Impressive Dooley refuses to be confined at Plaza

Friday, May 26, 2000 | 8:51 a.m.

Dixie Dooley calls it "escape-ology."

It's a term for being trapped inside something, possibly fatally, then getting out.

Dooley is playing the Plaza showroom these days.

Some "escape-ology" might be in order.

Dooley is trapped in -- er, performing -- afternoon shows at the Plaza beginning at 4. It's appropriately entitled "Houdini Lives Again," and runs Tuesdays through Sundays. Dooley also books acts at the Magic Star Casino, where you catch him doing impromptu shows for free on Fridays and Saturdays.

Dooley is a true grass-roots entertainer, busting his britches to make a name for himself in a time slot at a hotel where few Las Vegans, and fewer tourists, might ever notice him.

(Quick message to locals: If you're worried about the state of entertainment, or anything else, in downtown Las Vegas, it might be a good idea to actually visit there occasionally. Otherwise, quit fretting.)

On a recent weekday afternoon Dooley was working hard at working his magic. His mystical show begins with a scratchy recorded introduction describing a particularly dangerous routine. We're all warned that Dooley "will either escape, or die trying."

Either way, there won't be many witnesses.

One downcast afternoon (frighteningly wind-whipped and not friendly to people apt to run down to Fremont Street, to be fair) there were a total of 15 people in the room. Only 10 -- including a fill-in entertainment critic -- were actually seated in the crowd.

It's all somewhat disconcerting because Dooley offers fine entertainment in a room that, if nothing else (squint, cough), has quite a bit of character. An avid student of the Houdini school of magical escape artistry, Dooley sells all sorts of routines. He ties knots with one hand on a straight rope, makes playing cards appear out of crystal balls, winds his way out of straitjackets and even performs a campy mock seance.

The applause is genuine and enthusiastic. There's just not much of it. It says something about the crowd size that Dooley called one person -- a big, goofy dude from Minnesota who seemd bemused by it all -- to the stage twice as an assistant.

Not by choice, but because, I really believe, Dooley knows he's out of options. No one else in the gathering is willing to go up on stage, and it comes down to the fill-in critic or the goofy Minnesotan.

Dooley chooses right.

The engaging, mustachioed Dooley is most impressive with intimate sleight-of-hand tricks, such as plucking birds out of thin air or the aged yet infinitely appealing make-the-colored-scarves-disappear ploy. He'd be great at parties. We're pretty fortunate he doesn't have to play to a large crowd.

Dooley saves his show-stopper for, fittingly, the end of the show. Wearing a Spandex outfit -- the one time he steps out of his tuxedo -- he climbs into a big German-made milk can and has his assistants lock him inside.

The recorded voice returns, informing the crowd not to "attempt this trick at home." What a bummer for any adventurous sort with a huge German-made milk can and six buckets of water sitting in the garage.

Time ticks on the Dooley clock, but we all know what will happen. After a minute and a half Dooley springs upward, drenched, gasping and bowing. He deserves a standing ovation from a capacity crowd, but gets polite applause and a comment from a guy shouting out, "Oh now, c'mon!"

On Sunday at 4 p.m. at the Plaza, Dooley is scheduled to be fastened into a steel straitjacket in an attempt to gain attention for his show. They say it's the only device of its kind in the world.

Can Mr. Dooley escape?

Let's hope so.