"The Hand & The Eye" Magic Mansion Is The Best Night Out In Chicago Right Now And It's Not Particularly Close

A few months ago I saw a news article that the biggest magic venue in the world was opening in Chicago, inside the historic space that used to be Lawry's The Prime Rib. 

Yes, that Lawry's. 

Same as the famous seasoning. and same one name-dropped in multiple Kanye songs. 

We had an iconic Chicago steakhouse that closed a few years back, sitting there empty on Ontario and Rush, waiting for somebody to do something with it.

Needless to say, I was intrigued. 

As everybody knows, I am a HUGE magic fan. 

I fucking love it. 

Because how can you not?

I love having my mind blown. 

So I was excited, but I was also skeptical, because when you hear a space that big is going to be the largest magic venue on the planet, I had absolutely no fucking idea what to expect. 

I was trying to picture it, and I genuinely couldn't tell you if it was going to be a Dave & Buster's situation or some hokey murder mystery dinner experience. 

Zero clue.

So I kept it on my radar. 

Last summer, Connor Griffin threw a house party and hired a private magician for it. 

I was not invited. 

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And I was fucking furious about it, because I thought everybody knew two things about me- 1- that I love magic and  2- that I love a good party. 

Fast forward to a couple months ago.  

Connor had the same magician, Spellbinder, come by the office, and the guy blew everybody's fucking mind. Absolute legend. 

While he was there, and I was fangirling, Nick Turani was shocked to find out what a fan of the art that I was. So I told them both about The Hand & The Eye opening soon and how we HAD to go, and they were both a hundred percent in. 

Did I believe them? 

No, of course not- because all everybody does at this company is fuck with me.

But I filed it away.

Then last week some good friends of mine went and posted photos, and a mutual friend, Travis, turned out to be the general manager. I reached out, Travis set us up for the Wednesday 7:30, and the three of us were locked in. Brandon Walker hopped in the group and said he wanted in too, then knocked out day of. I'm not going to say anything bad because Brandon's my guy and I love him, but I was genuinely disappointed. I was excited when he said he was coming. That's all I'll say.

The place tells you up front it's upscale and to dress accordingly, so Nick and Connor and I had the idea to pull out all the stops. 

The two of them suggested we go shopping or thrifting over the weekend for some snazzy outfits, but I told them I had something better sitting in my closet that I hadn't been able to wear since buying it in Italy last summer.

(Sidebar- when I go to Italy, I start FEELING myself fashion-wise, because of how everybody dresses over there. You can get away with wearing some genuinely ridiculous things. So I always buy stuff telling myself I'm going to wear it when I get back here. And then I get back, look at it hanging in my closet, and realize this is definitely going to stop traffic, just not for the right reasons. Probably because somebody's going to stop their car and yell "WHAT are you wearing homo?" out the window. Anyways. I had the perfect floral sport coat, a number I'd been dying to break out. Connor showed up to the office with a burgundy velvet jacket that looked fucking awesome, and Nick said he was going to surprise us. The fits were locked and loaded.)

So Wednesday night was the big night, and for the first time in my life, I arrived somewhere early. 

Walked up around 7 and immediately clocked that while the building got a full makeover, they kept the iconic stained glass windows on the exterior. 

There's a guy in a top hat and tuxedo, straight out of English royalty, holding the door and checking you in. 

They ask for your phone and put a sticker over the camera. No photography inside. I LOVED this, and I'll explain why later.

Then you walk into the main foyer and it hits you- holy shit, this place is nice. Like insanely fucking nice. And it feels like an actual vintage mansion because it is one- The McCormick Mansion to be precise. 

A Gilded Age landmark, that they completely redesigned across five fucking floors courtesy of David Rockwell, the famous designer behind some of the biggest restaurants and theaters in the world. Nbd.

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They give you a flower lapel pin, color-coded to your group and what they have planned for your night. 

Then they hand you an itinerary with a map of the venue that is a legitimate work of art, your evening's schedule written in calligraphy.

