Chess Notes
Edward
Winter
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7829. My 61 Memorable Games
(Bobby Fischer)
We are adding material to the feature article as often
as possible, with the aim of giving readers a well-rounded
overview of the book.
The drawn game Botvinnik v Fischer, Varna Olympiad, 1962
appears on pages 448-481, with much new material,
including an assault on ‘the Weinstein “schoolboy
analysis” that Botvinnik had the gall to publish way back
when’ (page 480).
And from page 476:
‘You have to put things in perspective. “Way back
when”, my original plan was to sell a book with
my 50 favorite games, with no notes at all! The
project evolved over time, especially with the nearly
unlimited hard work of Larry Evans. I added two more
games, bringing the count to 52, and by this time notes
and analysis were planned for as well. Finally, 60 games
were included, but I wanted to back out of the deal. My
skewed view of the “end of the world” being quite near
(why else would I give away my secrets!) was what
finally resulted in 1969’s My 60 Memorable Games.’
It should be noted that My 61 Memorable Games
freely re-writes Evans’ introductions. The textual changes
are vastly more extensive than what Batsford did to
Fischer’s prose in the 1995
volume.
Dominique Thimognier (Fondettes, France) has just
placed on-line an article
about
L.
Tauber, including two pictures of him. It is stated
that Tauber was born in Vienna on 5 June 1857 and died in
Paris on 9 March 1944.
7831. When was Nimzowitsch born? (C.N.s
1894, 1931, 2879 & 3506)
Aron Nimzowitsch On the Road to Chess Mastery,
1886-1924 by Per Skjoldager and Jørn Erik Nielsen
(Jefferson, 2012) was briefly mentioned in C.N. 7751. The
McFarland chess catalogue has many excellent titles, but
even there the Nimzowitsch volume stands out for the
excellence of its scholarship.
With regard to Nimzowitsch’s exact date of birth, this
paragraph is on page 5 of the Skjoldager/Nielsen book:
‘Aron was born on Heshvan 9 according to the
Jewish calendar. This corresponds with 26 October 1886
in the Julian calendar, and both dates are equal to 7
November 1886 in the Gregorian calendar. It should be
noted that Aron specified his birthday as 9 November on
his application form to the university in Zurich. This
was not just a slip of the pen since he repeated the
mistake when he registered at the Einwohner und
Fremden-kontrolle where he specified his birthday
as 27 October/9 November 1886. Both dates are wrong, and
it indicates that he was so strongly orientated towards
Jewish culture and tradition at that time that he was
not even aware of the correct corresponding Julian and
Gregorian dates.’
A footnote adds:
‘His birth record is kept in the Latvian Historical
Archive (fond 5024, inventory 2, file 735).’
The record is not reproduced in the book, and we are
grateful to Per Skjoldager (Fredericia, Denmark) for an
opportunity to show it here:
Concerning the famous ‘smoking threat’
matter discussed in A Nimzowitsch Story,
we note the following on page 369 of Aron Nimzowitsch
On the Road to Chess Mastery, 1886-1924:
‘The anecdotes have, of course, left the impression
that Nimzowitsch disliked smoking very much. But the
drawing of Nimzowitsch from the tournament in Copenhagen
1923, however, discloses Nimzowitsch to be – a smoker. A
letter from his younger brother Benno to Professor
Becker, written in 1935, confirms, though with a
chronological vagueness, that Aron was a diligent smoker
“when he was young”. The letter also said that he had to
give it up because of health problems. Like many other
ex-smokers, Nimzowitsch then developed a strong dislike
for tobacco smoke.’
The sketch in question is shown below, courtesy of Mr
Skjoldager:
7833. Interview with Bogoljubow (C.N.
5274)
‘People who know nothing about chess or character
evaluation claim that I am an optimist. Quite the
contrary, though, I am of a pessimistic nature. My wife
always says (and quite correctly too), “Always expect
the worst; if things then actually turn out better,
you’ll be happy”.’
C.N. 5274 quoted this passage from page 986 of L’Echiquier,
March-April 1935, which stated that the interview with
Bogoljubow had appeared in the Kasseler Neueste
Nachrichten, 17 December 1932. We asked whether a
copy of that original publication could be found.
Alan McGowan (Waterloo, Ontario, Canada) notes this news
item on page 339 of the August 1934 BCM:
‘In his column, the Augsburger Schachblatt, Dr Adolf
Seitz recently reprinted an interview with E.D.
Bogoljubow, which appeared in the Kasseler Neueste
Nachrichten in December 1932, but did not obtain
much publicity. In it, among other opinions, Bogoljubow
expressed his view that the reason why Germany had
ceased to have a master of the world-rank was that
German chess was over-organized, to the loss of freedom
for talent.’
Is it possible to trace the interview in either of the
German-language sources?
John Blackstone (Las Vegas, NV, USA) points out this
item on page 14 of the New York Sun, 26 May
1889:
‘The two drawn games which Messrs. Weiss and Chigorin
performed, we will not say played, on Thursday and
Friday of last week, while in the effort to break
their tie for first place, added no glory to the
history of chess. Under such deliberate attempts at a
draw, chess is put behind the game that ranks next to
it, checkers, in which drawn games are the rule and
not the exception. The pusillanimous resignation to
rivalry with which each of these two leaders of a
great intellectual diversion shrank from the attack,
hoping that his adversary would make a mistake, is but
another phase of the famous meeting in Canada between
Mace and Coburn. Those eminent prize-fighters
quartered about the ring for hours because neither was
willing to lead for the other, and the affair ended in
the same sort of fiasco as these concluding encounters
of the chess tournament.
