Chess
Notes
Edward
Winter
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5870. Game conclusion (C.N. 5851)
Black to move.
This position was featured in a Sherlock Holmes vignette
‘Chess in Fiction’ by Hotspur on pages 15-16 of the
January 1964 BCM. In a cliff-ledge showdown,
Moriarty played 36...fxg2 (‘Time to resign, I think, Mr
Holmes.’), but ‘Holmes nonchalantly produced his
hypodermic syringe and applied a shot of his favourite
drug Morphy-A’ and played 37 Qe2+ Rxe2 38 Nb4+ cxb4 39
Ra5+. Moriarty then ‘made the only move open to him –
over the cliff – board, men and Moriarty’. As Holmes
later reflected, in the diagrammed position Black could
have played 36...Re1+ 37 Qxe1 Bxb2+, with mate in two
more moves.
Marc Hébert (Charny, Canada) refers to the game given
as ‘Captain Mackenzie-J.M. Hanham, London, 1886’ on
page 57 of Adolf Albin in America by Olimpiu
G. Urcan (Jefferson, 2008). Play began 1 e3 c5, and
Mackenzie is said to have resigned after Black’s 33rd
move.
We note that other publications, such as the June
1886 Chess Monthly, pages 296-297, correctly
gave Mackenzie as Black. Mr Urcan’s source, page 2 of
the New York Times, 15 July 1886, inverted the
players’ names.
From our collection we reproduce the
title page of Robert G. Wade’s copy of the scarce 1943
book Homenaje a José Raúl Capablanca, inscribed
to him by the Cuban master Miguel Alemán in Havana a few
days after the end of the 1964 Capablanca Memorial
tournament:
From Brian Ridgely (Raleigh, NC, USA):
‘The recent death of Henry Loomis, the former
head of Voice of America, brought to mind his
father, Alfred Loomis. The elder Loomis was one of
America’s wealthiest men in the first half of the
twentieth century and a key, if somewhat unsung,
figure in the winning of World War II. He was also
a chessplayer, and the following appeared on page
19 of Tuxedo Park by Jennet Conant (New
York, 2002):
“By age nine, he was a chess prodigy and [...] by
age 13 he could play ‘mental chess’ without aid of
a board or pieces and could play blindfolded,
carrying on two games simultaneously.”
Other passages tell of Loomis playing blindfold
(sometimes multiple games) well into adulthood. Is
there any record of competitive play by him?’
From Robert John McCrary (Columbia, SC, USA):
‘The Oxford Companion entry on
tournaments was taken from my research paper The
Birth of the Chess Tournament, which is cited in
the Companion entry (second edition) and
has been published in full on pages 19-31 of my
1998 booklet The Hall-of-Fame History of US
Chess. The paper includes much bibliographical
material, including all of Walker’s early uses of
“tournament” that I could find.
The word “tournament” appears to have been
applied by Walker to the early Yorkshire meetings,
which were not “tournaments” in the modern sense.
They were more like “congresses” in the modern
usage, with no apparent structure to the casual
games played there.
The word caught on for general chess gatherings
but does not seem to have been applied to
“tournament” in the modern sense of structured
competition until the 1849 event at the Divan in
London. There is reason to assume, though it is
hard to prove conclusively, that the term
“tournament” in the modern sense then spread from
chess to other games and sports. My review of
other sporting literature has revealed no
occurrences of “tournament” until a few years
after London, 1851.
My paper also includes some references (very
sketchy and lacking players’ names and other
details) to true chess tournaments preceding 1849,
which, ironically, were not called “tournaments”.’
Regarding our question in C.N. 5869 about Amsterdam,
1851 we note the publication Schaakpartijen,
gespeeld in 1851, gedurende den wedstrijd van het
genootschap Philidor, in Amsterdam (Wijk bij
Duurstede, 1852).
Olimpiu G. Urcan (Singapore) points
out that the website of the Bibliothèque
nationale
de France has a photograph of Chigorin which is
likely to be new to readers.
From Michael Clapham (Ipswich, England):
‘The dust jacket of The Golden Dozen by
Irving Chernev (Oxford, 1976) lists other “Oxford
Chess Books”, and the first of these is Chess
technique and Bobby Fischer by R.E. Burger. I
know of no such work being published, but
presumably it would have been the same as Burger’s
The Chess of Bobby Fischer, which the
Chilton Book Company, Radnor had brought out in
1975.’
Further to C.N.s 5471, 5475 and 5491, we add that in
his Foreword to the US book (page viii) Frank Brady
wrote:
‘In previous writings I have cited Fischer’s IQ as
in the range of 180, a very high genius. My source
of information is impeccable: a highly regarded
political scientist who coincidentally happened to
be working in the grade adviser’s office at Erasmus
Hall – Bobby Fischer’s high school in Brooklyn – at
the time Fischer was a student there. He had the
opportunity to study Fischer’s personal records and
there is no reason to believe his figure is
inaccurate. Some critics have claimed that other
teachers at Erasmus Hall at that time remember the
figure to be much lower; but who the teachers are
and what figures they remember have never been made
clear.’
5877. Alapin’s place of birth
Simon Alapin
Georges Bertola (Bussigny-près-Lausanne, Switzerland)
comments that whereas notable sources give S. Alapin’s
place of birth as Vilnius there are also statements that
he was born in St Petersburg. Instances of the latter
version are on page 8 of the Dizionario
enciclopedico degli scacchi by A. Chicco and G.
Porreca (Milan, 1971) and page 206 of Traité-manuel
des échecs by H. Delaire (Paris, 1911).
We note that St Petersburg was specified in the
ten-line obituary of Alapin in the October 1923 BCM,
page 374, on page 333 of Schachjahrbuch 1923 by
L. Bachmann (Ansbach, 1924) and in a number of other
publications of the time.
Going his own way, Byrne J. Horton referred to ‘the
Czechoslovakian chessmaster S. Alapin’ on page 2 of his
Dictionary of Modern Chess (New York, 1959).
Pages 318-349 of the November 2008
issue of the Moscow magazine Караван
(Karavan) have an extensive article
Капабланка: гений игры for which we supplied a number of
photographs of Capablanca and his second wife. The other
illustrations include, courtesy of the Agence
France-Presse, a shot of Alekhine outside the Café de la
Paix, Paris in 1927.
Jerry Spinrad (Nashville, TN, USA) notes that page 10
of the New York Times of 4 March 1906 and page
8 of the New York Sun of the same date
reported that A. Loomis had played in the annual Yale
v Princeton match in New York. On board ten he
defeated W.L. Richard.
We see that this is confirmed by a reference to A.L.
Loomis as one of the Yale team on page 45 of the March
1906 American Chess Bulletin. The report
states that the match took place at Professor Rice’s
residence and that Capablanca was the adjudicator. The
following page carried a photograph of the occasion.
No identification of the participants was offered, but
the Cuban is recognizable, seated on the left.
‘Participants in the
Intercollegiate Match on ten boards, photographed in
the library of the Villa Julia, New York, 3 March
1906’
5880. A deciphering challenge (C.N.
5860)
The above illustration depicts a game in shorthand:
1 e4 e5 2 Nf3 Nc6 3 Bc4 Bc5 4 O-O Nf6 5 d4 Bxd4 6 Nxd4
Nxd4 7 f4 Ne6 8 Bxe6 dxe6 9 Qxd8+ Kxd8 10 fxe5 Nxe4 11
Rxf7 Rg8 12 Nc3 Nxc3 13 Bg5+ Ke8 14 Re7+ Kd8 15 Rxg7+
Ke8 16 Rxg8+.
