[jwplayer mediaid=”361″]
The outreach work of Ação Harmonia Brazil – a non-profit organization commited to bring some peace and hope to poor children through the practice of aikido.
[jwplayer mediaid=”361″]
The outreach work of Ação Harmonia Brazil – a non-profit organization commited to bring some peace and hope to poor children through the practice of aikido.

–PRINCE ALBERT– Shihan Wolfgang Manicke has devoted his existence to learning multiple martial art disciplines, which he instills in today’s youth with the wisdom, respect and humbleness he has learned over a lifetime.
“Martial arts teaches you wisdom and knowledge, its power,” said Manicke.
Manicke moved to Hameln, Germany – Pied Piper territory – 51 years ago in an era wrought with post-war antipathy.
Being an English-speaking foreigner, Manicke faced incessant torment and ridicule form locals, so he decided to learn Shotokan Karate as a discipline, which he originally considered to be primarily for self-defence.
Hideo Ochai, his former karate master, however, taught his young pupil courtesy, discipline, respect and humbleness along the way. Manicke learned the aforementioned traits are a true reflection of martial arts.
Manicke’s father disappeared when he was four-years-old, which tested his families’ resolve during hard times. He often went without dinner, but master Ochai was there to guide him through.
“He was like a father figure to me,” he said. “Times were tough. He always helped me out, he always guided me.”
Starting at the age of four, Manicke began a “way of life” by learning karate. Two years later, he began learning the art of ninjutsu. He wasn’t done there, taking up kendo around his 10th birthday.
“A lot people see martial arts wrong, they just see people that beat each other,” Manicke said, who celebrated his 55th birthday yesterday. “I don’t need to teach you how to punch and kick, you know that yourself. I teach you how to control it.
“It’s all about control.”
Master Manicke, who holds a seventh-degree black belt runs the dojo at Prince Albert’s Aurora Karate Martial Arts Centre and has been doing so for upwards of 20 years.
He is also the national coach, and takes care of about 268 athletes.
“We had an awesome team last year, we beat the U.S.,” said Manicke, talking about last year’s world championships in Las Vegas.
The native of Lacombe, Alta., said he is an “Albertan redneck with a German attitude.”
One of Manicke’s top pupils, Shawn Silver, has attained world champion status many times over and has a 15-5 fight record. The 21-year-old holds a third-degree black belt in karate and a black belt of the second-degree in kick-boxing.
He started learning karate at four, the same age his master took up the art.
“Everything you learn in the dojo has to go into the real world,” he said. “I’ve always had people wanting to get in fights with me, but I have used the skills he (Manicke) has taught me and to talk my way out of it.”
Manicke said it takes the bigger man to walk away from confrontation on the street.
Austin Ermine will most likely be the first aboriginal under Manicke’s guidance to obtain the classification of black belt. Ermine won the gold medal at the Pan-American Games and is a world champion.
There is no fear or quit in the youngster, said Manicke.
A while ago, Ermine broke his arm skateboarding, but that did not deter 12-year-old brown belt. During a tournament in Red Deer, the referee said he could not fight in his state, but Ermine emphatically replied, “yes I can,” placing his broken arm behind his back.
Permitted to continue, Ermine fought in seven bouts, and won two gold medals with one arm.
“I used my legs,” said Ermine. “It taught me how to toughen up. Because when I was younger I felt real weak.”
At the moment Manicke’s son – Matthias – once possessed a brown belt but started from scratch due to extenuating circumstances. Now holding a white belt, Matthias has been learning martial art disciplines since he can remember, following his father’s example.
The 15-year-old said “learning and listening to people” are two intangibles he values the most. Matthias teaches the little samurai’s – ages four to seven – and now instills the same values his father did upon him.
One-point defeats on two separate occasions have separated Matthias from being world champion, but he said, “it doesn’t make any difference because you still get the experience of sparring different people.”
The Pan-American Martial Art Games were held in Saskatchewan for the first time in June. Saskatchewan martial artists accrued about 18 gold medals in varying disciplines.
