Tucked unassumingly into the tranquil, shady confines of Squirrel Hill stands a training camp for an ancient order of warriors. Shrouded in secrecy and keeping to the shadows, the ninja rehearse for the day that their nefarious talents — invisibility, deception and unmatched fighting skill — will be needed. Actually, if visitors expect some kind of “Enter The Dragon”-type doomsday scenario, they will leave disappointed. The ninjutsu students at the Pittsburgh Bujinkan Dojo — or school — are serious about their art, but it’s obvious that this is a friendlier, more extroverted breed of ninja. The Dojo trains in what looks like a first-grade classroom inside the Wightman School in Squirrel Hill. Pink Hula-Hoops hang on a peg on one wall. Finger-paintings adorn a chalkboard on the other. Their motto is “Living the Budo Arts with an Open Mind and an Open Heart,” and they all seem like pretty nice guys. Ninjutsu is one of the most misunderstood of martial arts. While most martial arts are both self-defense and sport- or competition-oriented, ninjutsu is purely a practical combat art. It’s also unique in that it’s a very multi-dimensional art. Where judo focuses on grappling techniques and kung fu specializes in kicks and punches, ninjutsu uses both. The art also has a specialized set of weapons, a contemplative/spiritual element and a history steeped in techniques of stealth and outdoor survival. One of the biggest problems for ninjutsu practitioners, though, is the sheer tonnage of pop culture goofiness that comes along with the Western concept of “the ninja.” In the past 25 years, breathless descriptions of the art’s more sinister and picturesque aspects — in movies, TV and comic books — have become more or less standard. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was the last straw. When Dave Fetterman, owner of the Pittsburgh dojo, told his then-6-year-old daughter what he was studying, he says, “She asked me, ‘Where’s your turtle shell?'” Fetterman, 34, an IBM channel product specialist for four states, and chief instructor Brent Erlewine, 33, vice president of worldwide sales for Nocopi Techonologies Inc., have been running the Pittsburgh Bujinkan Dojo since January. The only thing that visually separates them from the myriad other after-hours, would-be Bruce Lees is that their uniforms are black, and some of them wear high, split-toed black boots. That, and the gym bags full of swords. Although ninjutsu, also known as budo taijutsu, is growing in popularity around the world, it’s not nearly as common as tae kwon do or karate. It has been only since the early ’70s that Soke Masaaki Hatsumi, current grandmaster of the art, opened its study to non-Japanese. For the Pittsburgh dojo, Erlewine says: “The Web site was the catalyst. It was really for our own amusement, to be honest. It originally was a collection point for info and background, discussions, photographs. By default, we collected 17 to 18 people that were contacting us on a regular basis, saying, ‘When can we come train?'” Fetterman is a living embodiment of the “bigger they come, harder they fall” philosophy. Big, with a low center of gravity, he’s built more like an offensive lineman than a lithe, skulking ninja. This is clearly not a guy who took up ninjutsu to defend his lunch money at school. When he tangles with Erlewine for a joint-lock demonstration, he hits the ground with a thunderous, comic-book “THWACK!” Their practice mat is very thin. “The ground is really hard,” Fetterman says. “We have a saying: The world’s not padded.” He moves with a certain fluidity and grace that belies his size. His movements are so deft, they’re almost gentle. When showing a new student how to avoid a punch to the face, he simply steps out of the way. When attacked by a hanbo — a round, wooden stick — a few subtle movements are all he needs to avoid a cracked skull, use the attacker’s momentum against him and flip him over, hard. Unlike many other martial arts, you hit the ground a lot in ninjutsu. Practice begins with a short meditation/concentration exercise, then they start rolling. The students attempt a variety of somersaults and shoulder rolls practiced to break one’s fall and familiarize oneself with the realities of the cold, hard floor. A lot of ninjutsu relies on concealing one’s intentions. A technique known as “void-filling form” utilizes something as simple as waving one’s hand to draw attention, then following through with a straightforward stomp-kick. It’s all very friendly — the higher ranks assist the