Against All Odds: My Story (23 page)

The crowd loved it. It was obvious that Mr. Bush and I had a rapport right from the start. I genuinely believed in him as a candidate and as a person of the utmost integrity. I would have voted for him even if I had not been involved with his campaign.

The Riverside rally was such a huge success, Lee asked me if I had the time to go on the campaign trail and emcee other rallies. I liked George Bush, and I was in between shooting and promoting my movies, so I was glad to oblige.

We traveled throughout Northern California on a tour bus, going from one town to the next. Mr. Bush had been tagged with a “nice guy” image by the media earlier in his campaign, but once I started traveling with him, the press changed its tune. “Here come the two tough guys,” they'd say. Mr. Bush loved it!

During the campaign Lee Atwater and I became good friends. Lee was a brilliant young man who had a photographic memory and loved watching movies. He had seen every one of mine, and he'd often quiz me about my own films. “Remember when you said so-and-so in that scene in one of your old movies?”

“No, Lee,” I'd respond. “I don't remember. That movie was long ago.” Later, when I had a chance to watch the old movie, I'd discover that, sure enough, Lee had remembered correctly and quoted the lines verbatim.

I also got to know Mr. Bush during that presidential campaign, and found him to be a very special person. When I first started traveling with him on the campaign, I was fairly shy, which is my nature, but Mr. Bush immediately made me feel as though I had known him for years.

I soon discovered that Mr. Bush is also incredibly loyal to his friends. He doesn't forget those who sacrificed their time, money, or effort on his behalf.

When Mr. Bush was elected President, I was invited to the inauguration, and at the gala celebration I was asked to give a speech along with Arnold Schwarzenegger. I was seated next to Arnold and was slated to speak first. Arnold kept nudging me, saying under his breath, “You're going to blow it, Chuck. You're going to forget what you planned to say. You're going to flub your speech.” Arnold is infamous among his friends for doing things like that, but I kept telling him, “Keep quiet, Arnold! I have to concentrate.” Fortunately, my speech went quite well, and I later got a chance to sit back and heckle Arnold.

Arnold and I go back a long way. We've known each other since 1968, before he became an internationally known film star. When Arnold first moved to California, he was known as a world-class bodybuilder. Arnold and I used to work out together occasionally. In between exercising, we often talked about our ambitions. I said, “I'm satisfied teaching the martial arts.”

“Not me,” Arnold responded. “Bodybuilding is just a stepping-stone to me. I plan on becoming a real estate mogul, and from there, I plan to get into the movies.”

I had to smile as I said to myself,
How's he going to be an actor when he can hardly speak English?

I wasn't the only one who had such misgivings. When Arnold announced that he wanted to become an actor, he was turned down on three counts. First, he was told his body was too big and muscular. (How would you like to have been the person who had to tell Arnold that?) Second, he had a strong foreign accent and often spoke in broken or poor English. Third, his advisors suggested that he change his name.

Arnold was undaunted. He set about the task of trimming down his body by adjusting his eating and exercising program. At the same time he studied the English language and struggled to improve his enunciation. Arnold stood his ground, however, when it came to changing his name. Instead, he vowed to make Schwarzenegger a household name.

I don't know anyone any more determined than Arnold. Today we refer to my friend as Governor Schwarzenegger!

Lee Atwater had arranged the details of the inauguration gala, complete with a rhythm and blues band to celebrate the successful election of George Herbert Walker Bush. Lee, who played the guitar in his spare time, got President Bush up on the stage and gave the president his guitar to play. President Bush was good-natured and pretended he was part of the band. It was hilariously funny, and the entire time I watched the spectacle, I was thinking,
I can't believe Lee has the President of the United States pretending to be a rhythm and blues star
!

After the election Lee invited me to the White House and escorted me on a tour. We went to the office where John Sununu, the chief of staff, was in a meeting. Lee walked right into the meeting, and said, “John, I want you to meet Chuck Norris.” John got up from the table, walked over, and shook my hand. Lee then told me he wanted me to meet Jim Baker, the secretary of state.

I said, “Lee, are you sure we should disturb him?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lee said, “he's a great guy.” Lee Atwater wasn't intimidated by anyone!

I was invited to the White House on several occasions for state dinners to welcome leaders from other nations. I took my son, Mike, to a state dinner for the president of Poland. While President Bush waited on the platform to welcome his arriving guest, Mike and I were in a crowd of thousands watching. A Secret Service agent approached me in the crowd. He pulled me aside and spoke clandestinely, “Mr. Norris?”

“Yes, I'm Chuck. What can I do for you?”

“The President wants to know if you and your son would like to go jogging with him after the ceremonies.”

My first thought was,
Can I keep up with him?
President Bush was in excellent physical condition and ran nearly every day. I was in good shape, but running was only a small part of my workout regimen. Nevertheless, I didn't want to miss out on this opportunity.

I said, “Of course! We'd be glad to.”

Following the official welcoming ceremonies, the agent ushered us into a room in the White House where Mike and I could change clothes. A short time later President Bush came in and joined us, stripping down and changing into his running clothes, just like one of the guys in a high school locker room.

