“When are you going to be promoted to 10th degree?” – Part III



My primary instructor, Soke Tak Kubota (right),
actor and karateka James Caan (center), and me.

 I’ve been talking about my many reasons for not wanting to be promoted to 10^th dan, while so many seem obsessed with it. As I said, these are just my reasons for making this choice. Others are welcome to their own reasons for accepting or even seeking it. Let me add just a bit more to my personal choice before turning to a few legitimate reasons for working to earn a high dan grade.

The most respected world karate organizations, IMHO, all impose minimum time-in-grade (TIG) and age requirements for each dan promotion. I’ll just list the standard requirements for promotion beyond 5^th dan. (Before this, minimum TIG is generally a number of years equal to the number of the dan grade one is trying to reach – 2 years for 2^nd dan, 3 years for 3^rd dan, etc.) For 6^th dan, an applicant must be at least 35 years old and been at 5^th dan for at least 5 years. For 7^th dan, an applicant must be at least 42 years old and been at 6^th dan for at least 6 years. For 8^th dan, an applicant must be at least 50 years old and been at 7^th dan for at least 8 years. For 9^th dan, an applicant must be at least 60 years old and been at 8^th dan for at least 9 years. And for 10^th dan, an applicant must be at least 70 years old and been at 9^th dan for at least 10 years. I’ll turn 69 this year. So I’m not there yet.

Also, the above is unaffected by the standard excuses we often hear. “I moved up faster than everyone else because I trained 12 hours per day, 7 days per week for a full year,” “I trained directly under Grandmaster Fred and learned secrets he’s shared with no one else but me,” or whatever. TIG and age requirements are minimums, meaning there can only be longer amounts of time, never lesser (with only one exception that I can think of).

The sole exception to the above is when someone has not tested in many years and reached minimum age. If, for example, a person was at 6^th dan for 20 years, was 60 years old, and had never tested for 7^th dan before, although he had obviously acquired great knowledge and skill. Such a person might be promoted to 7^th dan and allowed to test for 8^th dan in just another year or two.

If you add up all of the minimum TIG for promotion from 2^nd through 10^th dan, it’s a significant number of years – 54 years minimum. Anyone who moves upwards too slowly, or starts too late, will never make it legitimately to the upper dans. This is something students, instructors, and heads of organizations need to be aware.

I’m most certainly not suggesting people be moved up faster than they are qualified to do so. What I’m suggesting, rather, is that everyone needs to know what is required for promotion to their next grades. Then, it’s up to the student to keep focused on doing whatever is necessary to achieve it – work harder, work smarter, compete if necessary, gain officiating or coaching certification, travel to wherever additional information and skill can be acquired, train in supportive arts, read and view whatever they can buy or find that will expand and deepen their knowledge, and so on. For some, this will also mean honing their moral and ethical characters to help them become better people, someone their instructors or organizational heads would want to see move into leadership positions.

Let me cut this off for now. I’ll try, as promised, to present next time some positive, non-ego gratifying reasons for setting ones sights on reaching higher dans.

“When are you going to be promoted to 10th degree?” – Part II

Let me clear up something I said in my last post. The views I expressed were only meant to apply to myself. Others have a different view about what 10^th dan represents. I don’t question most who wear the highest of ranks. Red flags for me are generally those who gave it to themselves (or received it from their own students); were vastly underage for such rank (in all reputable organizations and systems I am aware, one must be at least in their mid to late 60s); had insufficient time in grade; changed instructors for each new rank (we all know how that deal works – “Your instructor doesn’t think your worthy. But if you leave him and train with me, I’ll promote you”. Part of the reason I have written on this specific subject is because I have been offered promotion to 10^th dan by some and wanted to explain my position on the matter); or clearly possessed skill and knowledge far below the minimum needed for such a lofty rank.

As I mentioned last time, I see 10^th dan as recognition that one has reached perfection in a given art or style, meaning there is no or little room left for improvement. Perhaps I’m missing something. If so, please feel free to enlighten me. My mind is always open to correction. In fact, I’ve always encouraged it. It is often our enemies more than our friends who help us the most. Friends seldom tell us where we go wrong, not wanting to hurt our feelings. Enemies have no such qualms and, as such, or often more helpful in this regard.

