Endgame_ Bobby Fischer's Remarkable Rise And Fall Part 9

Why did did Fischer continue to play? Probably a combination of genuine nationalism, faith in his ability to overcome the odds of a two-point deficit, a desire to get paid (even if he lost the match, he was to receive $91,875 in prize money, in addition to an estimated $30,000 from television and movie rights), and an overwhelming need to do what he'd always vowed to do, almost from his first official match: prove that he was the most gifted chess player on earth. Fischer continue to play? Probably a combination of genuine nationalism, faith in his ability to overcome the odds of a two-point deficit, a desire to get paid (even if he lost the match, he was to receive $91,875 in prize money, in addition to an estimated $30,000 from television and movie rights), and an overwhelming need to do what he'd always vowed to do, almost from his first official match: prove that he was the most gifted chess player on earth.

Spa.s.sky appeared on time at the backstage location; at first he sat in Fischer's chair and, perhaps unaware that he was on camera, smiled and swiveled around several times as a child might do. Then he moved to his own chair, and waited. Fischer arrived eight minutes late, looking very pale, and the two men shook hands. Spa.s.sky, playing white, made his first move and Fischer replied. Suddenly, Fischer pointed to a camera and began shouting.

Spa.s.sky was now on his feet. "I am leaving!" he announced curtly, with the bearing of a Russian count, informing Fischer and Schmid that he was going to the stage to play the game there.

Schmid recalled later that "for a second, I didn't know what to do. Then I stopped Spa.s.sky's clock, breaking the rules. But somehow I had to get that incredible situation under control."

The men continued talking, but their voices became subdued. Schmid put his arms around Spa.s.sky's shoulders, saying: "Boris, you promised me you would play this game here. Are you breaking that promise?" Then turning to Fischer, Schmid said: "Bobby, please be kind."

Spa.s.sky gaped for about ten seconds, thinking about what to do, and finally sat down. Fischer was told that it was just a closed-circuit, noiseless camera that was projecting the game onto a large screen on the stage. No copy would be kept. He somehow accepted it.

Fischer apologized for his hasty words, and both men finally got down to business. They played one of the best games of the match. After Fischer's seventh move (fifteen minutes had elapsed on his clock, to Spa.s.sky's five), he briefly left the room. As he walked past Schmid, the referee noted that he appeared intensely grave. "He looked like death," Schmid said afterward. Yes, and also incensed, indignant, and thoroughly, almost maniacally, determined.

When the game was adjourned on the forty-first move, Fischer's powerful position was irresistible. The game was resumed the next day and Bobby, feeling ebullient because he was in a winning position, agreed to play on the main stage. At the start of play Spa.s.sky took one fleeting glimpse at Fischer's sealed move, which won by force, meaning that there was no ambiguity to the position: Bobby had a clear win that was demonstrable and resolute. Spa.s.sky stopped his clock, signaling his resignation.

Tardy as usual, Fischer dashed onto the stage fifteen minutes late, out of breath. Spa.s.sky was already en route to his hotel. "What happened?" he asked, and Schmid said: "Mr. Spa.s.sky has resigned." Fischer signed his score sheet and left the stage without another word. By the time he reached the backstage exit, he could no longer resist smiling at the well-wishers waiting there.

Though it seems ludicrous to suggest that the outcome of the Fischer-Spa.s.sky match was predictable after only two games had been completed, one point going to each player, the case can can be made. The fact is, Fischer's first win over Spa.s.sky was more than a narrowing of the gap. It was the creation of the gestalt Bobby needed to prove to himself that he was capable of dominance. A drawn game would have had no significance. He'd demonstrated in the past that he could, though admittedly infrequently, draw with Spa.s.sky. By winning, Bobby not only extracted the first drop of his opponent's blood, he ensured that the wound would not soon close up. be made. The fact is, Fischer's first win over Spa.s.sky was more than a narrowing of the gap. It was the creation of the gestalt Bobby needed to prove to himself that he was capable of dominance. A drawn game would have had no significance. He'd demonstrated in the past that he could, though admittedly infrequently, draw with Spa.s.sky. By winning, Bobby not only extracted the first drop of his opponent's blood, he ensured that the wound would not soon close up.

Even as Bobby was waging a secondary battle against cameras in Reykjavik, cameras in New York were televising his epic struggle on the board. A thirty-five-year-old sociology professor, Shelby Lyman, a master who'd been ranked high among players in the United States, conducted a five-hour program almost every day on public television, discussing the games, move by move, as information and color commentary was phoned in to him by the PBS reporter in Iceland. He showed each new move on a demonstration board and attempted to predict what Fischer's or Spa.s.sky's next move might be. In a primitive form of interactive programming, members of the television audience phoned the studio to offer their suggested next move. Grandmasters were often guests on the show, evaluating the audience's suggestions and discussing the win-loss possibilities of the contestants.

