Against All Odds: My Story (15 page)

I
began teaching karate to celebrities quite by accident. Dan Blocker, a gentle giant of a man, was a star of
Bonanza
, one of the most popular programs on television in the sixties. Dan played the character Hoss Cartwright. Dan had seen me compete in an All-Star Team Championship in Long Beach in 1970, so he asked me to come to his house and teach karate to his five children, each of them with a name beginning with D, including Dana, Dirk, and David. My class at Dan's house soon expanded to include some neighbors' kids as well.

Dan invited me to lunch with him at Paramount Studios where
Bonanza
was filmed. There he introduced me to Michael Landon, who played Little Joe Cartwright in the series and later went on to develop and star in the television classic
Little House on the Prairie.
Michael asked me to teach him karate along with David Canary, who was also in the series. Michael had been an Olympic-class javelin thrower in his younger years and was still in superb shape, as was David, who was a professional dancer. I enjoyed teaching them, and they were both excellent learners.

Michael invited me to join him on a television show called
Name Droppers
, similar to
What's My Line?
The show consisted of guest celebrities, a panel of nine people, and contestants. The panel was to guess which celebrity was involved with which contestant. I was introduced as either Joanne Worley's driving instructor, Glenn Ford's son-in-law, or Michael Landon's karate instructor.

The celebrities were then asked questions and, by their answers, tried to throw the panel off. Only one panelist picked me as Michael Landon's karate instructor. Most of them thought I was Glenn Ford's son-in-law. I did a few more contestant-type shows and got a call from the producer of the
Dinah Shore Show
, asking me to demonstrate some karate on live television.

Dinah's guest was Lucille Ball, and the producer wanted me to do something that would shock Dinah and Lucy but at the same time be humorous. I worked out a little gag with my wife Dianne, who was to be planted in the audience the day of the show. Dinah and Lucy didn't know that Dianne was my wife.

The plan was for me to do a few karate moves and then pick someone out of the audience to show how easy it is to learn some simple karate techniques. Pointing at Dianne, I asked, “You there, would you please join me on the stage?”

Dianne pretended to be surprised and reluctant, but eventually she made her way out of the audience and onto the stage.

“Let's say a man has just tried to grab you,” I said to Dianne. “Here's what I want you to do.” I demonstrated a technique, and Dianne acted as though she didn't know what was going on. “OK,” I said. “Now let's see if you can do it.”

We went through it once slowly. Dianne, who was obviously nervous, stumbled along hesitantly. “OK, now, let's do it for real,” I said.

I started to grab Dianne, and she reacted like a whirlwind, blocking my hands, chopping me full power in the neck, punching me with all her might in the stomach, uppercutting me on the chin, and then kicking me hard in the groin! I dropped to the floor. The punches hadn't really hurt me, but that last kick connected! I was in real pain.

Dinah and Lucy were in total shock but no more than I was! The audience roared with laughter, yells of approval, and applause.

When the show was over, I asked Dianne, “Honey, why in the world did you come at me full bore, instead of with light contact as we had rehearsed?”

“Oh, I don't know. I got so nervous, I forgot what I was supposed to do!” she said.

“Well, you almost killed me!” I said.

Bob Barker, host of the television program
Truth or Consequences
, saw Dianne and me on Dinah Shore's show and called to ask if we would do some karate on his show. Dianne was thrilled! Not only was Bob her favorite television personality, but he had gone to school with her father in Mission, South Dakota. We enthusiastically agreed to do a demonstration on Bob's show.

We rehearsed our routine and went on
Truth or Consequences
. The same thing happened again. Dianne came at me with full power, repeating what she had done before, including the punishing kick to the groin.

I asked her later, “Dianne! Why can't you control yourself?”

“I don't know why,” she answered demurely, “but when the camera starts to roll, I just lose it. I get nervous and overly excited.”

Bob was so pleased with our appearance that he asked me to come back on his show four more times. During the breaks we always talked about the martial arts. One day he asked if I would teach him. “I'd like to stay in good physical shape and learn to defend myself,” he explained.

I agreed wholeheartedly and was glad to have another high-profile student.

Bob was trim and strong and took to karate instantly. He became so enthusiastic that he converted his garage into a gymnasium. I soon found that Bob and I had a lot in common. Like me, he had grown up in a small town and married his childhood sweetheart. Despite the fact that he had been a star for many years, he was, and still is, one of the nicest people I have ever met. He is as patient and pleasant in person as he is on his current show, the long-running
The Price Is Right
. In his case, what audiences have seen on TV for so many years is his true persona, despite what some of the Hollywood gossip shows purport.

Years later Bob was still able to perform many of the karate moves I taught him. He put his martial arts abilities to good use in the golf farce,
Happy Gilmore
, in which he beat the daylights out of a fellow. Although the movie contains unnecessary profanity and sexual innuendo, I laughed uproariously at Bob's performance.

The manager of the Osmond family contacted me and said that Marie, Donny, Alan, Jay, Merrill, Wayne, and Jimmy wanted to take karate lessons. The Osmonds proved to be one of the most disciplined and athletic families I have ever encountered. The entire family was health oriented, and each member was in excellent condition.

When they weren't on the road, the family studied with me three times a week. After a one-hour private lesson, most students are ready to call it quits, but the Osmonds were just beginning to warm up.

They had been training with me for about a year when they prepared to do a road tour. They wanted to incorporate a karate routine in their stage show, and asked me to choreograph it. The act I worked out had Donny breaking boards and Jay and Alan doing a fight scene set to music.

