[blind-chess] History of the USBCA Re: Dear Jim, A question Please: Blind Chess Olympiad Weymouth 1968
- From: Jim Slagle <jamesrslagle@xxxxxxxxx>
- To: Us_Bca@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx, Alan Dicey <adicey@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>, James Slagle <jamesrslagle@xxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Wed, 26 Dec 2012 07:41:06 -0800 (PST)
Hi,
Here are some of my recollections.
In 1967, Mr. Grant Metcalf organized a San Francisco chess tournament for blind
players.
He was working on this with George Koltonowski, who was a chess columnist and
memory expert.
There were about ten players.
Grant Metcqalf and I drew our individual game and tied for first in the
tournament.
I won on tie breaks.
George Koltonowski donated a trophy to me.
It read "First Place, Northern California Braille Chess Tournament, 1967."
At the tournament, Grant talked to me about the forthcoming International
Braille Chess Olympiad, to be held in Weymouth, England, in 1968.
The team would be sponsored by Mrs. Jacqueline Piatigorsky.
She was married to Gregor Piatigorsky, so he was a sponsor too.
They are an amazing couple, and I urge you to read about them in Wikipedia.
Gregor was a world-class cellist, who lived most of his life in Los Angeles.
He was not a San Diego violinist, as has been incorrectly reported.
Gregor and Jacqueline both played chess and organized and sponsored some
important international tournaments.
Jacqueline represented the United States in the first Women's Chess Olympiad in
1957.
She scored 7.5 points out of a possible 11 on second board and won a bronze
medal!
In the 1960's, she was rated second among American women chess players.
As for forming the rest of the American braille chess team, Albert Sandrin was
well known by George Koltonowsky and others.
Let's ask Rob MacDonald how he was recruited to complete our four man team.
In April, 1968, the Braille Chess Olympiad was held in Weymouth, England.
It was wonderfully organized by John Graham.
George Koltonowsky accompanied our team.
Before the first game, I remember appearing in a heavy coat, and everyone
laughed.
I had the last laugh, because everybody else was cold while playing the game.
It was about 15 Celsius, which is 59 F.
Later in 1968, Grant organized the USBCA.
Rod was the first Secretary.
He had most of the authority and responsibility.
I was the first President.
Albert Sandrin was the first Vice President.
I forget who was the first Treasurer.
If anyone has any questions, just ask.
Best wishes,
Jim Slagle
Skype ID jamesrslagle.
USA Phone 609 945 5415
From: Alan Dicey <adicey@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Subject: Dear Jim, A question Please: Blind Chess Olympiad Weymouth 1968
To: "Jim Slagle" <jamesrslagle@xxxxxxxxx>
Date: Monday, September 3, 2012, 10:23 PM
Dear Jim,
I have a question, if you would kindly help me with it.
In the article below, John Graham writes:
"Meanwhile, I had formed a group of U.S. blind players into a national team and
persuaded George Koltonowski, the San Francisco chess columnist, to accompany
them. A San Diego violinist's foundation provided the funds once they knew that
Koltonowski was coming. "
Jim, The question, How did he find you 4 gentlemen, and Does this mean the
USBCA was formed after this 1968 Blind Chess Olympiad in Weymouth?
I know you went, along with Rod Macdonald , and Al Sandrin , I do not know
Metcalf's first name.
I have all you 4 gentlemen's games from this event.
I am going to place them with this article in the "History".
Attached is most all the games from this event if you want to see it. It is of
course very long.
With Best Regards,
Alan
Miami, Florida
* * *
/ Written by John Graham /
"It had seemed such a good idea the year before," said the Weymouth organizer,
"now, at one o'clock in the morning, standing on a bare railway platform in
Weymouth and listening to the broken English of a helper explaining that the
interpreter had died on the way from Poland, the idea was wearing thin."
A year before, a blind friend had asked if I would organize the third world
championship for blind chess teams. It was not an unreasonable request - I was
already editing and producing an international tape-recorded chess magazine for
the blind - I had the contacts - I was a contributor to the 'Dorset Evening
Echo'. I had a seaside resort for the venue. I was sighted. I said "O.K. - as
long as I don't have to collect the funds."