Lyman was eloquent in a homespun way, and in addition to his a.n.a.lysis of the match, he added explanations so that the a.n.a.lysis would be understandable to chess novices. For example, he once said: "It's not enough to have respect for bishops in the abstract, you gotta watch out for them!" After the first few broadcasts, there were more than a million viewers following the games, and after two months Lyman became a star himself, with people stopping him on the street and asking for his autograph. So popular was the show that it crowded out the baseball and tennis coverage normally seen in sports bars in New York, and when the channel was covering the Democratic National Convention in Washington, the station was flooded with thousands of calls asking to have the chess match put back on. Station officials gave in to their viewers' demands, dropped the convention, and went back to broadcasting the match.

Fischer's quest and charisma transformed the image and status of chess in the United States and other countries, as well. In New York, intense demand quickly made chess sets an out-of-stock item at department stores such as Bloomingdale's and Macy's. Nor could the publishers of Bobby's two books, My 60 Memorable Games My 60 Memorable Games and and Bobby Fischer Teaches Chess Bobby Fischer Teaches Chess, easily keep up with demand for the chess star's perspective. Chess clubs everywhere saw memberships swell; during the match, the Marshall Chess Club's roster doubled to six hundred, and the United States Chess Federation added tens of thousands to the fold. For the first time in their lives, chess masters could make a decent living giving lessons because they had so many new students. People were playing chess at work, during their lunch hour, in restaurants, on their front stoops, and in their backyards. There's no reliable statistic doc.u.menting how many people embraced the game as a result of the publicity surrounding the Fischer-Spa.s.sky match, but some estimates put the number in the millions.

Off-the-board pressures were undoubtedly placing Spa.s.sky (who was less inured than Bobby to being at the center of a storm) under great stress. And that might, in turn, have affected the sharpness of his thinking, because in the fifth game, after committing perhaps the worst blunder of his career on the twenty-seventh move, he resigned, ending one of the shortest decisive encounters in World Championship history.

Grandmaster Miguel Najdorf, seated on the sidelines, likened the next game, the sixth, to a Mozart symphony. Fischer built a crushing attack and enveloped Spa.s.sky in a mating net, forcing his capitulation. Fischer later implied that this was his favorite game of the match, and many grandmasters, such as Larry Evans, have indicated that the game was so beautifully executed that it became the match's turning point.

Fischer began telling friends that he thought the match would be over in his favor in two weeks. He was becoming convivial and even made attempts at dry, almost British humor. At the beginning of August, while gazing out the picture window of his hotel room at the northern void during a gray, raw day, he quipped: "Iceland is a nice place. I must come back here in the summertime."

Although it's never been revealed before, Regina Fischer, disguised in a blond wig and stylish clothing, flew in from England and visited Bobby at the Loftleidir to wish him good cheer and congratulate him on what appeared to be the certainty of his winning the championship. She didn't want to be recognized. Journalists' curiosity about her would simply take away, she felt, from her son's shining moment. She slept in Bobby's suite overnight but didn't go to the Laugardalsholl to see him play. Instead, she flew back to the UK the next day.

In many ways, "unlucky thirteen" was the pivotal game of the Fischer-Spa.s.sky championship encounter. It was a nine-and-a-half-hour marathon in which Fischer, even though a p.a.w.n ahead, had a difficult position right up to adjournment. He could find no improvement with overnight a.n.a.lysis, and upon resumption he was forced to continue seeking what looked like a draw. On the sixty-ninth move, obviously exhausted, Spa.s.sky blundered. When he realized his mistake, he could barely look at the board, turning his head away several times in humiliation and frustration. Fischer, after moving to collect Spa.s.sky's gift, sat back in his chair, grimly, staring at the Russian-studying him. For a long, long moment, he didn't take his eyes off Spa.s.sky. There was just a bit of compa.s.sion in Fischer's eyes, which turned the episode into a true Aristotelian tragedy: Spa.s.sky's terror combined with Fischer's pity. Spa.s.sky finally moved, but resigned on the seventy-fourth move.

At that point in the match, Fischer stopped taking the chances that are often necessary to win a game. Because of his unusual caution, the following seven games, numbers fourteen to twenty, were all draws. After the match, Fischer explained that he hadn't been playing for draws but realized that his three-point lead was enough to win the t.i.tle, as long as he could prevent Spa.s.sky from winning a game.

After twenty games, the score stood at 118 in favor of Fischer. He needed just two draws or one win out of the remaining four games to wrest the t.i.tle from the Russian, and from Russia. Fischer's future was manifest.

Shortly before the concluding week of the match, the Soviet delegation, by way of a long and preposterous statement, made an accusation that Fischer might be "influencing" the World Champion's behavior by "chemical substances if not by electronic means." Incredibly, an investigation was launched by the Reykjavik Police Department and Icelandic scientists. They field-stripped Spa.s.sky's chair, x-rayed it, took sc.r.a.pings of all the surroundings, and even examined the air on the stage. The image of a burly policeman traipsing across the stage with an empty plastic bag, attempting to "capture" the air, was the stuff of Chaplinesque comedy. One object was found in Spa.s.sky's chair that was not in Fischer's otherwise identical chair! But the secret weapon turned out to be a blob of wood filler, placed there by the manufacturer. Fischer guffawed when he heard of it and said that he'd been expecting rougher tactics from the Russians.

