Bruse Lee

80 BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION TH

Who Became A Worldwide Icon and Inspiration

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INTRODUCTION

by Thomas Lee, Editorial Director of the Chinese Historical Society of America’s 2021 “We Are Bruce Lee” Exhibit P. 4

ALL-AMERICAN

REBEL

PIONEER

TV IDOL

The son of an entertainer, Bruce Lee was born in San Francisco’s Chinatown in 1940.

Growing up in Hong Kong, Bruce was full of energy but didn’t know how to direct it.

After returning to America as a young man, Bruce found a calling in teaching martial arts.

Bruce’s martial arts skills and natural charisma led to an unexpected role on American TV.

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LEGEND

WE ARE BRUCE LEE

ENTREPRENEUR “MY FATHER”

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After seeing the power of entertainment to reach people, Bruce focused on making his own luck.

An interview with Shannon Lee on her memories of her father, and his lasting legacy.

Bruce Lee died unexpectedly in July 1973, but it didn’t stop the rise of his worldwide popularity.

What one person stood for continues to inspire.

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CONFIDENCE FROM WITHIN Good-looking and stylish, Lee broke all the stereotypes of how Asian men had been portrayed in Hollywood. The source of his charisma was comfort and self-assurance about who he was as a person and what he had to offer the world.

By Thomas Lee

CHINESE HISTORICAL SOCIETY OF AMERICA

B

ruce Lee had the look.

Not just the face of a movie star but the look of someone who knew something others didn’t. It was the look of a person destined for greatness.

“I feel this great force, this untapped power, this dynamic something within me,” Lee wrote.

“This feeling defies description, and [there is] no experience with which this feeling may be compared. It is something like strong emotion mixed with faith, but a lot stronger.”

Throughout his life, Lee possessed an almost supernatural sense of self-assurance. Some might mistake this quality as arrogance. Yet Lee lived in a world, and time, that required all the confidence he could muster.

It’s entirely fair to say, decades later, that we still live in an equally challenging world today. That is a big reason why the Chinese

Historical Society of America in San Francisco decided to create an exhibit on Bruce Lee. CHSA is the oldest organization in the country dedicated to the interpretation, promotion, and preservation of the social, cultural and political history and contributions of the Chinese in America.

A Bruce Lee exhibit in the Bay Area has long been overdue. Lee was born on November 27, 1940, in San Francisco’s Chinese Hospital in Chinatown. Yet, surprisingly, there has been little to mark Lee’s connection to this historic neighborhood. Since Lee would have turned 80 years old this year, the timing seems appropriate.

So does the moment that we are all struggling to overcome.

In 2020, the global pandemic and issues of social unrest and intolerance have made every day an often heartbreaking struggle.

Bruce Lee does not live in our time, but he shared—and worked to overcome—similar obstacles

in his own lifetime. The name of CHSA’s exhibit is “We Are Bruce Lee: Under the Sky, One Family.”

The title refers to how Bruce Lee once answered a question from an interviewer about whether he considered himself Chinese or American. Lee said that he considered all people to belong to the same family because we are all human.

Some may feel it’s impossible to compare themselves to Bruce Lee, a figure who has become a largerthan-life legend. But Bruce Lee was entirely human. He was born like everyone else: an ordinary person with a few advantages, some notable challenges, and endless possibility.

To demonstrate Lee’s humanity, the We Are Bruce Lee exhibit focuses on four personas.

The Visionary: Bruce Lee was a highly entrepreneurial, innovative man who disrupted the worlds of entertainment, martial arts, and pop culture. “In every

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industry, in every profession, ideas are what America is looking for,” he wrote. “Ideas have made America what she is and one good idea will make a man what he wants to be.” Lee opened kung fu studios that catered to both the general public and Hollywood celebrities. In Hong Kong, he formed his own production company, Concord Productions, to make his masterpiece Enter the Dragon, which allowed him creative control of the film.

The Athlete: Lee developed his own unique brand of martial arts called Jeet Kune Do, which emphasized no one style but rather the improvisation of different techniques, including kung fu, boxing, and fencing, to best suit the opponent and situation. Today, we see his vision play out in mixed martial arts, a multi-billion-dollar global industry led by the Ultimate Fighting Championship. UFC President Dana White called

Bruce Lee “the father of mixed martial arts.”

Bruce Lee also spent considerable time thinking about how to train his body. In an era when people prized pure strength, Lee emphasized power, flexibility, and speed. To this end, he developed specific strategies on exercise, fitness, and nutrition.

The Unifier: Bruce Lee and his films inspired people across the world. Lee holds a particularly special place in the hearts and minds of generations of African-Americans, who embraced martial arts as a means to Black empowerment. As author David Walker wrote in Becoming Black: [Lee’s movies] “laid a foundation for what would become a significant challenge to the established racial ideologies entrenched in popular culture.” The work “redefined the filters through which Blacks were presented and perceived in popular culture.... This

SPIRIT, MIND AND BODY As a child, Bruce Lee struggled to channel his energy. In martial arts, he found a way to unite and fulfill all aspects of his potential. He then spent the rest of his life working to overcome challenges and obstacles to share his beliefs with as many people as possible. This mission ultimately led him to reach the masses through entertainment.

transformation, which played out in movie theaters, drive-ins, on television, and the burgeoning home video market of the 1980s, would have a tremendous impact on Black youth.”

The Thinker: Lee studied philosophy at the University of Washington and produced copious writings on how to obtain self-knowledge and live one’s best life. Lee believed that

people should adopt a flexibility to life that would allow them to overcome adversity by adapting to whatever circumstances the world presents.

“Be like water making its way through cracks,” Lee said. “Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way around or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves.”

“THERE IS UNTAPPED POWER WITHIN EACH OF US TO MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE.”

This section of the exhibit will pay particular focus to Be Water, My Friend, a new book by Bruce Lee’s daughter Shannon Lee. The work, published by Flatiron Books, examines how Bruce Lee’s philosophies can serve as tools for personal growth and selfactualization. Through her father’s writings, Shannon explains how people achieve freedom, power, and self-expression.

CHSA hopes that Bruce Lee’s life and words will continue to inspire Americans to reach our full potential. We sincerely believe that there is untapped power within each of us to make the world a better place. That is why we are all Bruce Lee. Thomas Lee is Editorial Director of “We are Bruce Lee: Under One Sky, One Family,” a new exhibit slated to open November 2021 at the Chinese Historical Society of America in San Francisco’s Chinatown. For information, visit wearebrucelee.org.

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FATHER & SON Bruce’s father, Li Hoi-chuen, was a popular opera singer and film actor in Hong Kong. Bruce was conceived and born in San Francisco while his parents were on tour in the U.S.

KUNG FU ON TV The Green Hornet lasted only one season on TV, but Lee made a favorable impression as Kato. His style of fighting was new and exciting for viewers.

LEARNING THE ROPES Lee, shown with son Brandon, moved his family to Hong Kong to create films that would prove that well-made kung fu movies were marketable.

BIRTH OF A LEGEND In Hong Kong, Lee founded his own production company. This gave him the freedom and control to make extremely popular and financially successful films.

REMEMBER FOREVER Bruce Lee statues, like this one in Hong Kong, can be found around the world—a tribute to his popularity and the lasting impact that Lee made in a short lifetime.

DESTINED FOR GREATNESS Bruce Lee, shown here as a teenager, may have appeared to be 100% Chinese, but he was of Eurasian decent and was born in San Francisco. Proud of his heritage and his birth country, Lee would spend much of his life facing forms of discrimination in both America and Hong Kong.

A COMFORTABLE CHILDHOOD Right: Bruce sits with his brother on the family’s Rolls Royce in Hong Kong. Below: Bruce (far right) with his family, including Robert, his mother, Peter, Agnes and Phoebe. Bruce’s mother came from one of the most prestigious and wealthiest families in Hong Kong. His father’s family was relatively poor.

On December 8, 1939, under the gaze of the glistening, twoyear-old Golden Gate Bridge, the SS President Coolidge rumbled into the waters of San Francisco Bay. The ocean liner’s weary passengers, many of them immigrants journeying from the ship’s point of origin, Hong Kong, were roused by the first sights of a strange land that had long existed only in their dreams. They saw the 80-foot statue of Pacifica, goddess of the Pacific Ocean, towering over Treasure Island, then sailed past Alcatraz Island’s forbidding rocks and buildings. The Coolidge eased into the docks at Angel Island, where just beyond the pier was the station that was a gateway to a new world and, the travelers hoped, a new life.

But while Angel Island was known as the Ellis Island of the West, it didn’t welcome foreigners as much as keep them out. Since the passage of the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act, Chinese laborers

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were often held in detention centers on the island for months and, in some cases, years. One young couple, because they arrived on a one-year cultural work visa from Hong Kong, was processed without a lengthy interrogation. Li Hoi Chuen and Grace Ho were directed into the city, to San Francisco’s Chinatown, the neighborhood they’d call home for the next year.

The largest enclave of Chinese families outside of Asia and the only area in San Francisco where a Chinese individual could own property, Chinatown reminded the couple of Hong Kong. A prime tourist attraction with shops and restaurants, the neighborhood had thrived since it was rebuilt in the aftermath of San Francisco’s 1906 earthquake.

In the heart of the neighborhood

BRUCE’S PARENTS WANTED TO MAKE SURE THEIR AMERICAN-BORN SON WAS ALWAYS FREE TO RETURN

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BORN UNDER A GOOD SIGN: THE YEAR OF THE DRAGON

WAYWARD SON By the time he was a teenager, Bruce, shown here with his father and mother, had a reputation for being a poor student and a troublemaker with a growing taste for gang fights in the streets of Hong Kong. His parents tried to encourage better behavior by allowing Bruce to take movie roles, which he seemed to enjoy.

was the Mandarin Theatre, which staged operas during the day and presented movies at night. The theater was where Li Hoi, an opera singer and actor, had come to work, and he and Grace would live in the theater’s boarding house.

