Hanshi McGrath Presents

MASTER Rick Niemira

June's

Devil Dog

I had a difficult time in choosing the first sentence regarding Rick Niemira, an original student of Sensei Nagle. I think that I will describe him as a man’s man and simultaneously, an avowed gentleman. Rick never had anyone who met him turn to dislike him. He was my best friend in the original dojo at 220 New River Street, in Jacksonville, North Carolina outside Camp Lejeune.

On my first evening on the deck, wearing a sweat suit, I saw a brown belt walking toward me, during a short break. He introduced himself as Rick Niemira and asked if he could help me with the Basics and the kicks. I was somewhat stunned, since I had been told that the toughest people on the deck were the brown belts. He spent the rest of the night showing me how to make a fist, step in the half-moon style of Isshin-ryu. At the end of the night, we all went to a bar close to the dojo for a beer. Rick turned out to be amusing and very intelligent. He was a Buck Sergeant at the time and was not upset or put off when he realized I was an Officer. We would be close friends until his too early death on March 25, 1988. He was just 49. I flew down to be with him before he died from cancer. I sat on the floor near his chair, with the love of his life Miriam H. Niemira, a bright and beautiful young woman and martial artist in Bando karate, which had a fellowship with those of us in Isshin-ryu. He had boxes of pictures of martial arts and we spent hours picking through them and reminiscing about the old dojo and the beatings we took from Sensei Nagle. He also discussed his condition. Many years before, he had truly turned to God, although in all of the years I knew him, he never cursed, lost his temper or spoke ill of anyone. At one point in our conversation, he looked down at me and said, “I view this as a learning experience that God is allowing me to have.” Both Miriam and I got up and walked out of the house to the porch, where both of us had tears in our eyes. It took a while to calm down, before we could go back inside. Rick was hooked up to a machine that dispensed painkiller every few minutes. It was very hard to see him like this, since he was probably the strongest man I had ever known, pound for pound. One night he had a picture taken with several people pushing actual arrows against his throat, until the bent and snapped.

When he fought, even with me, he fought to win and this was a time when we struck each other, often injuring fellow fighters in our own dojo. Years later when Rick first got ill, we were in Maryland at Tom Lewis’ dojo for a benefit tournament, since the cost of his battle for life was far beyond his medical coverage. Plus the fact that we tried every alternate cure, which was probably a bad use of the funds we had. At one point during the weekend we had our cars lined up in a caravan, while we waited for Don Bohan to pull in. I remember that it was pouring rain, when suddenly Rick was knocking on my car window and getting soaked. I rolled my window down and told him to get back in his car. He leaned in and told my wife, Gene, and me that he could never figure out how a little skinny guy like me knocked him out in three matches. I said that the truth was that I was so terrified of him after watching his other matches and when I was matched with him I got such an adrenalin rush that I was moving at the speed of sound. When we fought other matches for fun he would occasionally catch me and it was always devastating and took a week to heal. It was obvious to me that he was capable of killing a person with one focused blow. But Rick would never knowingly harm anyone, he wasn’t aware of his own strength, but the rest of the class was aware of that threat. He once came straight at me in a rush, firing everything he had and I was back- pedaling so fast, I wound up in the curtain on hooks in the ceiling, which was used to change clothes. I pulled the entire curtain down. Sensei's Cates and Nagle were not thrilled and my Sensei roughly told me that I should have moved to the side. We had to repair the dressing area.

Rick was a native of Torun, Poland, but went to a German orphanage in his early years, before immigrating to America at age thirteen. He could speak five European languages, but not English. However, with his keen mind and background of survival, he learned English within a year and when I met him he spoke it so well that I never knew he was not born here.

Rick grew up in New Jersey and at age eighteen, he joined The United States Marine Corps, where he quickly made Sergeant, since he put everything he had into becoming proficient in every aspect of the Corps, proving to be an expert with firearms. In 1960, Sensei Nagle left the Marine Corps and went to New Jersey, where Rick and Jim Chapman followed him and were his first students in civilian life and became Instructors at Grand Master Nagle’s first dojo in New Jersey.

Within a few years Rick went to Washington, D.C. and became a Police Officer with the District of Columbia Police Department, at the old Eleventh Precinct. At first, he was a patrolman, but his high-energy, dedication and intelligence. He was transferred to the Helicopter Branch where he excelled, as a pilot. Transferred to the Second District “Casual Clothes Squad,” for under cover work. He then worked in the Mobile Crime Lab and later served with the Canine Corps. He was in that capacity when he retired. For many of his years with the D.C. Police he was a member of the Civil Disturbance Unit (CDU).   He had also worked with the Central Cell Block, the ID Bureau and was then sent to the Academy where he instructed the entire MPDC in self defense tactics.

Once retired, he was a favorite seminar specialist for Police Departments around the country, teaching street tactics and self-defense, as well as the use of batons and firearms.

Rick’s wife Miriam still lives in their home that I visited in Cumming, Georgia with their son Ryszard Michael and daughter Renee Marie.

As he grew older, his faith in his Lord deepened giving him the confidence and strength that he would eventually require in his bout with cancer. Part of Rick’s learning experience was that of knowing the peace of having “forgiven all of his enemies.” Rick would go to his Lord as he lived, straight forward, head held high and true to his ideals. He was surely the epitome of a man’s man and one that I loved as a brother. At his burial ceremony, that my wife and I attended, Miriam asked me to give the eulogy. His ashes were on the podium, in a black leather box. I picked the box up and began to speak of my best buddy, when suddenly, “The Voice of Karate,” who spoke glibly to twenty thousand people on several occasions, welled up with tears streaming down my face and my throat in pain, knowing I would not see him again. Miriam and my wife had to come to the podium to help me back to my chair. To tell the truth it still hurts, as I write about one of the best men ever to walk God’s great earth.

                                             Ed McGrath, Ju-Dan

                                          Grand Master, Isshin-ryu

                                          Student of Sensei Nagle,

                                             “The Living Legend”