Chapter Two
Master Yamaguchi Teaches [Buck becomes a Friend
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The weather was warm in the summer of l968, a breeze from the bay seeped through the city, and the Turtles, the Doors and the Beatles music were being played everywhere, along with Elvis Comeback. Everyone dressed like Sonny and Cher, or the Mommas and the Papas it seemed everyone but me that is; inasmuch as I liked the way everyone dressed, I found myself still quite conservative.
The trees along many of the streets especially Dolores Avenue were glossy green. I bought some bread, and white spread-on cheese, brought it to the dojo and put it in the refrigerator, I liked it, something new that I picked up here in San Francisco. Along with a corner store that would make any kind of sandwich you wanted.
Because of the change in weather from Minnesota to San Francisco, my eating habits were also changing, --to lighter foods that is, and less meats; --more Chinese foods also; I really didnt care for Japanese foods. Some one brought in raw snake, or so it seemed with white rice in the middle of it, and offered it as a treat for us at the dojo one evening, it must have been Goesi, --but that is a guess, I cant remember. Although I always seemed to have a good appetite, after a bite or two of the treat, I lost it for the rest of the evening; but as I was saying, with all the walking, and now working at Lilli Ann, the dress designing outfit, and doing my Karate everyday, my appetite was vigorous.
It was great to walk the night away along the ocean front with my karate friends, looking at the many fires along the Pacific Coast. The warmth of the fires shifted all the way to sensory-senses, smelling the burnt-wood on the fires, all several of us, watching the flickering of the flames, its sparks trying to ascend to the asteroid belt; --as the shinning moon glided across the water right to the edge of the coast, as if it had its orders stop right there. I felt it was a good time to be alive. I loved the water; --the sounds of the huge waves hit the banks of the coast. The white foam splattering all about. My days seemed endless, filled with so much
back in St. Paul, Minnesota, the Mississippi runs right through the city, all the way down to St. Louis, and onto New Orleans; and you got it, right to the Gulf of Mexico. As a kid Id play down along its banks with my friend Mike Rosette. We were quite the team. Wed run in and out the caves along the cliffs that paralleled the banks of the Mississippi; sometimes dodging the drunks asleep snoring away the morning or as sometimes it would be, the afternoon. But this was different, this was not the Mighty Mississippi, Mark Twains haven, as he so loved to write about, as I loved to walk beside as a kid, --but this was the Gigantic Pacific Ocean, what I heard about, read about and now was in front of. It was hard for me to adjust to seeing so much water. Much a lone, not see an end to it. It took my breath away, like standing in front of the Empire State Building looking up, or looking down the Grand Canyon. I had to run up to it just to say I touched it, got wet; as if it was sacred waters. But then anyone from Minnesota would have done the same Im sure, or lied that they didnt, --at first glance anyhow.
Also, along the Mississippi, youd see rats as large as fat cats, or small dogs, here you seen white jelly fish, colored sea shells, among a few things. To everyone else it was common, to me I was spell bound. In St. Paul, they stopped allowing fires back in 63, too many false alarms, and the fire company, or stations got sick of running for every fire around. We used to burn our trash in 50-gallon drums back then. After about six to nine months, grandpa would have me and my brother tip it over and empty it out into a dug out hole, and bury it. But those days were gone to; along with burning the fall leaves, I liked t hat also, the fall-smell of the leaves, the sparks, just like these fires. And so seeing the fires brought back memories, even though the relationship was quite different, they had their similarities.
Buck, I said, asking The police dont do anything about these people having fires, and sleeping the night away smoking pot, or whatever?
Buck looked at me strange, No Chick, its just the timeseveryone leaves everyone else alone here; or tries to. These people are just here for a short period of time, anyway.
We stood and looked over the camps, the flames, until we finally got tired and headed back to the dojo; it seemed it was the meeting place. At least for me, because it was where I would sleep.
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The following evening Gosei was instructing a class, there was about thirty of us sitting around the dojo, legs crossed this evening. I was there three weeks ago when Big John, now a first degree black, had just gotten his belt promotion to blac k belt, then a week later, he was training with Buck, and was suppose to pull his punches because they were working on form and technique but Big John did not agree with the limitations it seemed, and smashed Buck in the face. Now a week after that event, here we are training and warming up for this evening, Gosei had us all sit back down after about twenty minutes, towards the walls, and called Big John out to help him with a demonstration. I felt something was going to happen; it was in the air.
