From Martial Arts to Hollywood Dreams

In 1981, two years out of high school and unsure of my direction, I found myself deeply immersed in martial arts. I had been training since the age of seven, and my dream was to open my own martial arts school—perhaps even become the "Black Bruce Lee." However, Oxnard, California, wasn’t exactly brimming with talent scouts, so I focused on what I could control: teaching and training.

With my mother’s support, I opened a kickboxing school, where I spent every non-class hour perfecting my craft. Oxnard, built around a naval base, quickly brought military personnel—SEALs, Seabees, and other servicemen—into my classes.

One day, a student casually mentioned a martial arts demonstration at Ventura College. I already knew about it but had no intention of participating—until I found out I had been signed up without my consent. No way out now.

Back then, most martial arts demonstrations were overly choreographed, unrealistic scenarios of disarming opponents with effortless precision. We decided to do something different—a real, full-contact demonstration. The plan shifted further when a Chinese martial artist insulted one of my students for learning from a "hak gwai" (a racial slur). With that, we changed the demonstration into an intense, live sparring match.

What followed shocked the audience—and permanently cured my stage fright. We delivered raw, unfiltered combat, switching opponents whenever one tapped out. The crowd, accustomed to flashy, scripted fights, sat in stunned silence.

Afterward, as we packed up, I was approached by a man I assumed was faculty reprimanding me for the display. Instead, he introduced himself: Joe Bonaduce. His son, Danny Bonaduce (The Partridge Family), was a black belt, and Joe was producing a martial arts film starring his son. He wanted to know if I was interested in working on it.

Hollywood was calling.

From Personal Training to Film & TV

A few months later, I found myself in Van Nuys, California, with no job and no money. Like a genius, I had closed my martial arts school, convinced I had been discovered. With no reason to go back to Oxnard, I stayed to chase my dream.

I took my first job at Holiday Spa in Hollywood, later transferring to Encino, where I met industry figures like Garry Shandling, Michael Biehn, and even Sylvester Stallone at a boxing gym called Left Hook.

While working low-budget action films with Sho Kosugi and David Heavener, I landed small roles in movies like Mask with Cher and Into the Night with Michelle Pfeiffer and Jeff Goldblum—just enough to stay afloat.

Then, I was accused of stealing $20 at Holiday Spa. Despite proving my innocence, I left—right as a new gym was opening nearby.

Matrix One: The Birthplace of Personal Training

When I walked into Matrix One, it wasn’t like any gym I had ever seen—high-tech, industrial, and exclusive. Their weight machines used water resistance technology (seen in Rocky IV). It was the ultimate elite training facility, attracting Hollywood’s biggest names and setting the standard for high-performance fitness.

We were fitness rockstars. Unlike traditional gyms, trainers at Matrix One worked on the floor until they built their own client base, eventually becoming independent contractors. We had shoe sponsorships, celebrity clients, and a thriving culture.

Then, one day, two representatives from the American College of Sports Medicine (ACSM) walked in.

They wanted us to help design the nation’s first personal trainer certification program.

Building the Certification, Then Getting Shut Out

At the time, personal training had no formal accreditation. We were asked to:
1. Standardize exercise terminology
2. Define primary, secondary, and support muscle groups
3. Develop multiple-choice and scenario-based testing

In return, Matrix One would receive exclusive ACSM accreditation, and the trainers who developed the program would get free lifetime certification.

I spent eight months after hours working on the curriculum—only to receive zero acknowledgment when it was done.

Then, Matrix One shut down.

Years later, when my colleagues and I tried to claim our certification, ACSM claimed they had no record of the agreement. They demanded we pay for the very certification we created.

A Legacy Denied

By then, I had moved into film and television, so I let it go. Others—like Casey Purpus and Henry Reynolds—paid for the certification, while some of us refused on principle.

Decades later, I reached out to Walt Thompson, then-President of ACSM, explaining what had happened. His response?

- "We have no record of that."
- "Personal trainer certification didn’t begin until 1996."

(Interesting, since we built it in 1984.)

I sent further evidence. I never heard back.

The Truth About Personal Training

The fitness industry today thrives on a foundation built by uncredited pioneers. Those of us who created the first certification were erased from history.

And yet, I wouldn’t trade the experience. Being a personal trainer is an honor. It’s not just about fitness—it’s about helping others achieve their best selves.

I don’t love how corporate greed has tainted the industry, but I know that the roots are strong.

Remember Their Names

The real pioneers of personal training are not in history books, but they were there:

• Gary Grant

• Casey Purpus

• Drew Brooks

• Michael Sims

• Emily Meine

• Eric Tomooka

• Alexandra Roberts

• Jackie Orr

• Henry Lee Reynolds

• Kenny Olsen

• Todd Smith

• Morty Kehler

• Christine

• David Burr

• George Lebrun

• John Wilson

• Tracy

• Robbie Caravetta

…and many more.

This story is dedicated to Gary Grant and his unforgettable, tippy-toed walk. We miss you, buddy.

The Bottom Line

The fitness industry was built by real people—trainers, athletes, and visionaries. Before the influencers, before the gym chains, before personal training was a "career," there was Matrix One.

For those of us who lived it, the impact remains. And that’s a legacy worth remembering.