Professor Mike Donovan's The Roosevelt That I know Part 2

Foreword by Dwight
Would you spar with the Governor? The President of the United States? Well that is exactly what Professor Mike Donovan did in the late 1800s. He wrote a book about his experience in 1909, titled "The Roosevelt That I know". Mike Donovan was considered one of the best practitioners of the sweet science at the time. In this second part, Professor Donovan discusses the characteristics of President Roosevelt.

(Corresponding Podcast)

The Roosevelt That I know Part 2
From the very first I was struck with the kindly nature of the man. Though pressed with full business as he always was, his mind full of problems, with a crowd of importunate office seekers and would-be advisors forever at his heels, he hailed my appearance with genuine delight, and always found time to inquire after my doings and welfare. Sometimes I thought it was the getting away from the exactions of office, the temporary respite from official cares that my coming signaled, that made me so welcome; again, that diplomatic intrigue, the wrangling of officials, intemperate attacks of the opposing party, all of which must be settled with words, mere words, stirred his impatient blood to the boiling point. A box on the ear here, a smash in the wind there, I could readily guess, would have suited his affairs it is the diplomatic "having the honor to be" - but never doing anything.  He must hit somebody, hit him hard, and I thought I turned up opportunately to get what was coming to somebody else.

This was my first impression. A mistaken one as I soon learned. However he might have settled political discussions in the ring, or let rivals for a post-office wrestle it out-best two out of three falls to get the job-it was never in his mind to hand out to me the punishment that was theirs. He had come to like me, because he found me an authority in a domain that particularly interested him, because I represented the straightforward method of the real fighting man, who fights because he loves to fight and brings no hard feelings, no animosity into the game.

Many's the time I have been passed through a throng of waiting politicians of high rank, often enough summoned by the sudden bobbing around a door of the President's head, with a: "Hello, Mike, come right in!" It seemed to me that though immersed in political conflicts, that kind of fighting never sufficed to ward his blood, for I never saw a man more willing to take a good jolt just for the pleasure of giving one back.

One day while I was waiting in the office for my turn to see the President, I witnessed an incident which proved the truth of my belief that under his rugged, aggressive exterior there lay a vein of kindliness and sympathy. The last of the long line of visitors was a woman accompanied by a young girl apparently, her daughter, who had been introduced to the President by a man whom I took to be the Congressman from their home. She was importuning the President for a favor which, for some reason, he was unable to grant. The thought flashed through my mind that this woman was trying to get a pardon for her son-perhaps a deserter. The President listened attentively, then shook his head emphatically. "I'm sorry, madam," he said, "but I can't do it." "But, Mr. President," she urged, "won't you-" "Madam," he replied, stepping back as she came toward him, "I can't do it. I cannot do it." As she turned away, very sorrowful, he came toward me. His eyes were sad. The corners of his mouth drooped. His face was flushed deep red. The veins on his neck stood out. He was a picture of distress.

The incident proved the truth of the old rule that a man cannot be a good fighter unless he has a good heart. The first time I was invited to the White house to box with the President was in January 1904. I found him the same enthusiastic, simply democratic, kindly man I had boxed four years earlier at Albany. I have learned, in my association with the President, though it has been confined solely to sparring bouts, that the really great are never pompous; but, on the contrary, simple and sincere. Though he has a quiet dignity that brooks no familiarity, the genuineness of the man, his directness, earnestness, at once puts you at your ease, and the consideration, which seems bred in his bone, warms you to him at the very start.

"Why don't you stay for the reception tonight, Mike?" said he one afternoon after a round bout. "Why, Mr. President," I replied, "I haven't the proper clothes for anything like that." "Oh, you mean a dress-suit. Say, Mike, I'll lend you one of mine." I caught his eye as, with the characteristic movement of the head to the one side, he grinned encouragingly at me and, seeing that he really meant it, I looked from his full figure to my own slender outlines and burst out laughing.
"Why, what's the matter, Mike?" The words were scarce out of his mouth when he caught the reason for my hesitancy-the same ridiculous figure appeared in his mind's eye that I had pictured myself, as wearing his clothes, and he caught the infection, and for some moments we stood facing each other and  laughed ourselves hoarse.