The top line indicates the pieces (king, queen, bishop,
knight, rook and pawn respectively), whereas the second
line represents the numerals 1-8. We assembled the
illustration from an article ‘Chess Shorthand’ by Allen
Watkins on pages 263-267 of the August 1916 BCM.
(He gave Black’s seventh move, in both descriptive
notation and shorthand, as ...B-K3.) A critical
reaction, also entitled ‘Chess Shorthand’, by B.G. Laws
was published on pages 297-298 of the September issue,
and the following month (pages 333-334) Watkins
responded.
The general subject had prompted some interest during,
especially, the late nineteenth century. For example:
- ‘Shorthand Notation’ by Miss M. Barnard on page 24
of the Chess Player’s Annual and Club Directory,
1890 by Mr and Mrs T.B. Rowland (Dublin, 1890).
- ‘Shorthand Notation’ by M. Barnard. Four-page insert
in the Chess Player’s Annual and Club Directory,
1893-94 by Mr and Mrs T.B. Rowland (London and
Stroud, 1893).
- ‘Scoring of Games’. Letter from Charles B.
Boitel-Gill on pages 384-386 of the October 1897 BCM.
From more recent times (1971) there exists a 12-page
mimeographed publication ‘Chess Shorthand’ by Herbert E.
Salzer.
From Dan Scoones (Port Coquitlam, BC, Canada):
‘The caption to the problem from Shakhmatny
Listok is more accurately translated as “cited by
Kolisch”. This implies an acknowledgement that he
was not the composer.’
Ignatz Kolisch
Since when, and on what basis, has Alapin’s place of
birth been given as Vilnius? In old sources we
continue to find St Petersburg, a further example
being page 84 of Schach-Jahrbuch für 1892/93
by Johann Berger (Leipzig, 1893).
Simon Alapin
5883. My 60 Memorable Games
Dennis Monokroussos (South Bend, IN, USA) disputes the
statement on the back cover of the 2008 edition of
Fischer’s My 60 Memorable Games that ‘in
contrast with the previous edition of this book, no
alterations have been made to the text other than the
conversion of moves into algebraic notation, making this
an updated yet accurate reflection of the original
book’, given that the faulty score of a 1959 Fischer v
Tal game has been corrected. Our correspondent asks
whether we are aware of any other changes in the new
edition.
The Fischer v Tal encounter (Game 17) gave rise to the
following position after 50 Kb4:
The game concluded 50...Kc7 51 Rb5 Ba1 52 a4 b2, and
White resigned. Source: Page 275 of Kandidatenturnier
für Schachweltmeisterschaft by S. Gligorić and V.
Ragozin (Belgrade, 1960), as well as other publications
of the time.
However, in the first edition of Fischer’s book (page
122) the final moves were given as ‘50...B-R8 51 P-QR4
P-N7! White resigns’. This would have allowed Fischer to
win with 51 Rc8+. The fact that Tal had played 50...Kc7,
and not 50...Ba1, was pointed out by B.L. Patteson on
page 146 of the March 1970 Chess Life & Review,
in the column ‘Larry Evans On Chess’. Evans commented:
‘Fischer assures us that he caught this error before
the book went to press, but that his correction must
have fallen off the page by the time it reached the
printer. Anyone familiar with the monumental effort
that goes into any book knows that perfection is
impossible.’
The matter was also raised by D.M. Horne on page 19 of
the January 1972 BCM, and the magazine’s editor
confirmed that the score in Fischer’s book was faulty.
The inaccurate sequence ‘50 K-N4 B-R8 51 P-QR4 P-N7!
White resigns’ was amended, in the 1972/73 Faber and
Faber edition, to ‘50 K-N4 K-N4 51 R-N5 B-R8 52 P-QR4
P-N7 White resigns’. This would-be correction remained
in the British publisher’s 1988 edition, but Black’s
50th move should read ...K-B2, and not the impossible
...K-N4.
The Batsford editions of 1995 and 2008 both give the
conclusion of the game accurately.
As regards Mr Monokroussos’ question about other
changes to the 2008 edition, we note that some further
textual corrections have indeed been made. In our
article on pages 45-48 of the January 1997 CHESS
about the 1995 edition
of Fischer’s book, we included a section entitled
‘Mistakes not corrected’:
With the exception of the point regarding Game 32, the
2008 edition has corrected all these matters, silently.
(See also C.N. 4867.)
Batsford was certainly right, in 2008, to wish to
rectify clear-cut factual errors, but we feel that a)
the back-cover claim that the text is unaltered was
ill-advised, and b) any changes should have been
mentioned explicitly and openly, either in footnotes or
in an errata section.
5884. Better Chess
A finely-written book, seldom discussed, forms part of
the ‘Teach Yourself’ series: Better Chess by
William Hartston (London, 1997 and 2003). The page
numbers in our selection of quotes below refer to the
latter edition:
- ‘Always look one move deeper than seems to be
necessary. After any sequence of captures or checks,
look for the sting in the tail.’ (Page 6)
- ‘Weak players assess a position by counting the
captured men; strong players consider only the men
remaining on the board.’ (Page 10)
- ‘Probably more nonsense has been written about
planning in chess than any other aspect of the game.
... In fact, as many games are lost through pursuing
bad plans as are won by pursuing good ones.’ (Page 28)
- ‘There is ... one last, totally unimportant point to
be made about pawns stacked vertically: a player with
sextupled pawns on the a-file or h-file can never
lose. Why? Because it takes 15 captures to get them
there, so the opponent can have only his king left.’
(Page 42)
- ‘Think strategies when it’s your opponent’s turn to
move; sort out the tactics while your own clock is
running.’ (Page 50)
- ‘One of the best excuses I ever heard was from a man
who had just lost to a female opponent. “She
completely disrupted my thought processes”, he
complained. “Every time I tried to calculate
something, I’d begin: ‘I go here, he goes there’, and
then I’d have to correct myself: ‘No, it’s I go here,
she goes there’.”’ (Page 52)
- ‘Ask not what your pieces can do for you, ask what
you can do for your pieces.’ (Page 70)
- ‘There are two easy ways to spoil a good position:
doing nothing when you should be doing something, and
doing something when you should be doing nothing.’
(Page 80)
- ‘More half-points are thrown away by the inability
to recognize a technically won game than through any
other single cause.’ (Page 88)
- ‘The easiest time to blunder is the move after you
have solved all the difficult problems. From proper
hard thinking, you begin to rely on general
principles, forgetting how unprincipled they can be.
It has been said that chess is the only area of human
activity where paranoia is a positive advantage.
Actually there are many such areas, but chess is one
where an element of paranoia is an occupational
necessity. Every move and every position has to be
viewed with mistrust. Once you find yourself thinking
“Nothing can go wrong now” you have set up the
preconditions for something to go wrong. And, as
Grandmaster Murphy pointed out: if anything can go
wrong, it will.’ (Page 94)
- ‘If you hoard your small advantages, the winning
combinations will take care of themselves.’ (Page 114)
- ‘We have mentioned before the Zen koan
concerning the art of archery, which says that the man
who aims for the centre of the target will win the
prize, but the one who aims to win the prize will miss
the target. At the very highest level of chess, a
similar principle applies. Perfectionism is the only
road to ultimate success. At anything below world
championship level, however, practicality tends to
fare better than perfectionism.’ (Page 148)
Regarding the famous game Canal v Amateur (1 e4 d5 2
exd5 Qxd5 3 Nc3 Qa5 4 d4 c6 5 Nf3 Bg4 6 Bf4 e6 7 h3
Bxf3 8 Qxf3 Bb4 9 Be2 Nd7 10 a3 O-O-O 11 axb4 Qxa1+ 12
Kd2 Qxh1 13 Qxc6+ bxc6 14 Ba6 mate) can the basic
facts (the opponent’s name and the occasion) be
established?