I’ve always preferred to keep vistas open in front of me, unknowns just around the next corner in need of discovery, curiosities capable of motivating me to continue working and moving forward. When I don’t have them, I’ll often create them for myself. I want to always have some unknown secret just around the next bend to discover. One of the things that attracted me to the martial arts and kept me working for over 55 years is the many facets to our arts – kihon, kata, bunkai, kobudo, kumite, history, philosophy, and so on. Tenth degree represents to me the pinnacle, the end of the road, and I am a long way from that destination and always will be.

As I said, this is just my position. I have no question with others, who have put in the time and achieved the skill and knowledge levels to reach 10^th dan. God bless them.

Let me stop for now, before I get into reasons for working to achieve a high dan degree. Again, thanks for reading my humble ramblings.

“When are you going to be promoted to 10th degree?”

Since being awarded ninth dan a few years ago, I frequently get asked “When are you going to be promoted to 10^th degree?” The askers are usually surprised when I tell them my answer – “Never.” Their next question is always “Why not?” People seem to think that going to 10^th dan from 9^th would only be natural. But it’s not. They find my answer, that I don’t want to be a 10^th dan, that I’m surely too high already, to be incomprehensible.

I think most secretly believe that the reason for my decision is that I’ve lost my ambition and become too lazy to attempt to move upwards. But it has nothing to do with ambition or energy levels. There are, in fact, several very logical reasons for feeling the way I do.

My original dream was to one day reach the lofty and I still think very respectable rank of 3^rd dan. Back then, there were no 27-year-old masters or grandmasters, no 12-year-old sandans, no Ultimate Supreme Intergalactic Grandmasters, no twelfth dans or anyone even claiming to be tenth dans, that we knew of. In fact, we didn’t know anyone who was higher than 5^th dan. (We had only heard that some existed in Okinawa and in some of the old warrior arts in Japan.) Senseis Nishiyama, Oshima, Demura, and other highly respected seniors were godans for years and years. Most Shotokan greats refused to go beyond 5^th dan because that had been Funakoshi Sensei’s rank. Other Japanese stylists, out of respect for their Shotokan brothers, refused to go up either. And these were great, great martial artists.

There were no shihans, kyoshis, or hanshis. We had never even heard of these titles in the early days. Now, there are so many holding them they have become essentially meaningless. Type “shihan,” “kyoshi,” or “hanshi” into the search box on Facebook and see how many appear – hundreds, perhaps thousands. Even people in arts and styles that have no relationship whatsoever to their historical origins now sport these titles. It sometimes seems that we have more of these than we do white belts, as if the belt and title system has been flipped onto its head.

I don’t mention any of this to attack the practices or status of others. I don’t look at it as many seem to do, from the standpoint of “Well, I deserve it but most of the others surely don’t. I mean, look at his kihon or techniques. That would never work in a million years!” (Another person, of course, would look at my techniques or opinions and say the same about me, finding fault – as you always can – with something or other I or anyone else did or said.) Part of the problem, and its cause, is that the unknowing public often selects an instructor or school based on rank. They don’t know one art or style or organization from another. But they know that 10^th dan is higher than 5^th dan. (They do not even suspect that the 5^th dan may be far superior to the 10^th dan.)

There are many reasons I don’t want to be a 10^th dan. First, to me, 10^th dan has always symbolized perfection within a system. (I recognize and respect that others may have a different and equally valid view.) I am far, far from perfect. In fact, I consider it to be beyond my reach. Second, there are a number of men who are far closer to perfection in skill and/or breadth and depth of knowledge, close enough to be worthy of 10^th dan – and not just in Japan or Okinawa. (Men like Hanshis Anderson, Koeppel, and Colwell, just 3 examples, have been or were at a very high level for half a century.) How can I wear the same rank as these great men? Third, my own life-long, primary instructor, Soke Takayuki Kubota, is 10^th dan. I am not even close to his levels of skill, knowledge, and/or accomplishment. Compared to him, I should be much lower in rank. There are other reasons as well but I need to cut this off for now before it runs so long no one will ever read it.

And, as always, this is just my 2 cents.

I will discuss a bit more on this subject. And, I’ll also talk next time about one very good reason to not only set your sights on reaching a high dan rank but for assisting your students in also doing so. This is a secret revealed to me by Hanshi George Anderson many years ago. It caused me to overlook my objections to high dan rank and accept them when offered.