Married 10 years earlier, Hoi Chuen and Grace came from two different worlds: the son of a fisherman, Hoi Chuen grew up poor, in a small village in southern China. Grace was a member of a wealthy and prominent Eurasian family, Hong Kong’s Rockefellers.

The two met when Hoi Chuen was giving a performance at the home of the richest man in Hong Kong, Sir Robert Hotung Bosman, Grace’s uncle. They fell in love, married, had two children, and adopted another. When Hoi Chuen was invited to the U.S. for a one-year tour, Grace decided to accompany her husband and leave their three children with relatives back home—a decision that would change their lives.

A block away from the Mandarin Theatre was the neighborhood’s largest building, the Chinese Hospital. It was the only hospital in all of San Francisco that opened its doors to Chinese patients, and it was here, 11 months after arriving in the U.S., that Hoi Chuen and Grace welcomed a new child into the world—an American-born son.

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t was a most auspicious year: 1940 was the Year of the Dragon, the most powerful and propitious of the zodiac signs on the lunar calendar.

The baby was born at 7:12 a.m., on November 27, 1940, a particularly auspicious moment as it was the year and also the hour of the dragon.

At the time of his son’s birth, Hoi Chuen was across the country, in New York City, on tour with his opera troupe. Your boy is destined for greatness! his fellow actors told him when he revealed the news.

He and Grace had agreed on the baby’s Chinese name: Li Jun Fan, which included part of Hoi Chun’s father’s name, Li Jun Biao. The character Jun meant to “shake up, or excite”; fan was the Chinese character for San Francisco. The name, then, roughly translated to “shake up and excite San Francisco.”

Deciding on an American name for the child was more challenging. When he arrived in the U.S., Hoi Chuen’s last name was changed from Li to the anglicized “Lee.” The baby’s first name was Grace’s to decide at the hospital. The midwife, Mary E. Glover, offered a suggestion: How about Bruce?

Hoi Chuen imagined a very different life for his new American-born son than his own. He certainly never thought that baby Bruce—or any of his children, for that matter—would follow in his footsteps and become an entertainer. But when a friend

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CHILD ACTOR In Hong Kong, Bruce followed his father into show business and played roles in a variety of films.

Between 1953 and 1955, he appeared in 10 movies. But, as he entered his teen years, the work became harder to find. After 1957, Bruce wouldn’t appear on screen for three years. His new passion quickly became martial arts.

who was a film director in San Francisco asked if she could use Hoi Chuen’s baby in one of her movies, Hoi Chuen didn’t see the harm in saying yes. And so, in 1941, appearing in the film Golden Gate Girl as a young baby girl being rocked to sleep in a basket, Bruce Lee, at two months old, made his big-screen debut.

By then, Hoi Chuen and Grace’s one year visa was nearly up. Before returning to Hong Kong, the parents worked to make sure their American son would be allowed free entry to the U.S. when he was older. American-born Chinese who left were, upon return, often denied entry on the grounds that they had “repatriated,” or given up their citizenship.

Hoi Chuen and Grace hired a lawyer to complete immigration documents so that no one would question Bruce’s roots. They didn’t know when their boy would return to the U.S., but they wanted to ensure that he’d be welcomed.

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pon returning to Hong Kong, the family found a land engulfed by World War II, with the Japanese military marching into China and the cholera outbreak ravaging the city. Disease reached the Li household, and even threatened the new baby. Not long after his siblings met him for the first time, Bruce quickly became so weak that the family feared for his life.

Bruce was a frail child—rail thin, he didn’t walk properly until he was four. But after the end of the war in 1945, he quickly became such an energetic child that his family nicknamed him Mo Si Ting, or “Never Sits Still.” He was full of life, with an imagination that ran wild: he devoured comic books, reading late into the night.

By the time he was six, Bruce was wearing corrective glasses.

He was also hanging around movie sets. In the 1940s and ’50s,

Hong Kong was the Hollywood of the East, and Hoi Chuen was an in-demand actor who brought his kids to the set. One director was so taken by Bruce that he offered the six-year-old the part of a runaway in a movie called The Birth of Mankind. More roles followed.

“Cameo by Wonder Kid Little Li Hoi Chuen,” read an ad for the film Wealth is Like a Dream.

One day in 1950, the Li family received a visitor at their home. A seasoned film director, Feng Feng, was casting for his upcoming movie, The Kid. Based on a comic book, the story centered on a 10-year-old orphan struggling to survive the slums. Feng had a kid in mind to play the part, and he needed Hoi Chuen’s blessing.

Hoi Chuen initially said no. He knew the acting life, and it was not as glamorous as it appeared; he wanted to see his children grow up to become doctors or lawyers. But after offering Hoi Chuen himself a role in the movie—mainly so he

“I WAS A BIT OF A TROUBLEMAKER AND WAS GREATLY DISAPPROVED OF BY MY ELDERS.” could be on set to keep a close eye on his boy—Bruce was allowed to take the role.

The film’s opening credits listed the star as Li Long, or “Dragon Li.” The movie was a box office success, and in the ensuing weeks and months, offers for the boy known as Little Dragon came flooding in. Bruce’s father, however, refused all of them; he even rejected an offer for his

son to appear in a sequel. The reason was Bruce’s subpar grades at school, and his penchant for getting into trouble. Acting, Hoi Chuen told him, was a privilege.

School was most important.

After attending a school just a few blocks from his home, Bruce followed his brother to La Salle College, one of the most prestigious prep schools in Hong Kong. Students were middle class

Chinese and Eurasians, and the curriculum was taught in English.

The environment was strict, but Bruce was not more behaved.

“From boyhood to adolescence, I was a bit of a troublemaker and was greatly disapproved of by my elders,” Bruce later said. “I was extremely mischievous.”

His parents tried dangled movie roles as rewards for good behavior, and between 1953 and 1955, Bruce appeared in 10 movies. He was becoming a familiar face on the big screen, but as he got older, Bruce struggled in his transition to his teenage years. After appearing in Darling Girl (1957), Bruce went three years without a film.

Bruce spent more time running with a local gang in Hong Kong’s Kowloon district, taking part in rooftop brawls. After five years at La Salle, Bruce was expelled. For Hoi Chuen and Grace, this was an embarrassment and a sign that their teenage son was struggling to find his way.

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TOO COOL FOR SCHOOL Bruce struggled to accept the rigid formalities of traditional education. But his natural energy and hunger for new experiences led him to pursue many passions—from acting, to dancing, and, eventually, martial arts.

Naturally gifted and not afraid of hard work, Bruce tended to excel at whatever he set his mind to.

Wearing sunglasses and a hairstyle that resembled Elvis Presley’s, the new student walked through the doors of the Wing Chun Association as everyone looked on, not sure what to make of the one they called Little Dragon.

The martial-arts students

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knew he was a regular at beimo matches: organized, bare-knuckle rooftop fights which were regular occurrences in Kowloon. They also knew he was an actor, and they sensed his show-business swagger.

But they weren’t sure what he was doing at their cramped martial arts school off Lei Tat Street in Hong Kong’s Yau Ma Tei district, because their version of kung fu was about self defense, not fighting, and Little Dragon was a fighter who ran with a tough crew, a hot-head who often instigated the fights.

Little Dragon began to ingratiate himself with the school’s instructors, quietly and patiently learning from them, but many of the students weren’t willing to accept him. They were aware of Little Dragon’s family and background. They knew his mother was Eurasian and that Bruce had “mixed blood.” The traditional Chinese belief was that kung fu should not be practiced by those who weren’t “100% pure.”

On these grounds, some students

pushed for Little Dragon to be expelled.

The head of the Wing Chun Association, a man named Ip Man, refused to release Bruce, who began to study separately from the other students. When he participated in group events, Bruce was called names and pushed around. “These guys, some of them assistant instructors, gave me a hard time when I first studied Wing Chun,” Bruce would recall. “I was just a skinny kid of fifteen.”

It was the first time Bruce Lee formally studied any kind of martial arts, and the community wanted to send him a clear message: You don’t belong.

After her son was expelled from La Salle, Grace Ho enrolled Bruce at Hong Kong’s most prestigious parochial school, St. Francis Xavier. The school had a reputation for keeping their boys off the streets, an increasingly difficult task for Hoi Chuen and Grace when it came to their son.

FINDING A NEW WAY Instructor Ip Man agreed to take on Bruce as a student at his Wing Chun Association, despite the protest of other students who didn’t think Lee should be taught martial arts because he was not 100% Chinese. The teacher would help guide Lee through his wild teen years, and open his mind to calm and discipline.

Now, instead of using movie roles, his parents tried to motivate Bruce to work harder in school by paying for his martial arts instruction.

Bruce’s interest in martial arts was cultivated early on, when Hoi Chuen would take Bruce to King’s Park for morning Tai Chi. The slow, meditative practice was more like yoga than fighting, but Bruce enjoyed it. As Bruce grew up, kung fu, once looked down on in Hong Kong, had become popular again across the city, which was seeing a rise in neighborhood gangs and skirmishes between factions. Like many others lining up at martial arts studios, Bruce’s interest in learning was mostly to become a better fighter.

“As a kid in Hong Kong,” Bruce recalled in Black Belt magazine, “I was a punk and went looking for fights…. Then, one day, I wondered what would happen if I didn’t have my gang behind me if I got into

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a fight.” He added: “I only took up kung fu when I began to feel insecure.”

Bruce was intrigued by Wing Chun because the best fighter he knew was a disciple of this southern Chinese style.

Wing Chun’s grandmaster, Ip Man, turned his students into ferocious fighters by giving them an unshakable foundation of fundamentals that focused on

close-quarters fighting: short punches, low kicks, and chi sao, or “sticky hands,” which reacted to feeling, not sight. Ip Man encouraged students to fight each other to train and also suggested they use their techniques on the streets. As rooftop matches became more popular in Hong Kong, word got around that Ip Man’s boys were the most skilled and the toughest.