Masters Chigorin and Weiss should gird up their loins
and be men when they meet tomorrow. Let them abandon
their imitation of Mace and Coburn and think of how
Chateaubriand used to say, in a language they both can
read, “Ce n’est pas la victoire [qui] fait le
bonheur des nobles coeurs – c’est le combat.”
[This quote is commonly ascribed to Montalembert, with
la joie rather than le bonheur.] Not
victory, but battle, delights the noble heart. One
blow for the honor of chess rather than none for
victory. Play for all you are worth.’
Notwithstanding the newspaper’s exhortations, the
fourth and final game in the play-off was drawn in 28
moves the next day.
Michael Negele (Wuppertal, Germany) has been looking
into Tartakower’s date of birth, on the basis of the
citations in Jeremy Gaige’s Chess Personalia
(Jefferson, 1987). The consensus (e.g. Deutsche
Schachzeitung, January 1918, page 23, and L’Echiquier,
2 December 1933, page 333) is that Tartakower was born
on 21 February 1887 (Gregorian calendar), i.e. 9
February 1887 in the Julian calendar.
Our correspondent has raised the matter because the
English and French editions of the first volume of
Tartakower’s best games, published in 1953, gave 9/22
February 1887. For example, the following appeared in
the Introduction to Tartakover vous parle:
‘Ami lecteur, voici ce que tu dois savoir sur moi:
Xavier Tartacover (Tartakower) est né le 9 février
(ancien style, correspondant au 22 février du
calendrier grégorien) 1887, à Rostoff-sur-le-Don
(Russie).’
As mentioned in C.N. 4819, however, in the nineteenth
century the gap between the two calendars was 12 days,
and not 13.
7837.
A better move
Stuart Rachels (Tuscaloosa, AL, USA) asks about the
observation ‘When you see a good move, look for a better
one’, which he has seen ascribed, without a source, to
Emanuel Lasker.
The phrase ‘without a source’ readily takes us, by way of
example, to Andrew Soltis. From page 300 of his book The
Inner Game of Chess (New York, 1994):
‘White failed to heed Emanuel Lasker’s sage advice:
When you see a good move, don’t make it immediately.
Look for a better one.’
It is certainly true that the phrase has often been
attributed to Lasker; see, for instance, a quote in Alfred Kreymborg and Chess.
It has also been attributed to Tarrasch, and not always
favourably. From page 36 of Better Chess by Bill
Hartston (London, 1997):
‘But when you’ve fumbled and analysed, and all the
signposts point to one particular move, when is the
moment to sign contracts and play it? The great German
player Dr Siegbert Tarrasch advised: “When you’ve found
a good move, look for a better one.” What nonsense! When
you’ve found a good move, play it! Good moves are few
and far between. Don’t talk yourself out of them. But
make sure they are as good as you think.’
A related point regarding Tarrasch was made by Capablanca
on page 71 of A Primer of Chess (London, 1935), in
the section headed ‘Main rules and ethics of the game’:
‘Do not hover over the pieces too much. It is unethical
and it leads to errors. The celebrated German master, Dr
Tarrasch, used to sit with his hands under his thighs to
avoid hesitation and to keep from moving hastily. It is
not bad to move quickly, but it is bad to move hastily.’
Next, a paragraph from page 78 of Chess Catechism
by Larry Evans (New York, 1970):
‘It was Steinitz who observed that when you see a good
move, wait – and look for a better one.’
Exact citations will be welcome, and in the meantime we
offer a comment by Leopold Hoffer in the The Field,
1886, which was quoted on page 121 of Johannes
Zukertort Artist of the Chessboard by Jimmy Adams
(Yorklyn, 1989):
‘If Zukertort sees a good move, he makes it; if
Steinitz sees a good move, he looks out for a better
one.’
Many other such remarks could be quoted, but in any case
the sentiments in question were expressed 500 years ago by
Damiano in Questo libro e da imparare giocare a scachi
et de le partite, as noted, for instance, by H.J.R.
Murray on page 788 of A History of Chess (Oxford,
1913): ‘when you have a good move look for a better’. See
too page 95 of Wonders and Curiosities of Chess by
Irving Chernev (New York, 1974), in a feature entitled
‘Damiano’s centuries-old advice still good today’.
From Thomas Niessen (Aachen, Germany):
‘C.N.s 5408 and 5416 mentioned the Dutch
chessplayer Carel Naret Oliphant and provided some
biographical information about him. The correct date
of his death is 26 September 1867, as given in
Jeremy Gaige’s Chess Personalia (Jefferson,
1987), but he died at the age of 86 (and not 88 as
stated in the book). This information can be found
in various contemporary sources, such as the
obituary on page 343 of Sissa, 1867 and in
the death notice from the family which was published
in the Nieuwe Rotterdamsche Courant and Opregte
Haarlemsche Courant on 3 October 1867.
