I have been asked to notice the New School of Self Defence and Salle D’Escrime, opened at 18, Berners-street, Oxford-street, and the system of umbrella or stick play illustrated by Professor Pierre Vigny and disciples. Though unable to respond in person to the invitation given to be present at an assault held on Thursday of last week, I can do what is asked, for at various times I have assisted—as a spectator—at such displays.
Certainly the school does make good case for the articles’ usefulness, both in offence and self-defence, when expertly handled; but the art is scarcely new, though carrying much variety. Anyone well versed in single-stick can, of course, easily adapt anything in the nature of a stick for purposes of self-defence, which naturally includes carrying the war into the enemy’s quarters; but to my mind better possibilities are contained in being armed with a stout blackthorn, not to mention “my friend Captain Kennedy.”
At the same time, I have seen in street rows some awfully effective play made with a strong umbrella—a truly terrible weapon in the hands of a clever fencer indifferent as to what damage he might inflict. I wouldn’t like to go for anyone that way, save in extremity. Give such a one room to start —say, with his back against wall, and the foe in front, and he can do tremendous execution, almost murderous.
Once in an election riot I saw an old Army man, set upon by roughs, send his assailants down, man after man, at each lunge. Over they went, struck full on the chest, and no one came for a second dose. How much he hurt them goodness knows—seriously, most of them, I expect.
For comparison, see this 1896 film of savate practitioners in action:
Note that this type of stylised, light-contact sparring reflects the desire of some professional instructors during the late 19th century to separate French kickboxing from its rowdy, back-alley origins. Instructors such as the Charlemonts wished to promote French kickboxing as a relatively genteel combat game and as a method of physical culture, suitable for middle-class patrons of commercial salles de savate. Inevitably, that rather academic and courteous style drew criticism from other quarters, especially from self defence-oriented instructors and from would-be professional athletes, who advocated for a hard-hitting version of the sport influenced by the no-nonsense ethos of English and American boxing.
Light-contact, academic sparring persists as the “savate assaut” option in modern Boxe Française – Savate, contrasted with the full-contact “savate combat”.
Tommy Joe Moore (left, above) of the Bartitsu Lab in Warwickshire, UK is inviting expressions of interest from Bartitsu enthusiasts and instructors for the upcoming Bartitsucon 2018 event, to be held on November 10-11.
Interested parties can learn more about the event and contact Mr. Moore via this link.
A striking promotional photo with members of the Athens Bartitsu Society, founded by George Zacharopoulos in 2015. The club trains in Bartitsu pugilism, jiujitsu and stick fighting, plus smallsword and singlestick fencing.
Former Bartitsu Club instructor Pierre Vigny (right) and his wife and associate instructor Marguerite (second from right) pose for a publicity picture featured in the November, 1903 edition of Health and Strength Magazine.
Marguerite displays the “hook around the neck” technique with her umbrella handle, a characteristic manoeuvre from both her husband’s self-defence system and her own method. Meanwhile, Pierre assumes a lowered version of the Rear Guard with his cane as he prepares to take on the hooligan shown to the far right, who is wielding a belt. A potential follow-up technique is shown below, from the “Art of Stick Defence” article in the August 1, 1903 Illustrated London News:
In common with most athlete/showmen of his time and place, John Clempert (1878-1940) was not averse to spinning some tall tales about his past exploits. He claimed, among other things, to have served as an enforcer in the Russian Army and to have escaped three times from the confines of a transportation van after having been exiled to Siberia for a political infraction.
Clempert arrived in England circa 1899 and quickly began to establish a reputation as an itinerant strongman, escape artist and wrestler on the music hall circuit. Inevitably his trajectory crossed that of E.W. Barton-Wright and his jiujitsu champions, Tani and Uyenishi, who were likewise gaining fame in the music halls.