Then you go into a phone booth. I'm not spoiling what happens in there, but once you're inside, they decide which way you're going. Three different secret passageways depending on who you are and what your schedule says. I got led into a grand bar area where people decked out to the nines were having drinks, and a lounge with some of the nicest leather club chairs I've seen in a long time. 

My eyes started darting around because every square inch of this place is elaborately designed. The owner, Glen Tullman, is a wildly successful Chicago businessman who's been obsessed with magic his whole life, and this was his passion project. He self-funded the entire thing. Fifty million dollars. When I tell you you can see every dollar of it on the walls, I mean it.

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This place is absolutely fucking decadent. 

The artwork, the sculptures, grand pianos with live pianists playing. 

You feel like you're somewhere super fancy in Europe, and even fully dressed up, you still feel like you don't quite belong. 

Super cool feeling. 

When Nick arrived he said he wanted to do his wedding photos there, and honestly, I don't blame him. It's the nicest space I've been in in Chicago.

The bartenders are incredible. 

Handcrafted everything. 

The Negroni I ordered was absolutely lights out. 

And while I was waiting for the guys, a man came up, introduced himself, started asking me questions, and before I knew what was happening he was pulling coins out of my sleeve, and out of thin air, and making them appear in my own closed fist. 

My mind was gone. 

I told him I had two friends coming and didn't want him wasting all the tricks on me, and he said he'd be back. 

When Nick and Connor arrived, he returned and melted their brains too. I

 have to spoil one trick, I'm sorry. The man took off his shoe and pulled a fucking boulder out of it. A fucking boulder no bullshit. 

I still don't know how and I will never know how. It was insane.

And the night hadn't even begun.

A hostess came up and greeted us by name, asked what it was like working for Barstool. 

Which, on one hand, slightly invasive that they knew that much about us before we introduced ourselves. But on the other hand, a fantastic touch, and exactly the kind of detail that makes the night feel choreographed specifically for you, because it is. 

We ran into the GM Travis next, who welcomed us graciously, then we were led to another bar where a magician was performing behind the bar for seated guests. 

The stuff he was doing set the stage for the entire night. 

I'm not giving anything away, but this was not Vegas, saw-the-lady-in-half bullshit. It was sleight of hand and mind-bending close-up work, inches from your face, the old-school bar magic this whole place was built to bring back.

Next was dinner. 

The dining room is gorgeous, live pianist, the works. 

And in an all-time Chicago crossover, Angelo, who basically ran Gene & Georgetti as the head waiter there for about a hundred years, is now overseeing the dining room. It was great catching up with him. 

Me and Nick both got the chicken Vesuvio, which was incredible. Connor got the buccatini which he inhaled in record time and which he said was amazing. 

We split deviled eggs called the BLT, topped with finely crisped prosciutto, shrimp cocktail, and a brick onion that I saw on the menu and was legally required to order. Everything was lights out. Service was immaculate.

After dinner we hit a theater room, some kind of chamber, where a mentalist worked the entire crowd. 

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Names, dates, numbers, he guessed everything under the sun. 

His last trick alone was worth the price of admission, and no, I won't spoil it for you, but I will say my jaw was on the floor for like half an hour afterwards. 

From there, we headed to the room that broke me. 

Literally. 

We were brought into a dimly lit room with fabric walls, furniture that looked like it cost a billion dollars, and the nicest card table I've ever seen in my life. 

I made a comment that it looked like an Illuminati ritual room, the magician started laughing, told me that we were, and then he got to work. 

And the tricks this man performed were so incredible that at one point I reacted so hard I broke the chair I was sitting in. 

Fully broke it. 

Did not know how the fuck I fell out of it, but my mind was so blown by one of this guy's tricks I was floored. Figuratively and literally.

I apologized profusely because that chair had to cost thousands of dollars, but the staff was laughing and said they were happy about it because now they have a story to tell future guests. So I felt slightly less like a Worcester scumbag who just destroyed an antique.

That performer's name was Jeff, who we met up with after, and he told us he's one of the partners and heads of magic there. 

He gave me his business card, I noticed a Massachusetts area code, told him I was from Worcester, and he said he's from Salem. 