AMERICA ALWAYS REPRESENTED A FRESH START. AND IT SEEMED LIKE BRUCE LEE NEEDED ONE.

THE TALENTED MR. LEE In addition to blossoming into an excellent martial arts student under Ip Man (far left), Bruce also became a champion cha-cha dancer in Hong Kong, c. 1959. At the time, Lee would often brag to his friends about his dancing abilities more than anything else he had accomplished thus far in his relatively young life.

Under Ip Man’s tutelage, Bruce was a quick learner. He began proving himself on the streets with each victory in a beimo challenge. He practiced his moves on the playground and instructed eager classmates during recess and after school. His confidence grew as a clique of followers at St. Francis Xavier began looking up to him. In 1958, in front of a packed gymnasium, Bruce won a boxing tournament held every year between Hong Kong’s two main British schools. Now a champion fighter, Bruce’s standards for excellence only got higher.

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n the late 1950s, as the world was becoming increasingly closed off and xenophobic, Hong Kong, perhaps because of its history, embraced multicultural influences. Like many teenagers around him, Bruce had an enthusiasm

for different cultures. Lee began spending his afternoons at the neighborhood tea house where other teenagers mingled, hung out at the jukebox, and danced.

They embraced everything from the jive to the boogie-woogie; Lee fell in love with the fad that was sweeping through Latin America: the cha-cha. For a young man from a middle-class family in Hong Kong to become a master of Latin dance might seem incongruous, but it was a natural fit for a teenage Bruce Lee. The dance was not unlike Wing Chun, with its emphasis on balance and rhythms.

Lee was as serious about dance as he was about kung fu.

He took lessons, developed new moves, even kept a personal notebook documenting techniques and steps. He showed off his talent at school, where he’d challenge others to dance-offs.

He signed up for a competition at a popular nightclub with his

younger brother, Robert, as his dance partner. By this time, Bruce had starred in movies and won fighting competitions, but his friends would say that he spoke with the most pride when he reminded others that he was the 1959 Cha-Cha Champion of Hong Kong.

Still, Bruce’s passion for dance—and kung fu—couldn’t keep him out of trouble. In 1959, Bruce was involved in an incident with an individual who came from a well-connected Hong Kong family. The police warned that if Bruce continued on this path, he would end up in jail. His grades, meanwhile, were dreadful; Bruce would have trouble even graduating from high school. His movie roles were also drying up.

Bruce’s future was more uncertain than ever.

When they left the United States 20 years earlier, Hoi Chuen and Grace always thought that their son would one day return to

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HONG KONG’S JAMES DEAN Despite acting less and less as a teenager, Bruce landed an iconic role in The Orphan. Hong Kong’s take on Rebel Without a Cause, the film cast Lee as a surly, tough and charismatic teen with a taste for trouble. The part wasn’t too far from the truth. Shortly after the film’s release, Bruce left Hong Kong for a fresh start in America.

America. As Bruce struggled in his teenage years, they knew that if Bruce went to the United States, he could finish high school, get a diploma, and perhaps maybe even go to college.

America had always represented a fresh start, and it seemed that Bruce needed one.

“NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO IMITATE LITTLE DRAGON.”

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oon after they decided that they would send Bruce back to America, Hoi Chuen and Grace sensed a change in their son. The boy who lived up to his childhood nickname, Never Sits Still, seemed more settled and grounded.

Kung fu was becoming Bruce’s religion, and the teachings of Ip Man had a profound effect. Bruce was also increasingly interested in Taoism, which balanced some of his more aggressive tendencies.

Bruce was turning inward.

He reflected in an essay he wrote in 1961: About four years of hard training in the art of gung fu, I began to understand and felt the principles of gentleness—the art of neutralizing the effect of the opponent’s effort and minimizing expenditure of one’s energy. All this must be done in calmness and without striving. It sounded simple,

but in actual application it was difficult.

Bruce continued: My instructor, Professor Ip Man, would come up to me and say, “Relax and calm your mind. Forget about yourself and follow the opponent’s movement. Let your mind do the counter-movement without any interfering deliberation. Above all, learn the art of detachment.” That was it! I must relax.

Just as preparations were underway for Bruce to depart for the U.S., he landed a role casting him as an orphan who became a pickpocket for a street gang. The movie, called The Orphan, was inspired by an American hit: Rebel Without a Cause.

The film was both a critical and commercial success, becoming the first Hong Kong movie to break into the international market.

Bruce inspired teenage boys, who began to emulate the way he behaved—and even the way he danced the cha-cha. One Hong Kong school posted a sign: “No one is allowed to imitate Little Dragon... in The Orphan.”

Even with his movie career back on track, Bruce and his family stuck to their plan: On the afternoon of April 29, 1959, Bruce carried a one-way ticket on the SS President Wilson, an ocean liner much like the one that brought him from San Francisco to Hong Kong nearly two decades earlier.

As they said their goodbyes, Grace gave Bruce $100. Bruce promised that he’d only return when he’d made something of himself. Alone, he boarded the ship, ready to embrace the country where he was born—even if that country wasn’t ready to fully embrace him.

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ONLY IN AMERICA When Bruce Lee arrived back in America, his plan was to study to become a professional: maybe a doctor, dentist or even a pharmacist. But he soon discovered that the young people he met in the U.S. wanted to learn his techniques in martial arts and were willing to pay him to be a teacher. Traditionally, only the Chinese were meant to learn kung fu. Bruce Lee broke from tradition and taught anyone.

In the summer of 1959, the Seafair festival, held at the Aqua Theater off the shores of Seattle’s Green Lake, took over the city. It was an extravaganza of aerial plane demonstrations, pirate shows, and elaborate parades, and also a celebration of the city’s multicultural fabric. Among the many exhibitions that August weekend was an event billed as a kung fu show, featuring the city’s Chinese Youth Club.

One by one, performers took the stage, presenting traditional martial arts techniques. An announcer explained the various practices, offering the audience a basic introduction to kung fu.

Finally, a handsome young man walked out as the announcer presented him as the show’s last performer: Bruce Lee was his name, and, according to the introduction, he had just arrived from California.

The demonstration, in which Bruce flashed high kicks and

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rapid hand movements, may not have left a lasting impression on everyone. But in the audience that day was an onlooker who couldn’t take his eyes off Bruce. Jesse Glover was African-American and a martial arts fanatic who had never seen anyone with Bruce’s skills. Years earlier, Glover had been beaten up by a cop, and soon after he began learning selfdefense by studying judo. After earning a black belt, he attempted to master kung fu next. There was one problem: Jesse couldn’t find an instructor who would agree to teach him. All the Asian kung fu instructors he approached refused to take on a Black student.

After the show, Jesse learned that he and Bruce were both enrolled at the same high school.

One day, outside the school, he approached Bruce.

“Will you teach me kung fu?”

Jesse asked. Bruce looked at him, perplexed: he’d never seen anyone who looked like Jesse ask to study

kung fu. Jesse explained that he was so desperate to learn that he even went to California to find a teacher—but no instructors would take him in.

Since arriving in America three months earlier, Bruce had always been intrigued by the idea of teaching Americans the relatively obscure version of kung fu he knew, Wing Chun. He was well aware of how traditionalists viewed teaching non-Chinese.

Bruce was still stung by how he was nearly thrown out of the Wing Chun Association for not being fully Chinese, and he knew that he would face backlash from the entire community if he agreed to instruct Jesse.

But more than knowing that he’d be asking for trouble, Bruce understood how it felt to be treated like an outsider. When he wanted to study Wing Chun in Hong Kong, Bruce was treated much like Jesse Glover. So how could he say no?

NEW BEGINNINGS In Seattle, Bruce was determined to make the most of his opportunity to forge his own identity. Raised in comfort in Hong Kong, Bruce worked at one of Seattle’s Chinese restaurants and looked for any chance he could to make money and expand his knowledge and experiences. The boy who couldn’t sit still was well suited for America.

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hree months earlier, on May 17, 1959, clutching the documents that his parents had secured for him when they left America, Bruce Lee returned to the U.S., a country in which attitudes toward immigrants were slowly evolving. In 1943, President Franklin Roosevelt repealed the Chinese Exclusion Act, but initially only allowed an annual quota of 105 Chinese immigrants entry—leaving restrictions on immigration from other Asian countries.

In 1956, the Immigration and Naturalization Service created the Chinese Confession Program, which offered legalized status in exchange for confession of illegal entry into the country. This left Chinese Americans vulnerable to public suspicion and hysteria that had been stirred by Senator Joseph McCarthy.

But by the late 1950s, a new

wave of Chinese immigrants were entering the country: well-educated, skilled workers who came to America striving to become engineers and doctors.

As part of this wave, Bruce, who hailed from an exclusive private school in Hong Kong, did have thoughts of pursuing medicine in the U.S. “Now I try to find out my career—whether as a doctor or another?” he wrote in

a journal entry in late 1958. “If as a doctor, I must study hard.” He also expressed interest in dental school and possibly becoming a pharmacist. In the short term, however, he needed to make money. Soon after arriving in San Francisco, he began waiting tables at a Chinese restaurant. He was also able to make some extra cash teaching the cha-cha at San Francisco’s Chinese association.

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Bruce discovered that he was good with students, funny and engaging.

He may have been a difficult student back in Hong Kong, but he was a natural born teacher.

Bruce and his parents had a plan: after a short stop in San Francisco, he would settle in Seattle, to live with family friends and take classes at a high school which offered vocational training and adult education and where he could earn his diploma in a year. After enrolling at Edison Technical High School in Seattle that fall, Bruce worked as a dishwasher at the city’s only restaurant outside of Chinatown, Ruby Chow’s, and stayed in a house above the restaurant. He settled into life in America: his English was quickly improving, and he carried himself confidently, wearing shoes with Cuban heels and flashy shirts and coats around town, even showing up at establishments where Asians were not typically welcomed. He also quickly became immersed in the city’s Chinese community, spending many hours at Seattle’s Chinese Youth Club, where he continued his martial arts training with one of his father’s old friends.