Carel Naret Oliphant was buried in
the Groenesteeg cemetery in Leiden. The secretary,
Mr Lodewijk Kallenberg, has confirmed the date of
death in a message to me, adding that Oliphant was
buried on 1 October 1867. However, an incorrect date
of death was given in the cemetery’s Nieuwsbrief
of January 2012 and on its webpage.
(The webpage, which was brought to my attention by a
third party, has a photograph of Oliphant dated 1866.)
C.N. 6895 raised the question of whether the
chessplayer Carel Naret Oliphant and “a Dutch wigmaker
from Leyden” with the same name who was mentioned on
the Burke’s Peerage and Gentry webpage were the same
person. The chessplayer’s profession was given as
“pharmacist” (C.N. 5416) or surgeon (C.N. 6949).
Despite the different professions, I believe that
they were indeed the same person. Apart from the
identical names and towns (Leyden is the old spelling
of Leiden), both men lived into their 80s and had a
son whose initials were “C.A.G.”. The chessplayer’s
son signed the above-mentioned death notices and in
1863 he was the Vice-President of the Palamedes Chess
Club in Leiden (Sissa, 1863, page 382). The
forenames of the wigmaker’s son are given in full on
the Burke’s Peerage and Gentry webpage: Charles
Agathon Guillaume. The story of the wigmaker is told
in more detail in The Oliphants from Gask by
Ethel Maxtone Graham (London 1910). One quote, from
page 456, may suffice:
“A year after the contract was made, in September
1867, the old man, Carl [sic] Naret Oliphant,
died. In less than a year after, his son followed him
to the grave.”
A death notice of a C.A.G. Oliphant, who died on 16
September 1868, can be found in the Opregte
Haarlemsche Courant of 5 October 1868.’
7839. Alekhine on Keres and Fine as
challengers
Simon Browne (Somerville, Australia) notes the remarks by
Alekhine about possible world championship rivals on page
178 of 107 Great Chess Battles (Oxford, 1980):
‘Before 1940 I was quite certain that two masters,
Botvinnik and Flohr, wished to fight for this title.
Neither of the two matches could be brought about, and
the above-mentioned challengers know very well that I
had decided to face them.
As regards Keres, his position in 1938-39 was less
resolved; he gave the impression of preferring to let a
few years pass. But in 1943, perhaps influenced by the
disastrous results he obtained against me in recent
meetings (+3 =3 –0 in my favour) he resolutely declared
that he had not the slightest intention of challenging
me to a match. Fine too, in 1940, made an analogous
declaration.’
These remarks were originally published on page xix of
Alekhine’s book ¡Legado! (Madrid, 1946),
and Mr Browne asks whether it is possible to find
statements by Keres or Fine along the lines indicated by
Alekhine.
Readers’ assistance will be appreciated. Firstly on this
topic, we would draw attention to an earlier article by
Keres, ‘The World Chess
Championship’, published on pages 51-53 of the March
1941 Chess Review.
7840. Who? (C.N. 7834)
Alexander Roshal (left) is with Alex A. Aljechin (the
world champion’s son) at the 1982 Olympiad in Lucerne. The
photograph comes from page 586 of the December 1982 Schweizerische
Schachzeitung.
Mark N. Taylor (Mt Berry, GA, USA) points out the
following on page 246 of A History of Chess by
H.J.R. Murray (Oxford, 1913):
The advice ‘Double your Rooks on the 7th row’ is also
of interest, being relevant to the question asked in
C.N. 6844.
The draw between Fischer and Najdorf at the 1960
Olympiad in Leipzig has given rise to all manner of
stories, and particularly from Najdorf.
As reported on page 25 of the April-August 1996 issue
of Ajedrez de estilo, in conversation with Juan
Sebastián Morgado in Buenos Aires on 5 July 1996 Fischer
ridiculed an interview which Najdorf had given to Jaque
in 1992. With regard to stories about the Leipzig game,
Fischer stated that Najdorf had lied and that with every
year that passed Najdorf exaggerated or changed an
anecdote involving Fischer.
An English version, by Jonathan Berry, of Fischer’s
remarks appeared on page 7 of the 23 December 1996 Inside
Chess. Najdorf’s interview (not a word of which we
would take on trust) was published on pages 4-7 of issue
335 of Jaque (September 1992).
7843. Sozin and the Meran Defence (C.N.
7813)
Position after 11 Nxb5
Dominique Thimognier (Fondettes, France) notes that the
Italian master Remo Calapso claimed paternity of the
11...Nxe5 variation in the Meran Defence, as recorded in Remo
Calapso by E. Giudici and V. Nestler (Santa Maria
Capua Vetere, 1976). Page 70 says that Calapso played the
move in a correspondence game against Pierre Morra, which
is given on pages 71-72 with Calapso’s notes from the
October 1926 L’Italia Scacchistica. Moreover,
pages 72-74 of the book have his article on the opening
from the Italian magazine’s January 1926 issue.
The Morra v Calapso game was played from 28 June 1925 to
30 June 1926, whereas the Rabinovich v Verlinsky game
mentioned in C.N. 7813 was played on 29 November 1925.
A footnote on page 70 of the Calapso book adds
Tartakower’s statement that Sosin and Calapso discovered
the move 11...Nxe5 simultaneously in 1925:
‘Esta réplica fue descubierta simultáneamente por
Sosin y por Galapso [sic] en 1925.’
