The prow of the launch cut through the choppy waves of the mid-Pacific as it covered the distance between the two battleships. It carried a contingent of Japanese naval officers who were escorting a tall and powerful Ju Jitsu expert, from the northern islands, to the American ship. They were on a mission to defend the honor of the Land of the Rising Sun.

A young officer paced the deck of the American ship and wondered how his commander had gotten him into this. He was Light Heavy Weight boxing champion of their fleet, but he hadn't even seen a Ju Jitsu expert before, let alone fight one. Somehow, the two ships commanders had come in radio contact. It was early 1941 and although they weren't yet at war, Americans and the Japanese were not very friendly. During their conversation, the commanders began a discussion of the merits of their ships current fighting champions and decided to have a contest. Now, the largest Japanese man that he had ever seen was climbing on board and hundreds of his shipmates were screaming for him to defend their honor.

An eleven year old boy should not be reading his uncle's men's adventure magazines, but stories like this made True and Argosy magazines too good to resist.

As the match began, the boxer began to circle his opponent and flick out his jab. He found his range and landed a couple jabs, but his third attempt found his left wrist caught in the steely grasp of the Ju Jitsu man. Suddenly his feet lifted, and he flew through the air, landing hard on the deck of the ship. He leaped up and backed away, flexing his bruised shoulder. As the Ju Jitsu man closed in, the boxer again began to circle his foe and flick out his jab; this time with a faster dance and a quicker left hand. He rounded his corner and landed one, two, three jabs, and, this time, the steely hand caught the inside of his elbow, a hip slammed into his mid-section and he went through the air and onto the hard deck again. The boxer rolled away and got up, backing off. As the Ju Jitsu fighter quickly attacked, the boxer threw a desperate left, right. Instantly, his right wrist was caught, painfully bent, and again he was slammed into the deck. Rolling away and rising slowly, the boxer got on his bicycle and waited for his head to clear, as his opponent pressed the attack. The boxer realized that another trip to that hard deck would finish him. He also realized that each throw began with his arm being pulled in.

When the Ju Jitsu fighter got in range, the boxer threw a deliberately lazy left jab. When his opponent caught his left wrist and pulled it in, the boxer stepped in and landed a hard right cross to the Ju Jitsu giant's jaw. He followed with a lighting left hook to the temple and the Ju Jitsu fighter went down and out.

I can't attest to the truth of this story. It may have been written as pure fiction. Even as history, it would have had a pro American slant, having been written less than fifteen years after World War Two. True or not, that story was a strong enough catalyst in the mind of a young boy to form the idea that Western Boxing was as formidable a martial art as any other. Seven years later, upon entering the Medical Field Service School at Fort Sam Houston, I encountered a tale which reinforced that idea. The longest and most entertaining fight which had ever been seen at the school had erupted one evening, the previous week. All types of medical technicians and Green Beret field medics trained at the school. The two groups were not even slightly friendly. The technicians thought that the Berets had a terrible superiority complex and the Berets thought that the technicians had a lot of gall to think of themselves as equals.

A discussion on this point of contention began outside the N.C.O. club and the main antagonists were a Green Beret sergeant and a student at the dental technician school. The sergeant was an instructor and a combat veteran of duty in Vietnam. He was trained in all the martial arts that his corps had to offer. When the verbal confrontation didn't seem to be going his way, the sergeant decided to move this contest from an intellectual arena into a physical one. As the fight began, it became evident that the private was not only a student of dentistry, but a trained boxer. It appears that the young man had been a boxer, before he was a soldier. In the first few moments of the fight, it became apparent that the sergeant couldn't land any hand techniques on the boxer, without eating a couple of jabs in the process. With a split lip and a sobered attitude, the sergeant began to concentrate on low kicks, thrown from long range. He would kick at the boxer's groin and the private would twist his body, taking the kick on his hip, or thigh. The sergeant would then kick at the boxer's knee and the boxer would step back, making the kick miss, or land on his shin. Each time the Green Beret had a momentary loss of balance, while kicking, the private would shoot another jab into the sergeant's face. The fight progressed, with no change in techniques, for close to twenty minutes. The boxer was limping slightly, when the Green Beret began to pant and visibly tire. The dental technician immediately moved in on the first slow and weak kick and landed a four punch combination. The sergeant went down and out.

It was a very popular story among the enlisted students of the medical technician courses at the Medical Field Service School. It was a technician beating a Green Beret and an enlisted student winning over a sergeant instructor, all in one colorful encounter. Even though it was a second hand story, it was enough to bolster my belief in boxing as a martial art.

