It is sad that a sense of fair play seems to have been lost in the past 5-6 decades. I often read accounts of gangs beating somebody up or some young punk hurting a senior citizen.
Circa 1949-1950 when I was in college, my father sometimes called & asked me to go to his warehouse on Sunday to pack up an order for pickup by a freight company Monday morning.
On several occasions, somebody from a local gang would pick a fight with me, the stranger. While I wore glasses & seemed a bit nerdy I was a college conference wrestling champion & slightly better than mediocre at martial arts.
The first 2-3 encounters ended with me hurting my opponent a bit & then saying that I would like to quit fighting, which ended the confrontation.
I noticed that the smallest of their crowd was the first & the next were bigger. I realized if I had to fight the biggest ones that win, lose, or draw I would get hurt.
A friend solved my problem. He knew a fellow named Bernie who had almost made the 1948 Olympic team as a shot putter. Bernie & I rehearsed an act.
The next time I went to the warehouse, Bernie & my friend met me. My friend was small & we seemed to accidentally bump into each other. Bernie, wearing a T-shirt 2 sizes small for him, roared that he was going to get me for hurting his friend. He had biceps as big as some people’s legs & looked formidable in the small T-shirt.
We went into our rehearsed act which ended with Bernie getting up off the ground pretending to have badly hurt arm & a limp due to his leg also being hurt.
After Bernie & his friend got into their car & drove away, a gang member came over to talk to me. I said something like the following.
In that era, a gang would never pick on a lone individual. Only one member would start a fight. There was a code of fairness which does not seem to exist nowadays. I often worry that some young punk is going to cause trouble (I am in my 80's).
BTW: In the 1930's one of the best at martial arts in the USA was a Norwegian named Harry Olsen. I took lessons from him.
Circa WW1, Harry took a job as errand boy on a Norwegian freighter. He was 9-10 at the time & his family was very poor. The crew had shore leave at some port in Japan. Harry got lost & was stranded in Japan.
It was a very sorry situation. Few, if anyone, in Japan spoke Norwegian. The owner of a dojo heard about Harry & allowed him to live in the dojo. True martial arts masters seem to be decent folks. Harry was in Japan until the early 1930's & became extremely adept at various martial arts. By that time a relative had come to USA & prospered. He sent Harry money to come to the USA where he got a job at Herman’s gym in Philadelphia. I took lessons from him for 2-3 years. While I was never much better than mediocre at martial arts, the training made me a damn good grappler.
Circa 1949-1950 when I was in college, my father sometimes called & asked me to go to his warehouse on Sunday to pack up an order for pickup by a freight company Monday morning.
On several occasions, somebody from a local gang would pick a fight with me, the stranger. While I wore glasses & seemed a bit nerdy I was a college conference wrestling champion & slightly better than mediocre at martial arts.
The first 2-3 encounters ended with me hurting my opponent a bit & then saying that I would like to quit fighting, which ended the confrontation.
I noticed that the smallest of their crowd was the first & the next were bigger. I realized if I had to fight the biggest ones that win, lose, or draw I would get hurt.
A friend solved my problem. He knew a fellow named Bernie who had almost made the 1948 Olympic team as a shot putter. Bernie & I rehearsed an act.
The next time I went to the warehouse, Bernie & my friend met me. My friend was small & we seemed to accidentally bump into each other. Bernie, wearing a T-shirt 2 sizes small for him, roared that he was going to get me for hurting his friend. He had biceps as big as some people’s legs & looked formidable in the small T-shirt.
We went into our rehearsed act which ended with Bernie getting up off the ground pretending to have badly hurt arm & a limp due to his leg also being hurt.
After Bernie & his friend got into their car & drove away, a gang member came over to talk to me. I said something like the following.
That was the end of members of the gang picking fights.That guy was so damn strong, I was afraid that he would hurt me badly if I gave him a chance. I did not expect any of you fellows to hurt me, so I did not go all in those fights.
In that era, a gang would never pick on a lone individual. Only one member would start a fight. There was a code of fairness which does not seem to exist nowadays. I often worry that some young punk is going to cause trouble (I am in my 80's).
BTW: In the 1930's one of the best at martial arts in the USA was a Norwegian named Harry Olsen. I took lessons from him.
Circa WW1, Harry took a job as errand boy on a Norwegian freighter. He was 9-10 at the time & his family was very poor. The crew had shore leave at some port in Japan. Harry got lost & was stranded in Japan.
It was a very sorry situation. Few, if anyone, in Japan spoke Norwegian. The owner of a dojo heard about Harry & allowed him to live in the dojo. True martial arts masters seem to be decent folks. Harry was in Japan until the early 1930's & became extremely adept at various martial arts. By that time a relative had come to USA & prospered. He sent Harry money to come to the USA where he got a job at Herman’s gym in Philadelphia. I took lessons from him for 2-3 years. While I was never much better than mediocre at martial arts, the training made me a damn good grappler.