Okay, so let's talk about John Edward Sells.
Now, maybe that name doesn't immediately jump
out at you. Probably not for most people, no.
But his stage name almost certainly will, The
Amazing Jonathan. Ah, yes. Definitely rings a
bell. And today we are doing a deep dive into
the sources, looking at how this guy built a
whole career, a really long -running one, on,
well... chaos, basically. Idle chaos. It was
this bizarre mix, wasn't it? Like traditional
stage magic meets really aggressive shock humor.
And it all led up to this incredibly dramatic
final act fighting a health battle that everyone,
including him, thought would end years earlier.
Yeah, exactly. So our mission today really is
to kind of unpack what made him tick. What was
the essence of this, let's call him abrasive,
but undeniably successful performer? Right. We're
not just giving you a biography here. We're trying
to figure out a strategy. How did he become this
Las Vegas mainstay, a headliner for what, over
a decade? Yeah, from 2001 to 2014, pretty much
solid. which is huge in Vegas. And he did it
by basically flipping the bird to every expectation,
right? He wasn't your slick, family -friendly
magician. Not even close. Or even just a standard
stand -up comedian. He took this devastating
health diagnosis, a terminal one, and somehow
wove it into the final chapter of his whole performance.
It became part of the act, in a way. Yeah. Raw,
unfiltered. And you can't really understand his
whole brand without starting where he started
himself. The shock value. He gave himself this
nickname. Oh, yeah. That was just brilliant marketing,
honestly. Chilling, but brilliant. He called
himself the Freddy Krueger of comedy. Boom. Right
there. You know what you're in for. Mmm. Or rather,
you know, you don't know what you're in for,
but it's probably not going to be comfortable.
Exactly. It's a promise and a warning. All in
one. It says, you know, expect fake blood. And
that name, it just perfectly captures the contradiction
at the heart of his whole thing. Yeah. Because
the sources are pretty clear on this. His actual
act. It was mostly like messing around. Hijinks,
as they put it. Right. Hijinks and interacting
with the audience a lot. Yeah, often pretty aggressively
too. Pulling people up, making them part of the
chaos, the actual magic tricks, you know, the
technically difficult stuff. The illusions, the
perfect sleight of hand. That was almost secondary,
sometimes non -existent even. He wasn't trying
to wow you with how smoothly he made a rabbit
disappear. No, he was relying on the shock, the
mess, the audience's immediate gut reaction.
Exactly. That blend, this aversion of magic through
comedy. or maybe comedy through subverted magic.
That was his unique selling proposition, and
somehow it gave him this incredible longevity
in a town, Las Vegas, that usually eats performers
alive if they're not predictably polished. Okay,
let's dig into that. Freddy Krueger style a bit
more because it wasn't just a name. It was a
whole aesthetic. We need to talk about the stage
gore and the gimmicks. He had to look different.
Oh, absolutely. You couldn't mistake him for
David Copperfield. Let's put it that way. Or
even just a regular comic in a suit. He cultivated
this look, this energy that was manic, maybe
a little unhinged. The headband? The headband,
yeah. His ever -present headband, as the sources
call it. Sometimes felt like it was literally
holding his act together. Or maybe his head?
Maybe. But the real differentiator, the thing
that made people talk, was the gore. The explicit,
shocking, visual stuff, he worked into the routine.
And we're not talking subtle hints here. This
was in your face, designed to make you uncomfortable,
but then somehow laugh about it. The sources
give some really specific examples that were
like staples of his act. They do, and they're
pretty out there. They tell you a lot about his
commitment to this persona. Okay, like what?
Give us the gory details. All right. Well, one
famous bit involved him seemingly sucking on
his own eyeball, which was hanging out of the
socket. Right. Just the visual alone. You're
immediately like, wait, what is that? Exactly.
Total misdirection through revulsion. Then there
was a bit where he'd appear to slice his own
wrists. Stage blood, obviously. Clever techniques.