About this time I was getting to know Goseis ways pretty well. He was a small man, quiet, but as fast as lightening, and you just never knew what was on his mind, as if he was always thinking. Ive seen he throws combination after combination of punches and kicks, while demonstrating with Buck; I just never could get the camera to take quick enough pictures, there seemed always to have a blur in them showing the velocity. When the pictures got developed they by way of the blur, it was amazing to examine the picture and figure out how to work around his combination. And every time he did something, he had perfect balance. As I had learned in life, is the secret to life, in everything, physical, mental, spiritual, and psychological. If one of those elements were missing, I had a problem, or would have. On the other hand he was the most sensitive person on earth, and loved mankind in his own careful way. And knew somehow, the nature of a man, as he mixed it with his culture; that is to say, whatever was expected of the Japanese student, in Japan, was not necessary what he expected of Americans in America. Something I would pick up, not quite knowing where I had inherited it from, but as I would in the future do some traveling, I learned how to adjust in several different countries without any difficulties for extended periods of times. It is a mater of reasoning. In any case, and Goesi was the first to present this combination for my life travels I would need after I left San Francisco
as Big John got into his stance, and at this time I was a Green Belt, ready to get my Brown Belt any day, so I knew many of the moves that would take place, and had about a year and a half of karate practice under my belt prior to coming to San Francisco, of which a few months were with the Master Yamaguchi. As I was saying Big John was in his stance --and GoJo Ryu being a defensive style of karate, someone had to start and so Gosei made a false move, meaning just to motivate his opponent; possible this is what happened to Buck and John taking advantage of it because it was practice. In any case, then it happened: --Big John started throwing his long arms out, and Goesi got under them, around them, and must of hit him a half dozen times in the process; for John fell into a corner trying to push the punches away without much affect, which was another mistake of his, Gosei cut him done like a big oak tree because he left h imself open then, until he was almost on his knees combinations were going faster than the eye could calculate, then he pulled back and stopped and bowed, walked away, and instructed the rest of us on what to do next. Nobody was talking about what happened, but I knew the subconscious of many were working overtime, mine was. I loved it. I knew Goesi was particular on how his students used their knowledge of karate, and one lesson was --I suppose, no one cares how much you know, until you show how much you care. And Goesi showed always how much he cared; and to be quite frank, so did Buck.
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Buck came over to me the next day and asked if I wanted to go to the Japanese movies with him; he really liked the sword fighters, the samurais. I liked doing that, --that is going to the movies and witnessing the samurai in motion, --I was in a different world, an interesting compared to my St. Paul world. Matter of fact, I would always hold a little interest in tha t area, after San Francisco, also; as well as Sumo wrestling of which I would attend one some thirty years down the road in Japan; as well as bullfights, I would attend in Mexico, and cockfights in Peru, and all matters of combat, I could absorb: --I even ended up in Argentina for a South American Championship boxing match some thirty-four years later.
I think Goesi had asked Buck, --in fear Id go astrayor go drink myself to death, to befriend me a little. He was a real father figure for me, plus a hero of sorts, and was turning out to be a friend as well. And so we went. I like this particular one, or personage in the Samurai movie world, he was blind and could use his sword like Yamaguchi could his hands. If Im not mistaken, once this Samurai cut a fly into. I think they had real good special effects in Japan for that movie; but I liked it. Buck liked Edgar Rice Burroughs also, he had read I think all seventy or eighty of his books, to include Tarzan, the Mar s books, Venus ones and god knows what else. I couldnt believe he read all them.
I was learning something from Buck, not only how to be a friend, and fight, but how it might be possible someday for me to go to college, it was in the back of my head----way back there; I was learning many things were possible. I guess I had never thought about it, or even put it to a vote for myself, but he was inspiring me, as I was learning. And in the years to follow I would end up going to four Universities, getting two degrees, and a Counseling License. At the time Id have never dreamed of that. At best, possible a truck driver and that is not a cut, but reality.
The following weekend, Buck, Lorenzo and his wife, Tom [the banker, Coleman, the 2nd Degree Black Belt [a small black man, Joe, 2nd Degree Black Belt [Spanish, and I all went out to Golden Gate Park. It was monstrous. Every one playing freeze-bee, a fun game of sorts [you simply threw a disc made of rubber and t he person on the other end would have to catch it like a ball. I learned it quick, good for the reflexes Buck said. We all just walked around the park, played about, stopped and Lorenzos wife made some sandwiches, and we lay upon the grass waiting the day away; something I again was not used of doing, I was quite the restless person. As we left the park, there were hundreds of hippie kids all about, smoking joints; a few bands playing, car radios being played loud. On one side of me I could hear the song The Battle of the Green Berets, and on the other side was the theme of The Good, Bad and the Ugly. And the live band was playing: Well sing in the Sunshine. As we got into the car, I was hoping when Lorenzo turned on his radio, Id hear some Elvis, or Rick Nelson music, or even Johnny Cash, but I knew most of my generation had shifted to the newer music, but everyone was talking so the radio never got turned on.
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Goesi and Buck were seemingly very cl ose. Buck was about 510 about l80 pounds, short hair, very flexible with his body. A warm voice, slow to speak, yet quick if need be; --broad shoulders. He had a tan color to his skin, and was quite handsome. One might liken him to a loner, but Id prefer to be the loner, and let him be the private person. I was never his companion to speak of, yet I might be considered his unrefined friend of sorts.
