John Gehlsen

John Gehlsen

One of the highest complements I ever received was “This guy could be good.” Now on the surface, it would not appear much of a complement. I was already 3^rd dan and had won a fair amount of sparring trophies by then. But it was the person saying it and his personal standard that made it special to me.

It was the late 60s or early 70s. We were at Soke Takayuki Kubota’s IKA Headquarters on Kenmore in Los Angeles, the same dojo where they filmed the dojo scenes for the movie, The Mechanic, with Soke, Charles Bronson, and Jan-Michael Vincent. I was in an advanced class that met on a Saturday or Sunday afternoons, forget which. Soke was taking us through a drill he called “Attack-Defense.” Each person had to await the spontaneous attack of an opponent, defend against it, and launch a successful counterattack. If the counter failed, you had to wait for your partner to attack again. This went on until your counter was successful. Then, you got another partner and repeated the drill.

I was paired off with John Gehlsen. I don’t remember his attack or what I did in response but it was John who said to Soke, “This guy could be good.” Although not many people outside Soke’s organization were aware of John’s skill, I considered him (both then and now) one of the toughest fighters ever trained in this country.

John was a tall, lanky, thick-boned man, who worked both undercover and regular duties for LAPD. I first met him at Ed Parker’s Internationals. It must have been around 1965. Soke Kubota had recently arrived in the U.S. and Ed invited him to demonstrate at his annual event, the largest and most prestigious tournament in the world at the time. (I think I spoke previously about that event.) John was only a green belt at the time.

When I hosted my first tournament, the U.S. Winter-National Karate Championships in San Jose the following year, I also invited Soke to demonstrate. He brought both John and Tonny Tulleners with him. Chuck Norris drove up with Chris Wells and one of his other students. And Bruce Lee also demonstrated. I had met Bruce through someone. I think it was a great, old Kung Fu friend, James Yimm Lee, but not sure. (Bruce lived with Jimmy when he first came to California.) In the finals, Chuck fought Roy Castro, GM Ralph Castro’s brother, for the grand championship and Chuck prevailed, winning his first grand championship.

John and Soke Kubota shared an apartment back then in Hollywood, on Vine Street, if I remember right. It was on the second floor and they used the large front room for the dojo. I would fly to LAX in the morning on my one day off. I’d rent a car, drive to Hollywood, take a private lesson from Soke, and participate in every class. Then, I’d take the long drive to LAX, catch the last flight to SFO, then drive the 40 miles to my home in San Jose. (I relate this story whenever someone tells me the dojo is too far from their home – usually 5 miles or less – to train with us.)

As I mentioned, John wasn’t known to many beyond Soke’s dojo. But in 1969, or thereabouts, he was asked to accompany an American team that Sensei Nishiyama assembled to compete against several university teams in Japan. A friend, who was a senior student of Sensei Nishiyama’s, went on the trip too. He told me that the Japanese treated John and most of our fighters with a degree of disdain much of the time until his first fight. John had been an alternate to the team and didn’t fight during the first couple of competitions. But when they finally put him in, his opponent refused to stop when John scored on him and kept trying to hurt John. So he drove the guy out of the ring, into the stands, and didn’t stop until the officials grabbed him. My friend said everyone in the large gym jumped to their feet and applauded. After that, he was treated with respect wherever he went.

In 1970, WUKO held its first World Karate Championships in Tokyo. The U.S. sent five teams, comprised of many of our top fighters at the time. John and Tonny Tulleners, also from Soke Kubota’s dojo, were on one of the teams. In the individual competition, Tonny tied for third with the legendary Dominic Valera. John didn’t make it to the finals but received one of the Outstanding Spirit (Tamashii) Awards distributed to the most respected fighters.

In 1972, the United States sent just one team to Paris for the second World Championships. John was selected to this team as well. This event was highly controversial. The U.S., Japanese, and several other teams walked out due to what friends termed the inadequate quality of the officials. (I heard they used judo, kendo, and/or aikido officials in matches – depending on who told me. But I wasn’t there so I’m not sure if any of this was true. I just know teams walked out.)