It is commonly stated that the game was played in a
simultaneous exhibition in Budapest in 1934, but can
that be proven? Surprisingly few chess periodicals of
the time published the game-score, an exception being
Chess Review (page 183 of the October 1934
issue). For the occasion it put ‘Played in a
simultaneous exhibition’, which was also the limit of
the information offered on page 521 of the December
1934 BCM.
Maverick suggestions include ‘France 1934’ on page 53
of The Art of Giving Mate by Attila Schneider
(Kecskemét, 2003), but that is a book which began with
a game by Greco dated 1875.
Russ Glover (Alpena, MI, USA) asks whether an errata
list has ever been compiled for the first edition of
Fischer’s My 60 Memorable Games.
Bobby Fischer
5887. Claim attributed to Philidor
Frederick S. Rhine (Park Ridge, IL, USA) is seeking
substantiation of a statement on page 106 of A
History of Chess by Jerzy Giżycki (London, 1972):
‘Philidor thought, for instance, that whoever made
first move and made no mistake would win.’
A complete run (1826-1998) of the Journal de Genève
has recently been made available on-line, and
problem/study enthusiasts will particularly welcome the
opportunity to read André Chéron’s celebrated chess
column, which began on 2 October 1932.
Below is a page from the booklet Mémorial André
Chéron, which was published by the newspaper in
1985:
C.N. 5884 quoted a remark from page 50 of Better
Chess by William Hartston (London, 2003): ‘Think
strategies when it’s your opponent’s turn to move;
sort out the tactics while your own clock is running.’
Paul Dorion (Montreal, Canada) notes a passage on
page 139 of Think Like a Grandmaster by
Alexander Kotov (London, 1971):
‘When later I was busy writing this book I
approached Botvinnik and asked him to tell me what
he did when his opponent was thinking. The former
world title-holder replied in much the following
terms: Basically I do divide my thinking into two
parts. When my opponent’s clock is going I discuss
general considerations in an internal dialogue with
myself. When my own clock is going I analyse
concrete variations.’
Page 141 of Kotov’s Think Like a Grandmaster
professed to quote Steinitz:
‘A chess master has no more right to be ill than a
general on the battle field.’
No source was given, and the closest remark that we
can find is a ‘once’ version on page 195 of the Chess
Monthly, March 1891:
‘It was alleged, and justly so, for that we can
vouch, that Zukertort’s health was failing; but we
agree with Steinitz in the remark he made once: “A
first-class player has no right to be ill.”’
5891. Dorothea (Dodie) Bourdillon
Bob Jones (Exmouth, England) writes:
‘I am currently compiling a history of the
Paignton Congress in readiness for its 60th
anniversary in 2010 (60 years in the same room) and
have come across the name of Mrs Dorothea
Bourdillon, who took part in the second congress in
1952, where she appears to have set male hearts
a-flutter. D. Yanofsky mentioned her in his report
for the BCM, as did B.H. Wood in CHESS.
The magazines carried a brief obituary of her in
1968. Is further information available, including
her maiden name?’
Firstly, we quote below the magazine items referred to
by our correspondent:
- Report on Paignton, 1952 by D.A. Yanofsky on page
318 of the BCM, November 1952:
‘Of [the 96 participants] eight were ladies,
including Mrs Bruce, the British Lady Champion, and
Mrs J. Bourdillon, a charming newcomer from
Gloucester who won her section ahead of seven men.’
- Report on Paignton, 1952 on page 26 of CHESS,
November 1952:
‘The lower sections were marked by the definite
arrival of Mrs Bourdillon, whose unique combination
of beauty, vivacity and sheer skill is going to
affect chess congress atmospheres considerably.’
- An obituary signed ‘E.T.’ (Eileen Tranmer) on page
333 of CHESS, July 1968 (with an almost
identical text by her on page 192 of the July 1968 BCM):
‘Dodie Bourdillon
British Ladies’ chess has sustained a loss in the
recent death of Dodie Bourdillon at a comparatively
early age.
A colourful personality of many talents, she was an
actress before her first marriage, and later became
the leading speed-writing typist to the Courts of
Appeal.
She missed winning the British Ladies’ Championship
in 1958 by the smallest possible margin. Having tied
for first place with Anne Sunnucks, and having led
by 2-0 in the play-off match, with only half a point
necessary for the title, she lost the last three
games.’
Jeremy Gaige’s Chess Personalia (Jefferson,
1987) had only a brief entry for her, but we note that
extensive details were given in the unpublished 1994
edition:
The Family
Search website gives her place of birth as
Ipswich.
Dorothea Rodwell appeared in the 1939 film Little
Ladyship, which starred Lilli Palmer and
Cecil Parker.
5892. Bird brilliancy
From a 20-board simultaneous display against the Chess
Bohemians:
Henry Edward Bird – W.S. Daniels
London, 6 October 1894
Two Knights’ Defence
1 e4 e5 2 Nf3 Nc6 3 Bc4 Nf6 4 Ng5 d5 5 exd5 Nxd5 6 Nxf7
Kxf7 7 Qf3+ Ke6 8 Nc3 Ne7 9 d4 b5 10 Bb3 c6 11 a4 b4 12
Ne4 Kd7 13 dxe5 Kc7 14 Nd6 Be6 15 Bg5 h6 16 Bh4 g5 17
Bg3 Nc8 18 Ne4 Be7 19 O-O-O g4 20 Qe2 Kb7 21 Nd6+ Nxd6
22 exd6 Bg5+ 23 Kb1 Re8 24 Qd3 Qd7 25 a5 Rab8 26 Rhe1
Bf5 27 a6+ Ka8
28 Qxd5 cxd5 29 Bxd5+ Rb7 30 Rxe8+ Qxe8 31 axb7+ Kb8 32
d7+ Bf4 33 Bxf4+ Qe5 34 Bxe5 mate.
Source: Hampstead & Highgate Express, 10
November 1894.
Our feature article Early Uses of ‘World Chess
Champion’ has remarks by Steinitz on whether he
became the title-holder by defeating Anderssen in 1866.
Now we add a quote from an article ‘Steinitz’s Career
Reviewed’ reproduced on pages 105-106 of the July 1905
issue of Lasker’s Chess Magazine:
‘In 1865 I won the chief prize in Dublin, and it was
then that a match was arranged for the championship of
the world with Anderssen. One of the committee who
arranged that match was the present Lord Chief Justice
of England. I won it by 8 to 6, and became champion
chess player of the world.’
The Lord Chief Justice (from 1894 to 1900) was Lord
Russell of Killowen, whose obituary on page 367 of the
September 1900 BCM mentioned that ‘he was a
supporter of Steinitz in some of his early matches’.
Lasker’s Chess Magazine merely stated that the
article had appeared in ‘a recent issue of the Jewish
Chronicle’, but we can add that it came from a
feature entitled ‘A Chat with Steinitz’ on pages 12-13
of the newspaper’s 4 August 1899 issue.
5894. Stadelman
Lev D. Zilbermints (Newark, NJ, USA) is seeking
information about Samuel Leigh Stadelman of Pennsylvania
(born 1881) and, in particular, any games played by him
which began 1 d4 e5 2 dxe5 Nc6 3 Nf3 Nge7.
From the American
Chess Bulletin, February 1909, page 42.