Exiting the military and entering New York City life can change a lot of ideas. A brief study of Aikido, began to weaken my concept of boxing as a complete martial art. When I saw Louis Neglia kick the legs out from under an amateur boxer at an Aaron Bank's Oriental World od Self Defense, I began, for the first time, to have serious doubts about the formidability of boxing. As I began to study Chi Kung and Internal Self Defense from Jan "The Ironman" Lang, my new heroes became the kung fu masters of legend and the stars of the action movies at the Sun Sing and Pagoda theaters in Chinatown. I almost forgot about such luminaries as Jack Dempsey and John L. Sullivan, while I filled my mind with tales of Sun Lu Tang and the antics of Alexander Fu Sheng.

Then the "Ironman" introduced me to my first Tai Chi instructor, Yang stylist "Irish" Jimmy O'Mara. O'Mara was a legend in the Lower East Side, as a streetfighter and as a firefighter from the Alphabet City firehouse, in the badlands of 2nd Street and Avenue C. A firehouse which has long since been closed by budget cuts. O'Mara was one of the early students of Master William C.C. Chen in his New York City classes and a student in the original Chinatown classes of Professor Cheng Man Ching. He also studied Chi Kung at the Ahn School of Tai Chi in Soho. O'Mara taught a small Tai Chi class at his storefront in the East Village and I became a member.

O'Mara grew up in a traditional Irish boxing family. He often taught his class about the similarities that he saw between Tai Chi and Western Boxing. His father, "Fightin'" Phil O'Mara, had been a Light Heavy Weight boxing champion in the Army, before becoming a famous fighter in the New York City Fire Department. O'Mara enthralled us with a tale of the fist fight which he had witnessed, as a boy, between his father and his uncle. The uncle was a Heavyweight and was about to overpower Jim's father, when "Fightin' Phil" seemed to ride his brothers force in, until the uncle's chin came to Phil's fist. Phil then made a little circle with his fist, shifted his weight forward, and threw his brother across the room and into a wall, ending the fight. Jim saw a great parallel between that punch and the Ward Off, Roll Back and Push techniques of Tai Chi.

As O'Mara taught Yang style Tai Chi Chuan, he often made references to the similarities of the art and Western Boxing. He taught that both arts stress relaxation for stamina and moving the whole body at once, never individual parts. We learned that practicing Tai Chi and Boxing movements slowly allowed us to learn how to move with relaxed muscles. In this manner, we built a foundation for becoming fast and loose when we fight. O'Mara taught how both arts can give before an opponent's force and attack through an opening where the opponent has no force. Both arts also show you how to ride an opponent's force and then circle the force back to him. He taught that these techniques and strategies were inherent in Tai Chi and Boxing but were not taught in external martial arts where muscle training was stressed. These wonderful lessons came to a halt when budget cuts cost O'Mara his job as a firefighter and he decided to move to the West Coast and study Tai Chi with Ben Lo. I was left with an East Village free Tai Chi class to teach and was on my own to continue researching the correlations between Western Boxing and Internal Martial Arts.

The "Ironman" helped again and brought me to the classes of Mr. B.P. Chan at the William C.C. Chen School of Tai Chi Chuan. Despite over 40 years of martial arts experience, Mr. Chan refused to be called Master and preferred to not even be referred to as the teacher. His humility was and remains overwhelming. There we began our study of Pa Kua Chang and Hsing I Chuan. I continued my study of Yang Style Tai Chi Chuan, while "Ironman" Lang emersed himself in the study of Chen Style.

As I learned new Internal styles, I noticed new correlations to Western Boxing. The Five Element Line Drills of Hsing I Chuan teach how to explode energy in five different directions, all of which can be applied to boxing techniques. Splitting Fist, the metal element of Hsing I, teaches how to explode energy into any over the top blow, such as an overhand right. Drilling Fist, the water element of Hsing I, teaches how to explode into an either upward or downward coiling of your fist as it makes contact with your opponent. Drilling Fist also shows you how to throw a left uppercut without leaving yourself open. Crushing Fist, the wood element of Hsing I, shows how to explode energy into any straight line punch, such as jabs, crosses and lead right hands. Pounding Fist, the fire element, teaches how to develop explosive power in uppercuts, without having to loop them into a bolo punch. Crossing Fist, the earth element, teaches how to explode energy horizontally, in a line across your body, similar to the path of a short hook to your opponent's body.

I also saw similarities in footwork. First, I realized that the half step of Hsing I could be applied to any punch or two punch combination. I then noticed, in tapes of old fight films, that some of the boxers in the early part of the twentieth century appear to have done this step naturally. I also noticed that circling an opponent's attack with Pa Kua was quite similar to circling an opponent's attack with the dance and jab style of boxing. The major difference is that the boxer dances backwards, while the Pa Kua fighter walks forward. Both methods circle the fighter out of immediate danger and may serve to confuse the opponent.