Old IKA group photo

Sorry for the delay in getting my next post finished and uploaded. It's a story that's taking longer to explain than I had anticipated when I began writing it. In the meantime, I'm posting a photo of the old IKA gang. I talked about George Byrd and Ron Glaubitz in my last post. They are 2nd and 3rd from the left in the second row. In the front row is Tonny Tulleners (who defeated Chuck Norris 3 out of 3 times and placed 3rd in kumite at the first WUKO world championships in Tokyo in 1970), Okuyama San of Canada, Soke Kubota, and Ben Otake, who trained many great fighters both here and in Puerto Rico. (One of Ben's students was Manny San, who is pictured at the left end of the 2nd row. He tied for 3rd in kata at the '75 world championships - Sensei Nishiyam's ITKF event in LA.) There's a bunch of other great guys and karateka in the photo. I'm at the right end of the 2nd row. I don't know the year this was taken.

George Byrd – one of our little known greats

Ron Glaubitz holds IKA flag. George Byrd is to the right. David Vaughn is
between them. George and David both made the 1972 U.S. team.

I promised some of his family members a while back that I would talk a bit about what I knew about George Byrd.

I first met George when he was a purple belt (6^th Kyu), training with fellow International Karate Association (IKA) black belt, Ron Glaubitz. I think Ron brought George to Ralph Castro’s old California Karate Championships in San Francisco. I later learned from someone that George, by profession, was a master lens grinder. He worked at labs that turned out prescription eye glasses.

George, even back then, was a tough fighter. I don’t remember how he did that day. But Ron ended up fighting great kenpo stylist Steve Saunders in the finals. Steve scored with a couple of hard punches to Ron’s face, which Ron never even attempted to block. I joked with Ron afterwards about him possibly working a bit harder on his face defense. He said his defense was perfect. He blocked everything Steve threw. I joked that he might not want to use his eye in the future to block his head. Eyes weren’t really designed for that purpose. I found out that Ron had been hit hard in the head during an exchange in an earlier match. He couldn’t see out of his left eye when he entered the ring to fight Saunders. He had fought with a concussion. But that was the kind of guy Ron was.

At some point, Ron opened a dojo in Mexico and George went with him, at least for a while. I was told that Ron, soon after his arrival in Mexico, went around to the other schools in town and invited the instructors to close their schools or train with him. Or they could have a private lesson on the spot. (I’m not sure if it was true or just someone’s fanciful image of Ron.)

George and Ron stopped for lunch one day at a taco shop. Ron bought a couple of tacos. Then, George went to the window to order. The clerk told him to beat it, they didn’t serve “N-words” there. George reached in through the window, grabbed the racist clerk’s lapels, and pulled him out through the opening. The two fought. George foot swept the guy and slammed him into the gutter. While he was working him over, Ron handed out business cards to those in the crowd that had quickly gathered to watch. He told them “I can teach you to fight like my student here.”

In 1972, a tournament was held at Los Angeles City College to select the U.S. team for the WUKO World Karate Championships in Paris. It was an unusual team trials. The officials employed what they called the “Brazilian System.” Most coaches hate using a straight elimination tournament to select team members because the outcome can rest on luck in charting. If the second best fighter is paired with the best fighter in an early round, someone who should be on the team could be eliminated. (This was later rectified by requiring double-elimination. For our team selection event for the Mexico City World Karate Championships in 1990, we used triple-elimination to make sure we had the best of the best. It made for a very long day.) With the “Brazilian System” used in 1972, the five officials could decide to advance one fighter or the other to the next round, as was normal. But, if both fighters were great, they could also advance both to the next round. If both were not strong enough, they could also decide not to advance either of them. It was also the first time a “control test” was administered, to make sure competitors could properly control their techniques.

George Byrd was one of the fighters who survived the elimination process and selected to represent the U.S. at the championships. I don’t know how he did in Paris. It was a strange event, with several national teams – including the U.S. and Japanese teams – walking out because of problems in the officiating.

The original charter called for the WUKO World Karate Championships to be held every two years. This meant that the next event should have been held in 1974. But it wasn’t – and I forget why. Instead, it was held in Los Angeles in 1975. (All others would be held every two years, as originally planned.) Not just one world championships, however, were held in LA that year. Both WUKO and Sensei Nishiyama’s ITKF held their world events there within a month of each other, if I remember right.

