Don't Let Anyone Take Your Lunch Money

I am re-posting my biography. This time I will post one per week every Monday.  Some written, some video, and some both…. Enjoy!

No man is an island is so true, yet at times it seems like such a lie.  It always feels like a lie when I have felt sorry for myself, and felt like I was all alone, but for the most part I have been blessed with great mentors, parents, friends, teachers, students and friends.  Though I have felt alone for a good portion of my life, I look back now, and realize that was my distorted perception.  I always had great mentors, and friends, I was just always hard headed.  I would be lying if I said my life was easy and without a disproportionate amount of pain, fights, rough times, and struggles, but when I look back I realize, that I created 99% of my struggles, pain, fights, etc.  Growing up, there were four men who shaped my life the most.  It is weird because they were all so different, and shaped me with such a wide range of values, and qualities.  Here they are…

My dad… Pops was a tough guy.  Born in 1926 he grew up with a widow mother of seven kids, who had to work full time as a maid, and in the laundry room of the Hotel Del in Coronado.  Pops fought in world war 2. He was an Army Ranger, who saw combat as an infantryman.  After the war ended went to West Point Military Academy.

Dad was a newspaper writer by trade.  He and my mom divorced when I was ~10 years old.  I lived with my mom, but my dad was close by and I saw him pretty often.  My dad was never much of a hugger, and he wasn’t very  demonstrative, but I always knew that he loved me.  Dad was a hardworking guy, very neat, tidy, organized and short tempered (though he never hit me, I did see him get into a few scuffles).  I think the trait that I got from my dad the most was a strong moral compass (as you will read, I made plenty of bad choices, but I think for the most part I have conducted my life as a basically good man).  I have run with a lot of not “good” men, and though I hung out with them, I could always tell when they were crossing my “line” and I would chose not to engage. Even at a young age I could tell bad from good, and I never had a problem saying no to the “bad”.  These were my friends, and continued to be my friends.  I just had the “moral compass” and discipline to say no.  I could have followed so many of my early cohorts and ended up dead, in prison, poor, or all of the above, but I didn’t, and I owe that to my dad… Thanks dad I love you.

I first met Herbert Katekaru, when I started high school.  I transferred from a program called Special Motivation in Jr High into a similar program in high school.  Mr. Katekaru’s, or Kate´ as we would call him, was assigned to be our counselor, and with our group, it did not seem like a fun job.   We were considered the “bad” kids, so he was a very patient man just to deal with us, but he went above and beyond that, he actually truly cared about us.  We were, for the most part, a bunch of rowdy, non-class going, one step from being kicked out of school, rude young men, but Kate´ took the time to help us, even after school hours.  Kate´ “bailed” us out of many predicaments.  The main way Kate´shaped my life, was showing me, not telling me, but showing me by his actions.

I dropped out of school as a junior to move to LA for a while.  I came back to Hawaii about a year later.  I had no job, and was way behind in credits.  Not only did Kate´Go above and beyond to help create a job at the school, but he also facilitated it so I can work around my work, and graduate with my class. This took a lot a behind the scenes work, that very few people would do for someone, And I will never forget what Kate´did for me. Without him my life would’ve been much different and I will never forget that.

I stay in touch with Kate´.  I call him twice a month, and I visit him every year.

The biggest lessons I learned from Kate´are hard to put into words, because it is the feeling that someone truly cares about you, will be there to help you if you need them, and always having your back.  Not just someone just doing the bare minimum of their job description, but someone who has a deep passion for what they are doing, then it’s not even a job anymore, it becomes who they are.

Kate´taught me that I could have an impact on peoples lives, I could make a difference… He definitely did mine.