Source: page 97 of Ideas modernas en las aperturas de
ajedrez by S. Tartakower (Buenos Aires, various
editions).
From page 344 of the October-November 1910 Wiener
Schachzeitung:
Do any specimens exist of Nimzowitsch’s signature in
Cyrillic script?
7845. Interview with Bogoljubow (C.N.s
5274 & 7833)
Peter Anderberg (Harmstorf, Germany) has found the
Bogoljubow feature published in the Kasseler Neueste
Nachrichten of 17-18 December 1932:
Our correspondent has also provided this
transcript:
‘Interview mit Großmeister Bogoljubow
für die Kasseler Neuesten Nachrichten.
Unser Schachmitarbeiter, Herr
Heinemann, hatte gestern Gelegenheit, mit Großmeister
Bogoljubow über einige aktuelle Schachfragen zu
plaudern:
1. Frage: Welcher Ihrer Fähigkeiten
schreiben Sie Ihre Erfolge als Schachmeister zu? –
Antwort: An erster Stelle meiner Phantasie, ferner
meinem Erinnerungsvermögen und meinem Talent für
schnelles Erfassen von Situationen.
2. Frage: Kann man “Gut Schach-spielen”
wissenschaftlich lernen? – Antwort: Nein, durch
wissenschaftliche Schulung kann man sich wohl stark
verbessern. Aber Schach ist Kunst und auch Spiel. Das
Persönliche spricht stark mit.
3. Frage: Welcher Ihrer Gegner “liegt”
Ihnen nicht? – Antwort: Das ist eine Gewissensfrage.
Aber hören Sie: Früher konnte ich nie gegen Capablanca
gewinnen; selbst in Gewinnstellung verlor ich doch
noch. Ich glaube jedoch, daß ich heute besser
abschneiden würde, da ich nicht mehr so
temperamentvoll spiele, wie früher. Ich bin nüchterner
geworden.
4. Frage: Alle Welt hält Sie für einen
Optimisten. Was sagen Sie zu dieser Einschätzung Ihrer
Persönlichkeit? – Antwort: Die Leute, die nichts von
Schach oder von Charakterdeutung verstehen, behaupten,
ich sei Optimist. Demgegenüber stelle ich fest, daß
ich von Natur aus Pessimist bin. Meine Frau sagt
richtig: “Man muß immer das Schlimmste erwarten, denn
wenn es dann besser kommt, freut man sich.” (!!)
5. Frage: Woran liegt es, daß
Deutschland außer Ihnen zurzeit keinen Spieler von
Weltrang hat? – Antwort: Das deutsche Schachleben ist
überorganisiert. Viele Talente haben keine
Bewegungsfreiheit.
6. Frage: Glauben Sie, daß in
absehbarer Zeit ein solcher Spieler auftaucht? –
Antwort: Vorläufig sehe ich niemanden, der Talent zu
ganz Großem hat. Rödl könnte es vielleicht schaffen,
wenn er einen starken Willen dazu hätte. Sehen Sie, da
ist Kurt Richter, der geniale Veranlagung hat, dem es
aber an Willensstärke fehlt – da ist Kieninger, der
aus verschiedenen Ursachen erst jetzt nach vorne
kommt, viel kann – aber jetzt zum Kampf nach oben hin
viel zu alt ist. Ehrlich gesagt, ich sehe vorläufig
keinen neuen deutschen Großmeister.
Aber nun habe ich Ihnen ja genug
gesagt. Ich will Ihnen noch etwas von mir erzählen.
Wie Sie wissen, ist Frl. Lotte S. aus Frankfurt mein
“Manager”. Seitdem weiß ich nicht mehr, wo und wann
ich spiele. Und seit neulich der Vorsitzende des
Schachklubs in Bad N., Dr. H., (der es als gebildeter
Mann ja wissen muß), meinen Namen in einer großen Rede
mit einem mir unaussprechlichen Akzent ausgesprochen
hat, weiß ich auch nicht mehr, wie ich heiße!’
7846. Modern Chess Preparation
C.N. readers will have seen here most of the photographs
of the old-timers used in Modern Chess Preparation
by Vladimir Tukmakov (Alkmaar, 2012). They may also note
that the picture of Tal on page 70 has been reversed, and
below we give the correct version (Tal in play against
Sliwa in the 1960 Leipzig Olympiad), from page 29 of the
tournament book:
From page 15 of the Tukmakov work, concerning the
celebrated Lasker v Capablanca game at St Petersburg,
1914:
‘The young Cuban, who was confidently leading the
tournament, needed only not to lose with Black against
the current World Champion in order to claim overall
tournament victory.’
Some myths endure no matter how often they are disproved,
or how easily. Reviewing From Morphy to Fischer by
Al Horowitz (London, 1973) W.H. Cozens commented on page
159 of the May 1974 BCM:
‘Horowitz does fall into one historical error – one
which has been made by other writers before him – when
he speaks [on page 69] of “Lasker’s last-round victory
over Capablanca” at St Petersburg, 1914.’
See too, for instance, Larousse
du
jeu
d’échecs. The game was played in the seventh
of ten rounds in the final section.
7847. Thelonious Monk
Dan Scoones (Coquitlam, BC, Canada) observes that a
number of websites describe the jazz musician Thelonious
Monk (1917-82) as ‘excellent at both chess and checkers’,
the source specified being an article by John B.