Manicke has an extensive list of accolades, which include being an inductee to the Alberta Combative Hall of Fame, Canadian full contact karate record holder and world martial arts champion in varying disciplines – Japanese wooden form, non-traditional, metal weapon, bladed weapon and sparring – many times over. But he emphasizes that martial arts is not “about winning.”
“A lot of people quit when they reach a black belt level,” he said while sitting in his training and meditation garden, which he is building from scratch. “That is when karate starts.”
Only two big trees stood – three years ago – when Manicke started work on his garden across the street from the dojo, which he intends on turning into a meditation and training haven. It will be a sanctuary, fitted with a waterfall, stream, gazebo, and eventually, a teahouse.
Thickets of brush and trees visible from the street now stand in the garden, which Manicke hopes will be complete in a year.
He is due to appear on Stan Lee’s Superhumans, showing his team demolish a house with their bare hands – and feet. It will air on the History Channel this fall.
The martial artists train on Tuesday and Thursday night in the summer, but increase the workload to five nights a week during tournament season, which starts in the fall.
Some misguided individuals regularly approach Manicke, wanting to learn how fight. He poignantly tells them, “well I don’t teach that. I teach a way of life.”
These gentlemen have a strong opinion about being martial artist versus being a cage fighter. I think they make a good point (albeit a little coarse) toward being a Superior Martial Artist.
What do you think?
It all started on Fordham Road, but it didn’t end there.
Guardian Angels founder Curtis Sliwa walked the strip he first patrolled three decades ago as a teen, exchanging smiles and hugs with passersby as he led his crew on a patrol last week.
Sliwa, now 56, saw the area decay as a night manager at a McDonald’s in 1979.
“I used to keep the bathroom door locked,” he said. “Hookers would come in to turn tricks, dope fiends to shoot up. It wasn’t safe anywhere.”
Realizing the lack of police presence, he formed a group that launched Feb. 13 that year to protect the area and subways and make citizen’s arrests if needed.
They donned bright red jackets and red berets that became their trademarks, with metal handcuffs and police radios clipped to their belts. And Sliwa, outspoken and never at a loss for a sound bite, has been in the media spotlight ever since.
“I remember them from when I was a little girl walking around these streets – they always made me feel safe having them around,” said Pamela Deckard, 41, who grew up on Loring Place.
“They always make the Bronx proud; they really helped control the gangs that were running around here.”
Since their start, the Guardian Angels have expanded to 15 countries, with crews as far away as Japan and South Africa. Last month, members launched a patrol closer to home – Camden, N.J.
“Camden is now what the South Bronx was in the late ’70s,” Sliwa said. “It’s Dante’s inferno over there. Gangs, drugs and no police anywhere to be found.”
Layoffs recently slashed the size of the Camden police force from 400 to 200 officers. Sliwa’s Angels now have 40 members helping out in the area.
“Half the citizens of Camden are grateful,” Sliwa said. “The other half – the criminals – want us out. They slashed our tires last week and were ready to torch the car.”
The Guardian Angels were not always welcome in the Bronx, either. “McDonald’s fired me for being a vigilante,” Sliwa said. “[Then-Mayor] Ed Koch tried to bully me. Police unions thought we were jeopardizing their job security.”
Sliwa had admitted to faking some heroic subway rescues, including thwarting a mugging and rape. In 1980, he falsely claimed he was kidnapped by transit cops.
Last week, Sliwa – now a radio talk show host – walked past an NYPD Mobile Command Center near Bryan Park on E. Kingsbridge Road – a spot where thugs used to beat victims with bats and nunchakus.
Now, the problem is guns, said Angels member David Torres, 47.
“We have a great relationship now with the police,” Torres said. “Years ago, they just used to hate seeing our colors. We were trying to fight crime and we were the ones getting arrested. Now, we work together.”
Jamel Purnell, 6, a first-grader at Public School 83, walked alongside the Angels patrol with his mother and stopped to talk with Sliwa.
“I want to help people,” the little boy told the veteran crimefighter, with a grin across his little face.
“Fordham Road has improved tremendously since we started …. We’ve come a long way since running on the Mugger’s Express,” said Sliwa, referring to the No. 4 train that runs through the area. “There are still pockets of crime that are out there and that’s why we’re still here.”
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