‘Magic’ Jake Dumas: As If From Thin Air!

Our Quest to Uncover the Mysterious Past of ‘The Magic Bastard’

A healthy drive from New Orleans sit the sprawling remains of a once grand boarding house or hotel. Vines choking its time-ravaged facade make clear very few step through its sagging doors these days.

“This used to be quite the place to entertain, believe it or not,” shares a weathered man sitting on the dilapidated porch.

A tattered top hat covering long, scraggly gray hair, a cigarette hangs from dry lips. The man occasionally flicks ashes into an overflowing bin at his side, crushes out the butt and lights another.

“We used to do shows here several nights a week, you know — magic shows,” the stranger continues proudly, his accent a combination of regional drawl and something else (French?!). “And people came from all over the world to watch!”

According to local lore, that’s entirely true — but ended long ago. The last glints of life left in the establishment, residents say, were drowned out when Hurricane Katrina tore through the area decades before.

By all appearances, and the enthusiasm with which the performer greeted NWA Official Wrestling, no outsider has purposely sought out the venue — and its last remaining resident — in many years. And this visit, of course, was due only to sheer necessity.

You see, to the best of anyone’s knowledge, this rundown dwelling and the curious gentleman inhabiting it are the only confirmed connections to “Magic” Jake Dumas’ past. And now, in a search to uncover the National Wrestling Alliance star’s sinister ties to Madame Gertrude’s Home for Boys, it seems an all-new mystery has unfolded.

During the more than two years Jake Dumas has been with the National Wrestling Alliance, “The Magic Bastard” has remained shrouded in mystery.

His affiliations and successes in the NWA are well-documented. Often with the aid of his beautiful, Brazilian assistant CJ — a figure of dubious and evolving origin in her own right — Dumas has picked up signature wins both as a singles competitor and as half of tag team Magic, Inc.

Most recently, “The Magic Man” has risen to become the No. 1 contender to Max the Impaler’s NWA World Television title. Still, outside his in-ring career, attaining any real knowledge of Dumas or his past is challenging.

“He’s a very sullen, extremely solitary individual,” confirms Kyle Davis.

“Jake rarely speaks to others; he stays very much to himself,” NWA’s resident announcer shares. “Just about the only time you hear anything from him in the locker room is if he’s berating CJ.”

The one thing fans and colleagues do know about Dumas is his apparent ties to Madame Gertrude’s Home for Boys. Over the course of his NWA tenure, the magician has dropped hints about the facility more than once, though he becomes more angsty and angry than usual when asked about it.

“I asked Jake about Madame Gertrude’s once — and his response scared me,” confesses May Valentine.

“He was instantly angry, raised his voice and immediately walked off the set,” the backstage interviewer stated. “I won’t ask again, because Jake’s expression was cold and frightening.”

A quick Google search turns up no results for the institution. And, with limited details on the wrestler’s background, it is even more challenging to track down.

What has been gleaned of Dumas’ past came from — of all places — a singular internet search for “magicians.” After eliminating the most prominent, as his limited talents in the art seemingly suggests, a list was compiled of low-performing acts nationwide. Telephone calls were placed to each, and — eventually — one individual replied.

“A wrestler?” a crackling voice said in a voicemail message. “Not sure you have the right guy; he was a scrawny kid.”

And yet it was the closest to a lead on Dumas’ history in years. A trip to see the man and what is alleged to have been temporary home of sorts to “The Magic One” was arranged nonetheless.

It took nearly two hours by car, transversing highways, backroads and eventually a scarcely visible dirt driveway several hundred yards long, to reach. Obscured by giant live oaks dripping Spanish moss, a ramshackle mansion which must have once been a glorious estate came into view.

Its condition a quarter-century ago or more, when Dumas is rumored to have roamed its halls, is uncertain. Now, though, it’s little more than a husk better fit for wildlife seeking refuge than humans.

To hear this unusual witness to those events, identified as “The Sensational” Cyril DeVille by a 1978 newspaper ad found on microphiche at a local Louisiana library, it was a booming hotspot for generations. It is there a very young, very angry boy first expressed an interest in magic.

“He was the meanest, dirtiest little boy you can imagine,” DeVille stated, inhaling heavily on his cigarette.

“He was maybe ten or eleven at the time, and I never did like kids — which is why I never had none of my own — so I told him to get lost,” he continues. “But every few days he’d show back up. It got to be a real pain.”

According to DeVille, the boy snuck into his shows several times a week, often seemed to appear out of nowhere in his dressing room and persistently asked to become his apprentice. Eventually, the shattered showman says, he gave in.

“Since I couldn’t get rid of him, I decided I might as well make some money off that brat,” he states.

“So I took the kid under my wing, and it worked out real good for a while,” DeVille states. “But I had no idea what a [expletive] storm it would turn into — or how much I’d regret it later!”

In our next issue, the conversation with “The Sensational” Cyril DeVille continues as we track down “Magic” Jake’s elusive past in search of Madame Gertrude’s Home for Boys.