Often when Id go into the dojo at night, Goesi would be working on some file, or doing some accounting, writing letters, signing certificates, Id let him know it was me, and hed ask me to play the guitar. He liked listening to it. I sat on the sofa and played, and sometimes Id play for an hour or so. He liked several songs I played, one he kept asking me to play over and over and I did. Then hed leave, lock the door behind him, the lights would go off and Id go to sleep.
There was an old haunting story about this old dojo that scared the best of the tough black belts that would come around each year for the International Go Jo Ryu tournament, along with the ones that came were here on an everyday bases; also, no one, I mean no one wanted to sleep in the dojo. I guess they had in the past but after they slept once they never did again; it was the tapping of the ghost. I slept there all the time, going on three months. What everyone was scared of, I didnt believe, ----I asked, and every time I did, it would come up The Ghost. Again, maybe a dump Midwestern didnt get the drift, but I had time, Id only have to wait for the tournament to come about, which was going to take place at the Cow Place soon, it was set for December, 1968. And then Id sort out truth from fiction. It was all about ghosts for the most part, and the racket [noise he or she made. I heard ghosts stories before, you know them one everyone talks about, but no one experiences. And I would guess until you do it sounded like foolishness to the best of men. But t hese people were telling me they had experience them, and in time, so would the black belts from around the world tell me the same story, and again, no one would sleep in the dojo. Ghost or not I was staying, plus where else would I go, so if he existed, hed have to get used to me, and I to him. Plus, each night when I went to bed, I was half drunk anyway. So if he was around, he never woke me up.
I was somewhat ambiguous to everything, yet it didnt matter, I was just living a dream, one unheard of for a person like me, coming out of a neighborhood of thugs, although in their own way, they were good folk, but none the less, drunks and thugs. And to be able to see the great man Gogen Yamaguchi in the near future, was a grand prize I didnt expect. In the mean time, Goesi was teaching me how to use his expensive camera for the tournament. I would be the major photographer, he always seemed to give me more trust than I deserved, not sure why; and that to would sti ck with me,--as a good omen [it gave me confidence in other things along my road of life. It would only be black belt participation, and they would come from all over the USA, to include Hawaii, Alaska, and New York City. Goesi wanted me to get trained and possible represent the Midwest with his blessings I guess. I would also get to meet his father, the Cat, Gogen Yamaguchi, one of the few 10th degree black belts in the world. The longer I stayed, the more San Francisco seemed to be pleasing to me, in a festive way, and a number of other ways.
As the day drew closer to the tournament, Gosei asked --leaning against the archway to the dojo, as I sat on the sofa about to take my karate coat off, and go on down to the bars. Not sure if Gosei knew I was spending time there, but if so, so be it, plus I dont believe he knew how very much time I was there, You will be the main photo man for the tournament, ok, he said to me and smiled, Yes sir, I said, as he added, You do ing well with pictures. Are you eating? Then he hesitated. I nodded my head yes.
He added:
I get some complaints from neighbors that someone living here, and it is not good for apartment; something about city code. You must move in few weeks, Joe will help find place for you, Im so sorry.
He looked hurt to have to tell me, but he knew it couldnt be anyone else. It was silly to think I could live here forever, well it was rather a matter of when I had to move, not if I had to.
its fine sir, I told Gosei, Ill start looking myself. He smiled a bit and walked back into his office. Looked at the piggy bank I gave him for his child. Funny I thought he left it there on his desk, not sure why. I never asked way, or for that matter talked back to him, it was much more interesting to listen to him, and learn, he was wise in many ways, and I would become the person I would become no matter what.
I didnt buy many cloths in those days, I couldnt affo rd them, plus at work, Mr. Green was giving me his sons old cloths. He was much like my grandpa, always ornery, and nobody got along with him but me. My boss didnt even get along with him, and was afraid to confront him because he would dominate him, and get him fired. But I seem to walk by him and never pay any attention to his moods, like grandpa back home whom my brother and I were raised by for the most part, that is, he and my mother. Grandpa would walk by me all the time mumble this and that. I seemed to absorb it like fish does water, and it rolled right off my back, or over my fins. My boss was shocked he was bringing me cloths. But then I was also.
Mr. Green would say, The boy doesnt wear this anymore, it looks better on you, --for the most part, take it Id say, You sure sir, it looks new and hed look with a grin at me, then Id say, Well, I sure appreciate it, and take it quickly so not to offend him, plus I did wear them; and needed them. Sometimes whe n I did wear them at work, Id go out of my way so he would see me with the shirt on, and hed show just a little pride around his lips. I learned some of the old grouches of the world were the most willing to give; --it was just that life had been hard on them. I suppose he got more appreciation from me than his boy; or so it sounded.
See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Chapter stories
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