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Mr. President," I said, when I had recovered,  "I'll hire a dress-suit." So I did, and a disappointing fit it was, thought the best I could do-a pinch in the waist and shoulder, and too long in the sleeves and legs. For a moment I determined to give over the idea of the reception, but on second thought I remembered that I had promised to come and that he expected me. I put on as good a face as I could, and feeling very uncomfortable-about as much at home, in fact, as a sheep in a lion's skin-presented myself at the White House and edged timidly into the background, an uncertain and inconspicuous shadow in the gay throng.

I would shake hands with the President and fade away. I thought I would be a temporary, rather than a permanent, exhibit. He motioned me toward him. As I advanced, the major-domo stopped and said, "Name, please." The President heard him and called, "Oh, there is no need of introducing Mike to me," at the same time reaching out and drawing me toward him. But the President's sharp eye caught me unawares while I was trying to push my shoulders further into the coat, thus to make the sleeves seem not so ridiculously long. "Hello, Mike!" he exclaimed, "I'm glad to see you." He must have noted my discomfort and embarrassment, read it in my face; for leaning over, he whispered, "It's all right, Mike. You look first-rate."It was a great relief; my features relaxed and I breathed freer. Indeed, I stayed for some time, enjoying it thoroughly. I could not observe that I attracted any unfavorable attention and, concluding that my appearance was not nearly as bad as I thought, gave the matter no further concern.

On the evening of March 3, 1904, the day before the inauguration, between five and six o' clock, the President and I had a "go" of some ten rounds. He was as happy as a schoolboy as he stripped for the fray. "After the inauguration tomorrow," he said, "I go out to the Rockies on a hunt for four or five weeks and live the simple life." He loves the Western mountaineers and plainsmen. "Now, Mike," he said, "we must have a good, long bout this evening. It'll brighten me up for tomorrow, which will be a trying day."

We boxed the ten hard, long rounds. He had improved so much in his practice with me that winter that I had to resort to all the strategy that my experience had taught me. After the fifth round I felt like calling a halt, but did not want to appear to be a quitter. We were having it hot and heavy; in an exchange I tried to land a right-hand body blow, ducking to avoid a left-hand counter. Instead he struck me a flush right-hander on the top of the head, knocking me sprawling to the mat. The blow jarred me quite a bit. As I got to my feet, he said: "That's a good make-believe knock-down, Mike." Evidently he did not realize how hard he hit me.

"Mr. President," I rejoined, "I would not let even you knock me down if I could help it." I felt a bit nettled. We started in again, hammer and tongs, and I kept a sharp lookout for his clever play with th left and follow with the right. I will say right here I never was more extended with any man I ever boxed with than in this go. At the close he was perspiring profusely, but seemed fresh enough to go much longer. I sat down and began to puff. He was sitting beside me and said, "Mike, did I understand you to say you are going to march in the parade with the Catholic Protectory Band of New York tomorrow! If so, I would like to have you ask Mr. Ryan, the bandmaster, to has his band play 'Garry Owen' as it passes the reviewing stand." I said, "I will certainly do so, Mr. President, with a great deal of pleasure."

This is the great Irish fighting air, which was played by Irish bagpipes at the famous battle of Vinegar Hill, in Ireland, against the British troops. The air so inspired the Irishmen that they repulsed the regular British soldiers with their musketry and cannons, although they had nothing in their hands but pitchforks and pikes; and gained them the victory. It was to this same tune that Custer led his valiant troop of cavalry to death in the battle of the Little Big Horn.

The next morning I went to the band headquarters, which I had found after an all-night search, and delivered my message to Bandmaster Ryan. He said, "Did the President say that?" I replied, "You may rely upon it." "Well." said he, "I'll play it as he never heard it played before." That afternoon we marched down the avenue, turned the corner at the Treasury Building, Fifteenth Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, and the eighty buglers which comprised the boy band began the first stanza of "Garry Owen." The President, hearing them coming, clapped his hands saying, "Here they come! here they come!" He was so delighted that, when they were passing, he shouted, "Well done, boys! well done!" As I came along in the rear of the band, the President spied me and called out, "Hello there, Mike! How are you, old man?"

