About Hanshi Richie Bernard

Richard Bernard’s path into the martial arts was anything but direct. In fact, it almost didn’t happen at all. A lonely, introverted boy, he struggled to find confidence in a world that often seemed indifferent to his presence. He was intelligent but unsure of himself, a quiet observer rather than an active participant in life. Somewhere deep inside, he knew there had to be more.

He had heard whispers that martial arts could build confidence, that it could make a person formidable. That idea stuck in his mind like a splinter. He wasn’t looking to be a hero—he just wanted to feel like he belonged in his own skin.

His first attempt at training should have been his last. The school was a relic of an old, bare-knuckle era, where toughness was measured by how much pain you could endure. They gave him a few techniques, barely an introduction, and then told him to break a 2x4 suspended between two folding chairs. He failed spectacularly, injuring his hand in the process. It wasn’t just painful—it was humiliating.

At a second school, they took a different approach. He was instructed to punch a fly paper strip (complete with flies stuck to it) dangling from the ceiling, aiming to show control by moving it without making contact. He miscalculated, brushing the fly paper, and when he pulled his hand back, it was covered in sticky glue and dead fly parts. The instructor’s laughter stung more than any punch. Strike two.

His third strike was training in the basement of an apartment in Beacon Projects in Lawrence, MA. The classes were brutal and became even more so when the instructor started coming home drunk. A short time later, the instructor just started staying at the bar and stopped coming home. Three strikes and he was out.  Bernard thought he threw in the towel.

He might have given up then. Most would have. But something kept calling him back. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was that old, buried belief that there was something here for him if he just kept looking.

A Door Opens

One night, a friend suggested they go shoot some pool in Lawrence. It was a welcome distraction, and Bernard agreed. But as they neared the entrance, the usual path was blocked. Scuba divers, of all things, had their equipment laid out, forcing them to take an unfamiliar route through the dimly lit basement of the YMCA.

And that’s when he heard it.

The rhythmic slap of feet on mats. The sharp kiai of voices raised in unison. The unmistakable cadence of a martial arts class in progress.

Bernard’s friend, feigning innocence, led him straight into the heart of the dojo, where students trained under the sharp-eyed gaze of Sensei Ron Martin. Before Bernard even understood what was happening, he was standing face-to-face with the man himself.

"Who’s this?" Martin asked, sizing him up.

"He trained across town with a former partner of yours," his friend offered.

Martin’s expression darkened. "That doesn’t mean a damn thing around here," he shot back.

Bernard had no idea that Martin and his former partner had a bitter falling out. But he wasn’t given much time to think about it. Martin tossed him a gi and told him to get on the floor.

From the moment he tied the belt around his waist, something inside him clicked into place. There was no grand epiphany, no moment of cinematic transformation. Just a quiet certainty.

He wasn’t leaving.

The Transformation

Training under Ron Martin wasn’t easy. The dojo was old-school in every sense. White belts were seen as liabilities, often treated with little patience. But Bernard pushed through. Maybe it was because of Rick Savastano, the instructor assigned to him, whose steady, patient guidance gave him the support he so desperately needed. Maybe it was because of the sheer brutality of his previous training attempts, which made this hard-edged but structured environment feel, in comparison, like a sanctuary.

Whatever the reason, he stayed.

And it changed everything.

Bernard was there when Ron Martin caught the attention of Mr. Merriman, a legend in Goju Ryu, who saw something extraordinary in him. Under Merriman’s guidance, Martin transformed from a skilled fighter into a world-class competitor. And Bernard? He was there for it all, absorbing the lessons, watching the shift from the sidelines, and sharpening his own skills along the way.

Martial arts wasn’t just something he did anymore. It was who he was.

A Warrior’s Journey

Bernard’s dedication to training bled into every aspect of his life. He worked security at a Hell’s Angels biker bar, a job that required equal parts diplomacy and the ability to handle yourself when things went sideways. Later, he became a police officer in Bedford, New Hampshire—a career choice that would test everything martial arts had instilled in him.

At 42 years old, he entered the police academy. His instructors took one look at his age and laughed. They took bets on how soon he’d wash out.

By the end of the academy, he had finished near the top in every category and received an award for finishing first in academics. He set records in push-ups and endurance, outpacing recruits half his age. The moment of vindication came when the academy’s lead instructor, a lieutenant and a Taekwondo black belt, asked if anyone had martial arts experience.  Bernard’s response: “I’m a Godan in Japanese Karate.”

At first, the lieutenant, a practitioner of a different art, did not understand what a Godan was and asked for a translation.  When he realized Bernard’s rank, he apologized for not realizing that he was a Black Belt before rendering a very slow, low bow. It was a magical moment that had Hanshi Bernard tear up - his moment of truth had arrived.  

Building a Legacy

Even as he worked in law enforcement, Bernard couldn’t walk away from martial arts. He founded House of the Samurai, starting with just a handful of students in the basement of his home. Over the years, it grew, moving through VFW halls, community centers, and storefronts before settling into a proper dojo—a gorgeous space with hardwood floors and floor-to-ceiling mirrors.

At its peak, House of the Samurai had nearly 400 students and had promoted over 500 black belts.

But martial arts is a world of deep loyalty—and even deeper betrayals. Bernard believed in passing on the torch, ensuring his legacy would continue. He trusted students with the responsibility of the school, only to be betrayed twice—once by a long-time instructor, and later by a young couple he had mentored from childhood. Both times, the people he trusted walked away, taking students, resources, and even his financial stability with them.

He lost everything—his school, his savings, even the very building that housed his dream.

He could have stayed down.

Instead, he got up.

ShidokanUSA: A New Beginning

Bernard didn’t just rebuild—he built smarter. He co-founded Shidokan USA, an organization designed not just to promote martial arts, but to help other schools thrive. Unlike the rigid, outdated federations he had once been part of, Shidokan focused on real-world business support, instructor certification, and practical growth strategies.

Today, ShidokanUSA is growing, its schools thriving under Bernard’s guidance.

The Competitor’s Fire

For years, Bernard avoided competition. He told himself he didn’t need it. Then, at 67 years old, he entered a push-up contest at a martial arts tournament. Expecting nothing, he dropped to the floor and knocked out 72 push-ups in one minute.

When he stood up, a crowd had gathered.

Something clicked.

A few months later, he entered a kata competition. He won his division. Then he won the grand championship. Now, he competes regularly, leading by example, proving that a true martial artist never stops growing.

A Life Defined by Bushido

Ask Bernard what martial arts means to him, and he won’t talk about trophies or belts. He’ll tell you it’s about character.

The medals he gives at his tournament bear the seven virtues of the samurai: Integrity. Respect. Courage. Honor. Compassion. Honesty. Loyalty.

Those words are not just for his students. They are the foundation of his life.

And if there’s one lesson Bernard hopes to leave behind, it’s this:
"Martial arts isn’t about fighting. It’s about saving lives. And sometimes, the life it saves… is your own."