Bruce had studied Wing Chun in Hong Kong, but he had just a few years of experience in a version of kung fu that was mostly unknown in the United States. Bruce began learning new basic forms such as Eagle Claw and Praying Mantis and he combined those techniques with what he’d already learned under Ip Man. Bruce was once committed to traditional Chinese kung fu, believing it was superior to any other version, but his perspective would quickly change, thanks to

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A TEACHER, AND STYLE, IS BORN Jesse Glover was not only Bruce’s first student, he became a friend who introduced Bruce to different combat styles, including judo.

Bruce soon opened his own studio (below) and kept incorporating different influences and techniques into his fundamental training to create a style that was effective, efficient, and uniquely his own.

his first student, Jesse Glover.

Bruce was well aware of the centuries-old belief that kung fu should not be taught to potential enemies—that is, anyone who wasn’t Chinese. But once Bruce began instructing Jesse, his world opened up. The two worked together in Jesse’s tiny apartment,

WILL YOU TEACH ME KUNG FU? HOW COULD HE SAY NO.

where Bruce taught him techniques like chi shao (sticky hands) and in return, Bruce learned Glover’s judo throws and Western boxing moves. Bruce incorporated those new skills into his routines.

Soon, Bruce began training one of Jesse’s friends, then another, and then more from the Seattle Judo Club. He attracted students from Edison Tech, then opened up a kwoon—a traditional kung fu school—with a motley crew of black, Latino, Asian, and white students making up his class.

Less than a year after arriving in Seattle, 19-year-old Bruce Lee had his own studio.

To his first students, he was Bruce—not master or sifu, the traditional name for a kung fu instructor. Bruce felt as though he was learning as much from them as they were from him. He even began watching American sports to learn about movement—he watched Muhammad Ali carefully,

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“THE INDIVIDUAL IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE STYLE.”

GETTING NOTICED Bruce, shown here at the Long Beach Championships, participated in some of the largest martial arts exhibitions in the country. A showcase for his skill, charm and brash confidence, this would lead to some of the biggest breaks of his life, including the one that would eventually lead him back to acting and Hollywood.

studying his timing and footwork.

Bruce combined these influences from various sources into the spirit of a hybrid philosophy, calling his approach Jeet Kune Do: The Way of the Intercepting Fist.

He began to see the advantages and possibilities in blending cultures and ideas, bringing together East and West. He may not have known it at the time, but he was creating an utterly new style of martial arts: his own.

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n September of 1962, Bruce, by now a student at the University of Washington, wrote a letter to a former girlfriend in Hong Kong, to tell her about his new life and a new goal: to establish a kung fu institute that would spread across the country. His main objective, he explained, was not to make money. “The motives are many and among them... I like to let the world know about the greatness of this Chinese art,” he

wrote. He continued: “All in all, the goal of my planning and doing is to find the true meaning of life— peace of mind.”

The once directionless boy was beginning to find purpose. He believed that martial arts was as philosophical as it was practical.

He took this approach with him to California, where he moved in with a respected Chinese martial artist named James Yimm Lee. Bruce had read Lee’s books and looked up to the older instructor.

He also saw James Yimm Lee as someone who could help him become a successful instructor himself.

Bruce withdrew from the University of Washington to start the Jun Fan martial arts studio in Oakland with James Yimm Lee as his partner. They called it the Jun Fan Gung Fu Institute.

Bruce now believed—strongly— that traditional techniques were too rigid to be of use in street fighting. He wanted to embrace

a style that not only emphasized practicality, speed, and efficiency, but also one that drew from Western combat disciplines. “The martial arts should be functional and practical,” Bruce would say.

He wasn’t afraid to criticize traditionalists everywhere, from San Francisco’s Chinatown to Hong Kong. In the summer of 1964, Bruce was among thousands attending one of the biggest martial arts events in the country, the Long Beach International Karate Championships.

Lecturing in front of a packed crowd, Bruce took martial arts tradition to task. “The individual is more important than the style,” he said. “In China, 80 percent of what they teach is nonsense. Here, in America, it is 90 percent.”

The crowd was taken aback.

Not everyone was ready for this message. But Bruce didn’t care.

He believed what he was saying and he wanted others to see the possibilities of change as well.

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WHO WAS THAT MASKED MAN? Cast as Kato in the 1966 TV show The Green Hornet, Bruce Lee made an unplanned return to acting. Despite the show airing just one season, Lee made an impression on audiences and Hollywood executives. For Bruce, the part opened the door to a new and widely influential way to share his rapidly developing beliefs about martial arts and life in general through entertainment.

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During the 1910-1920s, Hollywood’s silent era, one of the biggest stars of the silver screen was an actor named Sessue Hayakawa. American audiences were captivated by the Japanese matinee idol whose fame rivaled Charlie Chaplin’s.

But Hayakawa’s popularity took a hit when the arrival of sound to movies revealed his heavy accent. The country’s increasing anti-Japanese sentiment and a spirit of nationalism rising out of World War I pushed Hayakawa further to the margins, ultimately compelling him to leave Hollywood. For the next 40 years, it was rare to see an Asian male actor of any nationality in a leading role. By the 1960s, no Asian man had ever starred on a network television show.

It’s perhaps no surprise, then, that even an accomplished actor like Bruce Lee, who before he turned 20 had starred in 20 films in Hong Kong, had no aspirations

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of becoming a Hollywood star when he moved to America. After all, Bruce Lee wanted to make it in the U.S. He wanted to be a success.

In early 1965, however, TV producer William Dozier had an idea for a new show, an idea that seemed perfect for someone like Bruce Lee. The pitch: the son of Charlie Chan, the popular (and fictional) Hawaiian police detective, seeks to avenge the murder of his father. In the movies, Charlie Chan was first made famous by SwedishAmerican actor Warner Oland.

Dozier wanted to find an Asian actor to play his proposed hero: Number One Son. The search was not easy. But Dozier’s hairstylist, Hollywood legend Jay Sebring, had a suggestion. Sebring had been in the stands at the 1964 Long Beach International Karate Championship and, like many others, left in awe of Bruce Lee, dazzled by his physical feats and

charmed by his charisma.

Sebring even had access to film of the event, which he shared with Dozier. The producer agreed with his hairstylist: Bruce Lee didn’t look like any other leading man in Hollywood, but there was no denying that he was a star.

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ebruary 1965 was an eventful time for Bruce Lee. Six months earlier, in August 1964, Bruce married his girlfriend from the University of Washington, Linda Emery, and on February 1, 1965, Linda gave birth to a baby boy, Brandon Bruce Lee. Across the ocean, in Hong Kong, Bruce’s father, Hoi Chuen, was gravely ill.

Bruce’s family informed him that he should expect to return for a funeral at any moment.

Just three days after Brandon’s birth, Bruce was due to have a screen test for Number One Son, a potentially life-changing

FAMILY MAN Bruce, fer left with wife Linda and young son Brandon, always strived for success. This became especially true after he married and started a family of his own. When producer William Dozier (center) offered him the chance to star on an American TV series, Lee jumped at the opportunity as well as the steady pay check.

BRUCE LEE MADE 20 FILMS IN HONG KONG, BUT HE HAD NO ASPIRATIONS OF HOLLYWOOD STARDOM opportunity. It was still Bruce’s dream to create a national franchise of martial arts studios, but now the realities of supporting his young family put Bruce at a crossroads.

“My name is Lee—Bruce Lee. I was born in San Francisco in 1940,” Lee began his screen test, on a studio stage that looked like a living room. He wore a dark suit and black tie, sitting with

impeccable posture, his hands folded across his lap. His hair was parted. He looked more like a suburban husband than a fierce kung fu master.

Bruce offered some background. “You worked in motion pictures in Hong Kong?” asked a voice from off-camera.

“Yes, since I was around six years old.” Lee then demonstrated a few moves on production assistants,

men with reflexes too slow to even realize what was going on.

When it was over, someone on set mentioned that Bruce looked nervous. “He has nothing to worry about,” Dozier replied.

Bruce returned home and soon received the call that his father had passed away. Hoi Chuen had been sick for several months, his heart and lungs damaged by years of smoking, and while he lived to see the day that grandson Brandon was born, he wasn’t able to see Bruce get his first big break: Number One Son, Bruce was informed, would move forward and Dozier’s company wanted to sign Bruce to a contract for $1,800.

After six months of working together, Bruce and his business partner in Oakland, James Yimm Lee, agreed to close the Jun Fan Gung Fu Institute so that Bruce could pursue his new opportunity in Hollywood. But while Dozier offered Bruce a job, it was still far from a career. Soon, Number One

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Son was put on hold until Dozier got another one of his projects off the ground, the superhero show Batman. In early 1966, Bruce received more disappointing news. Dozier had submitted a draft for Number One Son to ABC and the network passed.

Bruce got his first lesson on the realities of Hollywood: there are no guarantees. In reality, Number One Son had always been a long shot; the idea that an American TV network in the 1960s would get behind a show headlined by a completely unknown Asian man was asking too much, too soon.

But Dozier had a new project for Bruce. With Batman a runaway hit, Dozier was prepared to bring another familiar hero to TV: The Green Hornet. A popular radio serial in the 1930s, The Green Hornet followed the adventures of Britt Reid, a newspaper publisher by day and masked crime fighter at night.

On radio, the Green Hornet’s faithful sidekick was a masked Japanese valet named Kato, whose nationality was changed to Filipino after Japan’s invasion of China.

Dozier wanted Bruce for the role of Kato. But he needed to convince a lot of people who had no idea who Bruce Lee even was.

“He is actually an American-born Chinese but can play any sort of Oriental or Filipino,” Dozier wrote to the character’s creator, George W. Trendle. “I don’t think we should ever say what sort of nationality Kato is: just let him be what he looks like—an Oriental.”

