physical presence and poise. His strength of character, convictions, perseverance, wit and good humor are now but memories. Cherished memories overshadowed by the grief and sadness of my final “goodbye.” 

I frequently drive by the former hombu in Newington, CT and glance over to the hall that housed many of Kokondo’s former and past students and instructors. While slightly modernized, the facade still resembles the pale milky yellow dojo of yesterdays past, a past that has been forever influenced by Master Longo’s good will and careful attention to the little things. 

Unlike so many memories that fade with every passing day, my recollection of his mannerisms shall forever be everlasting. There are numerous memories of Master Longo which I will never forget; his ever snapping gi, demonstrations for the boy-scouts, the waffle club, dinner at the Mongolian Wok in West Hartford, our travels together to Brandies University for a seminar and many personal and private but inspirational and meaningful conversations. 

Although each are timeless and special in their own right, I remember my first several years in Jukido as a teenager before ever having enough courage to join karate. Karate class always began promptly at seven o’clock on Monday and Wednesday evenings. After Jukido class Master Howard, Mr. Dan and Scott Cohen, myself and several other former students (Mr. Patrissi, Mr. Camilleri, Mr. Skuba and Mr. Riccardi) would always take a walk across the street to the local 7-Eleven, get a few drinks or food and spend endless minutes socially before heading back to the dojo; Shihan's request was always a coffee and hostess snowballs. The 90-minute void between Jukido and Karate class was a great time to discuss the events and techniques that we just learned and reviewed. 

A few former students always insisted that we left the dojo before Master Longo arrived because he did not like Jukido-ka. Being a beginner in Jukido and not knowing much if anything at all I quickly was convinced that I was to bail before his arrival.  Sometimes I would leave before he arrived or we would past each other, without even sharing an acknowledgment or friendly “hello.” 

Whether he arrived in his blue Taurus Wagon or his aged Toyota Camry you could always expect him to bow into the dojo well before the beginning of class; bo, sai and gi in hand. Shoes would come-off, assemble neatly against the wall and he would proceed to the back room for changing. I can still hear the creaking old gray door slam upon his exit. 

As the months and years passed my attempts to avoid him were quickly surpassed by a greeting of  “hello” or “hi”. As I advanced the 90 minute void’s were filled with informal but extreme workouts with Master Howard, Shihan, the Cohen’s, and Mr. Scanlon to name a few.  Sometimes as we trained in the “circle” there was a slight moment that gave way to a few seconds of down time. Quickly, I would fasten my interest in Master Longo’s precision and timeless execution of his practice of kata, making certain to never make eye contact with him though. Understanding the direction of movement and the rhythm involved in the performance of each technique was something that I was immediately attracted to. How is this grandfatherly-like individual able to attain this exactness and excess of power, I wondered to myself? In order for me to find out I had to suck it up and try this class I thought. 

As the years passed and I advanced to an upper kyu in Jukido I persuaded a few of my peers (Mr. Skuba and Mr. Riccardi) to join Master Longo’s karate class with me. I figured if I am going to get yelled at for screwing things up it would be best if there was more then one new student for him to yell at. I don’t recall how long it was before my friends vanished but from that first class I new this was for me. There was something that he had, an ability to bring you to the climax of exhaustion but at the same time not discourage you from coming back for the next class. I just cannot explain it. 

As I continued to train in Karate and Jukido and attain Jukido Shodan there was one workout session between classes that I will remember indefinitely. Several of us were practicing with Master Howard Taiotoshi and Seiotoshi. I saw Master Longo proceed past us to the back room to change. As the door slammed I looked over to Master Longo and this National Director was wearing a white gi and white belt. I glanced to Mr. Skuba and we were both lost for words. Shihan explained to us that Master Longo was to train in Jukido and to further learn many of the classical and formal throws.  As far as I was concerned he already knew them!  There were endless workouts in which I was his uke and we would practice numerous throws together. From Ippon to Ogoshi to the counters and many others as well. I can say without prejudice that this is when I knew he accepted me. An honor that is bestowed only upon a few. 

That last night of class in 2001 I expected Master Longo back like many others. When I learned the final news, by then so expected yet so hard to accept, I felt a profound void that is as overwhelming now as it was then. If I knew that this was the last time I was to see him what would have been my finals words? So may come to mind now. 

When most people think of Master Longo, they think of his towering intellect, the incisive quality of his mind. His exactness to detail. His unwilling for flash and flare. Well, I will always remember him for another quality. It is the quality that great fighters have. They call it heart. It was his heart that taught us the great lesson of Master Longo’s life to never, ever give up. To him, it was no disgrace to fight and be beaten. The only disgrace was to quit, and he never did. In the words of Shakespeare, "He was a man, take him for all in all. I shall not look upon his like again."

Rob Robert