COURTESY OF BRACO.NET
Johnny Podell, the agent behind
Cream, Alice Cooper and other
iconic rockers, knows all about getting high. His career flamed out in
the ’80s when he became so addicted to cocaine, he hawked all of
his Platinum record plaques to fund
his habit. On a recent brisk spring
day in Manhattan, Podell, since
reformed, led the charge to sample
a drug of a different sort. The supplier, a Croatian man known to followers as Braco (pronounced Brahtzo, the Croatian word for “little
brother”), pushes hope.
“Last night, I was as high as I’ve
ever been,” Podell told a crowd
gathered in the Crystal Ballroom of
the New Yorker Hotel. People hollered in agreement. A leather jacket hung from Podell’s skinny frame,
and sunglasses shielded his eyes
from the light of the chandeliers.
“Eight bucks — not bad! I wish I’d
known about this 30 years ago,” he
continued, cackling. “I would have
saved a lot of money.”
Ever since the psychic Edgar
Cayce birthed the American New
Age movement in the early 20th
century, there’s been no lack of
men and women selling miracles
to the crystal-pendant set. Braco,
though, may be the smoothest
salesman yet. His cult of personality has no personality. He’s said to
do it all — everything from shrinking tumors to casting love spells —
without saying a word or touching
a soul. All he does, to the delight of
his followers, is gaze at them.
The cross-section of Braco believers streaming into the New
Yorker lobby that weekend could
have been mistaken for a United
Nations tour group bent on exploring the rest of midtown. The