At that time, Clempert’s signature feat was as “The Man They Cannot Hang”; a stunt which apparently involved hanging by his knees beneath a trapeze suspended over the stage, only then to release his hold on the trapeze and drop some 15 feet, his descent halted by a noose looped around his neck. Whether or not there was some showbiz trickery associated with this stunt, photographs clearly show that Clempert’s neck muscles were, in fact, unusually well-developed.
Swiss grappler Armand Cherpillod was, along with Tani and Uyenishi, employed by Barton-Wright as a challenge wrestler and instructor on behalf of the Bartitsu School of Arms. In his 1933 autobiography, Cherpillod – who seems to have had consistent difficulty in recalling personal names – offered an exciting account of “Klemsky’s” bout with “Yanichi” (Sadakazu Uyenishi):
As quick as a flash, the Japanese leaped onto the Russian and seized him by the collar of the jacket, one hand on each side of his neck, by crossing the wrists, and learnedly exerted the famous pressure on the carotid arteries, which brings choking, and even unconsciousness. The hold did not seem to have any effect on the Russian, who simply smiled at the audience.
Astonished by this resistance, the Japanese wrestler’s eyes gleamed with malice. He rolled across the ground past the Russian while preserving his hold and, to increase the force of the pressure on the neck, planted his two feet in the pit of Klemsky’s stomach. This tightened the grip so extremely that a net of blood escaped from the mouth of Klemsky and sprinkled his face. It was only then that Yanichi [Uyenishi] released his hold and let fall beside him the apparently lifeless body of the Russian.
The public believed that Klemsky had died. They howled their anger and their disapproval of Yanichi. This latter, triumphant, appeared to be insensitive to the hostile remonstrations of the public. He went to sit down on the sidelines, beside his compatriot, in the manner of the tailors at work, by crossing his legs beneath him.
While the spectators redoubled their cries, our two Japanese entered into an animated conversation and even laughed together, contemplating the victim who did not give any sign of life. Suddenly, one of them rose, as if driven by a spring, and approached Klemsky. He leaned on the body of the Russian and gave some sort of vibration or massage to the cardiac area, which revived the victim gradually.
Then, to the great astonishment of the audience who were now gasping, Klemsky opened his eyes and asked where he was. This seemed magical, and even more than before, Jiu-jitsu appeared to be a most mysterious form of fighting.
When someone asked Klemsky for his impression of the event, he said that while losing consciousness, he had heard the sound of bells.
This account is especially interesting in that it’s one of the few records of a Bartitsu Club champion actually rendering a wrestling opponent unconscious, and one of the very first records of kuatsu (Japanese manual resuscitation techniques) in any non-Japanese media.
Clempert himself later recalled his encounter with Uyenishi in a letter published in the October 17th issue of The Encore:
The first time I ever met anybody under 12 stone was when I took on one of Mr. Barton-Wright’s Japs at the Empire. Beat him in the first five seconds in Greco-Roman style, putting him fairly on his back. He felt as though he was a baby. After that he put me to sleep – not from his strength, but by some sort of magnetism he used. I did not feel any pain. I do not know exactly understand what sort of wrestlers they are. According to my idea, they are not wrestlers but magicians.
I challenge them on the following conditions; Greco-Roman, catch-as-catch-can style or Straps. I put down five pounds if I don’t beat one of them within 10 minutes. But if they want to wrestle in their own way, which is called “self-defence”, I will undertake to defend myself in my own way. This means I shall try to disable my opponent before he can disable me. Some money must be staked, as it is their own style of wrestling. I will not take any responsibility about accidents. Of course, this kind of contest would have to take place where there are no ladies, such as at Wonderland or a sporting club.
Yours truly, John Clempert
Despite this bold challenge, there seems to be no further record of John Clempert taking on a jiujitsu-trained opponent.
In February of 1903, Clempert suffered a serious injury while performing his hanging stunt and was taken to hospital suffering from a “concussion of the spinal cord”. He recovered, but seems to have retired that stunt from his repertoire, thereafter continuing his career as a wrestler and an escape artist in the manner of Harry Houdini. Circa 1909, he also produced a pitchbook, the gloriously-titled Thrilling Episodes of John Clempert, The Shining Star of the Realms of Mystery.
