David Blaine is half a century too late, as anyone who was in Queens Road, Brighton, in autumn 1952 can probably tell you.

The American illusionist this week stepped inside a Perspex box suspended near Tower Bridge, promising to remain there for 44 days without food.

But 51 years ago in Brighton, fellow New Yorker Jack Wafer starved for almost twice as long in a glass case on display to the public.

Wafer, a 30-year-old Irish-American hypnotist, survived on 500 bottles of soda water and 2,000 cigarettes during his 76-day fast.

When he finally emerged, on October 10, 1952, he was 21lb lighter but £10,000 better off, after winning the bet which prompted the endurance challenge.

Reg Moores, 81, of Horton Road, Brighton, who witnessed the feat, said: "Jack Wafer was setting new fasting standards long before David Blaine was even born - and for much longer, too."

Wafer began his marathon stint at noon on July 26, 1952, when he entered an 11ft by 7ft glass-fronted room.

Workmen had just put the finishing touches to the case, built on the ground floor of 40 Queens Road, now Imperial House, home to Regent Language Training and Financial Link.

A furnishing firm added a divan bed, an armchair, a bookcase and a radio while Wafer also had a private phone line connecting to a back office so he could contact the outside world.

Newspapers were hung on hooks outside the glass walls, with Wafer able to press a buzzer to signal someone to turn the pages.

Wafer declared: "I am attempting to break the fasting record at present held by Willy Schmidt, of Germany. He went without food for 58 days.

"This is a genuine, repeat, genuine attempt. All that I shall take in the way of nourishment is soda water."

He had been bet £6,000 by an American film magnate, and £2,000 by a Belgian, that he could not last a month but thought he might as well go for the world record.

A condition of the bet was that Wafer's record attempt must be on show to the public.

He felt sure self-hypnosis would save him from hunger pangs.

Yet his confidence was not shared by his wife Audrey, the mother of his daughter Michele, seven.

Mrs Wafer said: "I am not very keen on it because it will be the first time we have been parted since our marriage.

"But once Jack has made up his mind, I won't try to get him to alter it. Michele will miss her daddy too."

From the first day, a constant stream of passers-by were happy to pay a shilling each to watch.

The first major test came six days in, when Wafer became worried his one companion in the case, a small black spider he named Little Louie, was not faring as well as himself.

He started feeding the spider some of his soda water to keep him alive, saying by telephone: "We've become very chummy. It's nice to have him around, especially at night when it gets lonely."

Fifteen days in, Wafer, who had spent the previous two days in bed, was advised by his doctor to cut back on his 60-a-day cigarette habit and take half a teaspoonful of salt with each pint of water.

Wafer, whose beard was quickly becoming straggly, had also lost Little Louie by now, although Hungarian baroness Lilian Huszar was one of thousands of visitors.

She added the promise of another £2,000 to the wager, bumping up the winnings on offer to £10,000.

Just 19 days into his fast, Wafer learnt his planned 59-day stint would not be enough to secure the record.

He reset his target to 73 days after hearing on the radio the Fakir Burmah, in Palermo, had pushed the record up to 72 days, three hours and two minutes.

But after 24 days he seemed to be hitting the wall and expected his doctor to advise him to give up.

He whispered: "I am weak and can hardly stand. I have been trying to get to my bed but I just don't seem to have enough energy."

The following day, though, he pronounced himself fit and focused again.

The glass case was opened once a week to allow a fresh supply of cigarettes and soda water.

Wafer celebrated his 59th day of fasting by telephoning the Admiralty. He offered to let them examine his stomach and use him as a guinea pig for their "shipwrecked sailors" experiments.

The moment he had been waiting for arrived at 6.04pm on October 6, when he officially broke the world fasting record.

He waved to a crowd cheering "Hip-hip-hip hooray!" before turning over in bed and going back to sleep.

For unknown reasons, he decided to stay in for another four days.

Newsreel cameras arrived early on October 10 to capture the moment the seals of the glass case were broken and he made his first faltering steps outside.

Wafer's first act was to hug his wife and daughter, before acknowledging the hundreds of spectators cramming Queens Road for a glimpse of him.

He stepped on to scales, which showed his weight had fallen to 9st and then, grimacing, sipped from a glass containing water, glucose and a vitamin pill.

He exclaimed: "Horrible stuff, give me my soda water."

Wafer claimed he needed the winnings to follow in the footsteps of Lionel Wafer, a 17th-Century buccaneer he claimed as an ancestor.

He said: "I have a map of the fabulous Cocos Islands, made by Lionel Wafer.

"On it is marked a treasure hoard and my one ambition now is to go to Cocos where there is a Wafer Bay and a Lionel Point and look for the treasure - but it needs money."

Mr Moores, a former showbusiness agent who often shared drinks with Wafer at The Grand hotel in Brighton, does not know what happened to him after the fast.

He said: "I remember him being a fairly quiet person when he wasn't performing, but he was pretty dedicated. It was an amazing thing to have managed.

"I don't know what effect it might have had on him in later life, though."

With Guinness World Records refusing to officially recognise fasting records because they are "life-threatening", it seems Jack Wafer's astonishing achievement will remain unmatched.