Donald Schultz, part of Fischer's team, was there when the wood from the chair was x-rayed, and he saw the X-ray itself. He also saw a second X-ray and noticed that the blob was no longer there. He couldn't help wondering if one of the Russians had planted something in the chair to embarra.s.s Bobby but on second thought had somehow removed it so that the Soviets themselves wouldn't be embarra.s.sed if it could be proven they'd put it there in the first place.

The Russians insisted that a lighting fixture above the stage be taken apart to see if there was an electronic device hidden there that might be affecting Spa.s.sky's play. As a policeman began to unscrew the globe, he yelled down from the ladder that there was was something in there. The Russians and the Americans ran to the base of the ladder as the policeman descended with his discovery: "Two dead flies!" something in there. The Russians and the Americans ran to the base of the ladder as the policeman descended with his discovery: "Two dead flies!"

The case was embarra.s.singly closed, it having become clear that the Soviets, stunned at the probable loss of "their" t.i.tle, were searching for an alibi, one that would sully Bobby's achievement. The London Times Times summed up the chess circus in humorous, though pointed, fashion: "It started out as a farce by Beckett- summed up the chess circus in humorous, though pointed, fashion: "It started out as a farce by Beckett-Waiting for G.o.dot. Then it turned into a Kafka tragedy. Now it's beyond Kafka. Perhaps Strindberg could do it justice."

The twenty-first game commenced on August 31, and Fischer, playing black, conducted the endgame in stellar fashion; at adjournment it looked as though he could win. If that were to occur, the twenty-first game would be Bobby's last. To conquer Spa.s.sky and become World Champion, he'd always needed to collect 12 points, and a win would get him to that magic number.

The next day, Harry Benson, a Scotsman who was a key photographer for Time Life Time Life, met Spa.s.sky at the Saga Hotel. "There's a new champion," Spa.s.sky said. "I'm not sad. It's a sporting event and I lost. Bobby's the new champion. Now I must take a walk and get some fresh air."

Benson immediately drove to the Hotel Loftleidir and called Bobby on the house phone. "Are you sure it's official?" Fischer asked. Told that it was, he said: "Well, thanks."

At 2:47 p.m., Fischer appeared on stage at Laugardalsholl to sign his score sheet. Schmid made the official announcement: "Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Spa.s.sky has resigned by telephone at 12:50. This is a traditional and legal way of resignation. Mr. Fischer has won this game, number twenty-one, and he is the winner of the match."

The spectators went wild. Fischer smiled when Schmid shook his hand, then he nodded awkwardly at the audience, appeared uncomfortable, and started to go. Just before leaving, he paused ever so briefly and looked out into the crowd, as though he might be about to say something or perhaps wave. Then he quickly disappeared backstage and left the building. A mob swarmed around his car, which was driven by Saemi Palsson, his bodyguard. Television and radio reporters poked microphones and cameras at the closed windows. Lombardy sat in the backseat, and the three men drove off. Only after they were under way did Fischer allow himself to break into a big, boyish grin. He was the World Chess Champion.

Two days after Fischer won the championship, a lavish banquet was held in his honor at Laugardalsholl. Boris Spa.s.sky attended, as did the arbiter Lothar Schmid and FIDE's president Dr. Max Euwe, who officiated. The event had been planned for weeks and was sold out long before the match was over. More than one thousand people attended (scalpers obtained $75 to $100 for a $22 ticket), and everyone feasted on lamb and suckling pig grilled over charcoal braziers, served by waiters in Viking helmets. The "Vikings" kept goblets filled with something called "Viking's Blood," a powerful concoction of red wine and cognac. On the same stage where Fischer and Spa.s.sky had fought it out for two months, an orchestra now played, but the music was a pleasant potpourri from The Tales of Hoffmann The Tales of Hoffmann and and La Traviata La Traviata. The whole evening radiated an Old World ambience, as though the event were taking place in 1872, in a huge European beer garden, rather than 1972, in a covered Icelandic arena.

But where was Bobby Fischer? The clucks and whispers spread throughout the hall: "He isn't coming!" "He has to come...even his sister is here!" "He wouldn't do this to Spa.s.sky!" "He still has to collect his check!" "He's already back in Brooklyn!" "He won't come!"

