Count Danté, the Deadliest Man Alive, in some ways never existed.

He likely wasn't a count, nor originally a Danté; and while an undeniably dangerous man, he probably wasn't the deadliest man of his time. Even his claim to life became forfeit when he died in 1975. Dead or alive, in print or in person, Count Danté made an indelible, though rarely positive, impression.

Writing about Count Danté is infuriatingly difficult. The man, his admirers and his critics have created such a convoluted legend about him that it's difficult to separate fact from absolute crap. Danté put it nicely in an interview with writer Massad Ayoob for Black Belt Magazine: "90% of what I've told you on tape and off, is bullshit and I'm the only one who knows which 10% is the truth." Danté later amended this to a fifty-fifty blend.

One undeniable truth was that Count Juan Raphael Danté was born John T. Keehan on the south side of Chicago in 1939. Keehan started boxing when he was 13 and later wrestled in high school. After that he gained instruction in judo, jiu jitsu and aikido before attending different martial arts schools across the country, his father—a surgeon—footing the bill. In due time, Keehan studied Shuri-ryu karate in Phoenix, Arizona, under American karate pioneer Robert Trias (yet another ex-soldier returned from the East) in 1961. Keehan proved an apt and organized pupil, eventually earning his black belt, forming the U.S. Karate Association  with Trias and promoting karate in the Midwest. Keehan's focus and knack for publicity introduced the martial arts to a wider audience. All well and good, but the situation would dramatically change.

Keehan's relationship with Trias and the USKA gradually soured. Figuring out why is difficult since both sides gave differing reasons. Keehan claimed he was ejected for promoting African-American students to black belt rank. Trias said that was patently untrue; what didn't sit well with him was that Keehan's promotional methods strained credulity and reflected badly on the organization. Before he was a count, John Keehan apparently had a touch of Baron von Münchhausen in him.

Keehan's most notorious brag was that he'd participated in secret "death matches" in Thailand and China, winning by killing opponent after opponent before crowds numbering in the thousands. All told, Keehan was known as a hothead and always looking for a fight, but . . . death matches? With no hard evidence presented for or against the death matches, his claim is hard to either prove or disprove, leaving his reputation intact if only because those who didn't believe it waved it off, while those who did believe were too afraid to ask for corroboration. According to Ayoob's inquiries with kung-fu practitioners from the old country, it was unlikely a non-Asian foreigner would be invited to participate in such Bloodsport scenarios, if such events existed at all. No matter what he claimed though, Keehan's braggadocio made it hard to take anything he said without an arched eyebrow. --Dan Kelly

Extra: Read another article by the author about Count Danté.