The master still has it: Gauthier going strong after 50 years

FIFTY YEARS AGO, Toronto’s Cabbagetown was depressed and violent. If you wanted to get somewhere in life, you got out of the neighbourhood. It was there that 18-year-old Gilles Gauthier lived and worked.

Gauthier wasn’t doing anything with his evenings or his life. That changed on February 1, 1967, when he attended his first karate class.

Half a century later, Gauthier is an eighth-degree black belt—one of only a handful in Canada. The back wall of his dojo (Gauthier’s Martial Arts and Self-Defence, located in downtown Orillia since 1982) is covered with plaques, certificates, trophies and newspaper clippings. More are buried under paperwork on his desk—accolades have a way of piling up after 50 years. Gauthier is a member of three international martial arts halls of fame. While individual honours are nice, they’re not why he started karate and they’re not why he’s stayed with it so long.

“I wanted to do something that would impact other people,” he says.

Gauthier’s first club opened at the Orillia YMCA in 1972. “We ran a tough class,” he remembers. Over the years, he’s seen full-contact tournaments in which martial artists the calibre of Chuck Norris sparred with only thin leather covering their knuckles. Now, in an era of regulations and litigations, karate is more reserved. Gauthier, however, is old school. He points out that on the streets there are no rules, and his teaching reflects that.

“You do whatever it takes to get out of a situation.”

Students can expect bruises and scratches—part of learning—but Gauthier is proud of the fact that none have ever been seriously injured.

Gauthier’s never been one to go looking for trouble. His first fight took place at the post office where he worked. He threw one punch. “I flipped his nose right across his face… He pushed the wrong guy.” The confrontation served as a reminder of the great power—and with it, great responsibility—his karate training had bestowed upon him.

“Nothing scared me more than the sight of all that blood.”

Gauthier stresses that self-defence can take many forms. Those include defusing a situation without violence—or avoiding that situation in the first place.

“Sensei Gill doesn’t just teach karate, he teaches confidence,” explains 17-year-old Natalie White, Gauthier’s newest black belt. “He really emphasizes that you should always trust your instincts and that you don’t necessarily have to hurt anyone in order to defend yourself.”

Because they have the ability to fight, Gauthier’s students may never need it.

With the self-confidence acquired through karate training come a host of other benefits. “People think martial arts is about fitness,” Gauthier says. For him, it’s a way of life. Karate teaches calmness and balance—and even helps you sleep better.

Gauthier not only applies this philosophy to his own life, but he also imparts it to his students. Young beginners are encouraged to write down “random acts of kindness” they perform, which he reads aloud at the end of class.

Discipline and focus are emphasized also.

“Karate, martial arts, causes one to focus on a task,” says fourth-degree black belt Tim Foster, an instructor at Gauthier’s for over 20 years. “I see a lot of kids benefit from this as it teaches them to concentrate on doing what they are told… Respect is taught and Master Gill does not let anyone get away with any nonsense.”

Gauthier himself was reminded of martial arts’ non-martial benefits in 2015, when he underwent triple bypass surgery. “It’s weird to think back, I was unconcerned,” he says. He knew that whatever was going to happen would happen, and he didn’t think it was his time to go.

All the karate in the world couldn’t defend him against the enemy within.

It could, however, provide peace of mind—and a reason to get back in shape.

Gauthier “can’t say enough” about the medical team that performed the surgery and helped him rehab. But the road to recovery was long and arduous. It would have been easy for the 67-year old to rest on his laurels, but the thought never occurred to him. His goal was to get back in fighting form. In the meantime, Gauthier’s team of assistant instructors—all black belts—looked after the club. “They were like family,” Gauthier remembers.

For them, it was a chance to give back.

Foster, for one, is happy to have Gauthier leading classes again. “Although we are all well trained and teach the best we can, it was great to see Master Gill get well and come back. He has so much commitment and experience.”

Almost two years later, the recovery process is ongoing. Gauthier still can’t do a full pushup because of the strain on his chest. “I put on weight, but I’m turning that into muscle.” His mind hasn’t changed, and, as anyone who spars with him will tell you, neither have his reflexes and timing.

“The master still has it,” he says with a grin.

At age 68, Gauthier is still pushing himself. He tells the story of a woman who started taking karate when she was 60 years old. By age 65, she’d received her black belt. People like her remind him never to quit. “I’m still learning from my students,” he adds. Every white belt teaches the master something new.

A mother once called at the dojo to inquire about classes for her children. “She said, ‘If you close down, would you put a notice on the door?’”

Gauthier was bewildered—until he found out the family had attended three other karate clubs, all of which folded. “People get ripped off,” he says.

As for the notice on the door?

“I’ll be here until I die.”

In all the time Gauthier has taught karate, his doors have never closed. That’s not because he’s desperate for business. Gauthier works full-time at Casino Rama as a first responder. “There’s no money in karate,” he says. “I make enough to pay for my car, my gas.” Of course, he charges a minimal price.

Gauthier’s compensation takes another form. Whenever he sees a beginner throw a proper punch or he hears the story of how his teaching has changed someone’s life—“That’s my payment,” he says.

That payment has kept him going for 50 years.