I confess, this subject really has me sorta tooted up!

I got interested in fencing when I was fourteen (several Errol Flynn and Tyrone Power movies and a Sabatini novel or two too many—Scaramouche, Master-at-Arms, The Black Swan, etc.) and stuck with it (yes, I said that, and I'm glad, do you hear, glad!) until, in my mid-twenties, when singing activities (gigs) started conflicting with classes, tournaments, and such.

My first teacher was Katherine Modrell, Pacific-International Women's Open Champion (French school), I had some lessons from Raymond Coates, instructor at the Washington Athletic Club (Italian school). I had an opportunity to take lessons for a few weeks from Hans Halberstadt in San Francisco (Italian School). Halberstadt was Olympic fencing coach at the time.

Even though I was physically handicapped (very restricted footwork due to polio at age two—I could move back and forth with some alacrity, but I couldn't lunge, so I had to concentrate on developing a strong defense and fast ripostes) and had been advised against competitive fencing, Halberstadt insisted that I enter an épée competition in which a former three time National épée champion (Fred Linkmeyer) and two members of the U. S. Olympic team (Gerry Biagini and Salvatore Giambra) were also entered. Astoundingly (no one was more surprised than I was!), out of twelve bouts, I lost only two (to Fred Linkmeyer and Sal Giambra) and wound up in a three way tie for third place. In the fence-off, I lost one bout to Jack Baker and ended up in fourth place. From that point on, I competed actively and enthusiastically for about eight years. I have no championships, but I have a quite satisfying collection of second and third place trophies and medals.

I also took a year's regular lessons from Jack Nottingham (how's that for a name for a fencer?), a pupil of Aldo Nadi (sort of a mix of both Italian and French schools—I used an Italian foil and épée, sometimes a Belgian pistol-grip).

With all that by way of my credentials to speak on the subject. . . .

During those ancient times (late 1940s to late 1950s), I used electrical scoring equipment only once, and that was in my first competition, the one Halberstadt insisted I enter. I didn't own an electrical épée, so I had to borrow one from the Olympic Club's "armory." All the other tournaments I fenced in, there were four judges and a director determining touches by eyeball, sans electrical scoring equipment. So for your touches to register, they had to be clean and unequivocal, and you had to clearly have the right-of-way.

[Very important:   the concept of "right-of-way" is based on the idea that, in a real duel, which a fencing bout is supposed to emulate, no one in his right mind would respond to a direct attack with a sharp blade, which unless stopped or deflected, will slither painfully and lethally through your lungs, by merely trying to stab the attacker a split-second before you, yourself, are shish-kabobed. If you did something like that, both of you would be laying there on the floor looking very much like a couple of stuffed olives transfixed with toothpicks laying on an hors d'oeuvre plate. If fencer A extends his sword-arm, point in line with fencer B's chest, and lunges briskly, and fencer B does nothing to defend himself, but extends his sword-arm in the hope that fencer A will run onto his point, and they both score, the point goes in favor of fencer A, because he initiated the attack and fencer B responded in a manner that no reasonable person in a real duel would have done. The fencer who initiates the attack has the 'right-of-way," and the attacked fencer is, quite reasonably, expected to defend himself as he would in "real life," and is penalized by losing the point if he doesn't do so. This rule holds (held) for foil and saber fencing. In épée fencing, simultaneous or near simultaneous hits were scored against both fencers.]

Within recent years, the judges (with real eyeballs) have been replaced by electronic scoring equipment. Rules of right-of-way have been abandoned in favor of setting the scoring equipment at an interval of 1/25th of a second   which is to say, if fencer A touches fencer B over 1/25th of a second (but, say, only 1/5th of a second) before fencer B touches fencer A, the second hit is locked out electronically and the point goes to fencer A—regardless of who initiated the attack. This has changed fencing radically.

It had been years since I'd seen any fencing (since even when they telecast the Olympics, they rarely—very rarely—show fencing events. But a decade or so ago, I watched several Olympic fencing matches. And I was appalled at what I saw. There was neither art nor science to it anymore. Two guys would stand back, out of distance, legs bent, but otherwise form so sloppy that I couldn't believe these were Olympic class fencers. Then, they would rush at each other and engage in a frantic jab-fest that looked like a couple of sewing-machines run amok! No attempts to parry or otherwise defend, just wild jabs. Usually in under a second a light would flash, and a point was awarded to one of the two—despite the fact that if two people had engaged in an exchange like that armed with real, sharp weapons, both of them would be on the floor either already dead or mortally wounded. It verged on the ridiculous. It verged on the disgusting!

No. If I were able to return to fencing, I wouldn't go near "modern sport fencing." I see little art or skill to it. It's simply "who can jab the fastest." I would locate my nearest classical fencing salle d'armes and indulge in the enjoyment of engaging in the real sport of fencing, which involves the development of the kind of skill that any true art does, along with the tactical sense and guile of chess, only at high speed. This, along with the additional vicarious adventure of imagining that my life is at stake and comport myself in a manner consistent with that assumption.

I have not read any of Nick Evangelista's books, an omission that, despite the fact that I am no longer able to fence, I plan to rectify for the sake of nostalgia if nothing else. But I have read several articles by him, and I agree wholeheartedlyi with what he says.

Don Firth

P. S. Under the assumption that electrical scoring equipment actually is an improvement (one does run unto blind judges from time to time), if the time interval between touches were set at half a second, or even as much as a full second, instead of the present 1/25th of a second, I think it would induce people to learn how to parry an attack before going on the offensive themselves and greatly reduce the wild and very unseemly jab-fests.

P. P. S. Also, I wonder what would happen to a jab-freak if his opponent just stood there, waited for the attack, and parry-riposted as I used to do. I doubt that a lot of the fencers I saw on the tube actually knew how to feint to draw a parry and then attempt to deceive it, or have even gone so far as to set up a second-intention attack:   launch a false attack in order to draw a parry-riposte, then parry that and counter-riposte.

P. P. P. S. Fencing is very physical, but primarily, it's a mind-game.