Houdini, however, did not suffer imitators gladly and put legal pressure on Clempert to stop performing several escapes that were a little too directly inspired by Houdini’s own. Clempert apologised and promised to desist, although he did briefly come out of retirement after Houdini’s untimely death in 1926.
German Bartitsu instructor Alex Kiermayer has collaborated with Agilitas.tv in producing this new instructional video series on the art of Vigny stick fighting, as incorporated into the original Bartitsu curriculum at the turn of the 20th century.
Readers of a certain vintage may fondly recall the Terence Hill/Bud Spencer buddy comedies of the 1970s, which were best known for their paper-thin plots and gleefully inventive fight scenes. In this scene, the hulking brawler Spencer does what he does best, while the agile, fast-talking Hill discovers a new slapstick weapon in the form of the gentlemanly cane.
Captain Sydney Temple Leopold McLaglen (1884-1951) was one of the most colourful “characters” of the early 20th century jiujitsu scene. Charismatic, moustachioed, broad-shouldered and towering at 6’7″ in height, McLaglen looked every inch the dashing British soldier, and had, in fact, been photographed with his brothers for an army recruitment campaign poster, billed as “the Fighting Macks”.
Reminiscent, however, of Sir Harry Flashman – the fictional protagonist of George Macdonald Fraser’s popular historical novel series, The Flashman Papers – Leopold McLaglen’s stalwart stature concealed the heart and mind of an adventurous con-artist.
McLaglen claimed to have studied Japanese unarmed combat from boyhood with a family servant who was proficient in the art, rapidly advancing to the point where he was able to defeat his instructor. He also claimed to be the Jiujitsu Champion of the World, based on his highly dubious defeat of a Japanese fighter named Kanada in British Columbia during 1907, here summarised by a local reporter:
For two hours the spectators saw nothing but Kanada crouching on the mat with McLaglen on top of him and there was little, if any, jiu-jitsu to the performance. It was apparent to everyone that McLaglen’s knowledge of the game could be covered with a pinhead.
McLaglen’s enthusiastic self-promotion was, thus, inspired by an essentially meaningless title, as – even if he had won a clear victory over Kanada – there was neither a governing body nor a recognised format of international jiujitsu competition during this period.
During late 1911 and early 1912 Leo McLaglen was again in the newspapers, this time for having been caught impersonating his own younger brother, Victor, who was by then making a name for himself as a boxer and as an actor. While working as a doorman at a Milwaukee movie theatre, Leo began calling himself “Victor Fred McLaglen” and publicly claimed a storied past as a decorated hero of the Boer War, a former British intelligence agent and member of King Edward’s bodyguard corps, and a soldier of fortune who’d chased down criminals in Canada. He also said that he had fought heavyweight boxing champion Jack Johnson in Vancouver during 1909.
Riding on local media notoriety, McLaglen then challenged a fencing instructor to a broadsword match with what appear to have been live blades – the resulting contest was an appalling bloodbath – and shortly thereafter challenged the boxer “Fireman” Jim Flynn, only to be knocked down several times within three rounds. At that point his brother Victor caught wind of Leopold’s shenanigans and sent a letter to the editor of the Milwaukee Free Press, denouncing Leo as an impostor but pointedly not mentioning that the two of them were, in fact, related.
Leopold left Milwaukee in disgrace and turned up about a year later in South Africa, where he teamed with strongman Tromp van Diggelen in a touring jiujitsu act. Van Diggelen later wrote that he was surprised to discover that McLaglen’s “paralysing” nerve grips did not actually work, but he was happy to feign being immobilised for the sake of showbiz.