On one of his many returns from the Orient, to his hometown, I was introduced to Master Bruce Kumar Frantzis by, of course, Jan "The Ironman" Lang. Master Frantzis was Lang's first Tai Chi instructor. With this introduction, the "Ironman" forged a relationship which lasts unto this day. Master Frantzis teaches the deeply internal aspects of Chi Gung and the Internal Martial Arts. From him I learned the differences in energy initiation points and directional flow between the three major Internal Martial arts. I realized that although they were never taught that way, that these were the same initiation points and directional energy flows of the three major styles of Western Boxing. A Pa Kua fighter initiates his energy in his feet and brings it up through his body, to his hands as does a boxer who uses the Dance and Jab style of Boxing. This is the style made famous by Muhammad Ali. A Hsing I fighter will initiate energy in his hands and bring it down through his body to his feet. This is also done in the basic Stand Up Boxer style. This style was brought to perfection by Joe Louis. Practitioners of Tai Chi Chuan initiate energy in their waist and hip area and move it up to their hands and down to their feet simultaneously. Crouching Aggressive Fighters have an attitude of aggression which is diametrically opposed to the Soft idealogy of Tai Chi, but they do initiate their movements in their waist and hip area and move it up to their hands and down to their feet. Through the years, the Crouching Aggressive Fighters have often been the favorites of the crowds. They include Jack Dempsey, Rocky Marciano, Joe Fraisier, and Mike Tyson.

Students of Master Frantzis learn that Internal Martial Arts have no unconscious reflexive action. The Internal fighter must always act consciously and in answer to the present moment. External styles of martial arts program movement patterns into the nervous system by thousands of repetitions of the exact same movement patterns. An attack on the external fighter triggers a pattern of movement which he will complete before beginning the next pattern. The pattern of movement will be completed very quickly. The beginning Internal fighter will become caught in the gap between think and do, making him slower than the unconscious reflexive pattern of his External opponent. With a lot of practice, the gap between think and do lessens greatly. A master of Internal Martial Arts can think and do simultaneously. At this level, he could make ten or more changes in his movement during his opponent's two second pattern of unconscious reflexive action. Hence the Internal adage; "That to win - You must first lose!" I also realized that Western Boxing trained for moment to moment changes in movement, without unconscious reflexive patterns.

Verne "The Bulldog" Williams arrived at our martial arts club over ten years ago. He came as a Boxing coach and stayed on as a member of the family. During his teens, Verne was a New England Golden Gloves Bantam Weight champion. In his early twenties, the "Bulldog" was First Army Welterweight champion and had a brief pro career. His teaching allowed us to compare classical Western Boxing training with our experience in the training of classical Internal Martial Arts.

Verne's training was in the style of the Boxing gyms of the 1940's and 1950's, when weight training was completely taboo for boxers. Verne taught, "To be fast, you must stay loose!" It sounded very familiar. We noticed that Boxing trainers often say the same things as Internal Martial Arts instructors, but usually with much less detail. An Internal Martial Arts instructor will tell his student to bring his force up from the floor, through his rooted leg, directed by his hips and waist, up his back, down his arm and out his fist. The Boxing trainer will simply yell, "Don't arm punch! Don't arm punch!" In reality, they mean the same thing. An Internal martial arts teacher will teach his fighters to align their bone structure so that they can relax their musculature, taking pressure off their blood vessels, thus allowing more oxygen to get to the muscles, and keep them from tiring. This relaxing also allows them to flow with oncoming force, thereby avoiding impact. A Boxing trainer is likely to just growl, "Relax - you won't get tired - it won't hurt to get hit - Relax!" Again, they mean the same thing. Verne's teaching on avoiding unconscious reflexive action consisted of, "Don't get caught in a combination that you can't change. Move in rhythm with your opponent."

My independent research on the correlations between Boxing and Internal Martial Arts led me to a study of Boxing before the advent of gloves and the Marquis of Queensbury's rules, i.e., the era of the Bare Knuckle Prize Ring. The first thing I learned was that Western Boxing disappeared between the fall of the Roman Empire and the rise of English Pugilism at the end of the 1600's. Bare Knuckle Boxing in the English Prize Ring was a more complete martial art that its modern descendent. This is primarily due to the use of grappling in the clinches. Rounds were not timed, but ended when either man hit the ground. Knocked down, thrown, slipped, or knocked out, it made no difference. He had thirty seconds to return to the fray, or he lost. It was a very simple and clear cut win which would be unquestionable for the betting majority of the audience. The scene would not be that different from a Chinese Boxing Challenge match of the same era.

The most common grappling system used in Bare Knuckle Boxing was Cornish Wrestling. It came from Cornwall and was one of the last vestiges of the Celtic styles of wrestling in ancient history. Like modern Greco-Roman Wrestling, it was an above the waist only style, but unlike Greco-Roman wrestling, it allowed joint locking techniques. Many rounds ended with a bone crunching throw, that landed the thrower's full weight on the throwee. This throwing aspect would make the contest resemble a modern Full Contact Kung Fu San Shou match, only minus the platform, the kicks, the gloves, headgear, shinguards and cups.