But the image, the idea of it. Was that he was
harming himself for your entertainment, which
is inherently unsettling. Deeply. And probably
the most iconic one, the one you saw in posters
and stuff, skewering his own tongue. Yeah, that
one's burned into my memory. Right. And what's
key there, the dynamic, is that he wasn't trying
to fool you into thinking he had magical powers.
He wasn't aiming for oohs and ahhs about the
impossibility. No, he wanted the flinch. He wanted
the gasp and then the relief, the laugh that
comes after the shock. Precisely. He often even
showed you how the trick worked or just admitted
it wasn't a trick at all. The entertainment wasn't
the mystery. It was the audacity. How far could
he push it? And the audience was right there
with him, whether they wanted to be or not. You
mentioned the interaction. Crucial. His shows
weren't just him talking at people. They heavily
relied on pulling someone specific out of the
audience. Making them the co -star or maybe the
victim. Kind of, yeah. They became the foil for
his chaos. Which, you know, that takes serious
skill. You have to be able to read the room,
improvise constantly, control the energy, even
while seeming totally out of control. That's
a great point. People may be focused on the blood
and missed the incredible improvisational talent
underneath. Totally. The chaos was meticulously
crafted chaos. And it worked. In Vegas, of all
places. This wasn't some underground club. He
was a mainstream Vegas headliner for a very long
time. It's actually kind of staggering when you
think about it. That longevity, like you said,
2001 to 2014, a year -round headliner. Think
about the shows that come and go on the strip.
Big productions, huge names, staying power like
that, especially for a solo comic magician. It's
rare. It really is. It means people were buying
tickets consistently, year after year. The word
of mouth must have been incredible. People telling
their friends, you got to see this crazy guy.
Now, there's this claim mentioned in the sources
about his historical significance, that he was
the longest running, most successful solo comic
magician in U .S. history. Right. I saw that.
And it's important, like you said, that the source
itself notes that this needs verification. That's
a huge claim. It is. Longest running, most successful,
hard metrics to pin down definitively. But the
fact that the claim even exists, that it was
associated with him during his peak. That tells
you something about his perceived status, whether
it's statistically perfect or not. He was seen
as being in that top tier setting records. And
we don't need that specific claim to see his
success because the local accolades are concrete.
Awards from the people who really judge Vegas
success. Exactly. He won Best Comedian from the
Las Vegas Review Journal, the LVRJ. That's a
big deal there. The paper of record for the strip.
And Comedian of the Year from Nevada Magazine.
Plus. The LVRJ put him on their list of the top
10 acts in Vegas, period. Not just top 10 comedians
or magicians. Top 10 acts. Alongside the huge
Cirque shows and music residencies. Right. So
these weren't just participation trophies. These
were serious acknowledgments from the industry
and the press saying, OK, this weird, gory, chaotic
act, it's actually top tier entertainment. It
validated the whole Freddy Krueger thing as legitimate
performance art. Which maybe helps explain his
connections within the... the more traditional
magic world, you'd think the serious magicians
might have looked down on him. You might think
that, yeah. The guy skewering his tongue doesn't
exactly scream prestige magic, but his relationship
with Criss Angel is fascinating. Right. Another
huge Vegas name, but with a very different sort
of dark serious vibe. Totally different vibe.
But they work together quite a bit. Jonathan
actually helped Criss Angel design and perform
illusions. So behind the scenes, Jonathan had
the technical chops. He wasn't just a comedian
pretending to do magic. Not at all. He understood
the mechanics, the engineering, the misdirection
required for big stage illusions. And it wasn't
just behind the scenes. He appeared on Criss
Angel's TV show, Mind Freak, three times as a
guest. That collaboration is really key, isn't
it? It shows that even though his stage act constantly
poked fun at or dismantled serious magic, he
was still respected by the serious magic community.
He wasn't some total outsider throwing rocks.