Our feature article on Stalemate referred to
the debate, launched in the 1840s, on whether an en
passant capture is obligatory if no other legal
move exists. We included a straightforward example
presented by Charles Tomlinson:
If White plays 1 g4 it is not stalemate, since the laws
of chess eventually established that in such a case
1...hxg3 is obligatory, and not optional.
Now, Valery Liskovets (Minsk, Belarus) draws our
attention to two articles he has contributed to Die
Schwalbe: ‘Erzwungener En-Passant-Schlag in
direkten Retro-Problemen’ (December 2007, page 299) and
‘Eine historische Bemerkung zum erzwungenen
En-Passant-Schlag’ (October 2008, page 585). Noting that
the history of the topic can be found in the 1911 book
in A.C. White’s Christmas series, Running the
Gauntlet (subtitled ‘A study of the capture of
pawns en passant in chess problems’ and available
on-line), our correspondent lists nine
compositions in that source which have a forced en
passant capture: 23B, 28, 29, 29B, 40D, 44, 47D,
51A and 59. The last of these, and the oldest specimen
of any kind (i.e. whether forced or unforced), is one by
Adolf Anderssen of which A.C. White wrote on page 181:
‘Probably no other problem has had so distinguished a
role in the history of the game of chess, and as such
we must do it honour.’
Mate in three (Adolf
Anderssen,
Leipzig Illustrirte Zeitung, 31 January 1846)
Solution: 1 Re1 Kxd4 2 e4 fxe3 3 Rd1 mate.
Alain Campbell White
On pages 18-21 White explained the historical
background:
‘The option of capturing is after all a privilege,
and a good deal can be said both for and against its
being compulsory. Indeed, a great deal has been said
about it, and for some ten years beginning in 1846 the
discussion was one of the features of the column in
the Illustrated London News, and elsewhere. It
was begun by Saint-Amant, taken up by Anderssen, and
gradually became general. The correspondence pages of
the magazines bristle with it. We know how the
discussion ended, for today in an otherwise stalemate
position the capture is always compulsory; and we need
not trace all the arguments which were doubtless
cogent enough 65 years ago, but which seem very
trivial now.’
Mr Liskovets adds two compositions with a forced en
passant capture which were published after A.C.
White’s book appeared: a three-mover by N. Hoeg dated
1921 and a composition by V. Korolkov published in Schach
in 1957. He asks for information about further specimens
and adds two questions:
1. Have there been any instances in actual play where
a loss has resulted from an obligation to capture en
passant?
2. Do any theoretically-won endgame positions exist
which feature a forced en passant capture?
5896. Explanation of en passant
It may be difficult to find a poorer explanation of the
en passant rule than the one published over a
century ago in The British Chess Code and still
retained on page 34 of The International Chess Code
(London and New York, 1918):
C.N. 4421 referred to an essay ‘Capa, hijo de Caissa’
by the Cuban-born writer Guillermo Cabrera Infante
(1929-2005) on pages 211-234 of Vidas para leerlas
(Madrid, 1998).
Previously, the text had appeared on pages 406-422 of
his anthology Mea Cuba (Barcelona, 1992). An
English translation of the book, under the same title,
was published by Faber and Faber in 1994, with a
paperback edition the following year.
Cabrera Infante was unfamiliar with basic facts about
Capablanca’s life, and one passage seems particularly
odd. From pages 421-422 of the translation (by Kenneth
Hall, in conjunction with the author):
‘In the Manhattan Chess Club the Cuban grew close
to one of the greatest American players, Frank
Marshall, whom he would defeat decisively in 1909.
Capablanca was 21 [sic] years old, Marshall
33 [sic]. A very bored Capablanca playing
against Marshall nodded off more than once. With a
sense of humour often absent from across the
chessboard, Marshall tells: “I made the worst move
of the game. I woke up Capablanca.” Capablanca
proceeded to execute a reveille checkmate.’
The original text was on page 409 of the 1992 Spanish
volume:
‘En el club de Ajedrez de Manhattan, Capablanca
intimó con uno de los grandes jugadores
americanos, Frank Marshall, a quien derrotaría
decisivamente en 1909. Capablanca tenía 21 años,
Marshall 33. Marshall relata la ocasión en que un
muy aburrido Capablanca, jugando en su contra,
cabeceó más de una vez. Con un sentido del humor
muchas veces ausente del tablero, contó Marshall:
“Cometí el peor movimiento del juego: desperté a
Capablanca.” Capa ejecutó un jaque mate
fulminante.’
What are the origins of this yarn, which are
reminiscent of the untrue story about Capablanca
falling asleep during a match-game against Alekhine in
1927 (C.N. 5118)? Certainly, though, the Capablanca v
Marshall match dragged on, and we pointed out on page
18 of our monograph on the Cuban that the 1927 world
title match lasted only eight days longer. The cartoon
below appeared on page 33 of the Chess Weekly,
26 June 1909:
5898. Chess masters on film (C.N.
3491)
From Luc Winants (Boirs, Belgium):
‘British Pathé footage (www.britishpathe.com)
is now managed by ITN Source (www.itnsource.com).
There also seem to be clips from other
companies, such as Gaumont.
One brief item is of a simultaneous display given
by Alekhine in Paris (most probably the one on 28
February 1932 – see pages 416-417 of the book by
Skinner and Verhoeven): www.itnsource.com/shotlist//BHC_RTV/1932/01/01/BGT407170046/?s=Paris+chess&st=0&pn=1
Another one, even more spectacular, shows the
tournament in San Remo, 1930. We see them all:
Alekhine, Nimzowitsch, Spielmann, Maróczy, Yates …:
www.itnsource.com/shotlist//BHC_RTV/1930/01/01/BGT407150379/?s=Alekhin&st=0&pn=1’
5899. Wade in Paris
Dominique Thimognier (St Cyr sur Loire, France) draws
our attention to material about Robert Wade in the Bulletin
Ouvrier des Echecs in February and March 1949. Our
correspondent comments:
‘The Bulletin reported that Wade, who was
invited to Paris by the Communist body the FSGT
(Fédération Sportive et Gymnique du Travail), was
due to play a match against Rossolimo in the French
capital but that the Fédération Française des Echecs
banned Rossolimo from playing. Instead, there was a
two-game match between Wade and François Molnar.
Both games were drawn.’
Larger
version
Taylor Kingston (Shelburne, VT, USA) writes:
‘Guillermo Cabrera Infante’s account of
Capablanca supposedly falling asleep while playing
Marshall in 1909 bears a great resemblance to an
incident involving Fischer and Bisguier. One
account is on page 197 of The Even More
Complete Chess Addict by M. Fox and R. James
(London, 1993):
“It’s New York 1963, the last round of the
American championship. Bisguier and Fischer are
equal first. Fischer doesn’t make a move for a
long time. Bisguier looks up and sees his opponent
is fast asleep. In another half-hour, the great
Bobby’s clock will fall, making Bisguier the
champ. That’s where we come to the most gracious
blunder of all. In Bisguier’s words: ‘I made a bad
move. I woke up Bobby Fischer.’ And of course
Bobby, after a couple of yawns, went on to collect
his fifth US title.”
This is almost identical to what Cabrera Infante
reports that Marshall said (“I made the worst move
of the game. I woke up Capablanca”). Could he have
confused Capablanca-Marshall with
Fischer-Bisguier?
Whether he did or not, there is already ample
confusion about if and when Fischer may have
fallen asleep while playing Bisguier. Contemporary
reports on the game which was referred to by Fox
and James, and was played in the last round of the
US Championship in New York on 3 January 1963,
mention no such incident (see, for example, Chess
Life, January 1963, page 3; Chess Review,
February 1963, page 63 and March 1963, pages
76-77).