They had been on the road for about three weeks when I received a telephone call from Alan. “Chuck, I broke Jay's nose in the fight scene!”

“How did it happen?” I asked.

“We were getting so good at it that during each show I kept getting closer and closer with the kicks and punches,” Alan explained. “But one kick got too close, and there went Jay's nose.” The Osmonds were scheduled to perform two shows that night, so Jay went backstage and stuffed cotton up his nose to stop the bleeding, then went out and finished the first show. He repacked his nose and went on to do an entire second show, as well, before going to the hospital to receive treatment. Maybe that's why Jay's nose is still crooked to this day!

A year later Donny and Marie signed to do a weekly variety show called
The Donny and Marie Show
. Donny asked me to be a guest on the first episode, and I agreed. Donny and I did a karate routine and
kata
(a formal exercise) in unison that led into a choreographed fight scene. That first show was a big success, and
The Donny and Marie Show
quickly became popular with a wide audience, as were all the television specials the Osmonds did over the years.

The family stopped studying karate with me when my own career interrupted their lessons. They refused to train with anyone else.

Priscilla Presley called one day saying she wanted to study karate. I knew that Elvis was one of Ed Parker's black belts in
kenpo
karate, so I asked Priscilla, “Why would you not want to study with Ed?”

“Ed can't teach me because he is Elvis's private trainer, as well as his personal bodyguard,” she explained.

That didn't make sense to me, but I wasn't going to argue with Elvis! I happily took Priscilla as a student. Priscilla came to her first lesson wearing a
gi
but looking like she had just stepped out of a women's fashion magazine, nonetheless. She was beautiful even when she perspired! She worked hard and was serious about her training, which usually started with stretching lessons to loosen and warm up the muscles. Then I taught her some basic kicks. Priscilla had studied ballet and was able to execute high kicks with ease, force, and precision.

When we began free-style sparring, I put a boxer's head guard on her. Priscilla took it off. “I won't have one of these on in the street,” she said.

“Good point.”

Once she even insisted upon going out into the alley behind the studio to work out with high-heeled shoes because, she said, that was what she usually wore, and if she were ever accosted, that's probably what she'd be wearing. She was amazingly practical about her studies in martial arts, and she learned quickly and well; she is definitely not a woman to be trifled with!

By now I had received enough publicity as a karate fighter and teacher to attract some attention in the press, which resulted in more new students, some new friends, and even a new relative! One evening, my assistant told me that my cousin Neal Norris from Houston, Texas, was on the phone.

“I'm at Santa Monica Hospital,” Neal said. “I was in town competing in a rodeo, and I got hurt riding a bronc.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” I said politely, as I tried in vain to place him in my memory.

“Is there any chance of you coming by to see me?” Neil asked.

I said that I would drop by the hospital after I finished teaching. When I arrived at the hospital, Neal was waiting for me in the lobby. He walked up to me and hugged me. “Hey, Cuz!” he said, with his arm still around me.

Even after seeing Neal, I still couldn't place him, but I have a lot of cousins, and he did look like a Norris, so I asked him what his plans were.

“I'm going to find a cheap hotel room, spend the night, and fly home in the morning.”

“Why don't you spend the night at our house, and I'll take you to the airport tomorrow?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not at all. My wife will be happy to have you stay with us, and you can meet our kids.”

We arrived home just as Dianne was putting Mike and Eric to bed. As soon as they learned that their cousin was a real cowboy, the boys asked if they could stay up a little longer. They listened wide-eyed as Neal mesmerized them with stories about his life as a bronco rider.

Dianne finally got the boys to bed and had prepared the guest room for Neal, when Mom called.

“Hey, Mom. Guess what? Cousin Neal is visiting.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yeah, he took a bad spill at the rodeo and needed a place to stay.”

“Oh, really? Can I talk to him?”

“Sure, Mom. Here he is.” I passed the phone to Neal, and he began talking with Mom. After about two minutes of conversation, Neal handed the phone back to me. We said good-night, and Dianne showed him to our guest bedroom. I picked up the conversation with Mom after Dianne and Neal had gone upstairs.

“I don't know who that man is, but he's not your cousin,” Mom said.

“What?”

“You don't have a cousin named Neal,” Mom informed me.

When I relayed the news to Dianne, she freaked. “Get him out of the house immediately!” she cried.

“Dianne, it's late,” I said. “We can't just throw him out.”

“But he's an imposter!”

“I know, I know. But let him spend the night, and I'll drive him to the airport in the morning.”

Dianne reluctantly agreed, but she insisted on bringing the boys into our bedroom for the night and locking the door.
Great
, I thought,
now we're prisoners in our own home.

The next morning, as I drove Neal to the airport, I told him that I knew he wasn't a cousin.

“You're right,” he admitted, “but my last name is Norris, and I
feel
like we really are related.”

I just rolled my eyes. At the airport Neal told me he was flat broke. I gave him twenty dollars and then pulled away from the curb, never expecting to hear from Neal again.

A few hours later, while I was teaching at the Los Angeles studio, my brother Aaron called from the Santa Monica school. “Cousin Neal is here, and I'm taking him to lunch,” he said.

“I don't think you want to do that.”

When I told Aaron about my experience with “Cousin Neal,” and that Neal Norris wasn't really a relative, he retorted, “Why don't you ever tell me what's going on?” Aaron ran Neal off the premises.