Stories

Three Great Men, by Paul Kendall

This month’s British Chess Magazine carries an article on the1934/1935 Hastings Tournament which has given me something to reflect upon that others might find of interest. It was a strong tournament, with one past World Champion making a comeback (Capablanca) and two future World Champions waiting in the wings (Botvinnik and Euwe). There were two other strong grandmasters – Salo Flohr and Andrew Lilienthal – and the Women’s World Champion Vera Menchik. She was probably the strongest woman player of all time before the onset of the Polgar sisters. The mix was completed by the addition of four strong English Players. Now although 1934/5 is a long time ago, I reflect that I actually met three of the contestants – two of whom I played. Each was, in his own way, a great man.

I met Mikhail Botvinnik in January 1967. I had returned to college early and was available to join my friend and housemate, David Openshaw, who was then Captain of the University Club, at an early dinner with Botvinnik before he embarked on a gruelling simultaneous display in Oxford. Botvinnik had been at his last Hastings tournament, thirty-two years after 34/35, and was embarking on a handful of displays before returning to Moscow. We were accompanied by Baruch H Wood, the long-term editor of Chess Magazine and President of the Universities Chess Association. I remember that Botvinnik chose fish, but the conversation was far from lively. His English was limited and he seemed suspicious of us all. Probably he thought himself surrounded by proto-spies. I tried to ask him about his work with computers (this was reputed to be his interest at the time) but got no response at all. Nevertheless we were aware that we were in the presence of a chess Titan, perhaps the greatest product of the early Leninist decision to support and promote chess as the ideal game for the people. The display took over four hours, many of the games heading for laborious endgames. Mine was no exception, with an early exchange in the Ruy Lopez leading to much rook maneuvering. Perhaps remembering the fish and the attempted conversation he let me off with a draw, but only after 45 moves.
Sir Stuart Milner-Barry was a well-known and respected player as I grew up and came to move around in chess circles, particularly at the British Championships. Stuart won the first British Boys Championship in 1923, and thirty years later came second in the Championship itself with 8/11. Although he shared bottom place at Hastings 34/35 it was customary for English players to prop up the table until relatively recently. Sir Stuart was knighted for his work as a Civil Servant, spending many years at the Treasury and in his latter years he administered the Honours process. His main claim to fame was in the war years when he ran ‘Hut 6’ at Bletchley Park under Alan Turing, There were quite a few chess players doing this code-breaking work including CHOD Alexander and Harry Golombek (who I also met). If you go to Bletchley Park, look into the main hall and you will find Sir Stuart memorialized there. In chess terms, he has four opening variations named after him, each of which incorporates some daring gambit work. He was very difficult to play because he retained this aggressive, buccaneer, style all his life. I played Stuart shortly after he retired in September 1974, in the first round at Paignton. I still have the programme which reminds me that the first round in the Premier started at 5.00pm on the Sunday and lasted for four hours. This timing presumably allowed players to get to the far South-West, but may not have been ideal for my elderly opponent. He played the Bishop’s Opening against me, and certainly got the upper hand. However, I outplayed him in the middle game and we eventually called it a draw. OK for a first round, and quite a feather in my cap.
My third encounter was, I think, in 1969. Still at Oxford, and with the bravado of youth I joined a friend to organize a European Masters tournament in Oxford. We managed to recruit a few decent masters (Ciocoltea of Rumania and Durao of Portugal I remember) to pit against the usual assortment of youthful English players. This was a time when good players were coming forward, like Hartston, Keene, Basman, and they needed foreign opposition. Some of the failures of organization make me blush to this day, but in retrospect the highlight was the brief appearance of a very distinguished elderly gentleman with a shock of white hair and a moustache which betrayed a military past. He seemed to give us his blessing, drawing in the atmosphere of chess competition, and beaming broadly. This was none other than Sir George Thomas, who must have been about eighty at the time. Sir George was joint winner of Hastings 34/35, and would have won outright if he hadn’t lost in the last round to another of the English players. He was steeped in chess history. His mother taught him to play at the age of four, and Lady Thomas won the ladies section at Hastings in 1895. The fourteen year old George must have been there, and the evidence of Lady Thomas’s autograph book shows that he played skittle games with Steinitz, Lasker, and Capablanca among others. Sir George won the British Championship twice and played for England many times. But chess was not his principal game! Lady Thomas had a badminton room in which, after the removal of furniture and the rolling up of the carpet, she and the children were encouraged to play badminton. It is little surprise that George became a champion player and , again, captained England at the game. After retirement he presented a splendid trophy – the George Thomas Cup – which is the badminton equivalent of the World Cup. It is perhaps no surprise to hear that Sir George also played lawn tennis, and appeared twice in the Wimbledon Men’s Doubles. What a man! Of course I did not get to play him, but to be that close to someone who knew Steinitz was amazing.

Of course, I also played someone who did play Steinitz – but that is another story.