Priceless Memories - Bob Barker [78]
When Chuck’s movie career took off, I started studying with Pat Johnson, who was a fighter on one of Chuck’s karate teams and a stuntman. He and I worked together for several years. I started late in life, but I thoroughly enjoyed karate. You have to be stretched out, really loose. Chuck got me into a regular exercise schedule, and that was so important. I was in karate for twenty-one years, and I still exercise regularly, thanks to my friends Chuck and Pat.
That reminds me of a story regarding Chuck Norris and his brother, Aaron. It involved my mother, too. Chuck was over at my house, and we were sparring. He kicked me in the side. It hurt, and it continued to hurt. A few days later his brother, Aaron, came over. We were sparring, and he punched me in the other side with his fist. That hurt, too, and continued to hurt. Finally, I went to the doctor. I told him I was struck here and here and I was still hurting. After he looked at some X-rays the doctor said, “I’m not surprised you are still hurting. You have two cracked ribs here, and another two cracked ribs here, and I would expect both places to hurt.”
I came home, and I told my mother, who was living with us then, that Chuck had cracked two of my ribs and that his brother Aaron had cracked two ribs on the other side.
My mom said, “I think you’re going to have to stop playing with those Norris boys.”
• • •
Beginning in the early 1980s, I began to go on the road regularly with an audience participation show playing in large-scale venues around the country. While the format was everything I was accustomed to doing—that is, games, prizes, audience participation, and plenty of ad-libbing and improvisation—the sheer size of the audiences made these shows a completely different entertainment challenge. Much to my delight, it was a hugely successful format, and I went on to do these traveling shows for eight years. We broke records for attendance, and within a short time, we would only book arenas that could seat at least ten thousand people. We often played to audiences of twenty thousand. We smashed records all over the country. It was great fun playing to such enthusiastic large crowds everywhere.
These live stage shows started innocently enough with a phone call to my agent, Sol Leon. There were a couple of men—a dentist named Dr. Robert Rowe and his friend, Sheldon Ferguson, an attorney—who were associated with a charity and wanted me to do a fund-raiser. They contacted Sol Leon, who represented me at the William Morris Agency.
Sol told me, “I got a phone call and this fellow is talking about some pretty good money. He wants you to come down to Johnson City, Tennessee, and do a show.”
I asked Sol what sort of show the caller was talking about.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Why don’t you talk to him and see if you are interested.”
So I called Dr. Rowe and asked him, “What do you want me to do?”
He said, “Just do what you always do.”
I said, “I talk with people, play games, and give away prizes.”
Dr. Rowe said, “That’s what I want you to do.”
And that is how it all started. I asked Dr. Rowe if he could get some people to help me, and he said that he could get all the members of the Johnson City Kiwanis Club. I suggested that a show like that might benefit from a couple of pretty girls on the stage, and he said he would not only get a few pretty girls, he would get some beauty queens. Then I asked if he could get some prizes, and he said, “Oh, yes, the merchants are eager to cooperate, and there will be plenty of prizes.” He was very optimistic and had answers for everything.
So I told him that I would write a script in great detail, describing every movement that had to be made, and I would send a copy to him. “Then,” I said, “I am going to get on the phone and go over that script with you. If you can get this all together, I will come down and do your show.” So that is what we did. I described every game, every prize, every prop. The responsibilities of stagehands and models were all laid out. I asked