After an hour had pa.s.sed with no sign of the champion and with revelers already deep into their goblets of Viking's Blood, Dr. Euwe lumbered up onto the stage, while the orchestra played the anthem of FIDE: "Gens Una Sumus." "Gens Una Sumus." Then suddenly, wearing a maroon corduroy suit that he'd had custom made in Reykjavik, Bobby appeared. Without waiting for the music to stop, he walked to the head table and sat. Spa.s.sky was two seats away, and eventually Bobby stretched his hand across and they shook. Euwe called Fischer to the stage, draped a large laurel wreath over his shoulders, and proclaimed him Champion of the World. Then he presented him with a gold medal and a certificate. The coronation was over in a blink. Then suddenly, wearing a maroon corduroy suit that he'd had custom made in Reykjavik, Bobby appeared. Without waiting for the music to stop, he walked to the head table and sat. Spa.s.sky was two seats away, and eventually Bobby stretched his hand across and they shook. Euwe called Fischer to the stage, draped a large laurel wreath over his shoulders, and proclaimed him Champion of the World. Then he presented him with a gold medal and a certificate. The coronation was over in a blink.

Examining the medal, Bobby whispered to Euwe, "But my name is not on it." Euwe smiled and replied, "We didn't know if you were going to be the winner!" Without speaking further, Bobby returned to his table. Euwe continued to talk and mentioned that the rules would have to be changed for future World Championships, in large part because of Bobby Fischer, who'd brought so much attention to the game.

As Euwe continued with his remarks, Bobby appeared bored and lonely, perhaps because more than a thousand people were looking up regularly to stare at him. But even those who knew him well seemed afraid to approach. Two burly Icelanders, the size of restaurant refrigerators-both chess players-sat guard near his table, and whenever anyone came near Bobby to get an autograph, or a kiss, or just to offer their felicitations, they were not so gently steered away.

At his seat Bobby studied the stage from the audience's perspective, seeing it as they must have seen it for two months, when they'd watched the combatants in profile. He was lost in a reverie, and one can only guess at his thoughts. Did he mentally replay some of his games with Spa.s.sky? Did he consider lines that he should have pursued-weigh whether he could have performed better? Did he admonish himself for all of the disquiet he'd caused-all of the disputes over money and cameras and lighting?

Some yearning for the comfort of old habits must have seized him, because, finally, he pulled out his leather pocket chess set and started going over the last game of the match. Spa.s.sky had moved to the seat next to him and was listening to Bobby's a.n.a.lysis. The dialogue seemed natural, almost as if they were still playing. "I should have played here here as my sealed move," said Spa.s.sky, moving a little plastic piece and trying to demonstrate how he might have held on to the game. "It wouldn't have made any difference," Bobby responded. He then showed the Russian all of the variations he'd worked out during the adjournment. Soon, grandmasters Efim Geller and Robert Byrne jumped into the fray. There was a blur of hands as the four men made moves on a chess set hardly larger than an index card. At that moment Offenbach's as my sealed move," said Spa.s.sky, moving a little plastic piece and trying to demonstrate how he might have held on to the game. "It wouldn't have made any difference," Bobby responded. He then showed the Russian all of the variations he'd worked out during the adjournment. Soon, grandmasters Efim Geller and Robert Byrne jumped into the fray. There was a blur of hands as the four men made moves on a chess set hardly larger than an index card. At that moment Offenbach's "Les oiseaux dans la charmille" "Les oiseaux dans la charmille" filtered down from the stage. But the chess players seemed not to notice. filtered down from the stage. But the chess players seemed not to notice.

Eventually, Fischer was given his two prize checks, one from the Icelandic Chess Federation and the other from James Slater, the millionaire whose eleventh-hour financial offer had saved the match. Bobby's winnings came to $153,240. He was also given a collector's item, a huge leather-bound, slipcased book on the history of Iceland. Guthmundur Thorarinsson privately complained-but not to Bobby-that the Icelandic Chess Federation had lost $50,000 on the match, because there was no money from television or film rights.

When Bobby had had enough of the party, he slipped out the back door with his friend, the Argentinean player Miguel Quinteros, and went off into the night to frolic with Icelandic girls whom they hoped to pick up. So anxious was he to leave the party, he forgot to take his commemorative Icelandic book, and it was never found.

Just before Spa.s.sky left Reykjavik, Bobby had delivered to the Russian at his hotel an amiable letter and a gift-wrapped camera as a token of friendship. Spa.s.sky seemed to have no animosity for the man who'd defeated him, although he knew he was going to face difficult times when he returned home to Moscow. His last comment about Bobby was "Fischer is a man of art, but he is a rare human being in the everyday life of this century. I like Fischer and I think I understand him."

Mayor Lindsay's limousine was waiting for Bobby when he touched down in New York. Bobby's retinue included his bodyguard Saemi Palsson and Palsson's wife, as well as Quinteros. "It's great to be back in America" was Fischer's only comment to the waiting reporters. The mayor had offered Bobby a ticker-tape parade down the "Canyon of Heroes" on Broadway in lower Manhattan, a rare honor given in the past to such luminaries as Charles Lindbergh, Franklin D. Roosevelt, and the Apollo astronauts, but Bobby wasn't much excited by the idea. Friends and advisors reminded him that if he accepted, he'd be the only chess player ever to have a ticker-tape parade, and probably there'd never be another chess player receiving the distinction. He was unmoved: "No, I don't want it," he decided. He would, however, agree to a "small" ceremony on the steps of City Hall.