Ollie and my mother got together when I was about 11 years old. He was a musician living in California, but he came to Hawaii to play in a gig, and met my mother through a mutual friend.  Ollie and I did not hit it off right away. He was a musician, and by no one’s standards was he a rough man, and that is what I was used to, and what I looked up to. Ollie and my mother got married and moved to Venice Beach California. I went there to spend a semester in high school, because I wanted to experience the Los Angeles boxing gyms, because I was trying to advance my boxing career, Even though I was still in high school. While living in their house in Venice Beach, Ollie set up a heavy bag, and made me some other equipment I could use while I was training, he also fixed up a Volkswagen bug so I could drive it to the gym in downtown Los Angeles. Ali would wake up some mornings and ride his bicycle on the boardwalk while I was doing my roadwork. Ollie was very supportive of me, and help me as much as he could. Ollie was very handy around the house, in fact he can pretty much build a house. The house they’ve bought in Venice Beach, they put in a bathroom, a balcony, and a bunch of other improvements that most people would call a contractor to do, my mother and all he did it themselves. He and my mother sold that house in Venice, and bought, fixed up, then sold about five more houses over the next 15 years. That was their main source of income, and they did very well added, plus they got to move around a lot. I could always go to Ollie, and he would treat me like a son. He was very laid back, smoked a lot of pot, but he always took care of business whether was fixing a car, or building a guest house, ali always had a lot of energy to get it done. He definitely broke the mold of a pot smoking musician, because he was one of the most “get it done” people that I knew.  Another thing that I looked up to Ollie for was even when he was in his 80s and suffering from some lung ailments, he still have the discipline to get up, Get out into his practice room and practice his trumpet, much in the same way I practice my martial arts. Music to him, was like martial arts to me, and he was a very well respected musician and mentor too many people, and he helped to change many lives. Ali passed away a couple years ago, and I have always considered him my other father. He was the yin to my biological father’s yang…. I love you Ollie

The three things that these three very tough men have in common, is that they all helped to shape me, mold me, And make me a tougher person.  All three taught my lessons on mental and physical toughness the good old fashioned way… by causing me pain, and teaching me not to give up when the going got tough.

Andy Ganigan was a lightweight southpaw boxing champion, who was known for his knockout power, Much more than he was his boxing skills. I think all of one of his wins whereby knockout, In fact he knocked out Sean O’Grady to win the lightweight title. Andy lived and trained in Waipahu.  I was about 10 pounds heavier than Andy, but I was still an in high school.  I was one of the few people that would spar with Andy, so his manager would pick me up after school and driving me out to the gym where Andy trained.  I would spar three or four rounds with Andy, finish my workout then I would get a ride home, and $20 to show for my usually very sore liver. Andy was a very powerful body puncher, And since he had fights coming up, sparring with him wasn’t about teaching me anything, I was just there to be his “Sparring partner” translation, Punching bag.  Sparring with Andy was never fun, causes it was always a fight, but it did teach me a lot about myself, and made me a lot tougher.

Andy Died at 59 years old… here’s a story about him

Jose Caba was a heavily muscled featherweight boxer from La Romana, Dominican Republic.  He was a top 10 contender, and he moved to Hawaii after fighting there and falling in love with it.  He was married and had four children. The Hawaiian promoter moved him into a small two bedroom bungalow in the bad part of Waikiki.  Since we both worked out at the same gym every day, We’ve became friends, and started training together. He was a lot lighter than I was, so we never really sparred, But just training with him on a daily basis showed me how hard a world-class contender really trained. I was still an amateur, and though I thought I trained pretty hard, training with José t I can check, took it to a whole other level.  I remember that though he did pretty much the sam workouts I did, he did them with a lot more intensity.  Heavy and speed bag work, jumping rope, even shadow boxing was taken to another level.  I would meet him at Kapiolani Park at 4:30 am for our road work/hell.  We would warm up for about five minutes, then we would take off in a sprint.  This “Sprint” would last the entire three mile run. I was used to regular roadwork where we would jog for a while shadowbox, and then maybe some sprints at the end, but José just hit the ground running in a full sprint and do to slow down till the end. It was never fun, and it was very painful, but it top me a lot about myself, and made me much tougher.