Frank Brady’s Profile of a Prodigy (New
York, 1973) is unsure, but indicates that
it was more likely in the Western Open at Bay
City, Michigan, in July 1963. Page 70 describes
Fischer playing an all-night set of high-stakes
blitz games and then states:
“The next morning, Fischer faced Bisguier, and
though perhaps apocryphal, it has been said that
he was so tired he actually fell asleep at the
board and had to be awakened. It didn’t affect his
play, however, as he defeated Bisguier soundly.”
Bisguier himself, though, places the incident at
the New York State Open, held in Poughkeepsie, NY
in August-September 1963, on page 69 of The
Art of Bisguier, Selected Games 1961-2003
(Milford, 2008):
“Paired against Bobby in the New York State Open
that year, I noticed that he was taking a long
time to move. Then I saw that he’d fallen sound
asleep. In a few minutes the flag on his clock
would fall, and he’d lose on time. That’s not the
way I like to win games, tourneys or titles. So I
made what some called my biggest blunder of the
tournament. I awakened Fischer. Bobby yawned, made
a move, punched his clock and proceeded to beat
me. It ended up as Game 45 in his My 60
Memorable Games. Later I heard that Fischer
had stayed up late the previous night playing
speed chess for money.”
Brady seems to have confused the Michigan and
New York tournaments. Whether Cabrera Infante has
confused Fischer with Capablanca, I cannot say,
but the two accounts are remarkably similar.’
We note that a) the above-quoted text by Messrs Fox
and James also appeared on page 149 of The
Complete Chess Addict (London, 1987) and b) the
Fox/James book was referred to, in another context, in
Cabrera Infante’s ill-informed essay on Capablanca.
Indeed, he clearly used it for a number of his
‘facts’.
‘Chess is the touchstone of the intellect’ is a
remark commonly ascribed to Goethe, but the matter is
not so simple. The sentiments were ‘merely’ expressed
by a character, Liebetraut, in Goethe’s 1773 play Götz
von Berlichingen, and the precise words ‘chess
is ...’ did not appear. Moreover, Goethe wrote ‘a
(and not the grander the) touchstone’.
Below (from near the beginning of Act II, Scene I, in
which the Bishop and Adelheid are playing chess) is
the translation by Charles E. Passage on page 42 of
the edition of Götz von Berlichingen A Play
which was re-issued by Waveland Press, Inc. in 1991:
The text in German editions in our collection reads
either ‘Es ist wahr, dieß Spiel ist ein
Probirstein des Gehirns’ or ‘Es ist wahr,
das Spiel ist ein Probierstein des Gehirns’.
5902. Speech by Hitler
Our latest feature article, Chess:
Hitler
and Nazi Germany, includes a quote from page 269
of the June 1933 BCM:
‘In his anxiously awaited speech to the Reichstag on
17 May, Herr Adolf Hitler made a curious comparison,
which is thus reported in the telegraphic accounts.
Speaking of the Nazi Storm Troops, he said: “If Storm
Troops are to be called soldiers, then even the chess
and dog-lover clubs are military associations.” Well,
we know that chess has been called effigies belli;
but it has not yet gone to the dogs!’
We see no reference to chess in the official transcript
of Hitler’s speech in Verhandlungen
des Reichstags. The closest passage is the
following (first column of page 51):
Page 1 of the New York Times, 18 May 1933
stated that ‘it was said to have been the first time
that he had ever delivered a written speech’. An English
translation of the full text was given on page 3, and
the relevant sentence read:
‘If today an attempt is being made in Geneva to count
these organizations exclusively serving political
purposes as part of the military force, then one might
as well include fire departments, gymnastic societies,
rowing clubs and sports associations in the military
force.’
Having found no catalogue of books about (not by) the
current world champion, we give a list of the volumes
in our collection:
- Führende Schachmeister der Gegenwart
Wiswanathan Anand by N. Heymann (Maintal,
1992)
- Viswanathan Anand (Elo 2600 series, USA, circa
1992)
- Anand 222 partidas (Madrid, 1993)
- Vishy Anand: Chess Super-Talent by D.
Norwood (London, 1995)
- Vishwanatan Anand (Szolnok, circa
1995)
- Vishy Anand by N. Kalinichenko (Moscow,
2004)
- The Chess Greats of the World: Anand by D.
Lovas (Kecskemét, 2007).
Page 14 of The
Immortal Games of Capablanca by F. Reinfeld
(New York, 1942)
Page 20 of Capablanca’s
Hundred
Best
Games of Chess by H. Golombek (London, 1947)
In the Lasker match there were ten, not 14, draws.
The Euwe match was in 1931, not 1932. The only matter
on which the books disagree is the year of
Capablanca’s match against Corzo, and both are wrong.
It was played in 1901.
The two books have been the subject of modern
reprints which have not bothered to correct these (and
innumerable other) elementary mistakes.
5905.
Réti
story
Maurice Carter (Fairborn, OH, USA) asks whether there
is any truth to a story about Réti told by H. Golombek
on pages iv-v of his Foreword to Réti’s Modern Ideas
in Chess (London, 1943):
‘... There is related an anecdote typical of the man.
In the closing stages of an international tournament
he was playing one of the weaker competitors and had
obtained a won game. It was his turn to move – an
obvious one since all he had to do was to protect a
threatened piece. He seemed to fall into a brown
study, did not move for ten minutes; then suddenly
started up from his chair – still without making his
move – and sought out a friend who was present in the
congress rooms. To him he explained that he had just
conceived an original and entrancing idea for an
endgame study. Not without difficulty his friend
dissuaded Réti from demonstrating and elaborating this
idea on his pocket chess set, and Réti returned,
somewhat disgruntled, to the tournament room, made
some hasty casual moves and soon lost the game.
Without troubling at all about this loss, Réti at
once returned to his hotel and spent almost the whole
of the night in working out his endgame study. As a
consequence he lost his next game through sheer
fatigue and with it went his chances of first prize.
He perfected a beautiful endgame composition at
considerable financial loss.’
Fred Reinfeld, Chess
Review, January 1943, page 29
A question from Frederick S. Rhine (Park Ridge, IL,
USA) is whether anything is known about how Fred
Reinfeld died, on 29 May 1964.
Information seems scarce. J.S. Battell’s obituary of
Reinfeld on pages 193-194 of the July 1964 Chess
Review gave no particulars and, remarkably, in
the 1964 volume of Chess Life we see no
mention at all of Reinfeld’s demise. The obituary on
page 17 of the New York Times, 30 May 1964 did
not specify the cause of death but reported that
Reinfeld had died the previous day ‘at Meadowbrook
Hospital’.
On page 209 of the July 1964 BCM S. Morrison
stated that Reinfeld ‘died of a virus infection at his
home in Long Island’. He was 54.
5907.
Reinfeld quotes
A few quotes from Why You Lose at Chess by Fred
Reinfeld (New York, 1956):
- ‘Some chess masters write as if they were addressing
a convention of grand masters somewhere on Mount
Olympus.’ (Page 1)
- ‘Alexander Alekhine was undoubtedly the greatest
chessplayer in the history of the game, but what he
really prided himself on was his ... bridge playing.