He was inside, using his skills to help execute
these massive illusions for one of the biggest
names in the business. It proved the foundation
was solid, even as the building he constructed
on top was on. Well, bizarre. Absolutely. And
that persona, that Vegas headliner we've been
talking about, he didn't just appear out of nowhere,
fully formed with a bloody tongue. We got to
trace it back, right? Back to the beginning of
John Edwards Schelzels. Let's do that. So born
September 9, 1958, Detroit, Michigan, parents,
Doreen and Edward Schelz. But his path wasn't
in the auto industry. He headed west. Yeah, in
the 70s, he moves out to California. And where
does he start performing? Not in comedy clubs
initially. Right on the street, San Francisco,
street performer. And that's so important, isn't
it? Yeah. Street performing teaches you things
you just can't learn anywhere else. Like how
to grab attention instantly. Exactly. How to
handle hecklers, how to adapt on the fly, how
to hold a crowd that could just walk away at
any second. That's where he honed those improv
skills, that quick wit. Skills that were absolutely
essential for his later Vegas act. With all the
audience interaction, he learned to manage chaos
by performing in chaos. Perfectly put. He later
weaponized that chaos, made it part of the routine.
But even with all the anarchy and the shock value
he layered on top, there was always this core
connection back to classic magic. A very personal
one. Yeah, that dedication in his Comedy Central
special. Wrong on every level. He dedicated it
to his Uncle Eugene. Right. because Uncle Eugene
showed him his very first card trick, and Jonathan,
in his typical style, said that trick started
this whole mess. It's such a great line, but
it grounds the whole thing, doesn't it? It shows
that underneath the Freddy Krueger persona, there
was this kid who was just amazed by a simple
card trick. Exactly. The core wasn't anger or
nihilism. It was wonder, the fun of deception.
He just chose to wrap that wonder in, you know,
fake eyeballs and jokes about cutting yourself.
So from the streets of San Francisco, how did
he make the leap to national TV? Seems like that
happened relatively quickly. It did, which says
a lot about how unique and attention -grabbing
his act was right from the start. His first big
break on television was... the eighth annual
Young Comedian show in 1983. Okay, so that put
him on the map nationally. Big time. It opened
doors. And he wasn't just a flash in the pan.
He became a pretty regular face on TV through
the 80s and 90s. People knew who he was. He was
reliable, high energy. Did he try other formats?
I think I remember him hosting something. Yeah,
briefly. In 1991, he hosted this syndicated show
called Ruckus. It was like a variety slash game
show kind of thing. Ruckus, okay. Didn't last
long. It's interesting, though. It's like they
tried to bottle his manic energy into a more
conventional, maybe family -friendly format.
And it just didn't quite work. Maybe too restrictive
for him. Could be. But what really shows his
staying power, his consistent appeal, are the
numbers on the big talk shows and comedy shows.
Multiple appearances on Late Night with David
Letterman. Which was like the seal of approval
for comics back then. Absolutely. Getting on
Letterman was huge. And then there's Fox's Comic
Strip Live. He was on that show a record number
of times. How many? 24 appearances. Wow. 24 times.
That's not just a guest spot. That's practically
being a cast member. Pretty much. It shows the
producers loved him. It wasn't just a novelty
act you book once. He was someone they could
count on again and again to bring the energy
and the laughs. He delivered. He was just part
of the comedy furniture for a long time. And
speaking of fitting into specific niches, his
only actual acting credit is kind of perfect.
Oh, right. Playing a character, not just being
himself. Yeah. He played Uncle Jonathan on The
Weird Al Show. In the obligatory holiday episode,
no less. And that makes so much sense. Weird
Al, another master of subverting expectations.
Of course, he'd have the amazing Jonathan on.
playing a slightly more cartoonish version of
his already cartoonish persona, the weird, unpredictable
uncle. He was already kind of a pop culture archetype
by then. Definitely. And reflecting that and
his place in the comedy world, he pops up in
that 2005 documentary, The Aristocrats. Ah, yes.
The ultimate dirty joke documentary. Exactly.
Given his whole style, his comfort with pushing
boundaries and being offensive, his inclusion
there feels almost mandatory. It cements his
place among the envelope pushers. And this whole
package, this unique blend of shock and skill,
it didn't just play in the U .S., did it? No,
he actually found significant success internationally,
particularly in Australia. How did that happen?