Litweiler, ‘Art Blakey: Bu’s Delights and Laments’.
We have found the magazine containing the article (down
beat, 25 March 1976, pages 15-17 and page 44), but
there is only one brief reference to chess, on page 15:
‘Art Blakey on Thelonious Monk: “I have yet to meet the
man who can beat him at chess, or even checkers, or
ping-pong.’”
7848. Sozin and the Meran Defence (C.N.s
7813 & 7843)
Further to C.N. 7843, Dominique Thimognier (Fondettes,
France) notes that Calapso’s article referred to a win by
Wilner (or Vilner) against Bogoljubow in the Soviet
championship (Leningrad, 1925). Played on 28 August 1925,
the game was published on pages 133-134 of the
August-September 1926 Časopis Československých
Šachistů:
The concluding note is significant for its reference to
Sozin and a specific Russian-language source. Below is a
translation kindly supplied by Karel Mokrý (Prostejov,
Czech Republic):
‘This game was sent to us by our Paris subscriber P.
Potemkin some time ago, with a jocular postscript: “And
Bogoljubow must now read Časopis československých
šachistů!!” However, in the interests of truth it
should be added that the information was available to
Bogoljubow more immediately – in terms of both time and
place – in Shakhmatny Listok; in issue 8 of the
1925 volume, so we found out later, the move mentioned
above was analysed by V.I. Sozin, in an almost identical
manner.’
Mr Thimognier adds that Calapso’s article also referred
to Bogoljubow v Thomas, Baden-Baden, 16 April 1925, and
that the Czech magazine’s (anonymous) annotations to that
game, in the May-June 1925 issue, pages 78-79, mentioned
11...Nxe5:
Finally, Mr Thimognier points out that Alekhine did not
mention 11...Nxe5 in his article ‘La variante de Meran
à Baden Baden’ on pages 109-110 of L’Echiquier,
June 1925.
‘Problems are the air castles of the chessboard.’
This remark was given anonymously on page 81 of Lasker’s
Chess Magazine, December 1904 and on page 119 of
the June 1907 American Chess Bulletin. Is the
author known?
7850. 1 e4 c5 2 Bc4 e6 3 Nc3 Nc6 4 d3 a6
1 e4 c5 2 Bc4 e6 3 Nc3 Nc6 4 d3 a6 5 a3 Qc7 6 f4 b5 7 Ba2
Bb7 8 Nf3 Be7 9 O-O Nf6 10 Be3 O-O 11 Qe2 Rad8 12 e5 Ng4
13 Bd2 d5 14 h3 Nh6 15 g4 Kh8 16 f5 exf5 17 Nxd5
17...Nd4 18 Nxd4 Bxd5 19 Nxf5 Nxf5 20 Rxf5 g6 21 Rff1 Ba8
22 Rxf7 c4 23 Rxf8+ Rxf8 24 Bc3 Qb6+ 25 d4 Qb7 26 Qh2 Qf3
27 White resigns.
This game between H. Schmidt and Erik Andersen [sic]
was published on page 165 of Kagans Neueste
Schachnachrichten, 1 April 1925 with annotations by
Nimzowitsch:
Javier Asturiano Molina (Murcia, Spain) asks whether it
is possible to identify the game by Caro to which
Nimzowitsch refers in his note to White’s fifth move.
So far we have not found it. It may be mentioned that, in
any case, the move 5 a4 had been seen in the 11th
match-game between Löwenthal and Harrwitz in 1853 (see
pages 368-370 of that year’s Chess Player’s Chronicle).
As recorded on pages 340-341 of the same volume, the
seventh match-game began 1 e4 c5 2 Bc4 e6 3 Nc3 a6 4 a4
Ne7 5 d3 d5. The move 5 a3 had occurred two years
previously (after 1 e4 c5 2 Bc4 Nc6 3 d3 e6 4 Nc3 a6) in
Ranken v Hodges (fourth match-game in the London, 1851
Provincial Tournament). See pages 204-206 of Staunton’s
volume on London, 1851.
John Blackstone (Las Vegas, NV, USA)
notes a news
report on page 6 of the New York Sun, 20
November 1890 and, in particular, the final paragraph:
‘We imagine that the popular estimate of chess will be
revolutionized by these games. As their slow changes are
watched by a continually increasing attention on the
part of the public, the idea must grow that chess under
the ordinary rules is too fast, and that a truly perfect
contest must spread over weeks or even months, perhaps
years.’
As regards the popularity of the two games, we add that
Steinitz wrote on page 4 of the New York Tribune,
1 May 1891:
‘Never before in the history of our pastime has a chess
contest created such widespread and literally universal
interest during its progress as the one just concluded
between myself and Mr Chigorin.’
The full article was reprinted on pages 107-111 of the
April 1891 International Chess Magazine.
7852. 1 e4 and 1 d4
From page 8 of Curious Chess Facts by Irving
Chernev (New York, 1937):
‘Ern[e]st Grünfeld, probably the greatest living
authority on the openings, played 1 P-K4 only once in
his whole tournament career (against Capablanca,
Carlsbad, 1929). When asked why he avoided 1 P-K4 he
replied, “I never make a mistake in the opening”.’
The alleged Grünfeld remark is often quoted, but what is
its source?
