ProKito: From Pill Box to Pocket Miracle

I got my first Okito box as a kid. It was a heavy brass box made to take the old 10p coins. I was fascinated by how such a simple object could create such beautiful moments of magic. A box, a few coins, and suddenly you’ve got vanishes, appearances and all sorts of strange behaviour happening right under people’s noses.

Many years later I also appreciated it not just for its versatility but also for the story behind it.

Theo Bamberg, better known as Okito, was working in his New York magic shop in the early 1900s. One day, while sitting behind the counter, he started playing with his business partner Joe Klein’s pill box. Joe suffered from chronic indigestion and carried his tablets in one of these little boxes. Theo noticed that the lid would fit on the bottom as well as the top. He started making pills disappear and reappear and then thought, 'hang on, what if I make one of these to fit a coin?'

And that’s where the Okito box began. With indigestion tablets, a small pill box, and a bit of experimenting behind the counter of a magic shop.

Imagining that original pill box

Fast forward a few decades and I’m manufacturing magic props myself. I stopped looking at plain brass Okito boxes and started wondering what Joe’s actual pill box might have looked like back then. Was it plain or ornate? What did the lid look like? Would it have been shiny, a bit tarnished, or worn from years of being opened and closed in a busy magic shop drawer?

I started imagining the little marks that would tell its story. The scratches on the metal, the feeling of an object that had belonged to someone before it ever became a magician’s prop.

That was the thing that interested me.

I wanted to imagine an Okito box that didn’t look like a magic prop. Something where a spectator’s first thought wasn’t “that’s a trick box”, but instead, “that’s some sort of old pill box or little antique container”.

That became the starting point for ProKito.

I wanted a box that felt like it had a real life before it ended up in a magician’s pocket.

What I Wanted ProKito To Do

I took the same approach I used with the Watson cups and balls and applied it to a coin box.

The Okito box has survived for over a century because the idea is almost perfect. My goal wasn’t to replace that idea, but to give the object the kind of personality I imagined it always had.

I wanted it to look good, feel special to handle, and be something you enjoyed picking up. I went for a slightly wider, pewter box with an ornate pattern that looks like it belongs in a drawer or on a dressing table rather than a magic catalogue.

It happily holds half dollars and an expanded shell, which opens up lots of extra possibilities.

More importantly, I built in the little handling things that matter when you actually perform. A slightly looser lid so you’re not wrestling with it. A base with enough weight that turnover moves and the usual sequences feel almost automatic.

The idea was simple. It should look like a pill box, but handle like a well designed magic prop.

When you pick it up, you shouldn’t be thinking about fighting the prop. You should be thinking about the audience in front of you.

Why this Small Box Matters to Me

At heart, ProKito is still an Okito box. There’s no hidden gimmick, no secret doors. It’s a small box that lets you do strong, direct coin magic.

The difference for me is in how it feels and what it suggests to the audience.

It nods back to Theo, Joe, the indigestion tablets and that original pill box, while quietly supporting modern routines instead of getting in the way.

I also love that every Okito box ends up collecting its own history. Not just through scratches or tarnish, but through the moments of magic created with it.

If you end up with a ProKito in your pocket, my hope is that you’ll feel that same mix of history and practicality. It’s a small, innocent object, but it carries a lot of story. And now it gets to carry yours.