Apparently, through... appearances on a really
popular Australian TV show called Hey Hey It's
Saturday, he became a big name down there. Which
proves the appeal wasn't just American or just
Vegas. The visual comedy, the shock, the irreverence,
it translated. Yeah, that physical humor, that
willingness to cross lines, it seems pretty universal.
It wasn't just some niche taste. It was globally
marketable weirdness. You know, it's really easy
to just think of... The amazing Jonathan as the
guy on stage, covered in fake blood, nonstop
energy. Yeah, that's the dominant image for sure.
But the sources show this whole other side to
him. Off stage, he was incredibly creative, entrepreneurial
even, writing books, launching weird businesses,
combining passions in really unexpected ways.
Absolutely. He wasn't just the performer. He
was clearly driven by other interests, too. Yeah.
And the way he combined them is fascinating.
Like, take classic car collecting. Okay, a fairly
common hobby for successful entertainers. Right.
And then take drive -in movie theaters. Okay,
nostalgic Americana. Seems totally unrelated.
Exactly. But Jonathan smashes them together.
In 2008, while he's still headlining nightly
in Vegas, he launches this side project called
The Amazing Underground. The Amazing Underground.
Okay, tell me more. It was literally an indoor,
members -only drive -in movie theater built inside
his massive warehouse facility in Vegas. Wait,
indoor? How does that work? He'd use his own
collection of classic cars for people to sit
in, project the movie onto a screen. It was this
exclusive, private, totally unique experience.
Wow. That's incredibly niche and kind of brilliant.
Isn't it? It tells you so much about his whole
aesthetic. He takes something familiar, the drive
-in, makes it exclusive, secret almost, hidden
in a warehouse. It's that same pattern. Taking
tradition and twisting it, making it his own
weird thing. Surrounding himself with his classic
cars, entertaining his friends. It's like his
ultimate clubhouse. Totally. Controlled environment,
just like his stage show. And beyond building
bizarre venues, he put serious effort into writing,
too. He actually published a book. Yeah, a how
-to book, essentially, called Every Trick in
the Book. And it was all about practical jokes.
Not just magic tricks. No, practical jokes were
a big focus. But the sources say it was a mix.
It had classic practical jokes, straightforward
magic tricks, and his own original stuff in both
categories. So he's kind of documenting the whole
spectrum of deception, from whoopee cushions
to, I don't know. His own weird inventions. Pretty
much. It shows this respect, maybe, for the history
of fooling people, even as his stage act was
all about blowing up those traditions. He understood
the foundations. Which makes the project he was
working on later even more poignant. He started
writing his memoirs around 2014. Right, just
as the health stuff was really getting serious.
And the working title he had for it was perfect.
What was it? Drive It. Like he stole it. Oh,
man. That just sums up his whole approach, doesn't
it? To performing, to life. Go full throttle,
consequences be damned. Exactly. Aggressive,
high stakes, live fast. And tragically, the sources
note that his health declined so much that he
couldn't finish it. So the story remains unfinished,
in his own words, consumed by the very health
battle we're about to get into. Yeah. A powerful
symbol, really. And before that health crisis
completely took over, he even dipped his toes
into the digital world, right? Adapting to how
media was changing. He did. In 2013, he hosted
his own online talk show. What was it called?
Knowing him, it had to have a fitting name. Oh,
it did. Burn Unit. Burn Unit. Of course. Still
carrying that edgy, slightly dangerous vibe,
even into an online talk show format. Exactly.
It shows he still wanted to create, to connect,
even as... Maybe the grueling Vegas schedule
was becoming too much. He just kept finding outlets,
stage, books, warehouses, online streams, wherever
he could broadcast that unique Jonathan energy.
The drive just seems relentless, constantly performing,
constantly creating in whatever form possible.