He received hundreds of congratulatory letters and telegrams, but the one that he was most proud of was as follows: Dear Bobby,

Your convincing victory at Reykjavik is eloquent witness to your complete mastery of the world's most difficult and challenging game. The Championship you have won is a great personal triumph for you and I am pleased to join countless of your fellow-citizens in extending my heartiest congratulations and best wishes.Sincerely yours, Richard Nixon The "small" ceremony turned out to be "Bobby Fischer Day" in New York City. More than one thousand well-wishers gathered at the steps of City Hall as Mayor Lindsay awarded Bobby with a gold medal (and not the key to the city as has been incorrectly reported) and proclaimed him "the grandest master of them all." Many of Bobby's friends were there, such as Jack and Ethel Collins, Edmar Mednis, Paul Marshall (Bobby's lawyer) and his wife Betty, and Sam Sloan. This time Bobby gave a speech: "I want to deny a vicious rumor that's been going around. I think it was started by Moscow. It is not true that Henry Kissinger phoned me during the night to tell me the moves." The audience roared. "I never thought I'd see the day when chess would be all over the front pages here, but confined only to one paragraph in Pravda. Pravda." That day, Bobby was not the old curmudgeonly Bobby: He was gracious, humorous, and willing to sign countless autographs. The New York Times The New York Times in a mammoth editorial summed up what he'd managed to achieve: in a mammoth editorial summed up what he'd managed to achieve: Fischer has done more, however, than simply win the world t.i.tle he has so long, even obsessively, considered his right. He has transformed the image and status of chess in the minds of millions, suddenly multiplying manifold both the audience for chess as a sport and the number of people actually playing the game.... From a wider perspective, the Fischer-Spa.s.sky match has a unique political importance.... The result was an atmosphere that, for all its tenseness, contributed to improving the broader ambience of Soviet-American relations.

Fischer, the Cold War hero, traveled to New Jersey and became the temporary houseguest of his lawyer Paul Marshall. So besieged was Bobby by the media that for a while Marshall had to have a bodyguard stationed in front of his palatial home to keep the press hordes at bay.

11.

The Wilderness Years

BOBBY F FISCHER'S LONG, almost monastic pursuit of the World Championship, although not totally chaste, gave him little time to connect with women. "I want to meet girls," Bobby said when he moved back to Los Angeles in 1973. "Vivacious girls with big b.r.e.a.s.t.s." He was twenty-nine years old, and though there'd been a few brief liaisons, at no time had he experienced a meaningful romantic relationship. Now, with his earnings from Reykjavik and a new place to live-an apartment provided for him at a modest rental fee of $200 per month by the Worldwide Church of G.o.d-he felt that he was starting a new life. He wanted to read more-not just chess journals-acquire more money, continue his religious studies, and possibly meet someone with whom he could fall in love. What it all added up to was an intense need to recharge his emotional and spiritual life.

Not all was altruism and ebullience, however; certain realities still cast a pall. His alienation from the press caused ongoing problems. He'd suffered a series of fractured relationships with chess organizers in the United States (he was no longer speaking to Edmondson, the executive director of the U.S. Chess Federation) and looming in the near future were the Soviets, with what he foresaw would be a resumption of their underhanded ways of competing.

After Bobby's period of post-Reykjavik idleness had stretched to about a year, he decided that his first priority should be acc.u.mulating more money, always on his terms. So, working with Stanley Rader, the chief counsel for the Worldwide Church, he called a press conference in August of 1973 to publicly discuss his plans.

Rader was a lawyer and Armstrong's closest advisor. As chief counsel, he was becoming rich through his work with the Church, and Bobby was impressed with Rader's trappings: his Ferrari, his chauffeur-driven limousine, his palatial mansion in Beverly Hills, and his use of a private jet. Rader was in charge of the $70-million-a-year windfall that the Church was bringing in, mostly from t.i.thing its members. Bobby himself had given the Church more than $60,000 from his Icelandic winnings, and ultimately his t.i.the would be close to $100,000.

For the press conference, dozens of journalists and photographers a.s.sembled in Rader's soaring living room. Aside from two television appearances right after Reykjavik, it had been almost twelve months since Bobby had made any statements or, for that matter, been seen in public. The words "secluded" and "recluse" had begun straying into newspaper stories about him. Hardly days after his win in Iceland, an article in The New York Times The New York Times headlined headlined NEW CHAMPION STILL MYSTERY MAN NEW CHAMPION STILL MYSTERY MAN speculated as to whether he'd ever play again. The a.s.sociated Press took the same tack, publishing a story ent.i.tled speculated as to whether he'd ever play again. The a.s.sociated Press took the same tack, publishing a story ent.i.tled BOBBY FISCHER TURNS DOWN FAME, FORTUNE; GOES INTO SECLUSION BOBBY FISCHER TURNS DOWN FAME, FORTUNE; GOES INTO SECLUSION. It was an odd slant, since at that point Bobby had no intention of isolating himself or turning down money; he was just tending to personal matters that he'd neglected for years. Also, up to that time chess champions would traditionally defend their t.i.tle only every three years. Although the public wanted to see Bobby back at the board, his absence from chess for less than a year was not an aberration.

