Chapter One - The Big Boss
I was born (no surprise there then) on 13th November 1955 and, after some argument, named Karl Lancaster. My father wanted me to be called Charles, but my mother had other ideas, so they settled on Karl which is the Germanic equivalent anyway. Things did not go right from the off as my name was to be spelled with a 'c', the Scandinavian spelling, but the registrar mucked it up.
My father was John Patrick Lancaster. He hated the Patrick bit, his mother had been born in Ireland near Cork, but as he hated the Irish he would never accept that she was truly a Celt. If you ever wanted to cause an argument you had only to bring up his celtic ancestry and he was off! As the name Lancaster implies the family was English and probably originally from Lancashire, although no one could remember back that far.
Apparently, according to my father, the more recent ancestors of the Lancaster family had been Fishermen and it was a family tradition to take a Scandinavian bride. However, as I allude to in my foreword, we often make assumption or even down right fiction fact. And I could find no record of fisherman or Danish brides when researching my family tree. Only that my great great grandfather ( I think) was described as a 'gentleman', which, in those days was rare.
According to my father, my great grandmother spoke with an obvious Danish accent her whole life. And it was no doubt the Scandinavian blood (if it existed) that contributed to my fathers looks. On holiday he was always mistaken for German, a fact that peed him off his entire life.
My grandfather Richard was born in Woolwich London in 1905. Hence the now family tradition of being an Arsenal supporter. Granddad Richard also decided to become a police officer. At six feet two inches and probably about 15 or 16 stone he was a big guy (although the smallest of all his brothers) and ideally suited to being an old time copper. He was by all accounts a total bastard and not someone to mess with. Apparently one of his past times was to start a fight in a pub, let it escalate in to a small riot and then call in the cavalry and nick the lot of them. He also used to carry a pistol. Its from Granddads time at least that the family have a tradition of fighting and of being handy with a gun. Unfortunately I never met my grandfather or grandmother, or indeed step grandmother as they all died by fifty. My grandfather dying the year I was born.
My father was one of three, the other two being girls. Like his father he grew up to be a powerfully build man and stood well over six feet tall. He didn’t have such a good start in life, his mother died when he was young and his dad remarried. Apparently his step mum was quite well to do and he loved her but she also died young.
Dad was not a well child. He spent several years in hospital with childhood asthma. But at fourteen he became the second youngest recruit to join the Royal Navy. He spent ten years in the Navy, mostly as a submariner. During that time he boxed for the navy, shot for the navy (he was a marksman with at least three confirmed kills) and played water polo for the navy. He also learned unarmed combat and more importantly, how to fight.
One thing my dad wasn’t shy of was a fight. All through his life he was happy to accommodate. Even at nearly fifty he was able to knock a guy down with one punch.
In contrast to my dad who was big, blonde and blue eyed, my mother was short, dark and brown eyed. She was also shrewd, hard working and had a very bad temper! She once chased one of her sister around with a red hot poker. And on another occasion I watched her bury a fork in my fathers hand. They got on like 'Ali' and 'Fraser' and some of the fights were just as good but did nothing for me as an only child in a constantly warring family.
If my father's heritage was colourful it paled in contrast to my mothers family. Latin, celtic, French and Jewish were the predominant contributors to the blood line.
My maternal great-grandfather fought in the first world war as part of a cavalry unit. He was shot and gassed and eventually died of his wounds. My great-grandmother also died young. But that was my mothers family. My mothers fathers family boasted an endearing great grandfather who was virtually illiterate who was dominated by a self centred would be actress wife. Both lived well in to their eighties.
Both my mothers parents had a great influence on my life as I virtually lived with them until I was about eleven years old. My grandfather was domineering and quick tempered, but a typical bully who backed down when a more able man was about, funny but he never got on with my father. He was far more fond of animals than he was people and bred dogs, birds and fish. He was also a very selfish man. But he did have good points like taking me for long walks to museums and parks on a Saturday morning when my dad was working or in the pub, and my mum was out with her sisters and my grandmother down Oxford Street. The other good point was he enjoyed wrestling and every Saturday afternoon we would sit there and watch the likes of Kendo Nagasaki and Big Daddy pretend to hurt each other. Although totally bogus, but a lot more technical than the modern day American wrestling, it did give me some insight in to 'fighting systems' at an early age.
I’m sure it was due to my childish interest in wrestling that my father one day decided to teach me boxing. In his eyes boxing was the combat art for a man, although he was vaguely aware of more complete systems of combat like judo and karate, but had no direct dealings with them other than through the minimal unarmed combat training he got in the Navy.
My boxing training started when I was about 14 years old and mainly consisted of my dad giving me tips on strength exercises, shadow boxing and sparring, during which he would thump hell out of one of my arms. To be fair we never used gloves and he was being pretty gentle, it just didn’t feel like that at the time.
Unlike some of the kids today, by 14 I had already had my fair share of fights. At primary school I had both given and received a few good beatings. And out of school I was not the most popular kid on the block and this too resulted in a few good tear ups!
Things didn’t change when I moved from Christ Church Primary to Rutherford Comprehensive. Rutherford had a reputation even then, and it endures now. I was never one of the big fighters at school, I was too shy and somewhat slight. But I did surprise a few people with my punch and stopped several playground opponents with just the one shot.
In about 1972/73 I got my first look at the new must see cinema craze, oriental martial arts film. If I remember rightly the first film I saw was 'The One Arm Swordsman'. The second was 'Fist of Fury' with the now legendary Bruce Lee. I’m sure by the time I saw it he had already come to an untimely end.
Of course I loved it, like any kid would. And my best friend Tony Christopher and I would spar and make up our own 'kung fu' moves. I was somewhat surprised that although he was bigger than me and a better playground fighter, I could hold my own against him and quite often get the better of him with my homemade martial arts.
Its fair to say that Bruce Lee and also David Carradine in 'Kung Fu' were two very big factors in my life at that time. I went for the whole martial arts things hook, line and sinker! I was so keen my mother brought me home a book on karate. And my father taught me the few bits of unarmed combat he knew.
At that time I knew only what I saw in kung fu films and in the TV series. Of course both, although having a basic element of the philosophy and technique, were wildly inaccurate but entertaining! I recently watched 'Fist of Fury' again and was not only appalled by the acting but also by the technique. Even Bruce looked like an amateur. David Carradine at the time 'Kung Fu' was made didn’t know any martial arts at all, although he has learned kung fu since.
But at that time I wasn’t aware that David Carradine was a dancer choreographed by another, or that Bruce was more or less self taught with a minimum of actual kung fu training. All I saw was guys who could beat the shit out of other people and appear not only tranquil but also fully justified at the end of it.
Of course the fact they had good bodies and health was also another reason to idolise them. And being famous for kicking arse was yet another pull! Being hailed the best fighter in the world was bound to catch my interest too, even if Bruce wasnt.But alas, I couldn’t find a nearby club.
Never one to give up I kept looking for kung fu clubs and lo and behold there was one just a ten minute walk away. But it wasn’t cheap. At eighteen I left school and got a job as a clerk with the National Coal Board, working out of their HQ behind Buckingham Palace. I was on a reasonable wage for my age and upper most in my mind was using some of that money to join the kung fu club. But as luck would have it my martial arts career was about to take a totally different route!
I had only been working for the NCB for a month or two when I noticed one of the guys in my building had put up a notice about starting a martial arts club. It was something called aikido and apparently it used the force of the opponent against him. I had never heard of it but thought I would give it a go anyway. And so my kung fu training went on hold for about 25 years!