Of course the magician is from Salem, Massachusetts. Of course he was. 

We told him we worked for Barstool. He said he loved Barstool, asked a bunch of questions about Dave, we shot the shit, and I'm now pretty sure we're best friends. Which is outstanding, because I can now tell people I'm friends with an insanely talented magician, which is one of the better flexes available to a man. Not gonna lie.

The night ended in the basement, set up like an old bank vault, where two magicians came out and performed a series of tricks that left the entire room stunned. 

My jaw was on the floor for what felt like an hour. And that was it. 

It felt like we'd been there ninety minutes, but it was somehow four hours.

Now, real talk on the cost- This was not cheap. 

You're looking at $200 to $250 a person before dinner. 

But I'm telling you it was worth every single dollar. 

This is a special occasion spot. 

This is, and I do not say this lightly, the best date night spot I have ever been to. 

Anywhere. 

No bullshit.

Even if your girl doesn't like magic (which is fucking absurd, because who doesn't enjoy magic? Huge red flag if I'm being hones, but that's a different blog for another day), she will be blown away by the venue itself… 

I mean look at this place. 

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Get dressed up, take your girl, have cocktails in a Gilded Age mansion, eat an incredible dinner, and then have professional magicians repeatedly snap your brain in half for four hours. 

There's nothing else like it, and I genuinely can't think of a better way to celebrate something.

And here's why the no-phones thing matters, like I promised I'd explain. 

For 4 fucking hours, nobody in that building was filming anything, scrolling anything, or posting anything. 

Everybody was just THERE, fully locked in, reacting to things happening two feet in front of their face, and PRESENT. 

You forget what that feels like. 

It might be the most expensive part of the whole experience and it doesn't cost a dime.

We walked out front, asked the guy in the top hat to take a picture of us, and that was that. An hour later Nick and Connor were still in the group text losing their minds about the night.

Chicago we have yet another truly special and unique thing on our hands here. Trust me and go. 

p.s. - Here are Nick's thoughts on the experience - 

When immediately greeted by a tuxedoed man giving us stickers to put over our phone cameras, l was fully expecting for a Dave Chapelle pop in standup set or to see Hillary Clinton sucking adrenochrome straight from the tap of a newborn. What it ended up being was far less expected.

A former steakhouse completely gutted and fitted with decor that looked like the Titanic great hall, more alcohol than the floor of a Georgia football players car, and magicians, mystics, mages around every corner; ready to shock, amaze, or place fried appetizers on Connor Griffins shoulder.

With illusions so impressive it caused Dante to snap the back off of a chair, slight of hand that made me give out high pitched moans (straightly), and

deception that made the color drain from Connor's eyebrows, I couldn't recommend this experience more. With so much magic it made the 4 hour venture feel more like 3-ish, it is a night well spent.

And here were Connor's- 

One thing I will never take for granted about Barstool is that, for the most part, we all genuinely get along with each other. Sure, different people have different social groups within the company. But every now and then, you can wind up in a trio that you never anticipated, as the three of you go on to have one of the best nights you could possibly imagine. And it's all totally natural.

But I do feel like last night we delved into the supernatural. We saw things that are impossible to describe.

Truthfully, I don't know how Dante didn't have a heart attack. Seeing him shriek and yell after being mind-blown by every trick was unbelievably funny, but also very concerning. I thought we were on the verge of him fainting for four hours straight. And as for Nick, the guy is just a class act. When he's not making me send company emails with Lego titties, we have a blast together. And I truly loved getting to be a sponge as him and Dante shared their life stories with me. 

The venue was superb, the hospitality was spectacular, and the magic was sensational. But the most magical part of the night was the bond that I shared with those two gentlemen.

p.p.s. - here was Nick trying to give Brandon shit for bailing and talking about how awesome of a time we had on The Yak yesterday- 

p.p.p.s. - and just in case we needed another reason to think that Head of Magic Jeff was a wizard… White Sox Dave and I went to see Mumford and Sons at Wrigley last night. We get to the pit and Dave starts asking people around us for a lighter and who turns around but fucking Jeff himself!