Rader did most of the talking at the press conference, and he was good at it, having graduated first in his cla.s.s at the University of California Law School. Bobby, dressed conservatively, stood somewhat nervously at his side. Throughout the event, photographers took photos, and Bobby looked annoyed every time a flashbulb popped. Rader said, in a voice that was both sonorous and emphatic, that Fischer would like to announce that he will soon be back at the 64 squares and 32 pieces again...quite soon. "We are making arrangements for a series of simultaneous exhibitions and matches for early next year. We are also considering an exhibition match where Bobby would play the entire Dutch Olympic team simultaneously. simultaneously." A reporter shot out a question: "What about a re-match for the championship?" Rader and Bobby exchanged a flicker of a glance, and the lawyer responded: "That is a possibility." The reporter came back with an immediate follow-up: "Would that match be under the authority of the World Chess Federation?" Rader didn't hesitate: "That would not be likely but it is under discussion." Rader also mentioned that a tour of both Russia and South America was being talked about.

The reporters wanted a go at Fischer: "What have you been doing for the last year?" was one of the first questions. Bobby drawled out his response: "Well, uh, I've been reading, working out, playing over some games, that sort of thing." A few other general questions were tossed out, and Bobby answered them succinctly and with aplomb, until someone asked whether he was living in an apartment subsidized by the Church. "That's personal," he said. "I don't want to answer any more personal questions." A reporter asked him about a supposed offer of $1 million for a match against Spa.s.sky in Las Vegas. Rader jumped in with the answer: "To begin with, the Las Vegas offer was not a firm $1 million offer. They said the offer was for a million but it would have turned out less, and Bobby didn't want to agree with anything less than a firm $1 million."

Rader pointed out that aside from any non-sanctioned matches, the official match for the World Championship would be in 1975, and it would consist of Bobby against whoever qualified through the Candidates system. "When he defends his t.i.tle in 1975," Rader added, "he'll be much better able to capitalize financially."

And then the conference was over. "That's all gentlemen. Thank you," said Rader, and he and Bobby scurried away. The reporters looked at one another, incredulous at the abrupt termination. As a result of the non-event event, the resulting press coverage was practically nil.

Rader had reason to be helpful to Bobby. If Bobby could make millions, and if he continued t.i.thing large amounts to the Church, he could emerge as one of the Church's biggest benefactors. Also, the more publicity Bobby received, the more publicity the Church would receive. Before anything was completed, however, complications set in.

Attractive financial offers kept tumbling Bobby's way-almost pouring over him-but nothing was to his satisfaction: Warner Bros. offered him a million dollars to make a series of phonograph records on how to play chess, but Bobby wanted to voice the series himself. Scripts written by Larry Evans were translated into several languages and rendered phonetically to make it easier for Bobby to read. Unfortunately, when he voiced one of the scripts for a pilot recording, he didn't like the sound of his own voice, and he wouldn't approve a professional announcer as a subst.i.tute. Ultimately, he rejected the whole project.

An entrepreneur, hearing of the $1 million offer from the Hilton Corporation in Las Vegas for a Fischer-Spa.s.sky match, offered to raise the amount of the prize fund to $1.5 million if the two men played in his home state of Texas. Nothing came of it.

A publishing company offered Bobby a "small fortune," according to press reports, to write a book on his t.i.tle match. He refused.

A television producer wanted him to make a series of chess films that could be marketed throughout the world. No agreement could be reached.

Bobby was offered $75,000 plus residual royalties plus a new car simply to say in a commercial that he drove only that car, which would have been true since it would have been the only car he owned. He declined.

The most fabulous offer came to Fischer in 1974, right after the Muhammad AliGeorge Foreman fight (known as "The Rumble in the Jungle") in Zaire. The Zaire government offered Bobby $5 million to play Anatoly Karpov in their country in what would have been a month-long championship chess match. "Too short," said Bobby. "How dare they offer me five million dollars for a month-long match? Ali received twice that much for one night!" (He didn't.) It was after that match that Ali began calling himself "The Greatest," and Bobby took issue with that, too. "Ali stole that from me," said Bobby. "I used 'The Greatest' for myself on television before he ever used it."

