Taiwanese Olympian is buried in Ventura
By Rhiannon Potkey, rpotkey@VenturaCountyStar.com
February 4, 2007
To the people of Taiwan, he was a national hero.
To the people of Ventura, he was the man who cut their meat.
To Asian countrymen, he was the track and field icon who brought them glory by capturing Taiwanâs first Olympic medal.
To his Thousand Oaks neighbors, he was the spry senior who took daily walks through The Oaks mall for exercise.
Although he was born in Taiwan and competed for his native country, C.K. Yang had deep Ventura County connections.
Friends, family members and Taiwanese dignitaries gathered to honor the Olympic silver medal-winning decathlete in Ventura on Saturday afternoon during a memorial service at Ted Mayr Funeral Home and burial at Ivy Lawn Memorial Park.
Yang, a longtime Thousand Oaks resident, died of complications from a stroke on Jan. 27 at Kaiser Permanente Medical Center in Woodland Hills. He was 74.
From his humble beginnings as the son of a rice farmer, Chuan-Kwang Yang became a symbol of national pride when he captured the silver medal in the decathlon at the 1960 Olympic Games in Rome after a riveting duel with UCLA teammate and good friend Rafer Johnson.
Yang was nicknamed the âAsian Iron Man,â and his legacy included two gold medals at the Asian Games and former world records in the decathlon and pole vault.
âA world-class athleteâ
Many county residents knew another side of Yang.
Married to Daisy Jue, whose family owned Jueâs Market on Main Street in Ventura, Yang spent many Sunday afternoons working behind the meat counter at the market wielding a large cleaver and a warm smile.
While slicing slabs of beef for backyard barbecues, Yang established close ties with the loyal customers. Some were aware of his athletic feats, while others had no clue.
âIf you didnât know who he was, you would never suspect he was a world-class athlete and celebrity,â said Jim Morgan, an assistant principal at Buena High School who worked as a box boy at the market from 1962 to 1966. âHe was just a regular guy in there who even swept the floors. He was just as congenial and nice to everybody.â
Yangâs track prowess came in handy at the market when a shoplifter made off with a bottle of liquor. After an employee told Yang, he gave chase and caught the unsuspecting robber near Anacapa Street. Yang recovered the liquor and let the man go free.
During his Olympic years, Yang occasionally trained at Ventura High Schoolâs track. One afternoon, he tried to offer advice to a young pole-vaulter who replied, âI already have a coach.â
âC.K. just politely walked away, but the coach said, âDo you know who that is? That is C.K. Yang. He just broke the world record on the pole vault,ââ said Yangâs sister-in-law, Dorothy Lee.
A model for sportsmanship
At a time when track and field was soaring in popularity, the dramatic decathlon showdown in Rome between Yang and Johnson captured the worldâs attention.
The competition came down to the final event â the 1,500-meter race â and Yang and Johnson were placed in the same heat. Yang won the race, but Johnson stayed close enough to remain in the overall lead and capture the gold.
âI was very ambivalent about the whole thing,â Johnson said. âNormally, when you are competing against someone you are going for the jugular, but I could not do that against C.K. I donât think it took anything away from my performance because C.K. actually made me a better athlete when I went head-to-head with him. He forced you to be that.â
Yang and Johnson first met at the Melbourne Olympics in 1956. They broke through their initial language barrier by using sign language.
Their relationship blossomed into a lifelong friendship and became a model for how race relations and sportsmanship can be bred through athletics.
Yang decided to attend UCLA so he could train with Johnson, and the two spent hours together on and off the track.
Johnson would take Yang to his hometown of Kingsburg near Fresno, where they would share meals of black-eyed peas, greens and chitlins. Yang would take Johnson to Jueâs Market, where Johnson ate the fresh produce, especially the seedless red grapes.
Passion for coaching
âHe was just like my brother,â Johnson said. âWe would find him a place to sleep when he was at my home and eat together and go to some high school games.â
Tearing up at the memory during the memorial service, Johnson described how after he crossed the finish line during the 1,500 at the 1960 Games, he leaned his head on Yangâs shoulder and Yang placed his right arm around Johnsonâs waist.
âTo me, that was the significance of a great friendship,â Johnson said.
Daisy Jue, a student at crosstown rival University of Southern California, was introduced to her future husband during a Fourth of July celebration at General Leeâs Restaurant in Chinatown.
âEverybody knew who he was because he was the greatest athlete in Asia,â she said. âI was the biggest, tallest Chinese girl in there, so he asked me to dance. He said it was love at first sight. It took me a while with this guy, but I eventually came around.â
Married in 1959, Yang and his wife eventually settled in Thousand Oaks in 1970, and raised two sons, Cedric and C.K. Jr.
Yangâs true passion was coaching, and until his death, he split time between Thousand Oaks and Taiwan, where he trained athletes and served on Taiwanâs Olympic Committee.
Cedric Yang said his father always looked forward to returning to Ventura County, because it allowed him to be just a regular guy.
Celebrity status in Taiwan
He played 18 holes on every golf course in the area, ate menudo during Sunday brunch at Golden China Restaurant and enjoyed heaping plates of pasta at Ferraroâs.
âWhen he was in Taiwan, they would follow him like they do Tiger Woods on the golf course,â Cedric Yang said. âOver here, his celebrity status wasnât as great, and I think it gave him a break from all that. He could just relax and be himself.â
The Yang family wanted to have C.K. buried at the national track and field training center in Taiwan, but was unable to receive clearance from the government, according to Cedric Yang.
After an Olympic flag was draped over C.K.'s casket at his memorial service and he was lowered into the ground at Ivy Lawn a few hours later, Cedric Yang knew his father would approve of his burial site. âThis was home for him,â he said.