Vice-President Fairbanks was on the reviewing stand, and, as I was informed afterward, he inquired, "Who is this Mike?" He was told that it was Professor Mike Donovan, who had been boxing with the President. He said, "Very interesting, indeed." The bandmaster and the boys were extremely proud of the greeting they received from the President, and so was I.

Musings
What a great account of the very nature of Roosevelt. On one hand, he appeared to be an overly aggressive grisly bear. On the other hand, he appeared to be compassionate teddy bear. My favorite quote from this text was, "A man cannot be a good fighter unless he has a good heart". This compassion demonstrates the one side of the dual nature of martial arts. One side violent and aggressive the other calm and empathetic. Which makes me think of what Plato said, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle".

Is kindness and empathy integrated into your training?

References:
Donovan, Michael Joseph. The Roosevelt That I Know; Ten Years of Boxing with the President--and Other Memories of Famous Fighting Men,. New York: B.W. Dodge, 1909. https://books.google.com/books?hl=en&lr=&id=x7QaAAAAYAAJ&oi=fnd&pg=PA8&dq=boxing&ots=MYv8NVrKwf&sig=N21fmrbbSTU8P3S0scqcxphbg9M

Nitobe's Bushido Soul of Japan - Honor

Foreword by Dwight
Honor has a dual sided nature and Inazo Nitobe explores this topic, especially as it was heavily incorporated in the Samurai Code. It seemed that is was possible used for good and for bad. It almost felt as if the Samurai were incredibly sensitive towards their reputation and namesake. Are you and honorable martial artist?

(Corresponding Podcast)

Honor
As a matter of fact, the idea of honesty is so intimately blended, and its Latin and its German etymology so identified with honor, that it is high time I should pause a few moments for the consideration of this feature of the Precepts of Knighthood.

The sense of honor, implying a vivid consciousness of personal dignity and worth, could not fail to characterize the samurai, born and bred to value the duties and privileges of their profession. Though the word ordinarily given now-a-days as the translation of Honor was not used freely, yet the idea was conveyed by such terms as na (name) men-moku (countenance), guai-bun (outside hearing), reminding us respectively of the biblical use of "name," of the evolution of the term "personality" from the Greek mask, and of "fame." A good name—one's reputation, the immortal part of one's self, what remains being bestial—assumed as a matter of course, any infringement upon its integrity was felt as shame, and the sense of shame (Ren-chi-shin) was one of the earliest to be cherished in juvenile education. "You will be laughed at," "It will disgrace you," "Are you not ashamed?" were the last appeal to correct behavior on the part of a youthful delinquent. Such a recourse to his honor touched the most sensitive spot in the child's heart, as though it had been nursed on honor while it was in its mother's womb; for most truly is honor a prenatal influence, being closely bound up with strong family consciousness. "In losing the solidarity of families," says Balzac, "society has lost the fundamental force which Montesquieu named Honor." Indeed, the sense of shame seems to me to be the earliest indication of the moral consciousness of our race. The first and worst punishment which befell humanity in consequence of tasting "the fruit of that forbidden tree" was, to my mind, not the sorrow of childbirth, nor the thorns and thistles, but the awakening of the sense of shame. Few incidents in history excel in pathos the scene of the first mother plying with heaving breast and tremulous fingers, her crude needle on the few fig leaves which her dejected husband plucked for her. This first fruit of disobedience clings to us with a tenacity that nothing else does. All the sartorial ingenuity of mankind has not yet succeeded in sewing an apron that will efficaciously hide our sense of shame.

That samurai was right who refused to compromise his character by a slight humiliation in his youth; "because," he said, "dishonor is like a scar on a tree, which time, instead of effacing, only helps to enlarge."Mencius had taught centuries before, in almost the identical phrase, what Carlyle has latterly expressed,—namely, that "Shame is the soil of all Virtue, of good manners and good morals."

