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Magic Mark is an enigmatic figure in recent Tulsa history, undoubtedly a controversial one as well. He was the sweetest man, and a good friend, but he was also a paranoid conspiracy theorist who packed heat in his waistband everywhere he went. In some ways, he was one of the last remaining cowboys of the wild west.
I know he traveled extensively working in music as a stagehand throughout the ‘80s and ‘90s. At one point he found an ad in the classifieds for a St. John’s heart surgeon who wanted to become a traveling magician. Mark ended up taking the Doc on two European tours with his magic show. He showed me an article where the cops had picked up him and Larry Shaeffer (former Cain’s Ballroom owner) out in West Tulsa for shooting guns at night. They were high on cocaine and drunk on moonshine, but the cops had no charges to stick on them for some reason.
I first met Magic Mark in 2010. This was right before my first skate video, “Get Your Kicks,” came out. I remember hearing about his parties that he would hold at his studio. He lived in a warehouse across the train tracks on Cheyenne, which was much rougher then than it is today. Now I think it’s some fancy coworking spot.
I had heard about these parties for a while before actually being invited to one. Inside his space, I remember seeing magic doves, a gynecologist’s leg harness and table, mannequins, and dozens of weird, artistic, or magical artifacts. There must have been 30 or 40 people in this apartment.
As time went on, Mark and I got closer. I shot portraits of him at his studio, and as I started my travels in 2011 and 2012, Mark would be one of the first people I would call when I was back in town. He would come pick me up with a joint behind his ear and fire under his ass (sometimes literally, as with the black cat firecrackers he once put under his chair and lit into a fury of noise and flash bangs while I shot photos). I knew I could count on him first and foremost as a good friend, but also I knew that my camera would be busy clicking if I hung out with Mark long enough. He wasn't a poser, but he loved the camera being around catching different sides of his personality. Over the next 10 years, he would become my main wingman for my Tulsa adventures.
We would go out at night and go to Soundpony, Crystal Pistol, The Yeti and a handful of other bars. Mark would have four or five magic tricks in his pocket, and loved to give friends and unsuspecting bar patrons a thrill. Sometimes it would be with cards, sometimes it was a floating piece of paper, or sometimes it was a little fireball he would shoot out of his fingers. His smile would expand from ear to ear as people enjoyed his tricks. It was Mark in his most social form.
Mark enjoyed mild local celebrity status. It wasn’t enough to be a burden to him, but people would come talk to him. He knew lots of Tulsans. I’m sure he has some haters out there, but to most he was a friendly older guy who loved the company of Tulsa’s young adults. I personally think it's because he succeeded in never growing up. He was almost awkward around people his age. His comfort zone was in a blunt circle with Tulsa rappers, or eating pizza or okra at a food truck in the dark Tulsa night. He even had a signature dish at TNT Wangz, a chicken and soul food truck in front of Soundpony about 10 years ago.
Mark drove an old police car that he had bought at the city auction at some point. He enjoyed that people would get nervous when the Crown Vic would pull up behind them. My friend Larry Mitchell used to have me stay at his house in Crosbie Heights when I would be home from my travels and adventures. He came home one day to see a white “cop” car in front of his house and he got nervous that I had been busted for something. He retreated to his girlfriend's house until he realized that it was Mark. We all laughed about it later that day.
Another time, Mark got impatient in traffic on Reconciliation Way a block east of Guthrie Green. He laid into the horn and kept going until we realized we were behind a cop. The lights flipped on and a furious cop came storming to our window. Mark had his gun in the trunk, but somehow talked the cop down and got us on our way to the next bar within no time. Maybe it was his veteran sticker or his police donation sticker, but it was probably just some good ol’ boy white privilege.
Mark started making papier mache filled with arterial shells and he would mount them to his helmet. He would then blow up his creations next to Soundpony in the vacant lot that’s now the Davenport Lofts. I was lucky enough to be there for his first launch.
My grandmother had died a day or two before, and I was excited to be with my friends and celebrating my grandmother. Mark got things prepared and gave me the lighter. I obviously wanted to be in the front to take the picture. So I lit the fuse and ran around the front to take the photo. It was December, so I had on a heavy coat, a scarf, and a beanie. The photo I took is one of the best photos I have ever taken. You can see all the particles coming out of the object right as it exploded. I felt little pieces of bomb and papier mache hitting my chest, but it didn't hurt.
Another time he did the same thing with the arterial shells, but this time he created an extra helmet that would go in place of his real helmet. He placed the explosives inside the helmet as well. Before he got things into place, he did his makeup so that when the helmet exploded, people would think that he blew his face off. Mitch Gilliam and Stuart Hetherwood and our friend Mandy were in on it. When it exploded, they picked him up and carried him through Soundpony with everyone watching in shock and horror, thinking that Mark had blown his face off. I ran in front of them, going backwards, trying to capture the mischievous moment. I have a picture of Mandy and Mark hugging and smiling in front with the fake blood running down Mark’s face.
Mark starred in several short films and music videos, notably a Broncho music video called “Sandman/Boys Got To Go.” In the last years of his life, he played some parts in Tulsa-based movies, and even played himself in Body Brokers by John Swab. I know that this work was what gave him the greatest pleasure in life.
Mark and I never had a real fallout, but our time together was less during the last year or two of his life. I have 25-30 friends that have died from all kinds of causes, natural and unnatural, but I am lucky in the fact that I have always mysteriously distanced myself from my friends that end up dying. Miles Rogoish, who came back from L.A. and had become good friends with Mark, called to let me know when Mark passed in June of 2022.
Now, a couple years later, I am going through the photos from those years, looking back on those memories. I have my stories and I’m sure lots of Tulsans from those years have theirs. I want to make Mark’s story into a photo book filled with the stories of him making his “Mark” on people, and so I’m soliciting stories from people to be considered for the book. Please write to me at mail@mattphippsfilm.com and I will get in touch with you. Thank you for everything, Mark. Love you.
