One of the
gigs we had in the Washington Metropolitan Police Boys Club Band was, I believe,
a Boy Scout Jamboree at the D.C. Armory, most likely in 1968. We probably played several John Phillip Sousa marches, and
maybe the National Anthem. While most of
the details have faded from memory after all these years, what I recall for
certain is that in the midst of everything else that occurred that evening
there was a demonstration of Kung Fu by none other than Bruce Lee.
He wore a
white suit as he demonstrated techniques and spoke about martial arts. At the time, Bruce Lee was featured as the
character Kato on the television show, The Green Hornet. As a 13-year-old, I
was more aware of him in that role than I was of his preeminence as a martial
arts master.
Bruce Lee’s
appearance at the event was sponsored by Jhoon Rhee, a prominent figure in
introducing the Korean art of Tae Kwon Do to the United States, and who had
several martial arts schools in the Washington, D.C. area. Master Rhee actually showed up at one of our band
rehearsals leading up to the night at the Armory.
At the time,
I had little-to-no interest in martial arts and never once imagined that it
would become a part of my life. Like
almost everyone else I had no real understanding of what the practice of the
arts was about. Much to my surprise, that
all changed a little over twenty years later.
Around 1990,
our two sons, Gabe and Matt, said they wanted to learn Karate. They, like many other children their ages
(roughly 8 and 6 years old at
the time) watched the Teenage Mutant
Ninja Turtles on television and wanted to be like them.
After some
discussion, we signed up the guys in the Fairfax County recreation program of
Tae Kwon Do that featured weekly classes for children. Mary and I sat with the other parents and
watched the kids learn basic blocking, kicking, and punching techniques. The guys enjoyed it, but I still did not
think much of it.
As the kids
learned the techniques they occasionally were tested and given belt ranks as they
advanced. Starting as ‘No-belts” they
first earned a white belt, then it was on to white stripe belt, and then gold
belt. At that point, the instructor
recommended enrolling in an actual martial arts school if the kids intended to
continue practicing. I wasn’t
enthralled with the prospect, but the guys were still enthused and wanted to
keep going.
So, one
evening I took them to the Mountain Kim Martial Arts School in Falls Church to
investigate the possibility. The instructor
was Master Park, a solidly built young Korean man whose English, while not
great, was better than my non-existent Korean language ability. The school was one of several Mountain Kim schools, Mountain
Kim being a Korean champion Tae Kwon Do master who oversaw the
organization. The Falls Church location
was actually the basement with a downstairs entrance in back of a small strip mall shopping area. There was indoor-outdoor
carpet on the floor, mirrors along one wall, a few coat hooks just inside the
entrance, a metal desk and chair for Master Park, and a couple of restrooms at
the far end of the rectangular cinder block room.
As we
discussed enrollment with Master Park, he looked at me and said, “You want to
sign-up, too?” Until that moment it
never occurred to me to do so, but it made sense: I would be there anyway as the guys took
classes, and I was not engaged in much, if any, physical activity. So, I signed up, put on a uniform and joined the class, taking my place in the back
with the other “No-belts,” children and youth of various ages. During the warm-ups, which actually were quite vigorous,
Master Park kept an eye on me. I guess
he was worried I might keel over.
We attended
classes three evenings per week, and gradually advanced along the belt rank
levels. Tests were sometimes held at our
school and sometimes were held elsewhere when all the Mountain Kim schools came
together for tests. There were
tournaments a couple of times a year, and as I attended and observed it was
apparent that those of us from the Falls Church school were in better shape and
further advanced than most of the students from the other schools. Master Park worked us hard, and it paid
off. Gabe and Matt won trophies and medals
in their age categories at tournaments, as did others from the school.
After a
couple of years, the three of us reached the rank of red belt, which was one
step below black belt. At that point,
the recommendation was to add Fighting Class to our practice. While sparring was a part of the training all along the
belt-progression track, Fighting Class took it to another level. So, now we were taking four classes per week,
with Fighting Class on Saturday mornings.