All I know about bridge is that it’s played with a
deck of cards – or maybe two decks (it’s very
confusing) – but people in a position to judge have
told me that Alekhine was a miserable bridge player. I
can well believe it. Just as we misjudge our strong
points, so we misjudge our weaknesses.’ (Page 7)
- ‘... a chessplayer and his alibi are not soon
parted.’ (Page 9)
- ‘... Capablanca, perhaps the greatest single-move
player in chess history.’ (Page 101)
- ‘Never forget this: the most important move in any
game of chess is always ... the very next move.’ (Page
110)
- ‘Wilhelm Steinitz was one of the three greatest
chess masters of all time. (I rank him with Lasker and
Alekhine.)’ (Page 166)
- ‘I shall never forget the description of the final
scene of the 1935 match for the world championship.
Both Alekhine, the defeated champion, and Euwe, the
new champion, were in tears. There was this
difference: Alekhine, the defeated, wept tears of
sorrow. Euwe, the victor, wept tears of joy.’ (Page
237) In which contemporary source did the
‘description’ in question appear?
Mark McCullagh (Belfast, Northern Ireland) writes:
‘In the entry for Capablanca in
your Chess
Prodigies article the captions to two
photographs mention Manuel Márquez Sterling. Is this
the Manuel Márquez Sterling who was very briefly the
President of Cuba?’
One of the photographs is reproduced below, from a
plate section in Glorias del Tablero “Capablanca”
by José A. Gelabert (Havana, 1923):
The person in question was indeed Manuel
Márquez
Sterling
y Loret de Mola (1872-1934). See, firstly, pages
120 and 122 of The Unknown Capablanca by David
Hooper and Dale Brandreth (London, 1975).
We also reproduce the biographical note which appeared
on pages 256-257 of Ajedrez en Cuba by Carlos A.
Palacio (Havana, 1960):
Larger
version
His obituary on page 21 of the New York Times,
10 December 1934 included the following reference:
‘Known as an opponent of the Machado régime, he
served for a few days as Provisional President in Cuba
during the revolutionary crisis following the flight
of the dictator.’
Page 165 of the December 1934 American Chess
Bulletin carried a brief death notice:
‘Dr Manuel Márquez Sterling, who had held the post of
Cuban Ambassador at Washington since January 1934,
died in that city on 9 December, at the age of 62.
Old-timers will recall the name of Dr Sterling as that
of an ardent chess devotee at one time quite active in
Havana, when he was a player of considerable ability.
He was the author also of a text book on the game in
the Spanish language. Dr Sterling was long in the
diplomatic service of his country and, earlier in his
career, was Ambassador to Mexico.’
The text book in question was Un poco de ajedrez (Mexico,
1893):
5909. Hugh Myers
The death of our close colleague and friend Hugh
Myers is a grievous blow. At present, we simply
reproduce for the public record the autobiographical
details which he sent us on 18 November 1983 (C.N. 635):
5910. Morphy memorial
From page 320 of Paul Morphy The Pride and Sorrow
of Chess by D. Lawson (New York, 1976):
‘Paul Morphy was memorialized at Spring Hill College
on 27 April 1957, when a plaque and monument presented
by E. Forry Laucks were unveiled by the Mayor of
Mobile, Henry R. Luscher, with an honor guard from the
Spring Hill ROTC.’
A photograph of the ceremony was given on the following
page, and we add below a detail of the plaque, from page
164 of the June 1957 Chess Review:
Richard Forster (Zurich) reports that daily bulletins
were issued during the 1923 Swiss championship in
Berne (six two-page issues, with results and a
selection of games). The championship was combined
with a match between Switzerland and Southern Germany.
David Kuhns (St Paul, MN, USA) asks for references to
illustrations of players using a sand-glass timer
(hour-glass).
The group photograph of Dresden, 1892 was the
frontispiece in Hundert Jahre Schachturniere
by P. Feenstra Kuiper (Amsterdam, 1964). The
apparently tall player was, as in Fred Wilson’s later
book A Picture History of Chess, identified as
Walbrodt:
Larger version
5914. Euwe and Alekhine (C.N. 5907)
Prompted by the Reinfeld quote regarding Euwe and
Alekhine, Michael Clapham (Ipswich, England) has sent us
from his collection a photograph taken at the end of the
1935 world championship match:
From Jan Kalendovský (Brno, Czech Republic) comes a
photograph (source unknown) of Alekhine at the studios
of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer with Renée Adorée (1898-1933)
and Fred Niblo (1874-1948):
Can it be confirmed that the photograph was taken
during Alekhine’s visit to Los Angeles in May 1929?
A game presented by us on page 7 of
issue 23 (Autumn 1994) of Kingpin
(see also pages 62-63 of Kings, Commoners and Knaves):
George Howard Thornton – Boultbee
Occasion?
King’s Gambit Declined
1 e4 e5 2 f4 Bc5 3 Nf3 d6 4 d4 exd4 5 Nxd4 Nf6 6 Nc3
O-O 7 Be3 Qe7 8 Bd3 Re8 9 a3 Ng4 10 Bg1 f5 11 Be2 fxe4
12 Nd5 Qf7 13 Bc4 Be6 14 Nxe6 Rxe6 15 Qxg4 c6 16 Qxe6
Qxe6 17 Ne7+ Kf8 18 Bxe6 Kxe7 19 Bc8 Nd7 20 Bxb7 Rb8 21
Bxc6 Rxb2
22 Bxd7 Kxd7 23 Bxc5 dxc5 24 O-O-O+ Black resigns.
Source: Brooklyn Chess Chronicle, 15 November
1884, page 31, as shown below:
We commented in the earlier item:
‘Jeremy Gaige’s Chess Personalia lists George
Howard Thornton (born in Watertown, NY on 28 April
1851, died in Buffalo, NY on 30 January 1920). Unless
an earlier game can be found, “Thornton castling trap”
might be an appropriate term.’
No earlier games have yet been found, and the term
proposed has sometimes been picked up. A recent example
is on page 219 of The Greatest Ever chess tricks and
traps by Gary Lane (London, 2008).
George Howard Thornton
and other ‘champions’ (page 155 of the October 1898 American
Chess Magazine)
Biographical information about Thornton and a number of
his games are provided on pages 253-261 of Essays in
American Chess History by John Hilbert (Yorklyn,
2002). The material is also available on-line.
5917. A decoding task (C.N. 5867)
This decoding task was mentioned in C.N. 5867 by
Eduardo Bauzá Mercére (New York, NY, USA). The follow-up
item in CHESS was on page 143 of its April 1946
issue:
However, our correspondent proposes a reconstruction
which goes through to move 31: 1 c4 Nf6 2 Nc3 c5 3 Nf3
Nc6 4 d4 cxd4 5 Nxd4 Qb6 6 Nb3 d6 7 Bg5 h6 8 Bxf6 gxf6 9
Nd5 Qd8 10 g3 h5 11 Qd2 Bh6 12 f4 Be6 13 Bg2 Rc8 14 e3
Bg7 15 Rc1 b6 16 Kf2 f5 17 Nd4 Nxd4 18 exd4 Bd7 19 Rhe1
e6 20 Ne3 Qf6 21 Rcd1 O-O 22 Bb7 Rc7 23 Bf3 b5 24 cxb5
Bxb5 25 Qa5 Rc5 26 dxc5 Qxb2+ (The preceding moves are
as unravelled by the readers of CHESS.) 27 Rd2
Qc3 28 Qxc3 Bxc3 29 Rxd6 Bxe1+ 30 Kxe1 Rc8 31 c6 and
White wins.
