June 5, 2009 10:01 AM
- Text
Giving A Belated Thanks To "Caine"
(CBS)
Charles Cooper is the Opinions Editor at CBS News.com.
Although I never got my black belt, it still was a journey well worth the effort. Unfortunately, I blew my chance to personally thank the person who set me on the path.
Years ago, while dining in Los Angeles, I caught a glance of David Carradine eating at a far table of the restaurant. He didn't look much like the martial arts wise man he had played in the 1970s series, Kung Fu. Unlike his television personna, this person was upbeat and jolly that night-nothing resembling an ascetic itinerant - trading jokes with friends.
Had I mustered enough courage that evening, I might have walked up to Carradine and gushed how martial arts had exposed me to other cultures or helped me learn how to overcome personal limitations or some such babble.
But that sounded too corny to me and I was too self-conscious to play the part of fawning groupie. I just finished my meal quietly, slipping out without even a sidelong glance as I passed Carradine's table. Too bad; he might have appreciated a verbal high-five.
So it was that the news that Carradine died on Thursday in Bangkok likely resonated with millions of us who will always remember him as Kwai Chang Caine. Like a lot of other Americans, the Kung Fu series was my initial exposure to Asian martial arts. It didn't matter to me that Carradine was white. (While the studios briefly considered Bruce Lee for the role, they went for a Caucasian playing a Chinese man so he wouldn't offend white folks' sensibilities.)
It did not matter to me that Carradine wasn't a trained martial artist. It was TV after all and "Caine" represented something entirely new. Besides, he had moves. The spectacle of this super-serene dude, summoning amazing feats of courage against impossible odds - all within neat 60 minute segments, minus commercials, naturally - was adolescent catnip. You didn't need to buy into the Hollywood's pop wisdom to be enthralled about his depiction of practice that was as intriguing as it was exotic to so many of us.
So peace be with you on your next journey, Grasshopper. And a belated thanks for opening that door.
Although I never got my black belt, it still was a journey well worth the effort. Unfortunately, I blew my chance to personally thank the person who set me on the path.
Years ago, while dining in Los Angeles, I caught a glance of David Carradine eating at a far table of the restaurant. He didn't look much like the martial arts wise man he had played in the 1970s series, Kung Fu. Unlike his television personna, this person was upbeat and jolly that night-nothing resembling an ascetic itinerant - trading jokes with friends.
Had I mustered enough courage that evening, I might have walked up to Carradine and gushed how martial arts had exposed me to other cultures or helped me learn how to overcome personal limitations or some such babble.
But that sounded too corny to me and I was too self-conscious to play the part of fawning groupie. I just finished my meal quietly, slipping out without even a sidelong glance as I passed Carradine's table. Too bad; he might have appreciated a verbal high-five.
So it was that the news that Carradine died on Thursday in Bangkok likely resonated with millions of us who will always remember him as Kwai Chang Caine. Like a lot of other Americans, the Kung Fu series was my initial exposure to Asian martial arts. It didn't matter to me that Carradine was white. (While the studios briefly considered Bruce Lee for the role, they went for a Caucasian playing a Chinese man so he wouldn't offend white folks' sensibilities.)
It did not matter to me that Carradine wasn't a trained martial artist. It was TV after all and "Caine" represented something entirely new. Besides, he had moves. The spectacle of this super-serene dude, summoning amazing feats of courage against impossible odds - all within neat 60 minute segments, minus commercials, naturally - was adolescent catnip. You didn't need to buy into the Hollywood's pop wisdom to be enthralled about his depiction of practice that was as intriguing as it was exotic to so many of us.
That, at least, was how I got interested in the martial arts. I spent years studying both Tae-Kwon-Do and Wing Chun, one a Korean style, the other from China. Truth be told, I wasn't more than passable. No matter. I'm better for the experience, and as they say, the journey is the reward, isn't it?
So peace be with you on your next journey, Grasshopper. And a belated thanks for opening that door.
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