I thought
Master Park worked us hard before, but this was something else. We put on full fighting gear even for the
warm-ups, which were more intense than regular class warm-ups. Then it was on to full-contact sparring, usually 8 or 10
two-minute rounds. It was a
workout. I was about 38 years old.
Suddenly,
something happened, and Master Park lost the lease to his school. It closed and we had to transfer to another
school. We ended up at the McLean
school, which was run by Mountain Kim’s brother, Myung Kim, called “Bruce Lee”
Kim. Right away, we saw again that
Master Park worked us much harder than students were expected to work in other schools, but several
of us from the Falls Church school were together again in McLean, and we took
it to a higher level. Some of the McLean
students disappeared after a while.
Speaking of disappearing,
we never heard from or saw Master Park again.
It’s still a mystery what happened to him, and none of the Mountain Kim
people ever spoke of him or acted like they knew anything when asked.
While we
attended weeknight classes at the McLean school, we went to the Vienna school
for Fighting Class on Saturdays. So,
that all continued.
Mountain Kim
always said that one out of ninety students who began classes at his schools
made it to black belt. The percentages
vary among schools and programs, but it seems to be somewhere in that range
universally. I noticed a lot of turnover
of students, and it seemed that green belt was a cut-off point for many people. I’m not sure why, unless people felt they
learned enough by that point for the art to be useful to them, but it was
pretty common for folks to stop practicing at that level. The remaining belts were blue, brown and red
with the stripe levels in-between. There
was no red stripe, but red was the longest level at which people practiced, in
preparation for the black belt test.
After about
26 or 27 months of intense practice, I was ready to test for black belt. I was 39 years old. The test lasted some three hours and
included demonstrating proficiency at EVERYTHING learned up to that
point: kicking, punching, and blocking
techniques; forms, or choreographed sparring patterns for every belt level;
one-step sparring, which was a series of reactive moves to attacks, again, for
every belt level; board-breaking: five
targets in a combination of punches and kicks for the test; Korean terminology
for the techniques and for counting; and, of course, full-contact sparring.
At my test, I
was the first one to do the sparring portion, and had to spar with 6 black
belts consecutively with only a few seconds between, as one bowed out and the
next one bowed in. Then, I got back in
line with the others being tested, and sparred with each of them, about a dozen
in all.
Following the
test by a couple of weeks was the Black Belt Ceremony where the belts and
certificates were presented by Mountain Kim.
In his speech he reminded us of our responsibilities as leaders among
the other students, and told us once again, as we were told at
the very beginning of our practice as No-belts, to only use Tae Kwon Do
techniques in the most extreme circumstances.
It would be better to run away than to fight, he reminded us, and even
issued ID cards that we could show to someone who threatened us, letting them
know we were black belts.
Part of the
responsibilities of black belts was to not only set an example for lower belt
students, but also to become instructors.
So, I began teaching classes at the McLean school, holding and grading
tests there and at the larger Mountain Kim group tests, and refereeing at
tournaments. I also competed in three
tournaments, reaching the final round each time, and winning Grand Champion
once, at age 40.
When I
finally gave up Tae Kwon Do practice, I was teaching seven classes per week,
including one at a local elementary school.
It was, of course, in addition to my real job.
After a few
years we moved to Florida, and there Mary and I took up the practice of Tai
Chi, which included other Chinese martial arts forms. After a few years I was teaching classes
again, this time just once per week. All
told, I actively practiced martial arts for about 16 years.
So, even
though I watched Bruce Lee demonstrate martial arts all those years ago and did
not take it seriously, I ended up giving a good portion of my middle years to
the practice. I wish I had begun
earlier, and treasure the time spent engaged in a way of life that provided
relief from great stress I experienced in my working life, gave me an
opportunity to share something meaningful with my family, provided physical as
well as mental benefits, introduced me to some nice people and a different
culture, and was simply a lot of fun.
Just recently, our grandson Logan, at age 6, earned his gold belt in Tae Kwon Do, making him a third-generation martial artist in our family.
