The last time I saw Bruce Lee

As a six-time world karate champion, the questions probably asked most of me about my friend Bruce Lee are: "Do you think you could have beaten Bruce in a professional competition?" and "When was the last time you saw or talked to him?"

The truth is Bruce was a formidable opponent with a chiseled physique and excellent technique. I always enjoyed working out and spending time with him. He was as charismatic in person as he was on film. His confidence and wit were dazzling, and sometimes even debilitating to others.

One time, when we both lived in Southern California, I was over at Bruce's house. In his garage, he had several mannequins set up for practicing martial-art techniques. He was particularly proud of one with a head that bobbled.

"Do a kick to its head," he said with a smile.

I was wearing some pretty tight denim jeans (remember the 1970s?), so I told him, "Not with these pants." After a little more prodding by Bruce, I snapped my leg up, roundhouse-kicking the dummy in the head and jostling it like a teeter-totter in fast motion. But my jeans tore in two at the crotch and literally dropped down to my ankles! Bruce got a big laugh out of that one!

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Bruce was lightning fast, very agile and incredibly strong for his size, but he never competed professionally. If he had, I believe he would have been a world champion.

Bruce Lee learned from everybody. He had a very open mind. He never believed that only one martial-arts style was superior. He believed that everything had strengths and weaknesses and that we should find the strengths in each method.

When I first started working out with Bruce, he only believed in kicking below the waist, from his training in Wing Chun. I encouraged him not to limit himself and to at least develop the ability to kick high, whether he used it or not. I started doing my spinning heel kicks and hitting the pads. Then Bruce started doing it. Within six months, he could kick as well as anyone.

OK, enough stalling with my answer. So, would I have beaten Bruce Lee in a real competition, or not? Well, the fact is that Bruce was my friend, not my opponent. And besides, if you'll forgive me for answering with one of Bruce's classic lines: "Showing off is the fool's idea of glory."

Onto my next story about when I last spoke to Bruce. He came to Los Angeles in mid-July 1973. "I'm only here for the day," he told me on telephone. "Any chance of us meeting for lunch?"

I was delighted to hear from him and curious to learn what had brought him to Los Angeles for such a short visit.

We met in Chinatown at Bruce's favorite restaurant. He appeared to be his customary ebullient self. Over the usual meal of dim sum he told me that he had mysteriously passed out a couple of times while making a movie in Honk Kong. The doctors there hadn't been able to come up with a satisfactory explanation, so he had decided to come to Los Angeles for a complete physical checkup. He had received the results only that morning.

"I passed with flying colors," he announced proudly. "The doctor said I had the insides of an 18-year-old boy."

What did he think caused you to pass out?" I asked.

"He didn't know. Probably overwork and stress."

Bruce went on to tell me that as a result of the success of his films plus the enthusiastic reception of "Enter the Dragon," which was soon to be released, he had offers to make films from Warner Brothers, Carlo Pouti and several other producers. "They're offering me blank checks for my next movie," he said. "Imagine it, I can fill in any amount I want if I'll just sign with them."

Bruce laughed delightedly and tossed a piece of Peking duck into the air with his chopsticks, neatly catching it. He offered it to me. I took it and popped it into my mouth.

He was justifiably excited about the future and said that it wouldn't be long before he was a superstar, bigger than Steve McQueen, who was the box office hit of that day. "You watch," he said. "I'm going to become the first Chinese film star to become internationally famous."

I knew what obstacles he had overcome and how hard he had worked to get to the point he had reached, and I was happy for him. We spoke for a moment about how a man's life is built not on his years but on his accomplishments. It was a prophetic conservation I would soon have occasion to recall.

Bruce flew back to Hong Kong. Four days later, on July 20, 1973, I heard on the news that he had died. I couldn't believe it. I was in shock.

There were instantly rumors about his death. The rumor given the most credence was that Bruce had deliberately been given a mortal blow by a hired killer expert in ancient Oriental assassination techniques. The killer reportedly had been hired by one of the many people whom Bruce had supposedly offended in Honk Kong. Such rumors abound when someone as physically perfect and healthy as Bruce dies so young. He was only 32 years old.

Government authorities in Honk Kong insisted that an autopsy be performed. Because of that, the media also began to speculate on the actual cause of Bruce's death. Everyone had his or her own opinion, ranging from some secret martial-arts technique used by ancient assassins to poisoning, brain tumor, drug abuse – you name it.

The eventual inquest took nine days and was painstakingly in its thoroughness. Finally, the Hong Kong coroner made his report: "Death by Misadventure." Cause of death: cerebral edema (accumulation of fluid causing abnormal pressure on the brain). Cerebral edema can be caused by the body's allergic (hypersensitive) reaction to a substance introduced into the system. Some people have such fatal reactions to penicillin or bee stings. In Bruce's case, it was determined that his body had reacted in this matter to meprobamate, a headache-tablet ingredient.

Bruce had always pushed himself hard and never let himself relax, which probably caused the headaches for which he took medication.

More than 20,000 grieving fans gathered at his funeral service in Hong Kong. Bruce was buried in Seattle, Washington, in a peaceful and natural setting overlooking the University of Washington, where, as a student, he had met his wonderful wife, Linda. Tragically, he left her and their two young children behind.

A memorial service was held in San Francisco. I went there with Steve McQueen and James Coburn, who had been one of Bruce's students as well as a good friend. Jim delivered a touching eulogy. Then we all flew back to Los Angeles together, silent in our own thoughts.

I recalled my last conversation with Bruce and wondered if he had some form of foreboding about his death.

During his short life span, however, Bruce had accomplished what he wanted most: to be renowned as a martial artist and actor. The irony was he never lived to enjoy the success and fame that came as a result of "Enter the Dragon." Only after his death did Bruce become a legend and a bigger box-office star than even our friend Steve McQueen.

I leave you with one of many great practical and wise quotes from my friend, Bruce Lee: "If you love life, don't waste time, for time is what life is made up of."