In 1844 the great circus promoter P.T. Barnum bought an automaton from the famous magician, Eugene Robert-Houdin.
An automaton is a mechanical device that imitates life. Think of them as early robots. In the middle of the eighteenth century, automatons were all the rage: Mechanical ducks and elephants, pictures with moving parts, even human androids that could write, draw, and play musical instruments.
They were haunting, magical, intricate, detailed, and usually meticulously crafted out of watch parts, metal and wood.
The one Robert-Houdin created was a life-sized figure able to write and draw, and even answer simple questions. He once displayed it before the King of France. Barnum heard of it on his tour in Europe with General Tom Thumb and bought it. But that legendary automaton was lost in one of Barnum's many fires.
I spoke to a few people who still build automatons---which is an almost lost art today---to see if someone could rebuild the one Robert-Houdin made and Barnum owned. Most said it would cost about a quarter of a million dollars and take well over a year to complete.
I passed.
But then one day a month or so ago I got a call from a potential new client. He was a delight to talk to. He performs magic, runs a speakers bureau, and was familiar with most of my books. During the course of our lively conversation he floored me by announcing that he inherited a few automatons.
I couldn't believe it.
"You what!" I blurted, almost too excited to speak.
"I have some automatons my best friend made," he explained. "He left them to me in his will."
"How many do you have?"
"Oh, I dunno, maybe fifteen."
"Fifteen?!?" I mumbled, truly shaken to the core that he had any automatons let alone over a dozen of them.
"I have one that does mind reading and another that levitates," he said.
"They all do something different."
You can't imagine how stunned I was to hear about this. It was like finding the Holy Grail of Automatons. While these particular devices are all modern and no where near as valuable as the one made by the great magician Robert-Houdin, ANY automaton today is a rare and collectible item.
I was intrigued.
And I wanted those automatons.
"How much do you want for them?" I asked.
"I could never sell them," he said. "I inherited these from a man who lived to be ninety and treated me like his own son. I've got them in storage."
At that point I did something naturally and instantaneously. Right there on the spot I weaved a hypnotic story that changed my life --- and his.
Here's how it went:
"I understand how you feel," I began. "About twenty years ago the landlord I had at the time knew I was into music. He heard me play the harmonica and knew I had an interest in learning to play the guitar. One day he just gave me a guitar he had for over fifty years. He just handed it to me. But he said one thing I never forgot: 'You can give it away but you can never sell it.' I promised him I would keep my word. I still have that guitar today. I'm never going to sell it but I will give it away when the right person comes along."
Well, that hypnotic story did the trick. The prospect on the phone heard my story and in his mind he heard the phrase, "It's okay to give the automatons to Joe but you can't sell them to him."
All we had to do from there is negotiate a fair arrangement so he could feel comfortable giving me the fifteen automatons. After a week of going back and forth, we agreed that I would help him with some specific marketing in exchange for his collection.
I now own those automatons.
Later, once the deal was done, I asked him what made him change his mind about parting with the rare items.
"It was your story about your landlord," he explained. "That really got to me. I could easily imagine my friend who gave me the automatons being okay with me giving them to you but not selling them to you."
Hypnotic stories can work wonders. Whenever you want to persuade someone, consider telling a story about someone who did what you want the person you are persuading to do. The story can seep in easier than a direct command. And the results can be miraculous.
Look at me --- I'm now surrounded by automatons. I'll soon be opening "The Joe Vitale Museum of Automated Life and Other Curiosities."