If you haven’t read it, the best loved aikido story (after Ueshiba getting enlightened after taking a challenge from a military man who attacked him uselessly with a sword) is Terry Dobson’s “Train Story.” I used to have people come up to tell me the story, and I’d tell them I knew it, knew Terry, was hanging around when he wrote it, and they’d insist on telling me anyway. Look – it’s a wonderful story. It influenced me profoundly and I hope, one one occasion or another, I have exhibited the compassion of that old man. But somehow, I’ve always had bad luck on Japanese trains.
There’s this obsession whether aikido is street creditable. Heck, I know of an aikido club amongst correctional officers in one of the most hardcore prisons in America, and they tell me aikido has been more than useful.
So did I ever use aikido on the street? Yes, I did. Back in the early 70’s, I used to train at Terry Dobson/Ken Nisson’s Bond Street Dojo and also Yamada Yoshimitsu’s New York Aikikai (known to some as as 18th Street). I was a member of the former (I lived in the dojo) and a guest at the latter. I subscribed to Terry’s patchwork ideology: “Aikido is an art of love that will save the world, and if you are concerned about self-defense, you have to ask yourself, what is this ‘self’ you are concerned about, and how can you protect a ‘self’ without love . . . and if you piss me off, I will probably f*ck you up, given the right provocation.”
When I was twelve years old, I wanted to do karate. Actually, another boy to whom I’d already lost a fight was taking karate, and I didn’t want him to have the jump on me that much more. My parents, however, thought it was low class, and refused. I kept nagging. Finally, my father took me down to the basement, picked up a length of two by four, maybe eighteen inches long and said, “If you can break this with your bare hand, I’ll let you do karate.” Honestly, I don’t know if Oyama Masutatsu, the ‘God Hand’ himself, could have broken a piece of dry wood that short, unsecured. Surely, my father thought, I’d try it once or twice, and give up and leave him alone.
Several decades ago, my friends Phil & Nobuko Relnick, high ranking members of Shinto Muso-ryu and Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto-ryu were traveling in Portugal. They visited a school of jogo do pau. Phil and Nobuko wanted to pay proper respect to the school they were visiting, and in proper Japanese fashion, asked, “Who is the instructor.” The older men looked puzzled, conferred with each other and pointing to one man, said, “Probably him. He’s the oldest.”
by Pedro Escudeiro
The 3rd of October 2017, at Ginásio Clube Português,
How old were you when you started practicing martial arts?
I must have started judo sometime around the age of twelve or thirteen, at the Budo Academy in Lisbon. I reached green belt, but then karate classes started–I was there from the start. Our teachers were all Portuguese. Since no one had visited Japan to receive direct instruction, their technical knowledge came from videos they ordered from Japan. A couple of years later, though, we had our first international seminar with a Japanese karate master: Murakami Tetsuji, from Shotokai Karate, a student of Egami Shigeru sensei. After this seminar, Murakami sensei became the leader of our karate group. There was another group of karate practitioners, students of a South African master, who initiated Shotokan Karate in Portugal. [Editor’s note: Although Shotokan and Shotokai come from the same antecedents, they are quite different, as can be seen in the links.]
An Interview of Hamaji Koichi by Gerald Toff
Translated by Matuoka Hiroshi & Edited by Russ Ebert, Published by Aijokai
These days, people have marvelous opportunities to study living martial traditions all over the world. Beyond those who’ve studied the ‘usual,’ among my personal acquaintances are people who have studied with teachers of authentic lineages of: Bökh (Mongolian wrestling); Esgrima con Machete (Venezuelan & Columbian machete fencing); Fllyssa (Amazigh [Berber] sword); Italian stiletto; Portugeuse jogo do pau (staff fighting); Nguni (Zulu stick-fighting) – just to name a few of many martial traditions outside the usually assumed limits of East Asia.
Because of some recent discussions on Ueshiba Morihei’s solo weapon practice, I would like to add some thoughts of my own. I am going to excerpt a relevant passage from my second edition of Hidden in Plain Sight, to set some context as to what Ueshiba was actually doing, followed by some recent observations I made during a trip to Japan, followed by another passage from HIPS.
A 2nd edition of my book, Hidden in Plain Sight has been published through Freelance Academy Press. It is two-thirds larger than the original, with eight new chapters. The revisions and development in the new version are enough to make it almost a new book entirely. Of course, I corrected all the errors that are enumerated below. Still, some may have the previous version on their shelves, and these errors should be noted, lest someone, unaware of the new edition, is misled.
Concerning the 2nd edition: Every book is printed with errors, be they spelling, design, editing and sometimes, regrettably, errors in fact. One of the latter appears in the 2nd edition. I note it below and note also how to download a glue-in correction of the book itself. It has been corrected in the electronic version, but will still remain in the bound version until all copies of this print run are sold.