And that relentlessness brings us to the final
and in many ways most defining chapter of his
life. This wasn't just a private struggle. His
battle with illness became this public, years
-long saga. Yeah, a performance in itself almost,
watching him defy the odds, documenting it. It
started quite a while back, actually. The first
reports of a serious heart condition surfaced
in March 2007. 2007, wow, so he was dealing with
this even during a big chunk of his Vegas peak.
Seems like it. His website later identified it
specifically as cardiomyopathy, which is, well,
it's a tough diagnosis for anyone, let alone
a performer like him. Explain cardiomyopathy
quickly. What does it do? Basically, it's a disease
of the heart muscle itself. It gets weaker, often
enlarged or thickened, and it just can't pump
blood effectively around the body. It's progressive,
usually gets worse over time. And think about
his act. It was pure physical energy, right?
Manic movement, constant talking, the stress
of live performance every single night. That
feels like the absolute worst thing for a feeling
heart. It's a direct conflict. Cardiomyopathy
usually demands rest, avoiding stress. His entire
career was built on the opposite. Yet somehow
he managed it for years, that drive it like you
stole it mentality again. Exactly. The sources
say initially he did relatively well. He lost
weight, took blood thinners, managed to keep
the Vegas show going for another five years or
so after that initial diagnosis became known.
But eventually, the physical reality caught up.
2012 seems like a turning point. It was. That's
when he decided not to renew his contract at
Bally's. In December 2012, after 13 straight
years, his regular Vegas headlining run ended.
13 years. That's an incredible era coming to
a close. Did he stop performing altogether then?
Not immediately. He still toured a bit in 2013,
playing clubs, trying to stay in the game, you
know. But the big demanding residency was done.
And then things got worse. Yeah. By 2014, his
heart condition had deteriorated significantly.
That's when the official retirement announcement
came. Okay. Did he do final shows? He did. A
sort of final public performance in Toledo, Ohio.
Like a farewell wave to the general audience.
But then he did two very specific, very meaningful
final shows right after that. June 30th and July
1st, 2014. Where were those held? At the Magic
Castle in Hollywood. Ah, the Magic Castle. The
heart of the established magic community. Performing
his final shows there? That feels significant,
like a nod to the craft beneath the chaos. Exactly.
Acknowledging that world even as he was leaving
the stage. But the real bombshell, the most amazing
Jonathan moment of the whole retirement process,
came a few months later. This wasn't going to
be a quiet fade out, was it? Not a chance. November
5th, 2014. He's appearing on this live talk show,
ENT Speaks, in front of an audience, peers, fans.
And he just drops it, announces right there that
doctors had given him only a year to live. Wow.
On a public talk show. That's incredibly raw
and theatrical. Totally. Turning his own terminal
diagnosis into a public spectacle. It was terrifying,
deeply personal, but handled with that same kind
of shocking audacity he used on stage, making
headlines out of his own impending death. So
the clock starts ticking. He's got a year, maybe.
That was the prognosis. But here's the twist.
The truly amazing part, he didn't die in a year.
He defied it. Massively. He defied his initial
terminal prognosis, as the sources put it, for
several years. What was supposed to be the final
curtain call just became this extended, medically
baffling intermission. His defiance became the
story. It really did. And that defiance, the
refusal to just fade away, eventually pulled
him back to performing. He couldn't stay retired.
He went back on stage. When was this? In 2017,
he did several shows across the U .S., a comeback
tour. of sorts but it was different this time
you could see the toll the illness had taken
how so was he less energetic visibly yeah and
he needed help this is where his personal life
really intersected with the performance in a
new way his partner who was also his manager
anastasia sin he married her in 2014 right before
the big announcement that's right anastasia became
crucial to these final shows she'd assist him
on stage and the sources say she would actually
take over parts of the ass when he got too fatigued
to continue Wow. So the audience is watching
him struggle, watching his partner literally
prop him up and help him finish the show. That's
a whole new level of vulnerability for a guy
known for manic energy. It really is. The invincible
facade was gone, replaced by this incredibly
human struggle right there under the spotlights.