Jose fought for the World featherweight title, and lost in an action-packed war to one of the best featherweights of all time Danny “Little Red” Lopez

Like I said before, we never really grew up in the ghetto, but for some reason within a 2-mile radius from my house where I grew up, there were a hugely disproportionate amount of violent people, and for some reason they with the people that I considered my closest friends.  Another fact, for some reason locals have fighting in their DNA.  When you see two tough looking basketball players get into a scrap, they look like two school girls, but when any two locals fight, even if they never trained, they look like two UFC contenders.  They are the fighting’ist (my word) ethnic group/race on the planet.

These are some of my tough local “Ohana” who helped mold me, toughen me, and always have my back.

Let’s start with Wayne. When was about three years older than I, and we were friends in junior high school. He had a lot of problems at home, so my mother to guardianship of him, and he came to live with us. Wayne was a short, and stocky local, who is very strong and got into a lot of fights.  Wayne love to surf, dance, and fight, I think in that order.  When I was growing up in junior high school, and even in high school there was always a dance every weekend somewhere, it was usually held at a high school somewhere. We used to find out where these dances were, They were open to the public, and we would always either catch the bus or catch a ride with some friends, Sometimes my mother wouldn’t even give us all a ride, it was a pretty funny sight seeing 5 to 8 kids jammed into a small Volkswagen Karmin Ghia.  At these dances, there was always other kids from all over the island, and as you can imagine along with dancing and getting hi, it was usually a lot of fights as well.  Wayne was the closest thing to a big brother that I am her had, and no matter what the size, if anybody started to pick on me, Wayne would jump in swinging in a second.  I remember one time I was surfing at Diamondhead, and someone threw a rock that hit me in the head, Wayne found out who it was add beat him up before calling my mother for a ride home to take me to get stitches. On the other side of that though, Wayne was also a great sparring partner for me. We spent a lot of time grappling and punching each other. Sometimes we would put socks on her hands and pretend they were boxing gloves and go at it, those were good times and it definitely helped mold me as a fighter, martial artists, and man. Wayne became a police officer, then a prison guard.  He now works in Honolulu as a bartender. I think of those days often. He was one of the few people that could beat me at a dance off.

I met Adam when I first started training for my boxing matches at Palolo gym.  Adam was a tall lanky Hawaiian who lived in Palolo housing. Adam was a very rough kid, And ended up getting into a lot of fights, and eventually as an adult spent a significant amount of time in prison. I consider Adam a brother, because I always knew that he had my back. I remember going to my first boxing match and he was in Nanakuli Hawaii, and that’s where my opponent was from, so I was actually more nervous about going to this very rough area where they definitely did not like Caucasians (Haoles), then I was about my first amateur boxing match. Adam volunteered to go with me and he said he would make sure nothing happen to me after I knocked my opponent out. Even though we were teenagers, I felt very safe knowing that Adam would be there with me. We had an exit strategy while we were driving to the other side of the island, we were from ” Town” and Nanakuli is considered “country”.  I remember Adam telling me that after I knocked my opponent out he would get me at ringside and take me straight to the car and make sure nobody jumped me. I remember knocking my opponent out in the first round, but to our surprise we got nothing but friendly congratulations from the Nanakuli locals, and we made it out of there without being jumped.  Even though nothing happened after that fight, potentially something could have, and Adam didn’t even think twice about putting himself in harm’s way to protect me. I have never forgotten that. I am still in touch with Adam, and I see him every time I go visit Hawaii. He and his high school sweetheart are still husband and wife (almost 40 years), and his children and grandchildren all live in Palolo housing. I still to this day consider Adam one of my very best friends.

