n the 1960s and 70s, his scowl was unmistakable and his kung fu pose conveyed a menace that went beyond martial arts mastery. He called himself Count Dante and he claimed to be “The Deadliest Man Alive” in garish comic book ads and gruesome instructional manuals. While his name and title may have been more show biz than lineage, his drive to live up to his fearsome reputation left one man dead and a promising career in ruins.

n the 1960s and 70s, his scowl was unmistakable and his kung fu pose conveyed a menace that went beyond martial arts mastery. He called himself Count Dante and he claimed to be “The Deadliest Man Alive” in garish comic book ads and gruesome instructional manuals. While his name and title may have been more show biz than lineage, his drive to live up to his fearsome reputation left one man dead and a promising career in ruins.

Count Dante’s real name was John Keehan and he grew up in a posh section of Chicago. In the early 1960s he was one of the most intriguing figures in America’s nascent martial arts scene. Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris were his contemporaries, but Keehan’s appetite for self-promotion was greater than a movie star’s. When he wasn’t putting on karate tournaments, he was styling hair and courting Playboy Bunnies. He was one part “Black Belt Jones” and one part Warren Beatty from “Shampoo.” He challenged Muhammad Ali, tested his hand speed against a quick draw artist, and kept an African lion as a house pet.