When Dozier told Bruce about the show and the role that he had in mind, Bruce initially said

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CALIFORNIA DREAMING Bruce, shown sparring in a publicity photo with Green Hornet star Van Williams, embraced the job of promoting his new show—even though it required him to answer countless questions about being an Asian-American actor trying to break into Hollywood and mainstream American entertainment.

no. He called the role “typical houseboy stuff,” nothing like the starring role in Number One Son that had convinced Lee to abandon his martial arts studio in Oakland.

Bruce Lee didn’t see himself as anyone’s houseboy, not in real life and not on television. Dozier reassured him, insisting that Kato wasn’t a servant to the Green Hornet but instead a partner.

In fact, Dozier continued, Kato would be the Green Hornet’s most important weapon in the show and handle nearly all the fight scenes.

Suddenly, Bruce saw the role in a different light. Playing Kato was less an opportunity for a good acting part and more a chance to bring his style of martial arts right into America’s living rooms. In a way, it would be like teaching.

PLAYING KATO WAS A CHANCE TO BRING MARTIAL ARTS INTO AMERICA’S LIVING ROOMS

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rom his years acting in Hong Kong, Bruce was completely comfortable in front of the camera, but all his previous films were dramas, not action movies. He was also a confident martial arts performer, but all his experiences there were in front of live audiences—not rigid TV directors or their cameras.

So, in the early days of filming The Green Hornet, Bruce struggled. The stuntmen that he worked with were seasoned pros, but their style was made for Westerns — lots of big, roundhouse swings that were a staple of cowboy saloon fights but that felt sloppy and wrong to a trained martial artist like Bruce.

The problem was Bruce’s more efficient punching and kicking didn’t translate well to TV screens.

His moves were just blurs to the camera. When directors explained the problem to Bruce, he

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grudgingly added flashy kicks for extra visual impact and agreed to shoot his scenes in slow motion.

When the cameras were off, Bruce wasn’t always made to feel comfortable. Once, while walking with an actress appearing on the show, a guard saw the Asian man in a valet outfit and yelled “You’re not allowed back here!”

Bruce also wasn’t fairly compensated. Van Williams, who played the Green Hornet, was paid five times more than Bruce; another supporting actor was making more than twice as much.

Bruce also protested over the scarcity of his speaking lines: “As a crime fighter, Kato is an ‘active partner’ of the Green Hornet and not a ‘mute follower,’ ” Bruce wrote to Dozier. “[Fellow actor] Jeff Corey agrees and I myself feel that at least an occasional dialogue would certainly make me ‘feel’ more at home with the fellow players.”

Despite all the negatives,

Kato was a breakthrough role for Asian actors. Bruce knew that clearly, and he embraced the responsibility of answering questions about his race over and over again whenever he gave interviews to promote the show.

“In the early days of radio,” one reporter asked, “Kato was

“KATO IS AN ACTIVE PARTNER...

NOT A MUTE FOLLOWER.”

identified as a Japanese but during the war he suddenly shifted nationalities and emerged as Filipino. How do you see Kato?”

“Speaking for myself, I am Chinese,” Bruce replied.

“But won’t some knowing Orientals protest, since Kato is after all, a Japanese name?”

“I am a karate expert, blackbelt class,” Bruce explained with sly humor. “Anyone object, I put them on their back.”

The Green Hornet debuted on September 9, 1966, to mixed reviews. Most of the criticism centered on the fact that the show was a 30-minute drama. TV audiences expected the show to be another campy comedy with action, another Batman.

Despite the disappointing reception, Lee stood out. “Those who watched him would bet on Lee to render Cassius Clay senseless if they were put in a room and told that anything goes,” one reviewer opined. The show

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ACTION! Bruce’s martial arts training actually made playing Kato more difficult: His style did not mesh well with Hollywood stunt men and his movements were often too fast to be captured on camera. Eventually, Bruce was able to adapt and showcase enough of what he was capable of to mesmerize audiences and leave them wanting more.

made Bruce Lee the pride of the American martial arts community.

He was profiled in Black Belt magazine, and was booked as the headliner at karate events across the country.

His performance also excited a whole new audience, the kids of America who saw Kato as a different kind of superhero. Kato did not leap tall buildings in a single bound, but he certainly seemed like he could fly when he unleashed kicks in midair. He didn’t look especially strong, but he could break just about anything with his bare hands. And despite being the size of a typical kid, he was a force to be feared.

Most kids watching The Green Hornet at home in the cities and suburbs of America looked nothing like Bruce Lee. But no matter what their color or nation of orgin, they related to this guy.

Some even wanted to be like him.

Despite Bruce’s breakout performance, the show’s ratings

were not good enough to earn a second season. “Confucius say, ‘Green Hornet to buzz no more,” Dozier wrote to Bruce as a way to tell him the news.

Bruce answered with a gracious note to the man who took a big chance on him. “I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you personally for all that you’ve done to start my career in show business,” he wrote. “Without you, I would never have thought about being in Hollywood.’”

Some people would have chalked up the whole thing as a failure. Bruce Lee chose to see it differently. It was the start of something big, a learning experience, and perhaps even a way to help him teach more people at once than any tournament or chain of studios could ever offer.

Entertainment, it turned out, was an excellent way to share his philosophies with the world about martial arts—and, perhaps, even more.

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MAN WITH A PLAN Bruce Lee once dreamed of creating a chain of his own martial arts studios around the country. But, faced with the possibility—and compromises—of making that dream a reality, Bruce instead decided to pursue a different path to share his talents with the world. To make it work, Bruce needed to turn himself into a businessman. As he had when facing other challenges in his life, Bruce rose to the occasion with style and flair.

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TWO LEGENDS As Bruce Lee’s reputation grew, so did the demand for his services as a trainer. Among the stars that Bruce would develop a strong working relationship and friendship with was future action star Chuck Norris. The two legends would appear together in Way of the Dragon, the 1972 film released in America as Return of the Dragon.

On March 27, 1970, Bruce Lee, accompanied by his five-year-old son, Brandon, landed in Kai Tak Airport in Hong Kong. It had been five years since his last visit and his main purpose was to visit his mother Grace. Bruce also hoped to conduct some business, but his plans weren’t entirely clear.

Bruce vowed that he’d one day return to Hong Kong a success.

He had already accomplished a lot for a young man, but with the cancellation of The Green Hornet, Bruce wasn’t entire sure what was coming next.

The good news was he had options. When he arrived in America as a teenager, Bruce dreamed of opening a franchise of martial arts schools across the country. After The Green Hornet’s abrupt end became public, potential investors approached Bruce to make that dream come true. They sensed an opportunity to capitalize on Kato’s popularity— and possibly make a lot of money.

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The deal was lucrative, but Bruce felt it would ultimately result in selling out something he felt was important. Mass studios meant mass conformity, and Bruce was the one screaming that there needed to be more appreciation for uniqueness and individual freedom in martial arts.

Instead of making the deal, Bruce focused on finding the right projects to advance his acting career. He didn’t necessarily expect to find those projects in Hong Kong, but when he stepped off the airplane at Kai Tak, he was astonished by the scene: a crowd of reporters and photographers were awaiting his arrival. Wherever he went in Hong Kong, Bruce attracted a throng of adoring fans. Bruce’s mother’s house was also inundated by reporters and flashing cameras.

As it turned out, The Green Hornet had just aired in Hong Kong and was such a sensation that locally it was called The Kato Show.

Lee Jun-fan, the prodigal son, had indeed returned home a hero. Bruce made the rounds on TV and radio shows, including the late night variety show Enjoy Yourself Tonight, which was Hong Kong’s equivalent of The Tonight Show. In front of screaming fans, Bruce took center stage for a kung fu demonstration, but what he showcased was unlike anything Chinese audiences had ever seen: Bruce did two-finger push ups and leg kicks and his young American son came out to break boards. Bruce’s moves were familiar yet his efficiency and frenetic energy were entirely new.

The demonstration showed what tradition looked like when it was set free.

For a few days in Hong Kong, Bruce was a superstar. But back home in the U.S., he remained a relative unknown. To make it in Hollywood, Bruce made a transformation. He turned himself into a businessman.

T

he business cards read: BRUCE LEE, JEET KUNE DO, Professional Consultation and Instruction: $150 per hour.

With no TV projects lined up in the aftermath of The Green Hornet’s cancellation, Bruce needed to make some money for his family, which would soon include a daughter, Shannon. Bruce was ready to hustle to make it happen.

When he was first trying to break into acting in Los Angeles, Bruce had started giving private kung fu lessons to Jay Sebring, the hairdresser who had recommended him for The Green Hornet. His experience with Sebring gave Bruce an idea: what if he became a private instructor to Hollywood stars? Bruce’s first client was singer Vic Damone, and over time he collected an eclectic group of celebrity clients, including actors James Coburn

and Chuck Norris. Within months, he had his business cards changed.

His rate had nearly doubled.

His most famous client was actor Steve McQueen, who was at the height of his stardom. Bruce and the Indiana-born McQueen had much in common: both grew up on the streets fighting in gangs and both were smart but had underachieved at school. They became friends, and McQueen introduced Bruce to more of Hollywood’s rich and famous.

Bruce became enthralled with the movie star life, and he seemed to embrace it as he became a successful instructor: Bruce had a Porsche and a house in Bel Air to go with his beautiful wife and two adorable children.

Now Bruce had a lifestyle to support, and kung fu lessons alone weren’t going to be enough.

He was landing occasional guest spots on TV, but none of the parts offered great potential. Bruce also refused to play to stereotypes.

TO BECOME A STAR, HE BECAME A MOVIE MOGUL Westerns, for example, were still a popular staple on TV but Bruce failed to land parts because he refused to wear a Chinese pigtail, or queue. Putting one on, Bruce told others, was simply degrading.