With regard to Grünfeld’s use of 1 e4, page 260 of Chess
Explorations referred to Ernst Franz Grünfeld
by Michael Ehn (Vienna, 1993); the book, which goes as far
as 1920, has many (minor) games in which Grünfeld played 1
e4. From databases we also note a few specimens from the
1950s.
And from page 17 of Curious Chess Facts:
‘Chigorin, who had so much trouble finding a defence to
1 P-Q4, adopted this move as White only once in his
whole tournament career (against Albin, Nuremberg,
1896). He beat Albin easily, and yet he never played 1
P-Q4 again.’
Chigorin had also played 1 d4 against Mackenzie at
London, 1883. See pages 153-154 of the tournament book.
A quote from page 72 of The Fireside Book of Chess
by Irving Chernev and Fred Reinfeld (New York, 1949):
‘Paul Morphy, considered by many critics the greatest
chess genius that ever lived, never played 1 P-Q4.’
Regarding Spielmann’s preferred first move as White,
Reinfeld wrote on page 117 of Great Moments in Chess
(New York, 1963):
‘There is an interesting story related to the following
fine finish, played in the Trentschin-Teplitz tournament
of 1928. Réti started the game with 1 P-Q4, and
Spielmann was so impressed by the overwhelming drubbing
that he received that he thereupon started playing 1
P-Q4 after a lifetime of beginning with 1 P-K4.’
Is there any substance to the story? When the game was
published on pages 85-86 of Reinfeld and Chernev’s Chess
Strategy
and Tactics (New York, 1933) the suggestion was more
speculative:
‘One of the many sensations of the great Carlsbad
(1929) tournament was Spielmann’s belated renunciation
of his beloved P-K4 in favor of Queen’s Pawn openings.
The suddenness of the change was no less astonishing
than the stubbornness with which Spielmann had
previously clung to the King’s Gambit and similar
openings. Perhaps the clue to this surprising change
will be found in the overwhelming drubbing administered
by Réti in the following elegant game.’
The Réti v Spielmann game, played on 23 May 1928, was
annotated by Spielmann on pages 146-147 of the May 1928 Wiener
Schachzeitung. His closing remark may be quoted in
passing:
‘Gerade gegen mich spielt Réti immer das beste
Schach. In welchem Gegensatz dazu steht sein
auffallend schwaches Spiel in mehreren anderen Partien
des gleichen Turniers.’
The Carlsbad tournament began over a year after the Réti
v Spielmann game was played. During the intervening
period, Spielmann played 1 d4 a number of times: v
Bogoljubow at Bad Kissingen, 1928, v Vajda at Budapest,
1928 and v Réti and Capablanca at Berlin, 1928. He had
also played it occasionally earlier in his career.
A question from Stuart Rachels (Tuscaloosa, AL, USA):
who introduced the famous elementary system of values
(pawn 1, knight 3, bishop 3, rook 5, queen 9)?
We can do no better than quote from page 59 of The
Hall-of-Fame History of US Chess by Robert John
McCrary (1998):
‘By the 1930s, the idea of a single numerical scale
of values seemed to be losing favor. Instead, great
players such as Capablanca and Tarrasch were generally
avoiding giving a single scale of values in their
books, preferring to discuss various kinds of
exchanges on a case-by-case basis.
Then in 1942 Reuben Fine published his Chess The
Easy Way. On page 23 is the following
historically important section:
“Since there are six different kinds of pieces it
is necessary to set up a table of equivalents in
order to be able to know whether an exchange is
favorable or not. Again such a table is based partly
on the elementary mates (R can mate, B or Kt cannot)
and partly on practise. If we take the pawn as 1 we
may set up a table such as this:
pawn = 1
bishop (or knight) = 3
rook =5
queen =9.”
Fine goes on to say that his table is satisfactory
for rough calculation but not as accurate as a set of
equivalents for certain exchanges he gives on the next
page. Nevertheless, Fine apparently popularized our
modern scale and indeed may have invented it. Does any
reader know of an earlier publication of the modern
scale? Perhaps Fine then should be considered the true
“point-count” man of chess.’
7854.
Demoralization
This article by G.H. Diggle, originally published in Newsflash,
April 1981, was given on page 67 of Chess Characters
(Geneva, 1984):
‘Chess matches have often been abandoned half-way
through by demoralized combatants after successive wins
have been piled up against them; Harrwitz v Morphy and
Kostić v Capablanca are notable examples. Dr Hübner’s
recent resignation to Korchnoi is a more unusual case,
as he was only potentially 4-6 down with six games to
play. In 1851, however, there were two similar match
resignations caused (as in Hübner’s case) by stress,
though in both cases the stress was not due so much to
“world publicity” as to the “intolerable tedium” of
pre-time-limit chess. In one of these Staunton, with a
level score against Williams, resigned the match (after
the 13th game had proceeded for 20 hours) “rather than
undergo the torture of another game”. The other case
(though recounted in the BCM for February 1940)
is less well-known. In one of the “side-shows” of the
great 1851 tournament, the youthful Frederic Deacon,
burning with eagerness to win his chess spurs, was,
though already notorious for slow play, selected very
injudiciously by the Committee to play a match of seven
games up with Edward Löwe, then a perfunctory old stager
nearly 40 years Deacon’s senior. The prizes were £8 to
the winner and £3 to the loser, and Deacon won the first
two games, with Löwe moaning throughout about Deacon’s
slowness. In the third game (Deacon later wrote to the
Tournament Committee) “Mr Löwe noted the time I took to
consider a move and then delayed double that time before
he made his own – this was in the presence of Mr
Löwenthal and Mr Williams.” (The BCM comments,
“We can imagine Williams scenting tedium and watching
this new experiment with the air of a patron.”) Deacon’s
attempt to speed things up led to his losing the game in
37 moves after a mere four and a half hours’ play.
