Bruce Lee: Sifu, Friend and Big Brother. Doug Palmer
the philosophical or mental aspects of gung fu, and how it could be applied in practice.
We also learned basic chi sau (“sticking hand”) techniques, a form of practice which is found only in Wing Chun and a few other schools, where the two opponents adopt complementary stances with their wrists and forearms literally touching each other’s as they move their arms in a set pattern from which they launch attacks. The form of chi sau we learned had been modified by Bruce from the way it was practiced in Hong Kong, with more forward pressure;46 and when I returned to the Seattle school in later years it had been de-emphasized.47
Toward the end of the class we would pair up and spar, either using chi sau or free style, and the various techniques we had learned. After that, we would line up and end with the salutation again. Once class was over, we no longer had to address Bruce as Sifu.
ALTHOUGH I DIDN’T realize it at the time, the make-up of Bruce’s class was unique in the history of gung fu. As I discovered later, non-Chinese were not taught in Hong Kong. Likewise in Hawaii, a melting pot in every other respect, only Chinese were taught—not even other Asians were admitted to the gung fu schools. As far as I know, the same was then generally true in Chinatowns across the continental U.S. Certainly Ruby Chow let Bruce know that she did not approve of his teaching non-Chinese.
A few gung fu instructors undoubtedly taught non-Chinese before Bruce did. For example, James Lee in Oakland (no relation), who later became a close friend of Bruce’s and collaborated with Bruce when he began to develop Jeet Kune Do, privately taught a Caucasian friend some of the Chinese martial arts beginning in 1958 or so, including “iron hand” breaking techniques. I met James and his friend when Bruce and I visited James on the way back from Hong Kong at the end of summer 1963. James may also have taught a few other non-Chinese around the same time.
Other gung fu teachers are also said to have taught non-Chinese before Bruce even arrived in the States. This may well be so. But from all I saw and heard, that would have certainly been the exception and not the rule. And I would wager that no other gung fu teacher up to then had taught so many non-Chinese as openly as Bruce did. Ethnic background was literally not a factor when aspiring students asked to join his class.
The fact that Bruce openly taught non-Chinese was greeted with shock and incredulity when we gave a demonstration in Vancouver, B.C. Chinatown sometime in the summer of 1962, and later when Bruce used me to give a demonstration at a gung fu school in Honolulu on the way back from Hong Kong in 1963. Chinese students at Yale, whom I met when I went off to college, confirmed that their gung fu schools only taught Chinese. And when Bruce took me along to watch him work out with his teacher in Hong Kong, I had to pretend that I was just a friend from the States, who knew nothing about gung fu. Even Bruce, out of respect, did not want his teacher to know that he had been teaching non-Chinese.
Early class of students, author and Jesse flanking Bruce, Seattle, circa 1962 Courtesy of the Bruce Lee Family Archive
A year or so after we got back from Hong Kong, in Oakland, Bruce was challenged by another gung fu practitioner, Wong Jack Man,48 according to one version because the Chinese community was aghast that Bruce had opened up a school and admitted non-Chinese as students. Wong apparently denied that was the reason for the match, claiming his challenge was actually a response to a general challenge Bruce had given to local gung fu practitioners during a demo in San Francisco Chinatown. He also later claimed that his own school was the first one in San Francisco Chinatown to operate with “open doors”—that although most of his students were Chinese, not all of them were. I can’t say for certain, but I believe Wong had not yet even started his own school at that point. In any event, if Bruce was not the first to teach gung fu to non-Chinese, he was certainly the first one who did it on the scale he did; and the first one who reached out so widely and openly beyond the Chinese community. In Bruce’s case, the vast majority of his students were non-Chinese, and he made it a mission to proselytize to any audience he could get in front of.
The actual match with Wong Jack Man is still the subject of controversy as to almost every detail, from the reason it was held to the way it unfolded and its ultimate outcome. I have heard the story from Bruce, and I believe his version, for reasons I will explain in more detail in a later chapter.
The fact that Bruce himself was part Caucasian and by some accounts had problems of his own being fully-accepted as a gung fu student in Hong Kong may have had something to do with his attitude about teaching to anybody without regard to race. But as was obvious from the make-up of the class I joined, he literally did not care about a person’s racial or economic background, or sex. If someone wanted to learn gung fu and was willing to work hard at it, Bruce was willing to teach them. The fact that with girls it afforded a good excuse to get up close and personal was perhaps an extra plus. Indeed, Bruce got to know his future wife, Linda Emery, when she took lessons.
The racial composition of Bruce’s gung fu class was like the high school I attended, so I didn’t think much about that. But the students, nearly all older than Bruce, with a wide array of martial arts and rough-and-tumble backgrounds, were all drawn to Bruce because of his obvious mastery and practical approach. There were black, Chinese, Japanese and white students with judo backgrounds (like Jesse Glover, Bruce’s first student), and others (like Jim DeMile) with boxing backgrounds. Some were simply tough dudes who knew a lot about street fighting and recognized an approach that was more efficient and effective.
For Bruce’s part, he seemed to revel in testing himself against guys who had been around the block and were bigger and rougher-looking than he was. He was confident and didn’t hesitate to spar or engage in other physical contests. Although he was only 135 pounds or so then, I saw him arm-wrestle (and beat) a tough black kid who weighed over 225 pounds and who could easily bench-press his own weight. He also did a one-handed push-up with the same kid on his back. (He once did a three-finger push-up with me on his back, but I only weighed 170 pounds or so back then.)
At the time, it all seemed normal, but even then I had a glimmer that I was part of something special, that I was learning from someone who epitomized the best in the martial arts, not just in terms of technique or physical ability, but in overall approach.
OVER THE YEARS the location of Bruce’s gung fu classes changed a number of times. Before I joined the class, Bruce and his first students practiced wherever they could—in public parks and playing fields and gymnasiums. Not too long after I joined, the class was relocated from LeRoy Garcia’s back yard to a parking garage underneath a medical building on First Hill, across the street from where Bruce lived and worked, at Ruby Chow’s Restaurant.
The parking area took up the entire ground level of the structure, which covered a half block or so. The multi-storied building over the parking area protected us from rain, but there were no walls. The building rested on thick columns spread throughout the parking area, like a longhouse on stilts, so in the wintertime it was as cold as the rest of the outdoors. At the times we practiced, on Thursday evenings and weekends, there usually weren’t too many cars parked in the garage, so we had plenty of room to spread out. And the price was right—I am confident that Bruce did not pay any rent for the use of the space. Ruby Chow’s Restaurant, as well as the building with the parking garage where we practiced, has long since been torn down and redeveloped. The parking garage is now part of the Swedish Hospital complex.
Practice in Blue Cross Parking Garage, Seattle, circa late 1961/early 1962 Courtesy of David Tadman
Sometime during the next year the class moved again, to a rundown space in Seattle’s Chinatown where a Szechuan noodleshop is today. The indoor space was