Rod Edwards (Victoria, BC, Canada) writes:
‘On page 272 of the 25 October 1851 issue
of Home Circle, a woman corresponding under
the name of “Sybil” issued a challenge to “any
chessplayer … not much above the average …” to play
a game by correspondence which would be printed as
it progressed in the chess column of Home
Circle. The 6 December 1851 issue (page 368)
reported that she had received several acceptances
and had picked one name from an urn: G.B. Fraser of
Dundee, who became one of the best players in
Scotland in the 1860s and 1870s. Week by week over
the next 15 months the moves of the game were
reported until at move 51 “The ‘fayre Sybil’ mates
with the queen” (Home Circle, 5 March 1853,
page 160). The entire game was published with
commentary on page 192 of the 19 March 1853 edition
and was also reprinted as a game between “A Lady”
and “Mr F.” on pages 232-233 of the March 1853 issue
of the Chess Player.’
‘A Lady’ – George Brunton Fraser
Correspondence, 1851-53
Giuoco Piano
1 e4 e5 2 Nf3 Nc6 3 Bc4 Bc5 4 c3 Nf6 5 d4 exd4 6 cxd4
Bb6 7 Bg5 d6 8 h3 h6 9 Bxf6 Qxf6 10 Bb5 O-O 11 Bxc6
bxc6 12 Nc3 Qg6 13 Nh4 Qg5 14 g3 f5 15 Nf3 Qg6 16 Nh4
Qf6 17 e5 dxe5 18 dxe5 Qxe5+ 19 Qe2 Qc5 20 O-O f4 21
g4 Bd7 22 Rad1 Rae8 23 Ne4 Qb4 24 Rfe1 Ba5 25 a3 Qb3
26 Rd3 Qf7 27 b4 Bb6 28 Rf3 Be6 29 Qc2 Bd5 30 Nf5
30...Be3 31 Rexe3 fxe3 32 Rxe3 Kh8 33 f3 Qd7 34 Nc5
Qd8 35 Rxe8 Qxe8 36 Kg2 Qe1 37 Nd3 Qe8 38 Nf4 Qf7 39
Ne7 Qxf4 40 Ng6+ Kg8 41 Nxf4 Rxf4 42 Kh2 Rxf3 43 Qa4
Kh7 44 Qxa7 h5 45 gxh5 Kh6 46 a4 Rf7 47 a5 Kg5 48 Qc5
Kxh5 49 a6 Rf1 50 Qe7 g5 51 Qh7 mate.
It is impossible not to have
misgivings, both general and particular, about
Wikipedia, but we have recently noticed a great
improvement in some of the chess articles in the
site’s English-language version. There is, for
instance, excellent treatment of G.H.D.
Gossip, and it is also good to see a fine article
on
Hugh Myers.
5920. En passant (C.N. 5895)
Regarding compositions which illustrate the obligatory
nature of the en passant capture, Michael
McDowell (Westcliff-on-sea, England) quotes a problem by
Fritz Giegold (second prize, Deutsche Schachblätter,
1952):
Mate in three.
The key-move is 1 Bd4. After 1...Kxh4 (if 1...Kh6, then
2 Ra5.) 2 f4 exf3 (forced) 3 Bf6 mate.
The cartoon in C.N. 5897 provides a reminder of the
lack of photographs of the peripatetic match between
Marshall and Capablanca in 1909. The illustration
below, by C.W. Kahles (1878-1931), comes from page 177
of the Chess Weekly, 1 May 1909. On page 345
of A Chess Omnibus we commented that it had
been ‘sketched with some artistic licence’.
In C.N. 5915 we tentatively suggested that this
photograph of Alekhine at MGM was taken during his
visit to Los Angeles in May 1929.
David Picken (Greasby, England) and
Luc Winants (Boirs, Belgium) note that Renée Adorée
played the role of a gypsy in an MGM film directed by
Fred Niblo, Redemption.
Shot in 1929 and starring John Gilbert, it was not
released until 1930. Without the production delays it
would have been his first talking picture.
We add that Redemption was unsuccessful, as
noted, for instance, on page 66 of La fabuleuse
histoire de la Metro Goldwyn Mayer en 1714 films
(Paris, 1977). See also pages 261-262 of volume one of The
Great
Movie Stars by D. Shipman (London, 1989).
According to page 544 of Close-Ups From the
Golden Age of the Silent Cinema by J.R. Finch and
P.A. Elby (New York and London, 1978) Gilbert’s
‘greatest film was The Big Parade with Renée
Adorée’.
A position from page 75 of Better Chess by
William Hartston (London, 2003):
White, to play, gives mate in how many moves?
Solution.
5924. Desperado
An interesting observation by Mark Dvoretsky in his
Foreword to the new algebraic edition of Lasker’s
Manual of Chess (Milford, 2008) – see page 14 – is
that Emanuel Lasker invented the chess term ‘desperado’.
Certainly we can quote nothing which antedates pages
106-107 of the original edition, Lehrbuch des
Schachspiels (Berlin, 1926):
Siegfried Hornecker (Heidenheim, Germany) draws
attention to a photograph of Alain Campbell White on
page 6 of the fifth section of the Pittsburgh
Gazette Times, 30 October 1910:
Wanted: more information about this game: 1 e4 e5 2
Bc4 Nf6 3 d4 c6 4 dxe5 Nxe4 5 Ne2 Nxf2
6 O-O Nxd1 7 Bxf7+ Ke7 8 Bg5 mate.
Page 50 of Schnell Matt! by C. Hüther
(Munich, 1913) merely stated that it was won by
Captain Mackenzie. After giving the moves on pages
151-152 of Teach Yourself Chess (London,
1948), Gerald Abrahams identified the winner as ‘the
late Captain Mackenzie’, but his addition of ‘the
brilliant blind player’ suggests confusion with Arthur
Ford Mackenzie.
Lajos Asztalos – Sigmund Herland
Breslau (Hauptturnier A), 17 July 1912
Caro-Kann Defence
1 e4 c6 2 d4 d5 3 e5 Bf5 4 Bd3 Bxd3 5 Qxd3 e6 6 Nf3
Nd7 7 O-O Ne7 8 Nc3 Nf5 9 Ne2 Be7 10 Bd2 O-O 11 Rae1
c5 12 c3 c4 13 Qc2 b5 14 Kh1 h5 15 Nf4 g6 16 Rg1 h4 17
g4 hxg3 18 hxg3 Kg7 19 Kg2 Rh8 20 Rh1 Qb6 21 Qc1 Rag8
22 Nh3 Kf8 23 Nhg5 Rxh1 24 Rxh1 Ng7 25 Rh6 Ke8 26 Qh1
Bf8 27 Rh8 Rxh8 28 Qxh8 Qd8 29 Nh7 Nf5 30 g4 Ne7
31 Bh6 g5 32 Nxf8 Resigns.
Source: the Breslau, 1912 tournament book, page 168
(reproduced below).
31 Bh6 was given an exclamation mark, but if the
game-score is correct White overlooked a smothered
mate in two: 31 Qxf8+ Nxf8 32 Nf6. This was pointed
out on page 144 of the November 1919 Schweizerische
Schachzeitung.
5928. An unusual chess picture (C.N.
3434)
Olimpiu G. Urcan (Singapore) writes:
‘The picture which a correspondent enquired about
in C.N. 3434 shows the conjoined twins Eng and Chang
Bunker (1811-74), who used the game of chess in
their exhibitions and stage shows. Page 11 of Western
Civilization in Thailand by Âphâ Phamônbut
(published by the Department of Corrections Press in
1986) mentioned that the twins “played American
games well and were excellent players for the
chess”. Duet for a Lifetime: The Story of the
Original Siamese Twins by Kay Hunter (New York,
1964) gave the above picture of the twins playing
chess.