Finally in the fourth game, as Deacon was considering
his 16th move after about two and a half hours’ play
“when I had unquestionably the better game” Löwe
suddenly resigned the match and walked off. To all
arguments to induce him to resume the contest Löwe
replied that he found there was no time to fulfil his
business engagements if he had to play any more chess
with Deacon, to whom he resigned the prize. “I cannot
say fairer!” This left Deacon with no other course but
to write to Staunton as Secretary of the Tournament
troubling the Committee for “the prize which I of course
believed to be my due”. Then came the unkindest cut of
all. “The Committee were not prepared to award any prize
as the conditions of the match had not been fulfilled.”
Deacon pointed out with indignant triumph that if this
ruling became “case-law” it would always be in the power
of one player to prevent his antagonist receiving the
prize by resigning the match “even just before he had
lost his seventh game”. This so staggered the
Committee that they brought pressure to bear on Löwe,
who was finally induced to play out the match, Deacon
winning 7-2-1. Staunton in annotating the games admits
that “the tedium of Mr Deacon’s play is quite
insufferable, and although with him this arises from
habit only, and not from a design to exhaust and
irritate an opponent, the sooner he corrects so grave a
fault the better.”’
According to Jeremy Gaige’s Chess Personalia
(Jefferson, 1987), Frederic H. Deacon was born in Bruges
in about 1829 and died, possibly in Brussels, circa October
1875. However, the privately-circulated 1994 edition gave
his full name as Frederick Horace Deacon and stated that
he was born in Bruges in about 1830 and died in Brixton,
London on 20 November 1875. The additional sources
specified by Gaige were the death certificate (reporting
that Deacon died at the age of 45) and the probate record.
7855. A disputed draw
Black has just played 32...Ne7-d5, and the game (Marshall
v Treybal, played in the penultimate round of the
Baden-Baden tournament, on 13 May 1925) was agreed drawn.
In his analysis on page 197 of N.I. Grekov’s tournament
book N.M. Zubarev wondered about Treybal’s peacefulness in
such an advantageous position:
From page xi of Tarrasch’s tournament book:
An account of the incident was provided by Hans Kmoch at
the start of an article, ‘Farce Versus Farce’, on page 328
of the November 1962 Chess Review:
Two Tartakower witticisms from pages 23 and 109 of The
Bright
Side of Chess by Irving Chernev (Philadelphia,
1948):
- ‘In some games of chess, there are not four but six
horses.’
- ‘Some knights don’t leap – they limp.’
Since quotes without sources are also without value, we
reproduce pages 186-187 of Tartakower’s book Das
entfesselte Schach (Kecskemét, 1926):
7857.
Opatija,
1912
A group photograph on page 12 of Časopis českých
šachistů, 1912:
From John Townsend (Wokingham, England):
‘In C.N. 7854 G.H. Diggle reported:
“In one of these Staunton, with a level score
against Williams, resigned the match (after the 13th
game had proceeded for 20 hours) ‘rather than
undergo the torture of another game’.”
Although the match score was level, the same
cannot be said of the position on the board, since,
at the time of his resignation, Staunton was a piece
down in a completely lost endgame. On page 349 of The
Chess Tournament (London, 1852) he made a curious
remark in a note to his move 41...Kf7 in that game.
“It is clear that Black could have made a drawn
battle if he chose, by
41...R to KR’s 8th
42 K to Kt’s 2nd, or 3rd 42 R to QKt’s
8th
43 B to QKt’s 2nd 43 K to B’s 2nd, etc.
but it having been long quite evident that his
opponent would protract the sitting until he (Black)
could no longer support the fatigue (the present
game lasted above 20 hours!), he preferred resigning
the contest, although two games ahead, to undergoing
the torture of another game.”
What exactly did Staunton mean by the last part of
that remark? If he was suggesting that his inferior
choice of 41...Kf7 was his way of capitulating, he
omitted to explain why he played on for a further 38
moves. His eventual resignation, at move 79, was
fully called for. He was, clearly, frustrated by
Williams’ slow play, but here he seems to have
confused that issue with the subject of his
resignation and, hence, to have picked the wrong
battlefield on which to attack Williams.
This was the return match after Williams had
defeated him in the play-off for third place in the
tournament. It was played at Staunton’s “country
house” in Cheshunt, the exact location of which is
not known. As he led by six wins to three before the
13th game but had given Williams the odds of three
games’ start, the Badmaster was correct that the
match score stood level. Staunton’s remark quoted
above that he was two games ahead must be wrong,
unless he meant that, after losing the 13th game, he
remained two games ahead. Being two games ahead was
useless, since Williams, by scoring his fourth win
in the 13th game, reached the target of seven wins
needed to secure the match, so for Staunton
“undergoing the torture of another game” was no
longer an option.’
