Against All Odds: My Story (22 page)

I
n 1987, Bob Wall and I traveled to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, on a scuba diving trip, so while we were there, we checked out the various forms of martial arts schools. We worked out at several of the schools, and everywhere we went, somebody told us another astounding story about the amazing Gracie family, local
jujitsu
icons. “We don't mess with the Gracies,” everyone said. “Those guys are tough!”

Bob and I decided we wanted to meet the Gracie family, so we searched out their school in Rio. There we met Helio Gracie, the father of the clan, a small man in his mid-seventies, who was still a capable martial artist himself. His son, Rikson, was the leader of the younger Gracie sons. Bob and I asked if we could work out with them, and the Gracies gladly obliged.

I had done some
jujitsu
before with Gene LaBelle in the States, and I am a black belt in judo, so I felt quite confident that I could keep up with these boys. But when we got on the mat and began grappling, I quickly discovered that every martial art move I knew was ineffective against the Gracies. It was as though I'd never had a lesson in my life! It was the most humbling experience I'd ever had as a martial artist. Those guys just cleaned my clock!

Helio Gracie came over to the mat and wanted to grapple with me. We wrestled around on the mat, and I was able to get on top of him, when suddenly Mr. Gracie said, “Chuck, punch me.”

“Oh, Mr. Gracie, I'm not going to punch you.”

“No, no, it's OK. Go ahead and punch me,” the elderly gentleman insisted.

“Well … OK.” I halfheartedly brought my arm up … and that was the last thing I remembered! I was out cold.

When I woke up and looked around, I figured out that the little old fellow had put a choke hold on me, robbing me of consciousness in a flash. And my throat felt as though it was going to be sore for days!

Mr. Gracie smiled and said, “Chuck, stay here with me in Rio. Train with my sons and me, and I'll make you one of the best
jujitsu
artists in the world.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gracie, but I really have to get back,” I said, trying to swallow. I was preparing to do a film back home, so I wasn't able to stay longer in Brazil.

Eventually the Gracies moved to California, where they opened a
jujitsu
studio, along with the Muchado brothers, four top-notch martial artists. Since then, the Gracies and the Muchados have become some of my dearest friends.

Their approach to
jujitsu
is one of the most effective in the world, especially useful for close encounters, which most street fights tend to be. The Gracies could take an attacker down faster than anyone I've ever seen. Even in practice, they could get a person in a submission hold from which it was practically impossible to escape without breaking an arm, leg, or ankle. They also had an uncanny ability to shift from one move to another quickly and smoothly, leaving their opponents wondering what had happened! Their secret was all leverage, not physical strength, but believe me, they truly are the amazing Gracies.

Since 1978, I have headed up an organization of black belt martial artists known as the United Fighting Arts Federation. Each year in July, I invite all my black belt students to join me at a convention in Las Vegas, where we train together for several days. For ten straight years beginning in 1993, the Gracies and the Muchado brothers have presented seminars at the convention.

Once my black belt students become proficient in
chun kuk do
(the universal way), I want them to become adept in
jujitsu
as well. And there's nobody in the world better at
jujitsu
than the Gracies and Muchados.

During the 1999 convention, Carlos Muchado, the elder brother of the family, asked me, “Chuck, why don't you help me out with my beginners.”

“OK, Carlos. It will be fun.”

Carlos was teaching a class comprised of twenty-two of our new black belts. Young, agile, and strong, these were the cream of our new crop of martial artists, and I was delighted to spend some time with them.

Carlos asked me to participate in demonstrating to the class some holds and how to get out of them. I was showing one of the black belt students how to escape a hold, when suddenly he started grappling with me, trying to wrestle me to the ground.

This wasn't exactly what I had in mind.

But we were already into it, so I maneuvered him into an arm bar, a painful hold that he didn't want to endure for long. Almost immediately, he tapped the mat, which means “I give up!”

Another student saw us grappling and called out, “Mr. Norris, can I grapple with you?”

“Oh, ah …, oh, OK.” That student and I grappled for a few minutes before I got him in a hold, forcing him to tap out.

Soon another black belt wanted to grapple. I started going through the entire class, one at a time. Many of the young black belts were college wrestlers in their early twenties! I thought,
Oh, man, what have I gotten myself into?

Victor Matera, an enthusiastic young black belt was in the group, standing by, closely observing the matches. Each time I made someone tap out, Victor would go over to Carlos Muchado and ask, “What would you do to defend against that?”

Carlos would then show Victor how to avoid getting into that particular hold. As I continued to grapple with the row of students, Carlos continued dispensing information to Victor on how to counteract each of my holds or how to defeat my moves. With each student my available repertoire of surprise moves was being diminished!

Finally I had subdued every student but Victor, who then came over and asked, “Mr. Norris, can I grapple with you?”