Bobby did did accept one offer, but not for millions-rather, for $20,000. He was invited to be the guest of honor at the First Philippine International Chess Tournament in 1973, and in addition to the honorarium mentioned above, all of his expenses were paid. He stayed at the Tropical Palace resort on the outskirts of Manila for a month. At the tournament he made the ceremonial first move and played a mock game with President Marcos-one that ended in a mock draw after eight moves. accept one offer, but not for millions-rather, for $20,000. He was invited to be the guest of honor at the First Philippine International Chess Tournament in 1973, and in addition to the honorarium mentioned above, all of his expenses were paid. He stayed at the Tropical Palace resort on the outskirts of Manila for a month. At the tournament he made the ceremonial first move and played a mock game with President Marcos-one that ended in a mock draw after eight moves.

Journalists asked Fischer why he'd accepted the offer to come to the Philippines on his first "official" visit when he'd turned down similar offers from other countries. "I was there in 1967," he said. "I was not yet World Champion but they treated me like a world champion." According to Casto Abundo, a chess player who described himself as Bobby's "Young Man Friday" during his 1973 stay, Bobby studied chess every night, already preparing himself to face whoever emerged as the winner of the Candidates match. After finishing his studying, he often took long walks at three in the morning and didn't fall asleep till four. Film footage from the visit shows Bobby at the apex of his life. Wearing the traditional crisp white barong barong shirt and often sporting a lei of flowers, he looked fit and handsome and was always smiling. The Filipinos loved him; Marcos entertained him at the palace and on his yacht; Marcos's wife, Imelda, dined with him at lunch; young ladies gathered around him constantly, as if he were a movie star. On a Bangkok stopover en route to Manila, he'd bought a number of Thai music ca.s.settes, which he played over and over again at night while he was going over games. By the time he sailed back to the United States, his fondness for the Filipino people had intensified. shirt and often sporting a lei of flowers, he looked fit and handsome and was always smiling. The Filipinos loved him; Marcos entertained him at the palace and on his yacht; Marcos's wife, Imelda, dined with him at lunch; young ladies gathered around him constantly, as if he were a movie star. On a Bangkok stopover en route to Manila, he'd bought a number of Thai music ca.s.settes, which he played over and over again at night while he was going over games. By the time he sailed back to the United States, his fondness for the Filipino people had intensified.

Paul Marshall, Bobby's lawyer during the Fischer-Spa.s.sky match negotiations, has said that by the time Bobby came back from Iceland he'd received offers that could have totaled up to $10 million-but he turned down all of them. Bobby's interest in making money was undeniable, so theories abounded as to why he acted contrary to his own financial interests. One friend chalked it up to Bobby's winner-take-all mentality, saying, "If someone offers him a million dollars, he thinks there is a lot more available, and he wants it all." Grandmaster Larry Evans preferred a more neutral explanation: "I think he feels that lending his name to something is beneath his dignity." International master George Koltanowski conjectured that Bobby just didn't trust people and didn't want to be cheated: "There's a word for it in German: Verfolgungswahnsinn, Verfolgungswahnsinn," he said. "It means 'persecution mania.'" But perhaps the best explanation of why Bobby cast aside all financial offers came from Bobby himself: "People are trying to exploit me. n.o.body is going to make a nickel off of me!" Nor, as it developed, would he make a dime off of them-in the short term, at least.

As all of these financial shenanigans were happening-offers, discussions, negotiations, acceptances, and then rejections-Bobby was going his own way but under the influence and guidance of the Church. Church officials set him up with young, amply endowed women-all Church members-but since no physical intimacy was permitted, Bobby soon grew disillusioned. After dates with eight different "candidates," each of whom adhered to the same s.e.xless script, he abandoned Church relationships as the avenue to an amorous life.

His connection to the Church was always somewhat ambiguous. He was not a registered member, since he hadn't agreed to be baptized by full immersion in water by Armstrong or one of his ministers. And since he wasn't considered a duly recognized convert, he was sometimes referred to as a "coworker" or, less politely, as a "fringer"-someone on the fringes or edges of the Church but not totally committed to its mission. The Church imposed a number of rules that Bobby thought were ridiculous and refused to adhere to, such as a ban on listening to hard rock or soul music (even though he preferred rhythm and blues) and prohibitions against seeing movies not rated G or PG, dating or fraternizing with nonChurch members, and having premarital s.e.x.

Ironically, despite Bobby's unwillingness to follow principles espoused by the Church, his life still revolved around it. He sat in on a demanding Bible course, even though it was open only to members (the Church made an exception for him); he discussed personal and financial matters with both Rader and Armstrong; and he prayed at least an hour a day, in addition to spending time on a careful study of Church teachings. On a visit back to New York, while driving around Manhattan with his friend Bernard Zuckerman, Bobby made a reference to Satan. Zuckerman, ever sarcastic, said, "Satan? Why don't you introduce me?" Bobby was appalled. "What? Don't you believe in Satan?"