The audience wasn't just watching jokes and tricks
anymore. They were witnessing his fight to keep
going minute by minute. And his personal life
details. Married twice, you mentioned. First
to Sandra Bowing back in 95, divorced in 2000.
Then Anastasia Sin in 2014. And he had a stepdaughter,
Haley Kenyon. Right. And this whole dramatic
story, the illness, the defiance, the comeback,
it obviously captured public imagination. Because
in 2019, not one, but two documentaries about
him came out. Two separate films at the same
time. Yep. The amazing Jonathan documentary landed
on Hulu. And another one, always amazing. The
true story of the life, death and return of Amazing
Jonathan came out on YouTube. The fact that two
different crews were simultaneously making films
about him, that tells you how compelling his
story had become. It wasn't just comic gets sick.
It was this larger than life narrative of resilience
and performance against all odds. Absolutely.
He turned his mortality into a public narrative
and people were fascinated. So after years of
living on borrowed time, performing this extended
final act, how did it end? He passed away relatively
peacefully, actually. In his sleep, from the
heart failure, at home in Las Vegas, February
22, 2022, he was 63. 63 still feels young. It
does. But he packed a lot into those years, especially
the final ones. And despite everything, the gore,
the chaos, the anti -magic stance, sometimes
the traditional magic world did formally recognize
him, didn't they? Yes, and this is really important.
Back in 2007, near his peak, he received a special
fellowship from the Academy of Magical Arts.
The organization behind the Magic Castle? The
establishment? Exactly. That special fellowship
is a serious honor. It's given for outstanding
contributions to magic as an art form. Getting
that means the gatekeepers, the traditionalists,
saw past the shock value. They recognized the
skill, the control, the sheer dedication to performance
that underpinned the whole crazy act. Precisely.
It confirms he wasn't just a shock jock. He was,
in his own unique way, a master of his craft.
Hashtag tag O -U -T -R -O. So when we look back
at this whole roller coaster of a career, what's
the main thing we should take away? What's the
distilled essence for you listening to this?
I think the key insight is that the amazing Jonathan's
real impact, his lasting legacy, wasn't about
perfecting a card trick or creating the most
baffling illusion. No, it was about mastering
performance energy, that blend of shock, humor,
chaos. But with perfect timing. Yeah, and that
incredible ability to connect with an audience
instantly. powerfully, often by making them incredibly
uncomfortable. He built this enduring Vegas brand
by breaking all the rules, by being the opposite
of what you expected. Total subversion as a brand
strategy. And it worked. And then there's a final
act, that resilience. Taking a death sentence
and turning it into more stage time, more life.
Performing for years when doctors said he had
months. He made the fight itself part of the
show, didn't he? Yeah. The illness became the
ultimate reveal, the rawest performance. That
vulnerability in the end was maybe the most powerful
part of his whole legend. Definitely. It added
this whole other layer. Okay, so here's a final
thought to chew on. Something provocative. We've
talked about the gore, the Freddy Krueger thing.
constant skewering of traditional magic. But
this is the same guy who dedicated a special
to the uncle who taught him his first simple
card trick. And this is the same guy who received
that high honor, the special fellowship from
the Academy of Magical Arts, the most traditional
institution imaginable. Right. It's a paradox.
So what does that mean? Does it tell us something
about art versus entertainment or maybe craft
versus spectacle? It really makes you wonder,
doesn't it? Did his absolute, unwavering commitment
to just entertaining people, to holding that
audience captive by any means necessary, however
shocking or crude, did that sheer force of performance
ultimately break through? Did it transcend the
genres he loved to mock? Maybe his greatest trick
wasn't making an eyeball hang out, but making
the stuffy, serious magic world acknowledge that
what he was doing, this chaotic, messy, hilarious
thing, was also a form of real magic. Yeah. Maybe
true magic is just about creating that spell
over an audience, holding them completely. And
maybe the method, however unconventional, doesn't
matter as much as the effect. Something to think
about, definitely. Was the chaos actually the
ultimate expression of skill?