“Oh, I don't know,” I said. “I'm pretty tired.”

“Oh, please, Mr. Norris, let me be the last one.”

“Well, all right.”

We began grappling, and as I would attempt a submission hold, Victor managed to avoid it. He had the advantage of seeing all my moves, plus the benefit of Carlos's suggestions to counteract and escape my holds. Nevertheless, within about two minutes, I had the young man tapping out, as well.

I was nearly exhausted, but the demonstration really increased my reputation with that bunch of black belts. “Mr. Norris made twenty-two black belts submit back-to-back!” I heard one of them say. I smiled, knowing that I wouldn't need any more ego strokes for quite a while.

I love working out with my former students—or the students of my former students—but it gets tougher to keep up with them every year. On another occasion at the convention, the students were practice-kicking a dummy that was electronically wired to determine the force with which the students were kicking in pounds per square inch. Most of the students were kicking the dummy somewhere in the range of two hundred pounds per square inch. A few of them struck the dummy with almost three hundred pounds per square inch of force as registered by the meter. That's quite a wallop, and I was extremely impressed.

“Mr. Norris, why don't you give it a try? Let's see you kick it,” one of my black belt students suggested.

I hemmed and hawed a bit. “Oh, I don't think so … ”

“Oh, please, Mr. Norris. Let's see you do it!”

I finally acquiesced and said, “Well, OK; I'll give it a try.”

I leaped up and kicked the dummy. I don't know what I did differently from our students; I must have hit the dummy perfectly or something because the meter registered an impact of six hundred pounds per square inch!

“Holy mackerel!” one of the black belts shouted. “Nobody has ever done that. Nobody has gotten the meter above three hundred pounds, and Mr. Norris more than doubled that!”

Believe me, I was as amazed as my black belts! The students looked at me in awe and went back to trying to better their readings. None of them kicked the dummy with half the force my kick had registered.

I'm sure that my amazing kick must have been due to some sort of aberration in the meter, but as far as my students were concerned, I was an Adonis!

CHAPTER 19

AN UNEXPECTED ADVOCATE

A
s a martial arts instructor for fifteen years, I taught thousands of young boys and girls, many of whom harbored deep insecurities that caused a lack of self-esteem. I loved teaching them because as they became more proficient in the martial arts, they developed a more positive attitude and were more secure in themselves. But these were students whose parents could afford to bring them to my martial arts school and pay for lessons.

I often thought about the millions of young kids whose parents could not afford to send them to a martial arts school or some other program where they could receive these incredible benefits. How could I help those kids? That question stayed in the back of my mind for many years, but I was too busy with my film career to pursue the answer.

It's amazing how thoughts we plant in our minds can eventually materialize into actions. My desire to help underprivileged kids didn't disappear with time but instead grew stronger, yet I was as surprised as anyone to discover how God would cause those seeds to grow and who would come into my life to help them take root and bear fruit.

In 1988, I got a call from Lee Atwater, campaign manager for (then) presidential candidate, George Herbert Walker Bush. Lee asked me if I would emcee a political rally in Riverside, California, for Mr. Bush. I was reluctant to accept, partly because I had never done anything like that. Nevertheless, I told Lee, “If Mr. Bush wants me to emcee the program, I'll be glad to give it a try.”

I'd been politically involved for some time and had gotten to know Ronald and Nancy Reagan through an invitation to participate in a charity tennis event for Mrs. Reagan's “Just Say No” antidrug campaign. My first brush with the Reagans came about when my secretary called me in my car one day and said, “Mrs. Reagan would like you to play in a charity tennis tournament ten days from now in Washington. Would you like to go?”

“Oh, yes. Tell her I'll be glad to play,” I said. When I hung up the phone, it suddenly occurred to me,
I don't know how to play tennis!
I'd never picked up a tennis racket in my life! But I had ten days to learn. I hired a tennis instructor and worked like mad trying to learn the game. Ten days later I was in Washington playing in Mrs. Reagan's charity tennis tournament. I didn't do too badly although I sent a few shots sailing over the fence and into the street! Mrs. Reagan didn't seem to mind, so I didn't, either!

Although some critics have not always been enthusiastic about the pro-America stance I've taken in my movies and in my personal life, I've always been grateful for our country. I'm big on voter awareness, exercising our right to vote, and voicing our opinions. As my mom always said, “If you don't vote, you have no right to complain. You're getting what you asked for.”

I remained politically involved throughout the Reagan-Bush terms of office but usually from a distance—until that call came from Lee Atwater in 1988 inviting me to participate at Riverside.

The Riverside rally for George Herbert Walker Bush was a huge success with about fifteen thousand people attending. It was great fun, and I was honored to speak in support of Vice President Bush. When Mr. Bush took the microphone, he quipped, “I can't begin to tell you how safe I feel standing here next to Chuck Norris!”