You know the feeling. That frantic, heart-in-your-throat sensation when you have about fourteen things to do and only two hands to do them. We call it "spinning plates." But for a specific generation of TV watchers, that phrase isn’t just a metaphor. It’s a literal image of a guy in a tuxedo, sweat beads forming on his brow, sprinting across a stage while Aram Khachaturian’s "Sabre Dance" blares in the background.
His name was Erich Brenn.
If you grew up watching The Ed Sullivan Show, Brenn was the gold standard of variety acts. He wasn't a singer like Elvis or a comedian like Richard Pryor. He was a man who took the laws of physics and turned them into five minutes of high-stakes drama. Honestly, it was the original reality TV. There was no safety net, no CGI, and a very real possibility that fifty bucks' worth of dinnerware was about to become a pile of porcelain shards on national television.
The Man Who Made Chaos Look Like Art
Erich Brenn appeared on Ed Sullivan at least eight times. Think about that for a second. In an era where getting on Sullivan once could make your entire career, this guy was brought back nearly a dozen times just to spin kitchen items.
Why? Because it worked.
Brenn’s routine was a masterclass in pacing. He didn't just walk out and start spinning. He’d start with one bowl on a thin, four-foot-high pole. Easy. Then another. Then he’d move to a different table and start spinning plates on their edges—not on poles, but just flat on the surface like tops.
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Pretty soon, the stage looked like a forest of wobbling sticks. By the end of the act, Brenn was managing:
- Five glass bowls perched on tall poles.
- Eight plates spinning on the tables below.
- A handful of cups and spoons that he’d somehow flip into the air and land perfectly in the glasses.
The genius wasn't just the spinning; it was the "save." As a viewer, you’d see a bowl on the far left start to lose momentum. It would begin that sickening, rhythmic wobble. You’d find yourself pointing at the TV, shouting, "The left one! Erich, the left one!"
He’d wait until the absolute last millisecond—the very moment before gravity won—and then he’d dive across the stage, give the stick a frantic twist, and the bowl would hum back to life. It was exhausting just to watch.
Was the Ed Sullivan Plate Spinner Using "Fake" Plates?
This is the question everyone asks. Was it a trick?
The answer is: sort of, but not really.
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Technically, most professional plate spinners use plates with a slightly deeper "well" or a recessed rim on the bottom. This helps the tip of the stick stay centered. If you tried this with the Corelle plates in your kitchen cupboard, they’d fly off in three seconds.
However, "gimmicked" plates don't spin themselves. You still have to deal with the gyroscopic effect. The faster an object spins, the more stable it becomes because its angular momentum resists the pull of gravity. But as friction between the stick and the plate slows it down, that stability vanishes.
Brenn was literally fighting a countdown clock on every single pole. He had to calculate—in real-time and while sprinting—which plate had the least amount of momentum left.
The "Sabre Dance" Connection
You cannot talk about the Ed Sullivan plate spinner without talking about the music. "Sabre Dance" by Aram Khachaturian.
You know the tune. It’s fast, it’s frantic, and it sounds like a panic attack set to an orchestra. Before Brenn, it was just a movement from a ballet called Gayane. After Brenn, it became the universal anthem for "everything is going wrong at high speed."
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Whenever you see a cartoon character trying to cook a five-course meal in thirty seconds, or a sitcom dad trying to hide a secret from his wife, that music plays. Erich Brenn didn't just give us a performance; he gave us a cultural shorthand for the modern world.
Why We Still Care in 2026
It’s kind of funny. We live in a world of 4K streaming and instant gratification, yet people still search for "Ed Sullivan plate spinner" decades after the show went off the air.
Maybe it’s because Brenn represents the ultimate "multi-tasker." We all feel like we’re spinning plates. We’re balancing the career bowl, the parenting plate, the fitness saucer, and the "remembering to drink enough water" cup.
Watching Brenn was cathartic. He showed us that even when things are wobbling and looking like they’re about to shatter, a little bit of hustle and a lot of focus can keep the whole show running.
Actionable Insights from the Master
If you want to dive deeper into the world of variety acts or even try your hand at the physics of it, here is how to appreciate the craft properly:
- Watch the 1969 Clip: Search for the February 16, 1969, performance. It’s widely considered his best. Watch his eyes—they are never on the plate he is spinning; they are always scanning the next one.
- Study the Physics: Look up "angular momentum" and "precession." It’ll give you a whole new respect for why those plates stay up.
- Check Out the Successors: While Brenn was the king, modern performers like David Spathaky (who once spun 108 plates at once) pushed the limits even further.
- Practice the Metaphor: Next time you're overwhelmed, remember Brenn’s secret: you don't have to keep every plate perfectly still. You just have to give the wobbliest one a spin before it hits the floor.
Variety acts like these are a lost art. We don't see many "novelty acts" on TV anymore, unless they’re sandwiched between a singer and a dance troupe on a talent competition. But for five minutes on a Sunday night, Erich Brenn was the most important man in America, and all he needed was a few sticks and some dishes.