George was selected to represent the USA at one of the championships but I don’t remember which. However, when the event rolled around, he was too injured from a fight to compete.

I lost track of him after that, although I heard rumors on occasion. All in all, I didn’t know George well but liked him. He always seemed a loner and had a hard outer shell. But, underneath, he also had a good sense of humor.

George Byrd died many years ago. I don’t know the year or the cause. I only learned of his death after the fact. We’ve lost several great IKA karateka through the years, three or four within the last year alone. George Byrd was one of those who died far too early.

Dealing With Pain – A Martial Artist’s Frequent Companion – Part X

Tom Sadowski (right) punches Kenny Kuch (left)

     Tom Sadowski was one of my great, old black belt students. He started with me as a white belt in the late 60s, I think. He was tall, quick, handsome, charismatic, and a very experienced and successful street-fighter. When he reached brown belt, I took him to LA for Soke Kubota’s IKA All Star Karate Championships. In those days, Soke still used the old system – no belt divisions, only sparring and kata. Tom beat a number of black belts but lost in the final match to take 2^nd. (He would later win the event.) In 1975, Tom was selected to the U.S. team for Sensei Nishiyama’s ITKF World Karate Championships in Los Angeles.

Tom wasn’t able to compete because of an accident that occurred just before the event. While at a pool party, he climbed onto the top of the fence to dive into the water. As he jumped, the fence collapsed and he fell onto the deck, breaking his shoulder.

A few weeks later, a friend invited him to a party at a ranch outside of Watsonville, then a rural area about 40 miles south of San Jose. Later that night, while everyone was inside drinking and talking, someone asked Tom about karate. As Tom talked, a guy let out a big laugh. “Karate’s a bunch of bullshit,” he said.

“What do you know about karate?” Tom asked.

“I don’t know anything,” he said. “But I’ve seen all these big names you talk about, Nishiyama, Kubota, and the others, and they couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag.”

Tom told him he was full of it. The guy invited Tom outside to settle the matter. Tom said he couldn’t fight until his shoulder healed, but he’d be happy to meet him anytime, anyplace when it did.

“You karate assholes are all alike,” said the guy. “You always have some excuse why you can’t fight. All you do is yak, yak, yak.”

Tom had had a bit too much to drink and knew it. But, even with a broken shoulder and a good buzz on, this was a challenge he couldn’t let go unanswered.

As they went outside, the guy said “I’ve been looking for someone as stupid as you for a long time.”

Everyone followed them outside to watch. The guy looked around and said he didn’t want to fight in front of everyone as someone might call the cops when he kicked Tom’s ass. So, they got into the guy’s pickup and drove out into the orchard, where they squared off. The guy immediately kicked Tom all his might in his broken shoulder with his booted foot. Then, he worked him over, helped him back into his pickup, dropped him back off at the party, and left.

I don’t know if Tom ever found this guy when he was sober and healed up. I know he looked for him. In his search, he learned that the guy had lived for a long time in Thailand and was reportedly a world Thai kickboxing champion. To my knowledge, this was the only fight Tom ever lost – and it wouldn’t surprise me if he later evened the score.

Although it was surely unnecessary, as Tom was a very smart guy, I discussed with him the need to keep certain information confidential and maintain a level of sobriety when among strangers.

I had been taught from the very beginning to always keep injuries and illnesses to myself, as they gave enemies an opportunity. I’m always amazed at how often I see martial artists openly discussing their injuries, illnesses, and disabilities on Facebook and other public forums. I don’t think it’s a good idea to reveal any of this or act in a manner that would allow someone to tell that you were sick or injured, if you possibly can hide it. Perhaps, when you’re well, or healed up, you can reveal it, but not during. Sometimes it’s unavoidable, such as when you break a leg or limb or tear a hamstring. But I don’t think announcing it online is a good idea. If I were going to have surgery, I might only tell my most senior student, who had to cover for me at the dojo and I knew would keep it confidential.