I need not have worried. Hans, the Secretary of the British Blind Chess
Association, was a whiz at collecting funds. As teams began to respond to our
invitation, he first persuaded Mr. Marks of 'Marks and Spencers' to sponsor the
Israeli team because the Russians were sponsoring a team. Then he told the
Soviet Embassy that the Israelis were fully funded but the Soviet team couldn't
afford to come. We only told one lie. Meanwhile, I had formed a group of U.S.
blind players into a national team and persuaded George Koltonowski, the San
Francisco chess columnist, to accompany them. A San Diego violinist's
foundation provided the funds once they knew that Koltonowski was coming. Funds
grew on other funds, with a little persuasion, and soon the event was ON. Now
it was up to me and Weymouth.
The Fairhaven hotel was being reconstructed and I was able to persuade the
owner of the rambling building on the sea front to add elevators. Since the
building had been assembled from three older hotels, its corridors and
innumerable staircases invited accidents if you were sighted or not. In the
final event, the elevators were unnecessary and the blind visitors rejected
warning tapes that I had planned for each staircase. They would take their
chances, they said. In the two weeks of the tournament, three players fell down
flights of stairs but no one was injured - if you're blind you relax in
falling, you don't grasp for a hold that you cannot see.
We invited every blind chess team we knew - those from 20 nations. Eventually,
they all managed support and all turned up. Each brought a team of four players
with two sighted helpers.
In 1968, Britain did not recognize East Germany and I was warned by the U.K.
Foreign Office that East German nationals would only be allowed to enter the
country as individuals rather than as a team. I had to promise that they would
neither be allowed to wave their flag nor sing their anthem. That was annoying
because I had arranged for each table to show the flag of its competing nation
(and the media would be watching) and we might even sing to each other in the
evenings. So, when the East Germans came and learnt of the restrictions, they
naturally objected - they announced that they would go home and take the other
Soviet block countries with them. How strange that now sounds since the Soviet
Union is no more but it was a serious threat in 1968. I found a solution. Since
I, the organizer, was the only one who had actually made the promise to the
British Government, I offered to leave and they could organize everything
between them.
"Well, let's not be hasty." was the unanimous reply.
We worked it out: inside the hotel the East Germans would be allowed to wave
whatever flag they chose (even the Welsh one that I offered), and sing whatever
anthem they chose. Outside the hotel we asked for more decorum. However, since
play would take place only in hotel rooms they were the only places where flags
were needed. All was well. My threat, together with a little diplomacy, worked.
Apart from arranging for two weeks of team play I was also charged with
providing entertainment each evening for 80 blind players, and their 40 sighted
helpers. So, the months before the event had been a fury of looking for
opportunities which entranced senses other than sight - a visit to the Devenish
brewery (which we had to repeat several times), a visit to the seaside, a
concert, a musical get-together, and an international evening with the local
blind of Weymouth.
Apart from a chess magazine for the blind, Weymouth volunteers ran 'The Sound
of Weymouth', a recorded entertainment for the blind, a sort of local radio
program of recorded interviews and music before local radio came into being. I
planned to make a similar tape of entertainment for the international evening.
Thus, I contacted each of the twenty embassies for a sample of their nation's
music together with, perhaps, a recorded message of welcome to their national
blind team. All save one immediately sent music and recorded contributions.
'The U.S. was too busy.' I wrote saying that I understood their dilemma
and that I was simply looking for advice. Should I play "Yankee Doodle-Dandy",
since it was the only piece of American music that I had at hand?
A reply telegram appeared by return - 'Do not play the suggested music,
recorded contribution on way.' They eventually did us proud - the ambassador
had recorded a resounding cheer for the team with an exhortation to do well. He
had also included a musical contribution that would not offend any Civil War
sensibilities. After all the arrangements, the joint meeting was a great
success and the local blind felt they were part of the Olympiad, which, of
course they were. But I get ahead of myself again.
In those days I did not delegate well. I did most things myself. Amongst other
things, I wrote letters, negotiated with the hotel hosts and selected the
meals. I purchased the medals and flags, arranged for sets and boards, and
wrote to firms, like Wedgwood, for gifts for participants and organized
volunteer helpers. In addition, I wrote the newspaper columns for the Dorset
Evening Echo (weekly before the event but daily during it) for delivery at 1:00
a.m., I laid out the tables for play before 7:00 a.m., calculated scores, and
drove the rented van to meet incoming teams at the railway station. Now here I
was, at one o'clock in the morning, meeting the Polish team, which had just
announced that one of their sighted guides had died on the way and they had
brought the body with them.