Bruce had other ideas percolating inside him for a period show, including one about a kung fu

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NOT YET A STAR, BUT IN DEMAND Bruce trained Hollywood greats ranging from Dean Martin (right) to Steve McQueen. He also grabbed attention on TV as a supporting player opposite lead star James Franciscus (far right) on the short-lived series Longstreet. But to make a name for himself, Bruce returned to Hong Kong and started his own production company.

master who roamed America seeking to free Chinese laborers working in the West.

It turned out that within Warner Brothers studios a treatment was circulating for a similar show centered around a character who was part Chinese and part American—a Shaolin monk in the Wild West. A producer at Warner Brothers, Fred Weintraub, had a friend who

was studying kung fu with Bruce at the time. The two connected, and Weintraub knew he’d found the actor for his series.

The show in development, to be called Kung Fu, was slow to get off the ground, but Weintraub believed he’d found a star—and he wanted to keep him engaged.

One opportunity was a part in a TV project, Longstreet, in which a blind detective worked with a

BE FORMLESS, SHAPELESS, LIKE WATER.... BE WATER, MY FRIEND.” 62

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team to solve mysteries. Initially Bruce believed that he would play a featured role. But, once again, he found himself pushed to the margins, ultimately cast in a supporting part. Bruce made his first appearance on the show devoted to his character—the episode was called “The Way of the Intercepting Fist”—and Bruce appeared as an antique dealer who was also a kung fu master.

He made the most of his screen time, delivering an unforgettable moment, one that included a line that would become iconic to his career: “If you try to remember, you will lose. Empty your mind.

Be formless, shapeless, like water.

Now you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup, put it into a teapot, it becomes the teapot.

Now, water can flow or creep or drip or crash. Be water, my friend.”

As he did on The Green Hornet, Bruce stole the show. Longstreet received tepid reviews but Bruce garnered critical praise. Fan mail

came pouring in for the bit player and audiences fell in love with him. Bruce’s success in the role reignited interest in Kung Fu. He was the logical actor for the lead role, but the ultimate decision was up to Tom Kuhn, the head of Warner Brothers’ TV division. An actor with Hollywood experience who also happened to be a kung fu master? And one who was Eurasian, to play a half-Chinese half-American monk? It seemed to be a perfect fit.

There was just one problem: Lee’s accent. Kuhn decided Bruce wasn’t right for the part because he felt that audiences would be turned off by the way he spoke. Five decades after Sessue Hayakawa was marginalized for his accent, not much had changed in Hollywood.

Eventually, the producers gave the role to David Carradine, a white actor. If he was disillusioned, Bruce didn’t say so publicly. “They think that

business-wise it is a risk,” he said. “I don’t blame them. If the situation were reversed, and an American star were to come to Hong Kong, and I was the man with the money, I would have my own concerns as to whether the acceptance would be there.”

B

ruce said the right things but he was far from satisfied. Bruce was also emboldened as he saw his popularity continuing to soar in Asia. In order to become a movie star, he first had to become a movie mogul.

Bruce and his producing partner, Raymond Chow, established Concord Productions, a company that would incubate all of Bruce’s projects. They opened a new office in Hong Kong’s Diamond Hill, set up with a desk and weights so that Bruce could lift at all hours of the day.

Bruce, for the first time, was a

white-collar worker who took phone calls, scheduled business meetings, and brokered deals. The operation was simple: Bruce was in charge of creative decisions and Chow oversaw the administration.

Profits would be split 50-50 between the two of them. Bruce signed with the Hong Kong film production company Golden Harvest to produce and star in two films. The Big Boss was a hit for the company; his second film, Fist of Fury, was even bigger. His next movie, The Way of the Dragon, was Concord Production’s first film.

Made for only $130,000, its small budget was covered by early sales in Taiwan alone. Released in 1972, it was the highest grossing film ever in Hong Kong for its time.

The string of success was noticed back in America. Until 1972, Hollywood had released films in Hong Kong but did not have much experience working with a Chinese production company. Warner Brothers’ head

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THE DRAGON RETURNS In Hong Kong, the city where he grew up, Bruce partnered with Raymond Chow (far left) to start Concord Productions. This allowed Bruce to create the kind of martial arts movies that he wanted to make and share them with the world. His crowning achievement, Enter the Dragon, was such a success that it made Lee a legend.

of Far East distribution was well aware of Bruce’s popularity and suggested an unusual deal, one that would be a marriage of West and East. The idea was to create a film as a co-production between Hong Kong and U.S. studios, a film intended to ignite Bruce’s stardom in America and possibly

YEARS OF STRUGGLE AND WORK FINALLY PAID OFF

to lead to more movies if all went well. It was a bold proposition.

As Warner Brothers considered the partnership, Bruce sent the president of the studio, Ted Ashley, a letter. Assuming the position of strength, but with awareness of the prejudices he knew existed, Bruce wrote: “If Warner develops something specific for me, I’m sure my special brand of action will sock it to them. . . .The way I look at it, and honestly feel about it, is that this Chinaman will definitely invade the States in a big way, one way or another. I am sure, if you give this matter a fair and serious thought, something will be worked out to our mutual benefit.”

All the years of struggle and work were about to pay off. Shortly after sending his letter to Ashley, Bruce learned that he would be the star of his own Hollywood kung fu movie, one that would eventually have a most-appropriate title: Enter the Dragon.

O

n the afternoon of July 20, 1973, Bruce met with his producing partner Raymond Chow and actress Betty Ting Pei. Later, he complained of a headache. He took a painkiller, lied down for a nap, and didn’t wake up. Rushed to Hong Kong’s Queen Elizabeth Hospital, he was declared dead on arrival.

He was 32 years old.

A month later, Enter the Dragon premiered in Los Angeles. The ground-breaking co-production between Golden Harvest, Warner Brothers, and Concord had been made for a budget of $850,000. It went on to gross an astounding $350 million worldwide. It remains one of the most profitable and popular movies of all time, and a model for action films to come. Enter the Dragon also solidified Bruce Lee, in death, as one of the most recognized icons in entertainment history.

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AWAY FROM THE SPOTLIGHT The Lee Family: Brandon, Bruce, Linda and Shannon, circa 1970. A doting father, Bruce Lee moved his entire family with him wherever his career led. This meant that Brandon and Shannon spent a few years growing up in Hong Kong. When Brandon died accidentally in 1993, Shannon became the keeper of her father’s legacy.

guy. But they didn’t necessarily know him as well—or as broadly— as a philosopher or thinker or innovator or Renaissance man— all of the different ways that I see him. That is really at the core of what they get excited about when they see him on screen. Without all of that foundation, he is not someone we would still be talking about, 47 years after his passing.

People see him and they know some of the quotes—like “Be Water’ and “Walk On”— but as you delve into more of his writing, I really want people to be able to see just what a philosopher he was and for them to get his message.

On the occasion of his 80th birthday, how do you want the world to remember your father?

Shannon Lee: People certainly know my father’s name. They know him as a martial artist, an action star, this badass kung fu

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What part of his message do you think most resonates today?

Shannon: It’s a multi-layered message, but I think that the most prevalent one is the message of self-actualization. It is of knowing yourself and expressing yourself and being yourself to the best

of your ability so you can walk through the world naturally as your quintessential self.

At the same time, of course, he had a huge humanitarian message: under the sky of heavens, we’re one family. And I think that the biggest thing that I see right now that is just so troubling to me is the polarization and the right/ wrong, good/bad that’s going on.

The beginning of his “Be Water” quote is: Empty your mind. Be formless, shapeless, like water.

One of the points of that is to stop judging everything and everyone.

We have to make allowance for one another and have compassion for one another and understand that people have all kinds of issues, and you telling them that they’re wrong is not helping the problem. I really feel like this is the hardest thing. Because we all want to be right. People want to point the finger away from themselves—and this goes back to knowing oneself.

There are all kinds of problems

GIRL DAD Bruce, shown here sharing some quiet time with Shannon while on set, was an ordinary father to his children. It was only later that Shannon and her brother Brandon realized how many people knew and loved their father and all that he represented as an entertainer, martial artist, teacher and philosopher.

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“I STRONGLY REMEMBER THE IMPRINT OF [MY FATHER].”

FAMILY FIRST After Bruce passed away, Linda moved her children back to the U.S. In late 2000, Shannon took over for her mother as the lead figure in managing her father’s legacy and the various projects created in his name. Shannon accepted the responsibility largely to help share her father’s positive philosophies with future generations.

in the world, but the really important thing is how are you responding to it?

What are your strongest memories of growing up?

Shannon: I was four when my father passed away, so I was very young. But I strongly remember the imprint of him. The feeling of him. I felt his presence so strongly.

And I felt so extremely loved. He was just so present in our lives.

We were living in Hong Kong at the time when my dad passed, and when we moved back to the United States we brought all of our stuff with us. And our house was filled with reminders of him.

We had pictures everywhere.

We had all of his books. We had the furniture that was in our house. We had all of his gear, his boxing gloves, punching bags.

And my brother Brandon and I were constantly playing with that stuff and touching it. And it was

important to my mother to stay in touch from a cultural standpoint.

My mom is blond-haired, blue eyed, Caucasian but spoke fluent Cantonese. And it was important that we go to Chinese school. My mom cooked Chinese food. We celebrated Chinese New Year.

Even though he was the only quote-unquote Chinese person in the family, we were still very much in touch with that side of our culture.

How do you think your father might have shaped his career had he lived longer? What do you think he was going to do next?

Shannon: It’s hard to say, but I know that he did want to move back to the United States. He very much prefered living in the United States, in California in particular. When we moved for his movies, it was always supposed to be temporary.

My father was so focused on representation in Hollywood.

He really wanted to bring an authentic representation of an Asian man to Hollywood because he could see very clearly that that was not happening. And it was his goal, and it was something I have no doubt would be a big part of his work. I know he was already in talks as they were on post [production] on Enter The Dragon to work on further projects and he was looking at different scripts, and working for more representation of Asians in Hollywood was going to be a big part of it.