Among the illustrations in the public domain is
one dated 1839 (also given in the book by Kay
Hunter):
A 16-page pamphlet (1831) entitled An
historical account of the Siamese twin brothers, from
actual observations by James W. Hale had as its
frontispiece an engraving of the twins at one of their
earliest exhibitions, in 1830. Again, a chess motif
was present:
Page 9 of the pamphlet stated:
“They play at chess and draughts remarkably well,
but never in opposition to each other; having been
asked to do it, they replied that no more pleasure
would be derived from it, than by playing with the
right hand against the left.”
Rich primary material is available
on-line at the library of the University of
North Carolina.’
Elmer Sangalang (Manila, the Philippines) asks when
stalemate came to be adjudged a draw.
It is a matter which H.J.R. Murray examined not only
in his book A History of Chess (Oxford, 1913)
but also in an article, ‘Stalemate’, on pages 281-289
of the July 1903 BCM. In the latter source he
noted, regarding ‘parallelism to real warfare’, that
stalemate most closely resembled a situation ‘in which
one monarch retired to an impregnable fortress’ and
that:
‘The issue of such a condition was obviously
doubtful; sometimes the blockaders might succeed in
starving him into surrender, but sometimes with
ample supplies the besieged monarch would succeed in
wearying his opponents until they abandoned what
appeared a hopeless enterprise. With no certain
assistance from actual life, the evaluation of the
position in the game of chess was left to the fancy
of players, and the laws of stalemate have varied
from age to age, and from place to place.’
Further extracts from Murray’s article:
‘The revival of interest in chess as a game, which
dates from the rise of New Chess, towards the end of
the fifteenth century, led to the appearance of
books on chess which were other than mere
collections of problems. From Lucena’s work (1497)
we learn that stalemate was then called in Spain mate
āogado, and the player who was stalemated lost
half his stake. Ruy López calls it mate ahogado,
and gives the same evaluation. To give stalemate was
accordingly reckoned in Spain as an inferior form of
victory, which was yet more profitable than a draw.
With the Italian school, stalemate was reckoned as
identical with a draw.’
‘With the beginning of the seventeenth century, a
new convention with regard to stalemate makes its
appearance, apparently in England. ... Arthur Saul
is the first writer to enunciate the rule that the
player whose king was stalemated had won the game.’
‘Whatever may have been the origin of Saul’s rule,
it rapidly became the accepted rule in English
chess. ... The war against the English rule was
commenced by Philidor, who naturally stood up for
the rules as he had learned them in France. But even
Philidor could not convert a nation at once,
especially a nation which contained so confirmed a
crank as Peter Pratt, the author of that
preposterous attempt to convert chess into a game of
politics, in which kings were to “closet” and not to
castle, with much else of equal absurdity. As a
persistent editor of Philidor’s analysis, Pratt was
able to air his views under the shadow of the
master, and was still in 1806 bravely defending the
English rule of stalemate. To Sarratt, the almost
forgotten master of Lewis, and the re-discoverer of
the open game which most Englishmen still prefer, is
due the credit of finally putting an end to the
schism, which must indeed have in any case soon
ceased with improved methods of inter-communication,
and with the coming of the age of international
matches and tournaments. The convention that
stalemate draws thus became the rule of the European
game ...’
From page 32 of Studies
of Chess by Peter Pratt (London, 1803 edition)
On pages 57-62 of A Short History of Chess
(Oxford, 1963) Murray gave, in a country-by-country
review of rule changes, the following information on
stalemate:
‘Spain (including Portugal). Stalemate and the
baring of the opponent (unless baring and mate
occurred simultaneously) were inferior forms of
victory at least as late as 1634, and possibly as
late as 1750.’
‘Italy. Everywhere stalemate was a draw.’
‘France. Stalemate was a draw.’
‘England. Before 1600 stalemate became a win for
the stalemated player. This ceased to be the rule of
the chess clubs from about 1807 ...’
‘Germany. Hardly any two authors prior to Allgaier
(1795) agree to their rules. [This was a general
remark by Murray on rule changes, and not
specifically related to stalemate.] Gustavus Selenus
(1616): ‘Stalemate is a draw, but in some places the
stalemated king wins.’ G.F.D. v. B. (manuscript of
1728): ‘Stalemate is a win for the stalemated king.’
Klemich (1872): ‘The stalemated king wins.’
We hope to find more specific information about the
role of Sarratt. Murray’s article about him on pages
353-359 of the July 1937 BCM indicated that
matters were unclear:
‘He [Sarratt] was a member, or at least a frequent
visitor, of the London Chess Club, which met at
Tom’s Coffee-house, Cornhill, and is said to have
had a hand in drafting the Laws of Chess for this
club. In these rules the older English rule that the
stalemated player won was abandoned in favour of the
Continental rule that stalemate is a draw.’
Lonnie Kwartler (Chester, NY, USA) notes misprints in
the pages of Lasker’s Lehrbuch des Schachspiels
reproduced in C.N. 5924: ‘Mares’ should read Marco,
and in the next diagram White’s king is missing, from
h1.
The review of the Lehrbuch on page 318 of the
July 1926 BCM commented, ‘There are
unfortunately a large number of misprints, which will
require correction in a second edition.’ Later
versions did indeed make improvements. However, while
including such corrections, the English-language
edition of Lasker’s Manual, first published in
1927, introduced new problems, and we look at one of
them now.
The victim of a famous Alekhine brilliancy (New York,
January 1924) was named as Kußmann (i.e. Kussmann) by
Lasker in his Lehrbuch (see either page 104 or
page 108). In the English edition (page 137) it came
out as ‘Kubmann’, i.e. with apparent confusion between
the Eszett (ß) and the letter b. The spelling
‘Kubmann’ persisted in subsequent editions of Lasker’s
Manual.
In, respectively, Auf dem Wege zur
Weltmeisterschaft and his second volume of Best
Games Alekhine named his opponent as A. Kußman
and A. Kussman. Use of the initial A. may be due to
his having played a draw against Abraham S. Kussman on
another occasion: in a clock simultaneous display in
New York on 23 March 1929 (American Chess Bulletin,
April 1929, pages 62 and 65).
As regards the brilliant miniature which Alekhine
won, it is rather surprising that page 734 of the
Skinner/Verhoeven volume entertained, albeit
tentatively, the possibility that Alekhine played two
almost identical games, against L. Kussman and L.
Kubmann (the sources being, respectively, the
above-mentioned books by Alekhine and Lasker).
So, who had the misfortune in the above position to
face 16 Qb5+ from Alekhine? We wonder whether there is
any reason to doubt the information supplied when the
game was published on page 8 of the January 1924 American
Chess Bulletin:
‘A simultaneous game played between Alexander
Alekhine and Leon Kussman, dramatic editor of the Jewish
Morning Journal, in the former’s exhibition at
the Newspaper Club of New York, January 13, 1924 –
the Russian New Year’s Day.’
George Henry Mackenzie
(BCM, May 1891, page 244)
Fabrizio Zavatarelli (Milan, Italy) has found an
interesting passage on page 172 of the Dubuque
Chess Journal, May 1877 (converted here to the
algebraic notation):
‘Chess in Boston.
The following “chessikin” occurred some years ago
between Capt. MacKenzie and a president of the
Boston Chess Club:
Remove White’s Ng1.
MacKenzie – Mr X.: 1 e4 e5 2 Bc4 Nf6 3 d4 Nxe4 4
dxe5 Nxf2 5 O-O Nxd1
White mates in two moves.’
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Copyright: Edward Winter. All
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