Memories of Bruce

(Black Belt Magazine Dec. 1989 V-27 No. 12)

I traveled extensively throughout Northern California during the 1960s.  My travels afforded me the opportunity to meet and become friends with many kung fu masters and their students.

Among the close friends I made during this time was the late James Lee.  He and I spent hours comparing the concepts and principles of his kung fu and my Kenpo.  Although he was not a big man, he was tremendously powerful.  He could break a six bricks with a single back fist.  You could select the brick you wanted him to break, and he could break it without disturbing any of the other bricks.  He was wiry, full of energy, and always seeking the ultimate challenge.

In September or October of 1963, I received a call from Jimmy.  His voice is full of excitement and he could hardly contain himself.  "Ed," he said, "I just met this kid from Seattle who you've got a meet.  He is a Wing Chun man and he is something else!  Not only is he fast, but boy does he pack a wallop!  He isn't big, but he hit me with a one-inch punch and sent me clear across my garage - at least 15 to 20 feet.  Unbelievable, unbelievable.  I've never seen or felt anything like it."

I was finally able to get a few words in and ask him who this guy was, where he was from, and where he got his training, and other questions.  Jim said "his name is Bruce Lee.  He was born in San Francisco, and spent most of his life in Hong Kong, where he practiced Wing Chun."

I consented to meet Bruce in Oakland, California, where James Lee lived.

When I first met him, he struck me as clean-cut and handsome.  He was extremely friendly, joked continually, and was obviously a philosophy buff, judging from his conversation.

He proceeded to discuss his martial art and its merits, along with his own concepts.  Then he began to punch, and the sleeve of his windbreaker literally "popped" the air.  His movements were graceful, crisp, and powerful.  As I observed his technique, I could see his unyielding balance as his body settled with each punch.  He had obviously mastered the concepts of body momentum and precise angles of impact.  These factors contributed to his power.

Once I observed Bruce’s extraordinary talent, I knew that I should introduce Bruce to the film and television producers and directors I knew.  A number of TV and movie people were expected to attend my first International Karate Championships in 1964 in Long Beach, California, so I asked Bruce to demonstrate his skills there.  Bruce's demonstration was captured on film, and after the tournament I show the film to producer Bill Dozier, who hired Bruce as Kato for his Green Hornet television series.  The rest is history.

I still think about the times that Bruce and I have spent traveling from coast-to-coast, and the memorable discussions we had.  He once asked me which of the nation's three top point karate fighters generated the most power on contact.  When I gave him my answer, he was shocked, because I had made the same choice after he had worked out with all three of them.

"Tell me how you knew," he said.

I answered, "because of the synchronized timing of body mass with the strike.  That's why you're good, Bruce.  Upon impact, your whole body is in focus with your natural weapon."

He looked at me for a while, and with a slight smirk on his face, comfortably sat back in his chair.

On another occasion, Bruce told me of his experiences on a live TV show in Hong Kong, where he and four other kung fu masters were asked to demonstrate their skills.  The first master settled into a stance and invited a second master to throw him off balance.  The second master was not able to do so, nor was the third. The first master then told Bruce, "hey, you young punk, you come up and try."

Bruce, ignoring the gentleman's impoliteness, calmly stood before him, settled into his stance, then punched the master in the face and dropped him.  Bruce said "When I fight, I punch, I don't push."

That was Bruce.