Many of the stances of Bare Knuckle Boxing resemble the stances taught in the art of Hsing I Chuan. There is a statue of Tom Sayers, the British Heavyweight Champion of 1860, standing in a stance which is very similar to Hsing I's Drilling Fist. Sayer's is famous for being a five foot eight inch, 168 pound Middleweight, who challenged for and won the Heavyweight Title. The most famous picture of John L. Sullivan has him standing in a position which resembles Hsing I's Crushing Fist. Sullivan was the last Bare Knuckle Heavyweight Champ and the first one to compete with boxing gloves on.

Because of the lack of padding on the hands, Bare Knuckle Boxing, like Chinese Martial Arts, punched much more to the body and less to the head. The head punches which were used were mostly to the face. A hard blow to the large bones of the jaw or side of the head could break your knuckles, even if you knocked your opponent unconscious, his trainer had thirty seconds in which to revive his man with any method which he could think of. In thirty seconds, the revived boxer was back to fight again and you now opposed him with a broken hand. Of course, a few boxers were noted for their ability to render an opponent unconscious, who could not be revived within thirty seconds. Tom Sayers and John L. Sullivan were both boxers of that ilk.

The winner of a Bare Knuckle Boxing match was the man still standing, when his opponent couldn't return to the fight within thirty seconds. As in today's No-Holds-Barred Tournaments, such as the U.F.C. and the Vale Tudo, Bare Knuckle Boxing matches produced an unquestioned winner. There were exceptions to this rule because many major matches took place in areas where professional fighting was illegal. The very first World Heavyweight Boxing Championship ended in this manner. In 1860, American Champion John C. Heenan came to England and challenged Tommy Sayers for the first World Heavyweight Championship. The boys fought 42 rounds, spread over two hours and twenty minutes, only to have the police break up the match, before a winner was decided. When the fight was stopped Heenan's eyes were swollen shut and most of his knuckles were broken. Sayers had been fighting for over an hour with a broken right arm. They decided not to have a rematch.

Perhaps more significant than their similarities in fighting techniques, strategies, and power methods, is the fact that both Boxing and Internal Martial Arts have been taught for many generations as a means to character building and improved health. Boxing as a health exercise began with the third Heavyweight champion during Boxing's renaissance.

Jack Broughton was the British Heavyweight Boxing Champion in the first decade of the 1700's. Jack was a real renaissance man, who invented Boxing's first set of rules and Boxing's first gloves, which he called "mufflers." Of course, gloves wouldn't be used in professional matches for almost another two hundred years. At first, Jack used the mufflers only in training his stable of professional fighters so they wouldn't be bruised and battered before the real match began. When Jack became the first pugilist with a Royal patron, he saw a new avenue to increased income. He began to teach sparring with the mufflers to the young relatives of the Duke of Cumberland, for the improvement of their health and the strengthening of their character. Without realizing it, Jack Broughton began the tradition of Boxing for Health and Character Development.

This tradition of Boxing runs parallel to, but separate from the "sweet science" of the professional prize ring. During the Victorian Era, Boxing for Health resided mainly in the Gentleman's Athletic Clubs of the major cities in England and America. Late in the era, it was instituted into the Ivy League Universities, on both sides of the Atlantic. Many of the political figures who outlawed Boxing, for periods of time in England and the U.S.A. practiced sparring for health in their Gentlemen's Clubs. They seemed to see no correlation between controlled contact, gloved sparring and Bare Knuckle Prize Fighting. President Teddy Roosevelt was known for his Boxing, first at Harvard University and later at the New York Athletic Club, under the training of former Middleweight professional champion, Professor Mike Donovan. In the 1980's, White Collar Boxing programs drew many young executives into the Boxing Gyms, in search of stress relief. This was so successful that in the 1990's, your average housewife can join a Boxing for Health program at her local Health Club. Some modern American Internal Martial Arts schools, such as the William C.C. Chen School of Tai Chi Chuan, the Wu Tang P.C.A., and C.K. Chu's New York Tai Chi Center, work with the correlations between Western Boxing and their arts. The proof of this work can be seen by the techniques which are used by their students on the San Shou platforms and in the point fighting rings of Chinese Martial Arts Tournaments around the country.

AUTHOR CREDITS

Frank Allen is a freelance writer and the Director and Chief Instructor of the Wu Tang Physical Culture Association.

Clarence Lu is a freelance author who teaches Mandrin for the Martial Artist, Ba Gua Zhang, and the Fighting for Health System at the Wu Tang P.C.A.

Both men can be reached at:

Wu Tang P.C.A.
7 1\2 Second Ave. 3rd fl.
New York, NY. 10003
212 533-1751

metal-tiger.com

Member of MARTIAL ARTS HYPERBANNER !