She was calling my agent to see if she knew of any magician's who pulled rabbits from hats because the feat was recently scripted by one of their writers (who coincidentally went to the same college as I). My agent said, "It's for you" and handed me the phone. I appeared in five episodes of the famous series (where Barny the clown returns as Erica Kane's father) and my rabbit (named Willie) joined me shortly after I was booked. We began rehearsing and I was delighted. We were mostly well received by cast and crew. Willie was even sent his own scripts! My agent negotiated my fee, plus daily carrots and feed for Willie. One day after work, one fan of the show demanded Willie put his paw print on a script the fan had somehow obtained.

In August, Willie and I were booked to appear on the TV show Good Day New York, an early breakfast show. The production people told me to be on the set with Willie at 6am sharp. At 4:30am I woke, and went to get Willie breakfast and ready for the show. When I opened his cage door, I fell backward and shrieked. In the cage were two small baby rabbits covered in fetal sac! I called the producer of the show and told him Willie had given birth! "Mazeltov" he replied, "What's the mother's name so our newscaster can wish the good mother well?" I explained that Willie had given birth and could not appear. "Oh so his name is Wilhemenia? Listen are you doing the show or not?" I shot down to the pier where the outdoor live, remote telecast was broadcast and sped back to take care of Willie. Shortly thereafter Soap Opera Digest ran a small story.

The rabbit in hat has as much fame as Houdini. Like Houdini's talent, it is rarely seen. Why?

Possibly because the secret is well-guarded and top hats have gone out of popular fashion. Another reason may be that a magician's job is to surprise their audience, and since the feat is so well known, the appearance of the top hat and the resultant rabbit might be anti-climactic.

The earliest record of the feat was discovered by Milbourne Christopher. He cites A. B. Engstom's 1836 volume The Humorous Magician Unmasked as the first record of the conjurer's performance of this notable feat. Why does the icon, if not the feat, persist? Why has this become the hallmark of the magician's trade?

Perhaps it has something to do with the basic semiotic elements of black and white commingling, that touch us deep in our soul? Or maybe it is just such a great image?

Oddly enough, the original story may continue because of the improbability of the original claims that spurred the illusionary comment. The miracle of...birth?

Today you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who performs this illusion with any regularity. Yet, when I am asked what I do for a living, my reply is sometimes met with, "Oh, what instrument do you play?" I clear up the confusion by saying "No. Magician. You know, rabbits and hats." Then they get it.

The origin of the illusion itself seems to have been a visual comment on a woman named Mary Tofts of Godalming, Surrey, England who told the tale of giving birth to several rabbits in 1726. About 100 years later, Scotland's great world traveling Wizard of the North, John Henry Anderson borrowed a topper from one member of his audience. He likely remarked along the following lines concerning Mary Toft "Why it is as improbable that Mary Tofts should birth a bunny as this gentleman's hat!"

Ben Robinson introduces a rabbit and hat puppet to a new generation at a recent dinner party.

Upon that utterance, one of the first rabbits made it's valiant appearance on stage, thereby setting forth the legend that multiplies through the ages, much like the animal itself.

21st century magician Criss Angel's NY Daily News review mentions the icon, though there is no rabbit or hat in the show!

The two artists meet after Angel's Times Square show Mindfreak.