a courtyard with citrus fruits growing in the bleak Canadian north, paintings on the wall that only museums could own. Henry was an avid collector. Then the most remarkable thing happened. He opened his safe and took out a reel of film that was so rare that not even the Library of Congress knew about it, much less owned. Henry explained that Houdini wanted to break a world record so he could be in the record books. To that end he decided to be the first person to fly a plane and do an aerial trick on the continent of Australia. He had a bi-plane taken apart and shipped by to Australia, then reassembled. The film was of that “historic” flight which ended in disaster as Houdini crashed the plane in less than two minutes. After only having met me for a few hours Henry agreed to let me take the priceless film to the U.S., have it duplicated, and then FedEx it back to him. It was an act of generosity, kindness, faith in his fellow man and confidence that people are by and large honest and true to their word. There was not a single document or receipt that he made me sign. It was completely based on trust.
Over the years that followed I spoke to Henry many times about many business issues. He introduced me to his contacts in the Canadian TV Evangelical community. It was an odd group of people, all of whom including me had one thing in common: we belonged to the Henry Muller fan club.
Your father was one of a kind. Everyone who met him was better for having him in his life.
May his memory be a blessing.
Jay