Walk On

Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to do martial arts, and in fact, did some very silly back-yard karate in high school, and one semester of taekwondo in a college class. Then, in 1972, the television show, Kung Fu appeared.And just like Julius "Jules" Winnfield in Pulp Fiction, I now wanted to “walk the earth.” By chance, I found a Chinese Kung-Fu Wu-Su Association studio and started going off-campus three times a week. The school was more-or-less a split-off, run by Nation of Islam guys.

It was a hodgepodge of different styles, all handed down from Allen Lee, the first Chinese instructor who taught those outside his community. The original school was based in New York - it's still there - and it was a rough place with some rough people, but decent human beings as well. Sparring was much like Kyokushin karate rules, with kicks allowed anywhere above the waist, punches to the torso and iron-broom leg sweeps as well. We broke things too: concrete slabs, bricks and boards, and did iron palm training. There was a particular . . . vibe to the place. A lot of guys would come in off the street, usually to offer commentary. One time, I had a pretty intense sparring match with Paco, one of the young instructors, and when it was over, we gave each other a dap and a hug. A man watching off to the side said, "What are you hugging that white man for?" Paco said, "Comes the revolution, he and I will be trying to kill each other. But here, we just train."

Another time, Ron PX, the main assistant instructor, a very quiet man, had taken a challenge match from a goju karate guy. I had just bought a ball of dit dat jow, a traditional Chinese liniment. and per instructions, had dissolved it in a pint of whiskey. Ron won the match, but got his thumb dislocated. This was the day after the Munich Massacre at the Olympics. I was both distraught and furious, but didn't see any reason why I wouldn't go to train at the school that was, to me, a home. I went to the instructor’s dressing room, where Ron had just pulled his thumb back in its socket. I offered him some of the liniment, and as he began rubbing it into the joint, he looked at me, sized me up and asked: "What's wrong with you, Ellis?" I said what I had to say about the Munich Massacre, and concluded by saying, "I know about your faith. I know you might see some of this from another side. But nothing justifies murder like that." He nodded in agreement. I got up to leave, and handed him the liniment, saying, "Why don't you take this. I can get more." He said, "Thanks, brother." And then, his eyes widened in shock, and he corrected himself: "I - I mean, 'man.'" . . . . It's certainly not always so, but in my life, nothing has broken down false barriers between people than honest hard training in combative arts.

Of course, being young, it was important to me that everyone else knew what I was doing, so when I'd leave my college dorm to go to practice, I always had my black kung fu "pajamas" with the white frog buttons, slung over one shoulder by a black sash, wearing kung fu slippers as I walked off campus. And of course, I'd get a raft of shit from the football players and wrestlers in my dorm, who usually had a frisbee game going in one quad, one that I'd always deliberately walk through.

One day, just as I stepped on through, I heard behind me, "Hey kung fu!" and I looked over my shoulder and about five meters away, one of the guys slung a frisbee at my head. I spun in a perfect reverse spinning back kick, and hit the frisbee edge-on and it flew back in the guy's hand. Everyone's mouth was agape. (And inside, mine too. I'd never been taught, never practiced the technique, just seen my instructor do it off to the side. The gods took over my nervous system that day). But I was cool. I just nodded, said, "Kung fu." And walked on.

This substack is free. As a professional writer, I do hope to have my work supported, so here’s a far less expensive way than a paid substack subscription, one that will truly be welcome, and will give you a lot more stories like this one. Please purchase one of my books, anyone you like, but if you enjoyed this piece, check out Dueling With O-sensei.