During one performance, however, McLaglen was challenged by a member of the audience who turned out to be a well-known local boxer. As the boxer climbed onto the stage and began removing his jacket, McLaglen unaccountably punched him in the face, causing the pugilist to go berzerk. Van Diggelen then watched bemusedly as his partner was pummeled off the stage and up a flight of stairs leading to their dressing room.
Nevertheless, Leopold McLaglen successfully parlayed his “Jiujitsu Champion” claim into a reputation as a military close-combat expert. By 1913 he was touring India, China, the Philippine Islands, Australia and New Zealand, teaching and demonstrating his version of jiujitsu and also an unusual system of bayonet fighting, which he also claimed to have invented. The McLaglen Bayonet System was notable for its incorporation of extreme close-quarters techniques such as trips, disarms and throws.
Although Leopold McLaglen probably was not, in fact, much of a fighter, he seems to have been a decent instructor. His close-quarters bayonet system was, at least in theory, well-suited to the grim realities of WW1-era trench combat. Most of McLaglen’s trainees were soldiers and police officers, many of whom were recruited as performers in large public Assault-at-Arms exhibitions starring McLaglen himself, supplementing his jiujitsu and bayonet displays with feats of strength, horsemanship and swordsmanship.
By this time, Leo McLaglen’s jiujitsu claims included purported defeats of a veritable who’s who of (notably obscure) opponents, including:
(…) T. E. Hiria, M. Tani and Prof. Yamagata, one of the best men in Japan, who was engaged by President Roosevelt to teach the American police jiujitsu. Captain McLaglen broke the professor’s arm. Prof. Fukamuchi (Los Angeles), Watanalu, Rondo, Saku, Prof. Shimura and [Henry] De Raymond all sustained defeat, the last named, a man of 350 lbs., retiring with a broken shoulder blade. In Calcutta, January 1913, Capt. McLaglen defeated Prof. Yamasaki and Prof. Toda (…)
Even allowing for the vagaries of transliterating Japanese names into English during the early 20th century, this is a highly dubious list. “Professor Yamagata” is clearly a garbled reference to Yoshiaki Yamashita, who actually was President Theodore Roosevelt’s personal judo instructor, but there appear to be no records of McLaglen and Yamashita ever having met, let alone to the former breaking the latter’s arm.
In the years during and following the First World War, Leo McLaglen produced a series of jiujitsu and self-defence training manuals, including books on his bayonet system and on self-protection for women. His greatest notoriety, however, was to come during the 1930s, when he arrived in Hollywood.
Attempting to break into show business as an actor and director – though his only previous experience seems to have been a supporting role in the British drama Bars of Iron (1920) – Leopold quickly again ran afoul of his brother Victor, who was, by this time, a successful member of the Hollywood establishment. Their feud led to Leopold suing Victor for $90,000, charging slander and defamation of character. The trial judge rejected the lawsuit, and it was reported that Leopold refused Victor’s offer to shake his hand afterwards.
The years 1937 and 1938 proved to be Leopold McLaglen’s nadir. Still based in Los Angeles, he became involved with the American Nazi underground and apparently masterminded a plot to assassinate twenty-four prominent “Hollywood Jews”, including Charlie Chaplin, Al Jolson, Jack Benny, Eddy Cantor and Samuel Goldwyn. This scheme, which involved planned assassinations by machine gun and explosives, was to have been funded by millionaire sportsman Philip Chancellor, who had originally hired McLaglen as a jiujitsu instructor.
When the assassination plot was uncovered and defused by a network of private investigators hired by Hollywood studio heads, Leo McLaglen attempted to extort $20,000 from Chancellor, which led to his arrest. In his own defence, McLaglen claimed that he had, in fact, been working as a secret agent attempting to expose Chancellor as a Nazi spy, but his evidence did not convince the jury and he was offered the choice of either leaving the United States for five years, or spending that time in prison. Victor McLaglen, by this time an Academy Award-winning actor, paid for Leopold’s boat fare back to England.
Leopold McLaglen died on January 4th, 1951, leaving an intriguing but very deeply tarnished legacy.