lower, moving at whatever speed is comfortable. For a small group of men, they are a diverse lot. “Since it’s a combat art, we don’t allow anyone under 18,” Erlewine says. “There’s a guy in his 60s, students, engineers, policemen.” Despite the diversity, you can’t help but notice that the class is all men. “Female students are a little put off by the combat nature of the art,” says Fetterman, of Bellevue. “But those that try it and stick with it get just as much enjoyment out of it. I would add that women have a tendency to physically understand the body movement of ninjutsu faster than most men — less rigidity in their movements and an inherent open-mindedness about the deeper aspects of the art. I personally think the challenge is, ‘How do you get them to try it first?'” The answer might be right next door. An akido class lets out in the next room, and a little girl wanders in to watch. Her mouth drops open at the throws and falls. She turns to her father and exclaims, “Dad, can I do this?” By the end of the night, even the newest, most awkward student is able to redirect a hanbo attack and throw his teacher, which he does with such obvious relish that the rest of the men burst out laughing. If there’s competition in the dojo, it’s all beneath the surface. The students have the quick camaraderie of people who know they all have to look stupid at some point — because if someone is practicing takedowns, someone else has to be taken down. There’s a lot of helpless flopping around on the floor for everybody to keep their egos in check. There seems to be a ninjutsu answer for just about any tactical situation. There’s a technique for entangling an attacker with a knife, disarming a swinging sword and breaking almost any kind of grab or hold. Surprisingly little pressure is needed to twist delicate wrist joints and put an overconfident assailant facedown on the floor. Ray Kriebel, 40, a Butler police officer and student at the dojo, says his ninjutsu training has come in handy. Kriebel was called to a convenience store where a young man was, he says, “threatening to kill somebody. … It was a kid who was bipolar, who claimed he was a black belt — and wanted to fight. The kid had just lost it. He was bouncing back and forth. He asked, ‘Do you want to arrest me?'” He turned around as if ready to accept handcuffs. “Then he came at me suddenly with his elbow. I used a few ninjutsu techniques, a few locks, and subdued him,” Kriebel says. “They worked very well.” Other traditional ninja skills such as stealth, fighting in armor, swordplay and water combat might not be applicable to modern situations, but occasionally they practice them just to keep in touch with the roots of the art. Their edged weapons are either padded or blunted, and seldom swung with the strength to maim. To practice throwing shuriken (throwing stars), sometimes they’ll use business cards. Erlewine, of Champion, started training in ninjutsu about five years ago. His previous experiences with the popular and very sport-oriented Tang Soo Do and tae kwon do were good, but somewhat less than satisfying. “It’s run like a business — you pay your money, you show up for testing day, (and) you get a belt whether you have any talent or understand the material or not,” Erlewine says. “There was very little explanation of the practicality underneath what you were learning.” Ninjutsu is nothing if not practical. “It appears to be the only martial art with a little bit of everything in it,” Erlewine says. “Strikes, kicks, takedowns, jointlocks, throws and a wide variety of weapons. You’ve got spirituality, energy work. Most arts only stick to one of those pieces. (Ninjutsu) is a complete system.” As for that hard-to-define spiritual dimension of ninjutsu: “It gets your life on track,” Erlewine muses. “It all comes down to focusing on goals that you want for your life, and figuring out ways to achieve them. You see a lot of people who go through that process that turn around and figure out how to fix some of the major things in their lives that may be broken. “You’re using this martial art to find balance in your entire life. It’s not just a physical technique; it’s not just spirituality. … It’s that whole package of finding out what you’re supposed to be doing with your life — then going out and doing it.” The Pittsburgh Bujinkan Dojo trains from 7 to 9 p.m. Mondays at the Wightman School Community Building, 5604 Solway St., Squirrel Hill. Cost is $40 per month; $20 for students. Details: (412) 421-1263 or www.pittsburghbujinkan.com .