How would your father feel about the wide variety of people that he has inspired and influenced?

Shannon: He was a child actor, but when he left Hong Kong, he had no intention to get into acting again. But he started to see that

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media was extremely powerful and that, in fact, he could continue to teach [through entertainment], that he could show more people his beloved martial arts and also his culture. He would always say, I had no idea that what I’m doing would lead to all this—that martial arts was going to lead to making Hollywood movies. And then for him to become a global icon, touching people from so many different walks of life, he never would have imagined that.

There’s nowhere in the world that I have been where people don’t know who Bruce Lee is and aren’t super excited about Bruce Lee. Eastern Europe, Russia, India. I’ve been to the Middle East and people tell me how long they waited in lines stretching around the block to see his movies.

A friend was doing some charity work for Habitat for Humanity and was in Africa and sent me a picture, because they’d stopped at some roadside structure where you could buy a cold drink. And they had walked in, and there was a picture of my dad on the wall.

How did you become involved with the Bruce Lee Foundation and what is your mission?

Shannon: At some point, my mom came to me and said, You know, I look after your Dad’s stuff, but I’m getting older and I’m thinking that I would like to pass this along for someone else.

She said, You definitely don’t have to be the one to do it, but do you have any interest? And I said that I do, actually. And so in late 2000, that’s when everything was sort of handed over to me. I know the full range of his legacy and who he

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KEEPERS OF THE FLAME Shannon and Linda, shown here at Bruce’s Hollywood Walk of Fame ceremony in 1993, continued to share Bruce Lee’s messages with the world through the work of the Bruce Lee Foundation. Their projects include entertainment, books, camps and clinics, all based on the teachings and beliefs that Bruce used to guide his own life.

was as a human being and the way he lived his life. His philosophies have been extremely nourishing and helpful to my own life.

I really wanted to get his philosophy out there. I’ve run into so many people, from all walks of life, who have been positively inspired and impacted by him. And for me to amplify that message and that foundational core wisdom and practices and for

people to have access to and to use those practices is what is really meaningful to me and what I love.

When people think of Bruce Lee, whether we think about his image, his name, his words or just things he accomplished in his life—to me all of this creates a positive and uplifting reaction for people. My goal in whatever project we do is to continue that uplifting feeling.

“I’VE RUN INTO SO MANY PEOPLE, FROM ALL WALKS OF LIFE, WHO HAVE BEEN INSPIRED AND IMPACTED.”

THE DRAGON LIVES ON Bruce’s sudden death left fans wanting more. This led to countless tribute movies. Some used footage of Bruce shot for various unfinished projects. Others featured lookalike actors. Eventually, the genre expanded to include characters of all races and nationalities. The point was no longer to represent Bruce Lee himself, but rather what he stood for.

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SHOCK No one was prepared for Bruce Lee’s sudden death or how to respond, including stars who trained under him like Steve McQueen, James Coburn and Chuck Norris (right) and thousand of fans in Hong Kong (below), who crowded the streets for his memorial service.

On July 30, 1973, mourners assembled at a cemetery in Seattle to say goodbye to Bruce Lee. Five days earlier, an estimated 15,000 squeezed into the streets of Kowloon in Hong Kong to catch a glimpse of their hero’s coffin.

Bruce spent his life on a quest to bridge the gap between East and West, but when he died his wife Linda had to choose a place to bury him—she decided that after his memorial in Hong Kong, Bruce would be laid to rest in the country where he was born. There was no large crowd at Seattle’s Lake View Cemetery, only a handful of reporters and fans who milled about, away from the friends and family who had come to pay their respects. The group reflected all the worlds that Bruce Lee touched: from Hong Kong and beyond, his extended family and friends; from Hollywood, pallbearers James Coburn and Steve McQueen; from the stops he made during his life before

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he became a movie star, former students he’d embraced, trained, and inspired.

The group in Seattle included Bruce’s first student. Fourteen years had passed since Bruce broke from tradition and welcomed Jesse Glover, an African-American, into the world of kung fu. Glover was shattered by the death of sifu, the man who had changed his life.

As a teacher, Bruce pushed his students to be well trained and skilled in combat. But Bruce’s message to Glover and all his students was not only about optimizing their potential in martial arts.

Bruce encouraged everyone he met to strive for self-expression, strength and inclusion in everything they pursued—an ideal that took on greater significance during the raciallycharged 1960s and continued in the decades that followed.

In an era when thousands

marched, spoke and sometimes fought for a world that offered opportunity for all, Bruce Lee did whatever he could to create such a world for the people he encountered.

“I DIDN’T REALIZE THE IMPACT OF BRUCE UNTIL HIS DEATH.”

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LAID TO REST Soon after his memorial service in Hong Kong, Bruce’s wife, Linda, decided to return to the U.S. for a burial ceremony held in Seattle, the city where Bruce first settled after returning to America.

Seattle would become a special place for fans and followers of Bruce Lee, a fact that remains true to this day.

“

At Bruce Lee’s funeral in Seattle, Glover lingered after the casket was lowered into the ground and the others had dispersed. When the site workers arrived, Glover took their shovels from them “because,” Glover would say, “it didn’t seem right that Bruce should be covered by strange hands.”

Glover was the first authorized martial arts instructor trained by Bruce Lee. “I didn’t realize the impact of Bruce until his death,” said Glover, who died in 2012.

“Perhaps I can do for Bruce in death what I failed to do for him in life.”

I

think of myself as a human being, because under the sky there is but one family,” Bruce once said. “It just so happens that people are different.”

Bruce’s message is powerful for a simple reason: he practiced it in everything he

did. In a divided world, one torn apart by nationalism and conflict during his lifetime and beyond, Bruce faced discrimination from all sides. Yet he also embraced everyone, regardless of their skin color or ethnicity. Bruce Lee didn’t care what others thought about him, and cared even less about what they said. In a pre-PC world, cutting and hurtful words were used casually every day.

It didn’t matter to Bruce that some of the very Hollywood executives who helped him start his career also spoke about him using stereotypes that belittled him and, often, outright mocked his heritage and the way he spoke. It also didn’t matter that some members of the Chinese community considered him “impure” for being Eurasian, criticized him for embracing students of different ethnic orgins, or raised their eyebrows when he married Linda. When a Chinese reporter asked him if his interracial marriage would cause him grief, Bruce responded, “Many people may think that it will be. But to me, this kind of racial barrier does not exist.

If I say I believe that ‘everyone under the sun’ is a member of a universal family, you may think I am bluffing and idealistic. But if anyone still believes in racial differences, I think he is too backward and narrow. No matter if your color is black or white, red or blue, I can still make friends with you without any barrier.”

In Hollywood, where truth can

IN A DIVIDED WORLD TORN APART BY CONFLICT, BRUCE FACED DISCRIMINATION FROM ALL SIDES 83

be hard to come by, Bruce Lee was never afraid to speak out honestly yet tactfully. When his idea for the TV show The Warrior was rejected, he was asked whether he’d had conversations with studio executives about whether an American audience would accept an Asian hero. Lee replied: “Such questions have been raised, and it is being discussed. And that is why The Warrior is probably not going

to be on. I think that businesswise, it’s a risk.”

Such disappointments were undoubtedly upsetting for Bruce.

But, still, he refused to accept defeat. Without his perseverance, the stories he brought to the screen might not have been widely seen or, possibly, told at all. These popular tales became parables of self-driven empowerment, with heroes who

BRUCE TRANSFORMED POP CULTURE AND INSPIRED A NEW MOVIE GENRE: THE BRUCE LEE TRIBUTE FILM 84

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could be of any ethnicity and came from every walk of life.

It’s no surprise that Bruce Lee had fans from all around the world. His masterwork, Enter the Dragon, was released in 1973 and featured ancient Chinese symbols, Afros, bell bottoms, and also one of the first multicultural casts from a major Hollywood studio. The plot focused on three leads: one Black (Jim Kelly), one white (John Saxon), and one Asian (Bruce Lee), and all of them kicked butt.

When Bruce Lee started his Hollywood career, Asian men were still stuck playing characters on the periphery, like Hop Sing, the cook who spoke Pidgin English on Bonanza.

Occasionally, a role would come up for a sinister villain, like the silent butler with a deadly bowler hat, Oddjob, in the James Bond film Goldfinger.

But an Asian leading man?

Someone who was charming, well

THE END, OR THE BEGINNING? Enter the Dragon, which premiered shortly after Bruce’s shocking death, was a worldwide phenomenon and led to demand for more movies. Game of Death, with a memorable fight scene against friend and former student, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, was stitched together using footage shot before Bruce’s passing.

dressed, won the fight and walked away with the leading lady? No. That wasn’t acceptable because a lot of people in Hollywood said the country wouldn’t find it to be believable.

Bruce Lee changed all that.

He proved that American audiences were more ready for the characters he wanted to bring to the screen than Hollywood executives may have believed.

Bruce Lee was a leading man— he just happened to be Asian, and partly white, and altogether free of traditional cultural boundaries and expectations when it came to how he saw the world and himself.

The night before the August 1973 premiere of Enter the Dragon, a crowd began forming on Hollywood Boulevard, near Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. Even the movie critics predisposed to trashing a loud and gaudy action flick praised the movie. “In my most civilized

right-thinking frame of mind, I’d like to dismiss the film as abhorrently grotesque masculine fantasy,” wrote a reviewer for The Village Voice, “but I have to admit that deep down in the most shadowy recesses of my subconscious the fantasy struck a responsive chord.”

Bruce’s performance in Enter the Dragon paved the way for a new genre of movies in America— and as a person, Bruce resonated with audiences from all walks of life. Kung fu movies became a cultural phenomenon as The Big Boss, Fist of Fury, and The Way of the Dragon all were granted wide releases in U.S. in the wake of Bruce’s death. Even episodes of The Green Hornet were shown in movie theaters. Movie houses all over New York City played kung fu flicks. A disco song by a Jamaican artist, Carl Douglas, called “Kung Fu Fighting” was among the biggest hits of 1974 and one of the best-selling singles

of all time at 11 million copies.