I can’t remember a time when I missed teaching a class, unless I physically couldn’t (perhaps I had the stomach flu) or had something contagious. I was on the floor with broken bones, fevers, or whatever. If I was sick, I doctored myself up and taught. Samurai mothers told their children, “If you cry from a little scratch, what will you do when you have to commit seppuku?” Plus, maybe it’s just an ancient practice from the days of us dinosaurs, but men in general never talked about their illnesses when I was growing up. I shook my head when I read a recent comment by a middle level black belt, who headed his own organization, discussing on Facebook his current battle with diarrhea.

David Letterman once said what he liked best about dogs is their attitudes that “If they can do it, you can watch.” We seem in a “let it all hang out” era. I heard on the news yesterday that a couple had had sex earlier in the week while skydiving and had someone follow them down to videotape it. Perhaps I’ve lived too long. This is clearly not my era.

Thanks for reading my humble ramblings.

Dealing With Pain – A Martial Artist’s Frequent Companion – Part IX

My father had a friend many years ago named Jerry Bolden. (Both he and my dad died a few years ago.) Jerry had been raised in the Florida Everglades by his grandmother, who he often described as one of the toughest women on the planet. He said he once sassed her, then ran and jumped on the back of his horse. He spurred it to race away before she could get to him. She calmly reached down from her rocking chair on the porch and grabbed her bullwhip. She whipped it out, wrapped the end around Jerry’s neck, and yanked him off the back of his horse.

Jerry moved to San Jose in the mid-50s, where he met my dad. He lived out in the country and drove heavy equipment for a living. But he did a lot of hunting on the side – deer, bear, and wild boar. A friend of his brought the first Pit Bull dogs into California for Jerry to use to hunt hogs. (Pit Bulls were much smaller in those days than most today. Jerry gave me one of his pups in the late 50s and I raised it.)

Jerry was a tough guy, your worst enemy or best friend. He once killed a bear with a hatchet. He killed a 400 lbs. wild boar with a hunting knife. He was a handsome, charismatic, and funny guy, who dated a lot of women, including married ones. He came home from work one day to find the husband of one of the women sitting on his sofa with a shotgun aimed at him. Jerry somehow managed to finesse the guy into letting him move closer. When he was within range, he kicked the end of the shotgun. It blew a huge hole in the ceiling. Then, Jerry beat the guy up so badly that when the police arrived, they arrested him.

On a dare, he once removed an abscessed wisdom tooth with his pocket knife and a pair of pliers.

Jerry was just one of the many strong models of a man I saw while growing up. These images were in my mind when I began karate training in the 50s. Training was very rough in those days. Dojo wars were a common affair back then. Dojo windows were blacked out or boarded over so no one could see inside. The front door was kept locked. When someone knocked, a black belt was sent to answer it. He got into a fighting stance before he unlocked and opened the door. One of my first instructors told us he wanted to see blood at every workout – and he did. Part of training back then was seen as getting used to the presence of injury and pain.

I “pinged” my knuckles – punched a concrete wall full force to break the “cap” on my middle knuckle so it would harden and protrude when it healed, allowing me to hit as with a ball peen hammer. In fact, I broke it twice.

Along the way, I got into the habit of setting my own broken bones. I found that if you reset one soon after it broke, it was numb and not a problem. Some weren’t easy. But with images of Jerry Bolden in my mind, who could dig out a wisdom tooth with a knife, I viewed any hesitancy on my part as wimpiness.

My mind, as I’ve said before, came to be in constant combat with my body. When my body cringed away from my attempts to reset a dislocation or break, my mind would make my body press, pull, or twist even harder.

The only time I went to the doctor or emergency room for treatment of a karate related injury was when it was something I couldn’t treat or fix myself. I put in a couple of stitches once for a cut but it didn’t go so well. The needle didn’t want to penetrate the skin and I couldn’t tie the sewing thread close enough to the cut to be very effective. Next time I got cut, a student’s toenail sliced open the webbing between my middle and ring fingers, I went to the emergency room and let them handle it. It was a strange, gapping cut that I couldn’t figure out how to close. This was in the early days and I was in my gi. The doctor had never seen a karate injury before. He called in all of the other doctors, who all got a kick out of it, at my expense. This was another reason I avoided doctors and hospitals.

I’m certainly not advocating this approach for anyone but myself. In fact, it was probably a bad idea. It made my mind and spirit stronger and raised my pain tolerance but probably did so while putting my body at greater risk.

Thanks again for putting up with my ramblings.