Well, enough for now. I’ll be writing more posts on John Gehlsen and what I learned from him. Thanks again for your patience and continued support.

Postscript: Here is a link for footage of Senseis Gehlsen, Smith, Tulleners, etc. at the team selection tournament for the 1972 WUKO World Karate Championships in Paris. There is a clip at the bottom of the DVD ad. http://www.empiremediallc.com/DVDs/1972%20World%20Karate%20Do%20Champ.html

Tsuken Akachu no Eku Kata and Learning to Better Appreciate Every Day

I apologize for my long absence in posting. It’s been an eventful six months, and not much of it in a good way. Since it is behind me now, I am returning to normal and don’t mind talking briefly about what happened and what I learned from it.

First, the good part, at least for me – although probably less interesting for you. I was able to finish an extensive rewrite of my novel, The Arrow Catcher. It is with my editor, awaiting her read-through and suggestions. I’m fortunate to have a great editor, Lynn Stegner. Lynn is not only an award-winning novelist but also a writing teacher at Stanford University (considered one of the two best writing programs in the country). And she is also the daughter-in-law of the late Wallace Stegner, who was one of America’s greatest writers.

The reason I had so much time to focus on my writing over these last few months was my two stays at the hospital.

I wasn’t sure if I would ever go home after my first stay. I developed an infection that spread throughout my body, a condition they call “sepsis”. It came out of nowhere. I was fine, then developed a fever. I drove to the dojo to teach and got sicker and sicker as I went. (I live 90 miles from the dojo.) By the time I arrived, I figured I’d teach the first class and then go home early, getting one of my senior students to cover my classes. I felt so bad I lay down on the office floor, thinking I might feel better if I rested a bit. But I kept getting sicker, my fever climbing and my kidneys aching. I realized that if I didn’t leave then, I might get so sick I wouldn’t be able to drive home later. So I left a note for my office manager and set out. By the time I got home, I was burning up and felt like someone had hit me in the kidneys with a baseball bat. I had been kicked so hard in the stomach many years ago that it bruised one of my kidneys. This was a hundred times worse. I called my doctor and he told me to go straight to the emergency room, which I did.

The emergency room staff ran some tests and told me I had an extremely bad infection, which they later identified as sepsis. They admitted me and put me on a strong antibiotics drip. I was there for 5 days before being released. Another infection hit me a few days later and another after that was treated.

I mention all this in more detail than I feel comfortable with, or you probably wanted to hear, for a reason. I teach Tsuken Akachu no Eku kata to my students. Within this kata is an unusual jump, reportedly unique to weapons kata. In it, you drop the eku handle, kick your feet backwards unevenly as you jump, and (while still in midair) reach out as far as you can with the blade of the eku.

I learned this kata many years ago and told it was called Tsuken Akachu no Eku Bo. It was explained as a battle between two fisherman, one with an eku (oar) and another with a fishing spear. The spearhead was made of metal, I was told, which would become rusty and encrusted with rotten fish guts over time. A cut from its tip would introduce bacteria into ones bloodstream. As this kata was reportedly created 150 years earlier, there were no antibiotics at the time. The person cut was believed to have approximately ten days before he went into septic shock and died.

So the odd jump had three purposes: 1) block the spear thrust at ones feet with the handle, 2) kicking the feet back to make sure they were not stabbed or even scratched, and 3) reaching out and smashing the attacker in the side of the neck with the blade of the eku.

I was never sure if their sepsis explanation was realistic until I found it could occur even today. Had I come down with what I did back then, I would have died.

They found that my infection was caused by an internal tear. (I won’t bore you with the details.) Surgically fixing it was what necessitated my second hospital stay. But that was completed in early June and I’m back to normal, or as normal as one can be at nearing 70. I now have nothing wrong that rolling back my age by ten years or so wouldn’t clear up completely. But I feel fortunate to be this healthy and fit at this age. I contribute it to my lifetime in the martial arts and my long quest to always keep myself in shape both physically and morally in order to serve as a positive role model for my students.

Anyway, thanks for your patience and continued support. It means a lot to me.