The fear of disgrace was so great that if our literature lacks such eloquence as Shakespeare puts into the mouth of Norfolk, it nevertheless hung like Damocles' sword over the head of every samurai and often assumed a morbid character. In the name of Honor, deeds were perpetrated which can find no justification in the code of Bushido. At the slightest, nay, imaginary insult, the quick-tempered braggart took offense, resorted to the use of the sword, and many an unnecessary strife was raised and many an innocent life lost. The story of a well-meaning citizen who called the attention of a bushi to a flea jumping on his back, and who was forthwith cut in two, for the simple and questionable reason that inasmuch as fleas are parasites which feed on animals, it was an unpardonable insult to identify a noble warrior with a beast—I say, stories like these are too frivolous to believe. Yet, the circulation of such stories implies three things; (1) that they were invented to overawe common people; (2) that abuses were really made of the samurai's profession of honor; and (3) that a very strong sense of shame was developed among them. It is plainly unfair to take an  abnormal case to cast blame upon the Precepts, any more than to judge of the true teaching of Christ from the fruits of religious fanaticism and extravagance—inquisitions and hypocrisy. But, as in religious monomania there is something touchingly noble, as compared with the delirium tremens of a drunkard, so in that extreme sensitiveness of the samurai about their honor do we not recognize the substratum of a genuine virtue?

The morbid excess into which the delicate code of honor was inclined to run was strongly counterbalanced by preaching magnanimity and patience. To take offense at slight provocation was ridiculed as "short-tempered." The popular adage said: "To bear what you think you cannot bear is really to bear." The great Iyéyasu left to posterity a few maxims, among which are the following:—"The life of man is like going a long distance with a heavy load upon the shoulders. Haste not...

Reproach none, but be forever watchful of thine own short-comings...Forbearance is the basis of length of days." He proved in his life what he preached. A literary wit put a characteristic epigram into the mouths of three well-known personages in our history: to Nobunaga he attributed, "I will kill her, if the nightingale sings not in time;" to Hidéyoshi, "I will force her to sing for me;" and to Iyéyasu, "I will wait till she opens her lips."Patience and long suffering were also highly commended by Mencius. In one place he writes to this effect: "Though you denude yourself and insult me, what is that to me?

You cannot defile my soul by your outrage." Elsewhere he teaches that anger at a petty offense is unworthy a superior man, but indignation for a great cause is To what height of unmartial and unresisting meekness Bushido could reach in some of its votaries, may be seen in their utterances. Take, for instance, this saying of Ogawa: "When others speak all manner of evil things against thee, return not evil for evil, but rather reflect that thou wast not more faithful in the discharge of thy duties." Take another of Kumazawa:—"When others blame thee, blame them not; when others are angry at thee, return not anger. Joy cometh only as Passion and Desire part." Still another instance I may cite from Saigo, upon whose overhanging brows "shame is ashamed to sit;"—"The Way is the way of Heaven and Earth: Man's place is to follow it: therefore make it the object of thy life to reverence Heaven. Heaven loves me and others with equal love; therefore with the love wherewith thou lovest thyself, love others. Make not Man thy partner but Heaven, and making Heaven thy partner do thy best. Never condemn others; but see to it that thou comest not short of thine own mark." Some of those sayings remind us of Christian expostulations and show us how far in practical morality natural religion can approach the revealed. Not only did these sayings remain as utterances, but they were really embodied in acts.

It must be admitted that very few attained this sublime height of magnanimity, patience and forgiveness. It was a great pity that nothing clear and general was expressed as to what constitutes Honor, only a few enlightened minds being aware that it "from no condition rises," but that it lies in each acting well his part: for nothing was easier than for youths to forget in the heat of action what they had learned in Mencius in their calmer moments. Said this sage, "'Tis in every man's mind to love honor: but little doth he dream that what is truly honorable lies within himself and not anywhere else. The honor which men confer is not good honor. Those whom Châo the Great ennobles, he can make mean again."

For the most part, an insult was quickly resented and repaid by death, as we shall see later, while Honor—too often nothing higher than vain glory or worldly approbation—was prized as thesummum bonum of earthly existence. Fame, and not wealth or knowledge, was the goal toward which youths had to strive. Many a lad swore within himself as he crossed the threshold of his paternal home, that he would not recross it until he had made a name in the world: and many an ambitious mother refused to see her sons again unless they could "return home," as the expression is, "caparisoned in brocade." To shun shame or win a name, samurai boys would submit to any privations and undergo severest ordeals of bodily or mental suffering. They knew that honor won in youth grows with age. In the memorable siege of Osaka, a young son of Iyéyasu, in spite of his earnest entreaties to be put in the vanguard, was placed at the rear of the army. When the castle fell, he was so chagrined and wept so bitterly that an old councillor tried to console him with all the resources at his command. "Take comfort, Sire," said he, "at thought of the long future before you. In the many years that you may live, there will come divers occasions to distinguish yourself." The boy fixed his indignant gaze upon the man and said—"How foolishly you talk! Can ever my fourteenth year come round again?"