Also from Mr Townsend:
‘G.H. Diggle referred in C.N. 7854 to another slow
player, F.H. Deacon. In the 1851 census, Deacon’s
description as “Writer of Chess” may well be the
earliest reference to that occupation to be found in
any census return. He was living in South Lambeth
(aged 20), a British subject born in Belgium.
(Source: the 1851 census, National Archives, HO
107/1573, f. 347.)
By the time of the 1861 census, “Frederick H.
Deacon” had the more orthodox occupation of “clerk
in Manchester Ho.”, unmarried, age given as 27,
living at 3 Hale’s Place, Langley Lane, Lambeth,
described as a son of the head of the household, who
was Sarah S. Rogers, a 66-year-old widow, a
“fundholder” who had been born in Chelsea. Also in
the household were two elder brothers of Frederick,
i.e. George L. Deacon and Edward E. Deacon. (Source:
1861 census, National Archives, RG9/357, ff.
126-127.)
As Jeremy Gaige pointed out, the calendar of
probate records shows that “Frederick Horace Deacon”
died on 20 November 1875, at 37 Vaughan Road,
Coldharbour Lane, Brixton. He was “formerly of 3
Hale’s Place, Lambeth”, but “late of 7 Hardiss Road,
Cold Harbour Lane, Camberwell”. His will was proved
by Edward Erasmus Deacon, a brother, the effects
being “under £450”.
The burial register of the South Metropolitan
Cemetery (Norwood Road, Lambeth) shows that he was
buried there on 26 November 1875, his age being
given as 45. The entry specifies the same address as
in the calendar of probate records, 37 Vaughan Road,
Coldharbour Lane, except that it says Camberwell,
and not Brixton.’
C.N. 7846 referred to a recent book
which gave a reversed photograph of Tal. For another
instance involving the same master and publisher, see
C.N. 4655. The feature article A Chess Whodunit corrects
the photograph of D.W. Fiske which was given as the
frontispiece to his book Chess in Iceland and in
Icelandic Literature (Florence, 1905). Regarding
Pillsbury, C.N. 5164 may be mentioned, as well as this
book cover:
Dan Scoones (Coquitlam, BC, Canada) adds two cases: the
photograph of Kotov on page 124 of A Picture History
of Chess by Fred Wilson (New York, 1981) and the
full-page colour picture of Fischer at the end of the
Buenos Aires section of Bobby Fischer by Harry
Benson (Brooklyn, 2011).
7861. An interview with Rey Ardid
The publication and date are not given on our cutting,
but the reference to the games against José Sanz (‘que
comenzarán el domingo, día 23 próximo’) indicates
that the article dates from May 1943.
Rey Ardid surprisingly, though narrowly, lost his title
match against Sanz. An account of the contest, with all
ten games annotated, is on pages 179-193 of Campeones
y campeonatos de España de ajedrez by Pablo Morán
(Madrid, 1974).
Source: Časopis českých šachistů, 1911, page
189.
Ola Winfridsson (São Paulo, Brazil) notes discrepancies
in the above caption, and we therefore show what
appeared on page 35 of the February-March 1912 Wiener
Schachzeitung:
7864.
Milan
Vidmar
Thomas Höpfl (Halle, Germany) points out footage
of
an anti-Communist rally (Ljubljana, 29 June 1944) in
which Milan Vidmar can be seen (beginning at about 2’20”).
The first
part of the coverage also shows Vidmar (at about
4’45” into the item).
Our article Jaffe and his Primer
began by pointing out the difficulties in establishing
firm biographical information about Charles Jaffe, and
especially his date of birth. Now, Olimpiu G. Urcan
(Singapore) has found the document below, dated 10
September 1937, at the Ancestry.com
website:
Exact reference source: Declaration of Intent (1937),
National Archives; Washington, DC; Petitions for
Naturalization from the US District Court for the Southern
District of New York, 1897-1944; Series: M1972; Roll:
1288.
The information provided includes:
Address: 158(?) Second Avenue, New York;
Occupation: writer;
Marital status: unmarried;
Height and weight: 5 feet 7 inches; 162 pounds;
Date and place of birth: 25 April 1879 in Mogilev, Russia;
Emigrated from Hamburg to New York, circa 1897.
The picture of Jaffe in the Declaration of Intention may
be compared with this detail from the group photograph
(Chicago, 1937) given in C.N. 7351:
With respect to the signatures on the form, below is the
inscription in our copy of Jaffe’s Chess Primer:
Mr Urcan has also found a subsequent Petition for
Naturalization, which gave Jaffe’s address as 702 E. Fifth
Street, New York:
Exact reference source: National Archives; Washington,
DC; Petitions for Naturalization from the US District
Court for the Southern District of New York, 1897-1944;
Series: M1972; Roll:1288.
7866. Reversed photographs
Yakov Zusmanovich (Pleasanton, CA, USA) draws attention
to the front covers of Antoaneta Stefanova: 20 Years
and 20 Days on the Road to the Crown by Vladimir
Georgiev and Simeon Stoichkov (Sofia, 2004) and Antoaneta
–
shakhmatnaya kralitsa by Jivko/Zhivko Kaikamdzozov
(Sofia, 2004):
From page vi of The Yearbook of The United States
Chess Federation 1940 edited by Montgomery Major
(New York, 1942):
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