Popular martial arts

Karate: Okinawan, meaning “empty hand.” Many different styles primarily use swift hand and foot strikes. Developed by the inhabitants of Okinawa to fight their Chinese occupiers. Now a competitive sport. Judo: Japanese, meaning “the way of flexibility.” Emphasizes grappling — jointlocks, gaining leverage, throws and strangle holds. Developed in 1882 by removing some of the more violent aspects of jujitsu. Kung fu: Chinese, meaning “human effort” or “skill.” Characteristics include circular hand techniques and a flowing, rhythmic style of movement. Kicks are aimed at the lower body. Originated with the Shaolin temple in China. Some authorities trace its beginnings back 3,000 years. Aikido: Japanese, meaning “the way of harmony with universal energy.” A defensive art that allows its practitioners to defend against any attack without seriously injuring the attacker. Based on the principle that the violent should be shown the error of their ways, not executed. Tae kwon do: Korean, meaning “the way of the hands and feet.” A vast array of hand strikes and kicks, many aimed at the head. Virtually no grappling. Uses blocks as its primary defense. Kendo: Japanese, meaning “the way of the sword.” Competition-oriented swordfighting. Participants score points when they strike the parts of the body that are traditionally vulnerable in samurai armor. Ninjutsu: Japanese. Purely a combat art; not competition-oriented. Utilizes strikes, grappling, stealth, survivalist techniques and a vast array of weapons. Developed by the ninja, a class of guerilla warriors — and often assassins — in medieval Japan. — Michael Machosky

Ninjutsu’s history

“If you saw the ninja movies, you’d think we’re assassins or nightstalkers,” says Dave Fetterman, owner of Pittsburgh Bujinkan Dojo. “When ninja were like that, it was out of necessity.” There are many theories about how the people known as the ninja first emerged in medieval Japan. More than 800 years ago, ninjutsu thrived in the mountainous Koga and Iga regions of central Japan, although its actual origins probably go back much further. While the Japanese nobility fought over who would lead the emerging national government, the Iga and Koga regions remained more or less independent. These areas were populated by clans of independent peasants, wandering priests and isolated bands of soldiers. After a while, a part of the population began to evolve into guerrilla warriors, developing small-unit and self-defense tactics utilizing stealth, subterfuge and surprise. These skills were honed over hundreds of years of fighting, and strict ethical, cultural and moral standards evolved alongside them. Different clans developed specialized techniques, which were taught in schools called Ryu. Nine Ryu survive to the present day. Japanese nobles made a practice of hiring the ninja to spy on and/or eliminate their rivals, and the ninja excelled in this work. Even the fearsome samurai had reason to fear the unpredictable ninja. As Japan became more united, however, the nobility turned on the ninja. By the 17th century, ninja were hunted down, and whole clans were slaughtered. By the end of the 18th century, the ninja were almost spent as a cultural force. At the end of the 19th century, all that was left was a boy named Toshitsugu Takamatsu. From an old ninja family, he had been taught by the last grandmasters of ninjutsu before they died. Takamatsu fought with such skill and bravery in China that he was asked to train the emperor’s bodyguard — thus redeeming the ninja. Takamatsu retired to his village. He had but one student, a doctor named Masaaki Hatsumi, who had studied the martial arts, theater and medicine. He spent 15 years learning everything there was to know about ninjutsu and became the only other person on the planet fully trained in the martial art. Dr. Hatsumi made the unprecedented decision to open training to Westerners. Now, the number of ninjutsu students around the world is in the tens of thousands. “Everything that you’re practicing and doing is combat-tested,” instructor Brent Erlewine says, “literally, over a thousand years-plus.” Source: Pennsylvania Bujuinkan Dojo

---

Copyright ©2026— Trib Total Media, LLC (TribLIVE.com)

---