Mike and I ran several miles with President Bush, surrounded by several Secret Service agents who ran in front of us and behind us. One of the agents carried an Uzzi hidden in a briefcase as he ran with us. It was a weird feeling but an unforgettable experience.

That evening Mike and I attended a state dinner with hundreds of other invited guests. After dinner everyone was standing around in the ballroom that leads up to the First Family's private quarters. The President and First Lady were mingling with their guests when I saw them walking up the stairs to retire for the evening. I was tired, too, and decided to leave. I was headed for the exit when I heard someone yell, “Chuck!” I turned around and saw that it was President Bush who had called out my name. He was standing on the staircase next to Barbara, waving good-bye to me.

I thought,
Who am I that the president of the United States would call out my name?

I recalled the story of Zacchaeus, that little guy Jesus saw perched in a tree so he could see above the crowd. Jesus said, “Zacchaeus, come down. I'm going to your house today.” My guess is that Zacchaeus never got over that sense of wonder, when he realized, “He knows my name!”

On a much more down-to-earth level, that's something of what I felt when George Bush waved good-bye to me from the White House staircase. What a man! With the weight of the world on his shoulders, he never forgets how to make individuals feel special. I feel blessed to know George Herbert Walker Bush, not only as the President, but as a good man, and as a man I respect as a wonderful husband and father. Whether or not you agree with his politics or his decisions as President, he is a man of integrity; he is the complete package.

The next day Mike and I had lunch with the President and FBI Director William Webster. During lunch President Bush asked me what my future plans were outside the entertainment field. I told him I would like to work with the youth in America, teaching them the martial arts.

“You've done that,” he said.

“I know, but I would like to teach children whose parents can't afford to send them to a commercial school.”

“How would you do that?” the President asked me.

I told him I would like to hire black belt instructors to teach in the public school systems, specifically in the middle schools—sixth, seventh, and eighth grades—because those are the ages when many kids begin to drift into gang activity, drugs, and violence.

“Why do you feel martial arts can help in these areas?” the President asked.

“I've always believed that a child who develops a strong sense of self-worth will have the inner strength to resist peer pressure, including drug and alcohol abuse, as well as involvement in gangs,” I said. “Martial arts training raises self-esteem and instills the type of discipline and respect that so many kids are lacking nowadays. In other words, it builds strong, positive character and will help our youth resist drug-related peer pressure that is certainly a major concern for our country.” I stopped abruptly, suddenly realizing that I was practically preaching to the President! I needn't have worried, though.

The President listened carefully and then asked me how I would implement such a program in the public schools. I said that I felt martial arts classes could be offered as an elective, as an alternative to regular physical education classes. “If we taught thirty kids in each class, with five classes a day, we could teach one-hundred-fifty kids a day in each school. In my opinion the program would have some positive results with these kids,” I suggested to President Bush.

Although the idea for such a program had been in the back of my mind for over twenty years, I was literally developing it more clearly as I described the possibilities to the President of the United States.

“That's a great idea!” he said.

Just then Mrs. Bush walked in. “What's a great idea?” she asked.

I repeated the whole story, but this time I was getting an even better picture of what I wanted to do. The entire “Kick Drugs Out of America” program began to take shape as we talked.

President Bush said, “Let's get this program going. What city do you want to start with?”

“I don't know. I really haven't thought about it.”

“How about Houston?”

“That sounds fine to me,” I said, “but are you sure the school system will go for it?”

“I think I can convince them,” President Bush said with a smile. “But you'll need someone to help you run the program. I'd like to recommend Lloyd Hatcher.”

“What does he do?” I asked.

President Bush chuckled and said, “First, it isn't a he; Lloyd is a female. She's a close friend of my son Marvin and my daughter-in-law Margaret. Also she's a graduate of the University of North Carolina and extremely bright.”

The President also recommended Brad O'Leary, a well-known lobbyist and businessman in Washington, D.C. to help me. Kick Drugs Out of America, the martial arts program in public schools, was founded with Lloyd Hatcher, Brad O'Leary, my manager Myron Emery, and me. We estimated it would cost about $50,000 to fund a school martial arts program for a year, which would pay for the instructor, uniforms and belts for the students, plus a salary for Lloyd, and other basic business expenses. My job was to raise the money to start the program.

I contacted various business leaders in Houston, but no one would come on board to finance the program or even part of it. Frustrated, I told Lloyd I'd just pay for it myself.

“That will be fine for one school,” Lloyd said, “but our goal is not to have just one but hundreds of schools. Do you intend to pay for them all?”

I said, “I get your point.”

Soon after that conversation I attended a charity event in Houston and met Jim McIngvale, owner of Gallery Furniture, one of the most successful furniture businesses in Texas. I had just started pitching my Foundation plans to him when his wife Linda joined us. I told the McIngvales what I wanted to do and said I was looking for people to get financially involved. Mac and Linda listened to my plans and agreed to meet with me to discuss them further the following day.

At that meeting I told the McIngvales more about the program. Linda took a checkbook out of her purse and started to write out a check. I was thinking,
How much is she going to donate? Maybe $5,000
. My jaw dropped when I saw the check was for $50,000, enough to pay for an entire year at a middle school. With the McIngvale's contribution, the Kick Drugs Out of America program was officially underway in 1990.