"The King" and I

(Black Belt Magazine March 1990 V-28 No. 3)

On an afternoon in 1960, I gave a demonstration for a group of physicians at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel in Los Angeles.  Those who had gathered to see my and my students were full of enthusiasm, and were extremely amazed and pleased with our demonstration.  As the group began to leave, I was shocked to see Elvis Presley present in the audience with his entourage and friends.  Elvis approached me and said “I don’t think you know me, but my name is Elvis Presley.”  I laughed inwardly, impressed by his humility.  We went out by the hotel pool and spent about three hours talking.  That day was the beginning of a close friendship that endured for 17 years.

Elvis told me of his great interest in karate.  He mentioned that he had studied karate on a limited scale while in the army.  He also mentioned that his mother had been very protective of him.  He was not allowed to participate in any athletic activities at school or on the playground; the possibility of his being injured was his mother’s constant fear.  He regretted not having participated in football or other athletic activities while he was in school, and he desired to participate in a contact sport.

Elvis felt that karate was the answer to his years of inactivity.  He said he had noticed that my system was obviously innovative.  He had been introduced to a rigid, traditional style of karate while stationed in West Germany, but preferred the fluidity of my style’s movements.  Noting my system’s diverse methods of attack and defense, he said “It’s obvious that you are a rebel in your field, as I am in mine.”  That was a great compliment, and was one of the points that solidified our friendship.  Not long after, he began training with me in Kenpo.

I was impressed with Elvis’ questions.  He was not a “know-it-all”; he listened intently to what I had to say and didn’t interrupt.  He was always attentive, congenial, and enthused about new knowledge.  No matter what the subject or who was teaching it, he remained attentive, curious, and fully engrossed in the topic at hand.

Elvis studied Kenpo primarily at his Beverly Hills home, but also while on tour, and occasionally at my West Los Angeles studio.  He was an intense person; when the sprit moved him, he would study for days on end.  Determination was a big part of his character.   He prodded, pried and questioned.  He was not only interested in how, but in why as well.  He was intrigued with the logic of what I taught.  He enjoyed my analogies to life’s experiences, which helped him understand Kenpo’s principles more precisely.  He appreciated the realistic approaches to encounters.  There were occasions when he wanted to feel the moves, wanted to be hit.  He wanted to be assured that the moves he was being taught really worked.  I can vividly remember his boyish grin when he was convinced that the techniques did work.

Elvis’ martial arts training greatly influenced his performances on stage.  While his body language thrilled the girls, his use of Kenpo on stage did much to create interest in the martial arts.  One of Elvis’ most interesting uses of Kenpo came when he would drop into a karate stance at the end of each of his concerts.  He would assume a wide forward bow stance, placing his right arm above his head with his right forearm parallel to the ground, and his left arm positioned in an “L” pattern at chest level.  If I was on tour with him, he would assume this pose while facing stage right, and look at me to see whether he should leave the stage in that direction.  If I told him “Yes,” he would go that way.  If I told him “No,’ he would assume the same pose facing stage left, get confirmation from me, and be off the stage like a shot in that direction.  The audience never really knew the meaning of this pose; they just thought he was being dramatic.  In reality, he was paying tribute to the martial arts.

Elvis did receive a black belt from me, and he is one of those listed under my family tree of black belts.  However, Elvis was far greater as a singer and as a humanitarian.

I’d like to conclude with a story Elvis once told me.  While stationed in West Germany, he was scheduled to go out on winter combat maneuvers.  Elvis was looking forward to the maneuvers, but he later received orders that he was to be exempted from participating.  Instead, he was given special permission to fly out of West Germany on the Pope’s private plane to entertain a private party.  But Elvis refused.  He said “If my buddies have to go out into the field and freeze their buns, so will I.”  That was Elvis – refusing an invitation from the Pope himself for the good of his pals.

Elvis, like Bruce Lee, was one of a kind in his field.  To this very day, I ask myself why I was a part of both their lives.  Though I’m not sure of the answer, I do know that Elvis and Bruce were a memorable part of my life.