Bruce Lee transformed American filmmaking and popular culture.

Producers cashed in on the mania by creating movies around Bruce Lee look-alikes. They stole ideas and plot lines from original Bruce Lee movies and created their own genre: Bruce Lee tribute films.

Game of Death, released in 1978, included old footage with 5-foot-8 Bruce going head to head in a fight with 7-foot-2 basketball star-turned-actor Kareem AbdulJabbar. While the plotlines, characters, and action could be outrageous, the themes of these tributes were timely and urgent.

Soon, martial arts films with African-American heroes and casts were made and released.

The influence of Bruce Lee films could be seen and felt clearly in these works as well.

It simply didn’t matter who you were or where you came from. It seemed like everyone could relate to Bruce Lee.

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ICONIC SYMBOL OF HOPE Bruce Lee statues, like this one in Hong Kong, can be found all around the world and sometimes in unexpected places. The fact that a person of American and Chinese decent became such a popular symbol to fans of all races and nationalities is a testament not only to his movies and television roles, but also the way he carried himself as a human being and how he shared his positive outlook on life with everyone.

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In 2004, a youth group called the Urban Movement Mostar sought to do the impossible in the Bosnian town of Mostar: unite the city’s divided people. During the Croat-Bosniak War in the 1990s, Mostar exploded into violence, the city fracturing along ethnic lines.

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As tensions continued in the years after the war, Urban Movement Mostar believed that a symbol of unity could offer a glimpse of hope that people, no matter which side of the city they were from, could come together after years of division.

The group decided that they would finance and build a statue in Mostar’s Spanish Square, located in the middle of an ethnically divided area. They proposed a number of figures, from the Pope to Mahatma Gandhi. But there was only one that the people of Mostar could agree on: Bruce Lee. It wasn’t just Bruce’s seemingly superhero powers that made him an icon all over the world. It was what he represented: strength, confidence, and inclusion.

Beneath the surface of what he projected on screen, you could see the culmination of all his life influences—his embrace of the teachings of both Eastern and Western philosophies, his mixed

racial heritage, even the hurts that had been put upon him.

The invention of VHS tapes allowed Bruce’s message to spread globally, including to communist Yugoslavia in the 1970s. Young men across the Balkans watched bootleg copies of Enter the Dragon.

Bruce Lee’s stories ignited such an interest that martial arts became popular in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Bosnian children practiced moves with homemade nunchucks. It didn’t matter what Bruce Lee looked like. These kids could relate to Bruce Lee, and in his performances see a vision of the kind of person they might want to emulate In 2005, a nearly life-size bronze statue of Bruce was moved to Mostar’s Zrinjevac City Park.

It was the world’s first statue of him. In the following years, statues of Bruce would appear in Los Angeles; Guangdong, China, and New South Wales, Australia.

As Veselin Gatalo, a member of

ALWAYS REMEMBER The Bruce Lee statue in Mostar (far left) was erected to bring people together in a city torn apart by racial divide. In 1993, Bruce received his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, right outside of Grauman’s Chinese Theater were Enter the Dragon staged its premiere in 1973, shortly after Lee’s sudden and shocking death.

Urban Movement Mostar, said, “We will always be Muslims, Serbs or Croats, but one thing we all have in common is Bruce Lee.”

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n the immediate aftermath of Bruce Lee’s death in 1973, an entire industry was born: posters, t-shirts, sweatshirts, action figures, puppets, magazines, albums and books—-countless collectibles, memorabilia, and media that rode the wave of Bruce Lee’s legend. Teenagers in Tokyo cut their hair like his.

Atop the music charts in India was a disco song called “Here’s to That Swell Guy, Bruce Lee.” Elvis Presley watched Enter the Dragon obsessively and even pushed to make his own martial arts movie.

Bruce’s mission was to use his movies to spread the teachings of martial arts—-the philosophy of his life. He didn’t live to see how well he would succeed. Bruce made kung fu more popular than

ever: During his lifetime, there were less than 500 martial arts schools in the world. Twenty five years later, there were 20 million students of kung fu in the United States alone.

Legendary fighters who followed him cited him as an inspiration. Sugar Ray Leonard said he perfected his moves by watching Bruce. Asked by The New York Times to describe his fighting

style, Manny Pacquaio said, “Like Bruce Lee.” The founder of Ultimate Fighting Championship, Dana White, called Bruce “the godfather of Mixed Martial Arts.”

Conor McGregor, UFC’s most famous champion, said that if he were fighting today, Lee would be a world champion in his sport.

When McGregor attempted to crossover into boxing, he cited Bruce’s embrace of multiple

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LASTING INFLUENCE All around the world, Bruce Lee’s image continues to be looked to as a symbol of everything he stood for in life. From entertainment to martial arts to issues of equality and human rights, people of all backgrounds turn to Bruce Lee for nspiration, positivity, and hope in the face of daunting challenges and seemingly impossible odds.

styles as an inspiration. “That’s what a true martial artist can do—they can adapt under any circumstance,” he said. “Bruce Lee said, ‘Be like water.’ When water enters a cup, it becomes the cup.”

Bruce influenced and inspired not just fighters but iconoclasts in all sports and in wider popular culture, from basketball legend and former student Kareem Abdul-Jabbar—“He beat the system,” Jabbar said of his hero— to comedian Tracy Morgan, who said: “Listen, Bruce Lee fought out of anger. That’s why they call it the Fist of Fury. Michael Jackson danced with fury. I do stand up out of fury. I’m not mad at anybody.

I’m not mad at any human being because I’m a human being.”

As a teenager, Bruce learned the importance of calming his mind— to be like water. When Bruce first said those iconic words—“Be water, my friend”—he couldn’t have imagined how it would become a battle cry for the world

nearly 50 years later, a message as inspiring today as it was then.

The idea has been embraced by protestors fighting for equality all around the world. From the streets of Hong Kong, where young people have invoked Bruce’s words (“Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way around or through it”) as an organizing principle in their fight for democracy, to the streets of the United States, where the Black Lives Matter movement has swelled across the country.

When he was alive, Bruce Lee didn’t necessarily consider himself a civil-rights activist, especially compared to others of his time. But he would undoubtedly be proud that his beliefs and teachings have inspired such people who weren’t even born when he died.

Work in his name to make the world a more positive place continues today. Since 2002, the Bruce Lee Foundation has offered

online and physical exhibits to continue sharing Bruce’s message with future generations. The foundation provides martial arts instruction for young people; financial assistance to U.S. students and their families to attend college, and has created a summer program for kids to learn about Bruce Lee’s mind, body and spirit practices.

Scheduled to open in November 2021, the We Are Bruce Lee exhibit at the Chinese Historical Society of America will urge everyone to continue fighting for his beliefs. The exhibit will be on display in San Francisco’s Chinatown, as the CHSA wants to reintroduce people to the vast and historic neighborhood where Bruce was born. Chinatown was hit hard by COVID-19, a disease that created a new form of racial tension for many Asian Americans. Despite being one of San Francisco’s most denselypopulated neighborhoods, Chinatown’s response to the pandemic helped the city stay ahead of the curve. Chinese Hospital led the way, taking in patients from around the city. Said one doctor: “We want to reach all the members of our community.”

Bruce Lee was born in that hospital 80 years ago. He was considered American when he went to Asia, just as he was regarded as Asian when he returned to America. Caught between two worlds, he chose to embrace them both, even when he had to fight to belong.

Taking on that fight was okay with Bruce Lee. He didn’t mind a good fight, probably because he almost always won.

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EDITORIAL DIRECTION BY

10TEN MEDIA, LLC M A N AG I N G E D I TO R

Vickie An C R E AT I V E D I R E C T O R

Ian Knowles EXECUTIVE EDITORS

Bob Der, Scott Gramling, Larry Hackett ART DIRECTOR

Crhistian Rodriguez WRITER

Albert Chen COPY EDITOR

Kelvin C. Bias SPECIAL CONTRIBUTORS

Thomas Lee, Christopher Fong

BAUER MEDIA ADMINISTRATION C E O, P R E S I D E N T

Steven Kotok CFO

Bill Houston EXECUTIVE VICE PRESIDENTS

Eric Szegda (Consumer Revenue) & Jeff Wellington (Group Publisher) SENIOR VICE PRESIDENTS

Dennis Cohen (Subscriptions & Licensing) & Gina Kelly (Production) VICE PRESIDENTS

Holly Oakes (Consumer Marketing) & Melissa Meredith (Sales & Shopper Marketing) C I R C U L AT I O N M A N A G E R

Bill Fiakos Published by Heinrich Bauer Publishing, LP. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without prior permission of the publisher is prohibited. Printed in the U.S.A.

PHOTO CREDITS All images used with permission from the Bruce Lee Family Company.

C2-P1: Walt Disney Television via Getty Images; P3: Archive Photos/Getty Images; P16-17: MN Chan/Getty Images; P26-27: Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images; P48: Twentieth Century Fox Television/Sunset Boulevard/Corbis via Getty Images; P54: Walt Disney Television via Getty Images; P72: Visual China Group via Getty Images; P75: Ron Galella, Ltd./Ron Galella Collection via Getty Images; P82: Stuart Westmorland; P88: aphotostory; P90: ELVIS BARUKCIC/AFP via Getty Images; P91: Meinzahn; P92: Tuul & Bruno Morandi (2) BRUCE LEE and the Bruce Lee signature are registered or pending trademarks of Bruce Lee Enterprises, LLC in multiple countries. The Bruce Lee name, image, likeness and all related indicia are intellectual property of Bruce Lee Enterprises, LLC. All Rights Reserved. www.brucelee.com.

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“Absorb what is useful, discard what is useless and add what is specifically your own.”

– BRUCE LEE