That next morning, amongst all other tasks, I had to move the body to a
mortuary and find a Polish speaker in an English seaside resort - one who could
devote the better part of two weeks to helping four young blind men to play
chess. Astoundingly, I found one.
Besides the grim reality of a Polish death, each team had its own problems.
The event was held in April to avoid the summer resort prices. So, the U.S.
team was always cold at night and needed extra blankets. George Koltonowski, a
man who was famous for his photographic memory and intelligence, rose one
morning, too cold to sleep, and in the bathroom, still dazed from sleep,
cleaned his teeth with my hair cream.
The Israeli team had arrived with full security. They had a sighted chess
organizer and a security man from the Hagganah. But the young men of the team,
all North-African Arabs who had suffered more war wounds than simple blindness,
were always eluding their "helpers" and going out on the town alone. They would
walk, single file, each with a hand on the next man's shoulders, and blunder
through the streets, each taking the lead after the prior lead had been
battered enough in knocking into walls and railings. I rescued them one evening
after they blundered into a Chinese restaurant to find beer and failed to
understand Britain's quaint restaurant licensing laws: 'no food, no drink'.
Even today, the picture of a Chinese restaurant proprietor explaining English
law to four blind French-speaking Arab Jews is unique. These lively young men
did not play strong chess but they were intent on having a good time. They
elected at the end of the tournament to
return to Israel via Paris in order to 'see' the Moulin Rouge nudist display.
Tournament play was arranged with a preliminary session to grade the teams, and
then a longer final session as the real competition. Each game had a primary
chess set on which the moves were made by helpers and each player had a smaller
set (about 7" square) over which he, or she, could feel the entire span of
pieces with their hands. A player would make his move on his small board,
announce his move aloud in German, and record it in Braille. The opponent would
then make the move on his board and a helper would make it on the large set for
the sake of onlookers. It was a little more complicated than in a sighted
tournament, but it went well. The hall buzzed with announced moves and the
chattering of Braille recorders.
The whole competition went well - there were enough boards and sets, hall
facilities were good, there were plenty of guides and helpers, refreshments and
meals were on time and well received, and the day's reports were being printed
each day in the local newspaper. I couldn't believe that there could be no
problems when I had spent the past year running from one crisis to another.
Evening entertainment - another earlier concern was much less trouble than I
had expected. The visit to the old brewery was the greatest success. Its creaky
wooden stairs and floors, the smell of fermenting grain, malt, and brew,
coupled with a taste of various samples, was such a sensory feast that the
visitors were not content with a single visit - they insisted that they return
the next day and the next. The coach visit to the beach culminated in paddling
on the shingle shore was another sensual experience that the visitors enjoyed.
Most had never paddled before. Then the international evening proved so
musically inspiring that the visitors decided to put on their own musical
evening. Overnight, I was asked to find several guitars and an accordion. A
notice in the paper the following morning provided instruments within hours and
we had a real German 'biergarten fest' ready made.
At the end of two weeks, there was a grand awards evening. After all the good
fellowship of chess and music, the opportunity provided by speeches brought the
old political ambitions to the surface. After all, each team had two sighted
helpers - a chess expert and an official. The official was generally political.
Certainly, they were for the Soviet Union and Israel. This was their turn in
the sun. Immediately, a dispute broke out - the Israelis had brought a gift for
Weymouth's Mayor so they demanded that they speak first to present the gift.
However, the Soviet team had won the tournament so they demanded first spot on
the program. Impasse! Everyone shouted and argued. A decision had to be made.
Thank the lord for international chivalry: I remembered that the Rumanian team
alone was lead by a woman so I announced that she would speak first. The
protests ceased and we had smiles for the remainder of the ceremony.
In my home, there are reminders of that hectic fortnight: a pair of magnificent
black Wedgewood chess pieces and a small white bear. The little bear is in
recognition of the difficulties that the East German team brought me. I have a
memory of the team waving its flag in public at the closing ceremony in the
Town Hall along with everyone else. And so it should be.
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