(Black Belt Magazine Oct. 1990 V-28 No. 10)
Joe Hyams is a good friend to help you succeed in Hollywood. It was he who arranged for me to put on a Kenpo demonstration for Gary Cooper in 1961. Cooper was interested in having his daughter Maria take karate lessons, and wanted to see firsthand what she would be learning. Having been longtime fan of Cooper's work, I looked forward to meeting him.
Cooper's Beverly Hills mansion was magnificent and overwhelming. It stretched for what seemed to be half a mile. Hyams was already there when my students and I arrived, and he made the introductions to Cooper, his wife Rocky, and his daughter Maria.
As the demonstration got underway, I suddenly realized our roles were now reversed: cooper the actor had become Cooper the spectator, while I was now the performer. It was very gratifying to see Cooper's excitement and facial expressions. The demo lasted about 45 minutes, after which I answered questions about the martial arts. Cooper's questions were straight into the point. He wanted to know, for example, exactly what Maria would be learning, how Kenpo would benefit her and, most importantly, wanted to be assured that she would not be injured while training.
A Spanish bullfighter who happened to be visiting Cooper was also in attendance and was fascinated by the speed and footwork necessary to get out of the way of an attack. I detailed the various foot maneuvers Kenpo employs when defending or attacking. I can understand his interest sense, in his work, his life depended on his ability to evade the bulls attacks.
I asked to take a shower after the workout, and Cooper said "Yes, by all means" and escorted me to his bathroom with a slight smirk on his face. I sense something was up, and found out what it was only after I had turned on the water and leapt shrieking from the shower! Cooper had just installed five showerheads aimed at different parts of the bathers body - bottom, sides, and top - and I could hear his laughter behind the bathroom door at my reaction to being hit unexpectedly. This actor who seemed so poker-faced on the screen actually had a sense of humor. I found this to be even more evident later on.
Our lunch included some regal-looking sandwiches prepared in a manner I had never seen before, and I had no clue as to the proper way to eat them. The food just sat there as we conversed, and although I had worked up an appetite, I was hoping that Hyams or someone else would start in on the sandwiches so I could find out how to perceive myself. Finally Rocky picked up a fork and knife and transferred one of the sandwiches to her plate. I watched discreetly as she cut and ate the sandwich as if it were a stake, then I nonchalantly did the same. Later I asked Hyams if he knew how to tackle the sandwiches, and he said "Hell, no. I was waiting for someone to make the first move."
Cooper was a primary conversationalist during lunch. Having pictured him to be a man of few words because of his on-screen manner, I was astonished to see and hear him talk as much as he did. He was a captivating speaker, blending humor and wit as he told us about his recent trip to Russia.
Cooper died of cancer two and a half months after our meeting, and I never had the privilege of teaching his daughter. But the experiences I had that day will always live in my memory.
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