Jerry Hanken on Reshevsky vs Fischer

A couple years ago, when Bobby Fischer died, I had the bright idea of writing an article about the aborted match between Sammy Reshevsky and Bobby Fischer from 1961. I think I may have even mentioned the idea on this blog. The thing that interested me about this match was that it is relatively little known (by me, anyway!), it was one of the few setbacks in Fischer’s stellar career, and I thought the story could be told very dramatically as one about the old lion (Reshevsky, who was then 49) versus the young upstart (Fischer, who was 18).

However, I never got very far on writing the article. I contacted a few people who were around back then, some who were interested in talking about the match and some who were not. Three things eventually soured me on the project.

1. The feeling that everything that Fischer did in his life turned acrimonious, and who wants to stir up ancient resentments?
2. I was not sure that I could find anybody to give Reshevsky’s point of view on the match.
3. The editor whom I pitched it to said that he was not interested.

However, one great thing did come out of the brief fling that I had with this idea — namely, it gave me a chance to get acquainted with Jerry Hanken. Of the people I contacted, Hanken was by far the most interested in telling the story of this match, and he even called me up and started telling stories about it right then and there. I jotted notes quickly on a small notepad (because I didn’t even have a regular notebook available). Jerry told me a couple of times that he would tape-record some reminiscences about the match and send them to me, but he never get around to it, and now of course he is dead.

I was cleaning up my desk today and found my hand-scribbled notes from our phone conversation, and since I’m not going to do anything else with them at this point, I might as well turn them into a blog post. Consider it a tiny glimpse into what must have been a vast trove of memories that Jerry could have passed along.

The match was divided into three parts, with games 1-4 in New York, 5-12 in Los Angeles, and 13-16 were supposed to take place in New York. Hanken was Fischer’s chauffeur for the Los Angeles part of the match, driving him from the Miramar Hotel in Santa Monica (where he would later, in 1966, play in the second Piatigorsky Cup) to the Herman Steiner Chess Club in the Beverly Hilton Hotel.

This match was organized by Jacqueline Piatigorsky, a strong chess player and sculptor who was married to a renowned cellist, Gregor Piatigorsky. “The whole Los Angeles contingent were Reshevsky supporters,” Hanken told me. “Jacqueline herself thought of Fischer as an upstart brat.” Perhaps this contributed to the disagreement that ultimately ruined the match. After eleven games, the match was tied. The twelfth game was postponed to Sunday because of Reshevsky’s observance of the Sabbath. Unfortunately, Jacqueline’s husband was due to play a cello concert in the evening, so she insisted that the game should start at 11:00 AM, so that she could get to the concert in time. Fischer categorically refused to play at such an inhuman hour (!) and forfeited the game. Later, after the traveling carnival moved across country to New York, Fischer protested the forfeited game and ended up forfeiting the whole match. Most histories of chess, trying to redress the unfairness, call the match drawn or incomplete, but in fact Reshevsky was paid the winner’s share. Fischer had court cases going on for years challenging the result, but without any success.

Hanken felt that Fischer’s sense that this match was stolen from him was “absolutely the origin of his vicious anti-Semitism” later in life. I can’t quite fathom this; the effect seems so out of proportion to the cause. I think Fischer must have had some sort of persecution complex already. However, Hanken knew Fischer personally, so his opinion should be taken seriously!

Hanken told me one more story about a crucial game in the match, which was adjourned with Fischer in a winning bishop-versus-knight endgame. “It was obvious to everyone who was watching, 25 spectators or so, that the game was over. Reshevsky looked like a beaten man,” Hanken said. “But then Fischer didn’t play the winning move!”

“Reshevsky raised his eyebrow and played his move, after which there was no win to be had. Fischer kept looking, but once he had missed his chance, it just wasn’t going to happen. Finally, Fischer looked right at Reshevsky, and said, in a voice so soft that you could barely hear it: ‘You bastard.'”

And that’s how you offer a draw, if you’re Bobby Fischer.