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La Coste Kali - Escrima

Of all the Escrima masters in Stockton, California, John LaCoste is probably the most unique. He's the most difficult to draw concrete information from, particularly because of his limited English and mainly because he won't hold still. Guru Inosanto remembers one day in the park with LaCoste. LaCoste is dancing in the grass. He grins at each of us separately while entertaining the group with his version of "carenza," Escrima shadow boxing. I'm handling the questions and fussing with a tape recorder.

"Where were you born?" I ask.
"I tell you true," he says.
He squats down into a half crouch and hops from side to side, back and forth, feet together, feet apart. Then he shakes his head and, still crouched, bobs and weaves like a boxer.
"Three minutes, " he says. "every morning. Then this."
He drops into a pushup position and, supporting himself on one arm, swings his free arm back and twists his chest upward. He alternates arms six or seven times to make sure
everyone gets the idea.

"Then this."
He sits on the bench, straightens his legs and holds them horizontally, then turns one leg over the other and vice versa-many times.
"Drink no cold water. Only little warm water. Then breathe."He jumps up, inhales deeply on
tiptoe, holds it, then lets it out.
"Every morning," he says, "and night."
If anyone would like to know, John LaCoste was born somewhere in the central Philippines.
"What styles of Escrima have you studied?"
"Many," he says. "You do like this?"

He bobs up and down by bending and straightening his knees and his upper body twists from side to side, turning like a radar antenna. Both heels turn inward until his feet are parallel, one in front of the other, then they turn outward and twist back and forth independently. At the same time they tap the ground - heel, toe, heel, toe, tap, tap, tap. While all this is going on his flat, opened hands stroke and pat the air against imaginary attacks. His hand and elbow do a quick pat, pat.

"What's that?" I ask.
"Look," he says and he pulls one of the Escrimadors in front of him, hands him a stick and says, "Number one." The Escrimador delivers a strike with the stick at the angle requested. LaCoste dips beneath it, passing it over his shoulder with one hand. At the end of the striker's extension, he locks it into place with another hand and pat, pats it, first with his hand (a double Checking move to keep it from swinging back on him) and then with his elbow on a nerve on top of the man's arm. The man rubs his arm.

"Thank you," I say. I still don't know what styles he uses. One of the group tells me that he is familiar with all different styles, but his favorites are "Moro Moro," two methods of "Cebu," "Occidental Negroes" and "one more." Moro Moro is named after islands and one more is anybody's guess.

"I tell you the true," LaCoste says. "You learn first two numbers, you fight any style and beat him."

I understand what he's saying. Most Escrima styles have 12 numbers or angles that any attack must fall close to. For each of those angles there are about 12 blocks or deflections and another 12 counters to each block. If a person understands all the blocks and counter to the first two angles, he can adapt their motions to defend against any of the other strikes. After studying "many styles," LaCoste knows where all the principles coincide.

"One month I teach you. You fight okay, any style."

What he means, I am told, is that he can teach anyone with a little comprehension how to do the blocks and counters for the first two strikes. Whether or not the person gets good enough with them to actually use them in combat is another matter. It's like his footwork. Guru Dan Inosanto says he's been trying to copy LaCoste's footwork for 14+ years. He's finally gotten to where he can describe it, but actually use it the way LaCoste does? No.

LaCoste moved from the Philippines to Hawaii where he headed a major strike by the farm workers, that the Filipinos in Stockton still talk about today. LaCoste was a hero. The strike itself cost the lives of a dozen farm workers and 22 "policemen," but it put across the idea that farm workers, like anyone else, should be given sufficient wages to live and support a family.

After being decorated for heroism by the military, he settled down in California. There are many accounts, documented by the police and local talk, of LaCoste's encounters with muggers and hoodlums. Once a man tried to rob him with a knife. LaCoste turned the knife into the man so he "stabbed himself." Another time a man tried to rob him by placing a gun in his back. The element of surprise may have had something to do with it - who would have expected a little old man to elbow the gun while twisting off to the side, trapping the gun downward while backhanding the proposed robber in the face? LaCoste has received several accommodations from the Stockton police department.

LaCoste is not the typical stereotype of a brawler. His philosophy, he says, is friendliness and love to everyone. Even as he talks and dances in the grass {far, far away from the tape recorder-too far} he focuses in on each person, individually, until he gets a response, a laugh, a change of expression. He's a fighter, but he's also a lover. He doesn't pass anyone he knows and likes without patting his leg or shoulder or reaching out to grab his arm.

That's LaCoste. LaCoste is Stockton's oldest most venerated Escrima master. He teaches the Escrimadors how to fight. He also teaches them how to live and make people happy. If you want to know what styles he uses, it's the LaCoste style and he's the only one who can pull it