Life itself was thought cheap if honor and fame could be attained therewith: hence, whenever a cause presented itself which was considered dearer than life, with utmost serenity and celerity was life laid down.

Dwight's Musings
Honor is a dual sided concept. It is defined modernly as honesty, fairness, or integrity in one's beliefs and actions. Honesty, fairness and integrity are wonderful attributes, but these can be good or bad as fairness and integrity are subjective in layers of gray. Nitobe acknowledges the downside of Honor as when young Samurai took too much angst from a slight and was not uncommon for Samurai to easily kill based on this type of infraction. 

Who determines what is fair and honest? The person with the sword? Honor could be twisted in such a way unfortunately. Plato once said, "You should not honor men more than truth". Additionally, Confucius said, "To be wealthy and honored in an unjust society is a disgrace".

Incorporating the virtues of fairness and integrity would be great for your belief system, but if we evaluate the old saying "there is honor among thieves" then the context of your belief system must also be truthful and justified. 

References:
Nitobe, Inazo. Bushido. The Soul of Japan ... Fifth Edition, Etc. Shōkwabō: Tokyo; Simpkin, Marshall &: London, 1908.   http://www.gutenberg.org/files/12096/12096-h/12096-h.htm

Identify Evil Martial Artists!

EVIL

Evil lurks everywhere! It is important to know when your opponent is an evil martial artist and how to identify their evil martial art. Just as I talk about fighting off evil fencing a-holes, which are probably very easy to identify aka 16th century swords, 16th century garb and a 16th century mustache, it is also necessary to pick up characteristics of evil doers.

First, just as I mentioned above. You should be suspicious of anyone with a mustache and slanted eyebrows, hipsters included. Nothing is more evil than a mustachioed villain!

After you have determined you are facing an evil hipster or other evil martial artist, you should look for is the type of martial art clothing your opponent is using to determine the fighting style. The type of clothing is the next dead give away. Here is a list of Martial Arts and their clothing styles:

• Karate - Japanese Karate practitioners tend to wear all white robe and pants with no shoes. Evil Karate bad guys tend to wear black.
• Vovinam - Vietnamese Vovinam practitioners wear all blue robes and pants with no shoes.
• Savate - The French Kickboxing art of Savate showcases Spandex, lots and lots of spandex. If you come across someone with spandex you are facing an evil savateer or an evil 80s aerobics instructor. So be careful in either case.
• Muay Thai - The Thai art of Muay Thai features bright colored short shorts, no shirt, and rope hand wraps.
• Kung fu - The various Chinese Arts of Kung Fu tend to either wear silk pajamas or bright orange robes.
• Tae Kwon Doe - The Korean art of Tae Kwon Do features the all white robe and pants, but with shoes as opposed to karate's no shoes.
• Military style - Camouflaged clothing or camo for short, can easily be confused with a redneck's camo shorts

Any sort of dark uniform is generally associated with evil!

Your evil hipster is most likely wearing a combination of spandex and short shorts. I know what you are asking yourself, "what if your opponent wears normal clothes?", well if the garb isn't a dead give away. Then we have to look for the various martial arts stances utilized.

• Karate, Kung Fu, and Tae Kwon Doe all have a similar crouched position with the left hand out front of the face and the right hand near the waist.
• Southeast Asian styles like Muay Thai and Bokator are on their toes squared up towards the opponent with both forearms protecting the face.
• Savate and Boxing have a slightly turned stance with more of the shoulder facing the opponent with hands near the face.

Anytime an opponent uses the words in association with their martial art, like forbidden, dark, evil, poisonous, venomous, then I am pretty sure they are evil too.

So to recap the four areas to help you identify evil martial artists are mustache, evil clothing, stance and evil style. Let me know what you think helps you identify evil martial artists.

(Corresponding Podcast)

-Dwight