Then there was Melvin. I met Melvin in junior high school when he was trying to steal my bike, and when I stopped him he punched me and we fought for a while, Melvin was about four or five years older than I, so at 13 years old that is a big difference. If there was a decision to be made, probably Melvin got a unanimous decision 29-28 in our first fight, but at least he never got my bike. Melvin lived about a block from my junior high school. He had four brothers and one sister. Melvin liked to get high, hang out at the park, and beat people up.  I never really knew why we became such good friends after our first meeting was an actual fistfight, But we’d became very close friends.  I like to hang around with Melvin, but I knew I did not want to get into the things that he was into, so there was a lot of times I would just come “Nah you go I’ll stay here”. I remember getting high with Melvin one late late night, and I was getting more serious about my fighting, So I told Melvin “I am never going to get high again, I am going to become a champion”.  I remember it like it was yesterday, “He looked right at me and said I think that’s a great idea, I know that you are going to be a champion, I have seen you fight”… That was the last time that I ever got high, I was 13 years old. Melvin ended up shooting a police officer during a robbery attempt, and he died in prison. Two of his other brothers ended up spending the rest of their lives in prison for murder as well.

Well those were three of my close friends growing up. They were not perfect, No one is, but I always felt safe with them and I still consider them like brothers.

I didn’t come from the ghetto (even though I spent a lot of time there), but I knew I was a fighter from a very early age.  From fear of getting beat up by locals, wanting to make Godin proud, thriving on being respected by my peers, to having an insatiable need to train and get better.  For so many reasons, martial arts became my life early, and it is still 100% as much my life today, 46 years later.  What a crazy ride.

My pre-teens through 20’s  I always felt like I had a fight coming up, even when I didn’t, and with that came the knot in my stomach and other mental and physical manifestations of always feeling like I had a fight coming up.  Me going from training martial arts, to actually fighting in the ring was actually Godin’s doing.  In the beginning of my martial arts training I liked to throw a lot of high kicks, And I did not like to stand and slug very much in the beginning, even though that’s all I did throughout my career.  I was 13 years old and I pulled my hamstring training, and I went to Godin’s office one day to tell him about my injury.  He first gave me some joke about how I could cure it by rubbing dog shit on it and then hitting it with a brick, I was only 13 years old, so I gave him a very strange look, And then he started laughing, he had a very peculiar sense of humor, And that is an understatement. His real advice was much more serious, and it actually changed my training, and my life.  His advice to me was to go to a local boxing gym, Palolo Boxing Gym, and work on my boxing, until my hamstring healed.  I went to Palolo Gym, and not only did I stay there until my hamstring healed, I also had many amateur boxing matches, won the state Golden gloves, traveled to California and was runner-up in their golden gloves, won a spot on the All-Army boxing team, then I had a short but exciting professional career.

Godin was always very supportive of my training, and my fights. Even when I was boxing, kickboxing, or even my no holds barred fights, even though Godin had no real experience in sport fighting, I would always go to his gym and train a couple days a week, and I like to have him in my corner.  Having Godin around when I was training or fighting gave me a sense of security, just like when he would pick me up from school in his pimped out Lincoln Continental, and all my school mates would look with wide eyes. Godin never really trained me for my combat sports fights, but I always considered him my main martial arts mentor.

I remember weighing in for one fight, it happened to be a boxing match on the marine base. At the weigh-in, my opponent told me that he was not only going to beat me, he was going to kill me because I was a fuckin Haole.  Godin was there at the weigh-in and he had some choice words for my opponent, and before the fight in the dressing room Godin told me if I did not knock my opponent out, when I got back to the dressing room he would kick my ass. Lucky for me I knocked my opponent out in the first round, Godin was so happy and proud, he took me out to Hotel Street that night to celebrate, I was 16 years old (for you locals who remember Hotel street in 1976).

The truth is, I never loved fighting like Chuck Liddell did, or most successful pros do.  Most of my fighters actually love getting in the cage or the ring and fighting, I actually hated it, and it’s probably one of the reasons I was pretty depressed most of my adult life, in fact some people perceived me as being an asshole.  I fought because that’s what I always thought I had to do, ever since I was a young teenager, I always identified myself as ” the tough guy”, and that I was a fighter. No one ever pushed me to fight, but that internal misguided drive came from me, and feeling that being tough was more important than being happy.  But when I look back, I was always nervous, and depressed because I always had some type of fight coming up, so I could never really relax.  I had a pretty good level of success amateur and professionally, but to be honest I never enjoyed it, it was just where I thought I had to be.