As he continued to t.i.the more and more money to the Church, he enjoyed perks only available to high-ranking members, such as occasional use of a private jet and a chauffeur-driven limousine; invitations to exclusive events such as parties, concerts, and dinners; and a continuous parade of bright and pretty women whom he couldn't touch. He was also given access to the Church's personal trainer, Harry Sneider, a former weight-lifting champion who took a special interest in Bobby. Sneider trained Bobby in swimming, weight lifting, tennis, and soccer, and they became friends.

With the same diligence he'd brought to the task of soaking up chess knowledge, Bobby around this time started a relentless search for general knowledge. The library at the Worldwide Church's Amba.s.sador College, to which he had access, was highly limited. It contained books on religion and theology, but he wanted other points of view and to explore other topics, and he never set foot back in the library after he heard it was sprayed with insecticide for termites.

Botvinnik may have been right when he suggested that Bobby suffered from a lack of culture and a thinness of education. But he was determined to catch up. He started by going to bookstores in Pasadena, and when he'd depleted their shelves, he took the bus into downtown Los Angeles and scoured the shelves of every bookstore he could find. He became a voracious reader.

There have been many theories offered over the years as to why Fischer eventually turned against Jews, including speculation that Bobby's rhetoric was triggered by distaste he felt as a child for his mother's Jewish friends; that he was antagonistic toward officials of the American Chess Foundation, most of whom were Jewish; that he was ultimately disillusioned with Stanley Rader, who was Jewish but had converted to the Worldwide Church of G.o.d; that he was somehow influenced by Forry Laucks's n.a.z.ism; and that he was propelled by ideas he'd read in some of the literature that fell into his hands during the time he lived in California. Perhaps all of those factors contributed.

David Mamet, the Pulitzer Prizewinning writer, described the prototypical self-hating Jew in his book The Wicked Son The Wicked Son, and his description, although arguable, could conceivably be applied to Bobby: "The Jew-hater begins with a proposition that glorifies and comforts him, that there exists a force of evil that he has, to his credit, discovered and bravely proclaimed. In opposing it he is self-glorified. One triumphs over evil, thus becoming a G.o.d, at no cost other than recognition of his own divinity. Ignorant of the practices of his own tribe, he (the apostate) gravitates toward those he considers Other Other...thinking, as does the adolescent, that they possess some special merit. But these new groups are attractive to the apostate merely because they are foreign."

In at least one significant case, Bobby woke up to the fact that the Other Other was less appealing than he'd first thought. More and more he was becoming alienated from the Worldwide Church of G.o.d. Herbert W. Armstrong had made prophecies that there would be a worldwide catastrophe and that the Messiah would return in 1972. As 1973 wound down, Bobby didn't need much convincing to have an epiphany about the evils of the Church. In an interview that he gave to the was less appealing than he'd first thought. More and more he was becoming alienated from the Worldwide Church of G.o.d. Herbert W. Armstrong had made prophecies that there would be a worldwide catastrophe and that the Messiah would return in 1972. As 1973 wound down, Bobby didn't need much convincing to have an epiphany about the evils of the Church. In an interview that he gave to the Amba.s.sador Report Amba.s.sador Report (an irreverent and controversial publication that criticized the Church) he said: "The real proof for me were those [false] prophecies...that show to me that he [Armstrong] is an outright huckster.... I thought, 'This doesn't seem right. I gave all my money. Everybody has been telling me this [that 1972 would be the date that the Worldwide Church of G.o.d would flee to a place of safety] for years. And now he's half-denying he ever said it, when I remember him saying it a hundred times.'...If you talk about fulfillment of prophecy, he [Armstrong] is a fulfillment of Elmer Gantry. If Elmer Gantry was the Elijah, Armstrong's the 'Christ' of religious hucksters. There is no way he could truly be G.o.d's prophet. Either G.o.d is a m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t and likes to be made a fool of, or else Herbert Armstrong is a false prophet." (an irreverent and controversial publication that criticized the Church) he said: "The real proof for me were those [false] prophecies...that show to me that he [Armstrong] is an outright huckster.... I thought, 'This doesn't seem right. I gave all my money. Everybody has been telling me this [that 1972 would be the date that the Worldwide Church of G.o.d would flee to a place of safety] for years. And now he's half-denying he ever said it, when I remember him saying it a hundred times.'...If you talk about fulfillment of prophecy, he [Armstrong] is a fulfillment of Elmer Gantry. If Elmer Gantry was the Elijah, Armstrong's the 'Christ' of religious hucksters. There is no way he could truly be G.o.d's prophet. Either G.o.d is a m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t and likes to be made a fool of, or else Herbert Armstrong is a false prophet."

Before he knew it, Bobby's winnings from Reykjavik were beginning to diminish, and yet he saw that Rader and Armstrong were flying all over the world, entertaining lavishly, and proffering gifts to world leaders. "The whole thing is so sick," said Bobby.

Wandering into a used bookstore in downtown Los Angeles, Bobby stumbled on a dusty old book called The Protocols of the Elders of Zion The Protocols of the Elders of Zion. Though he was introduced to the book by happenstance, he was ready for it. A work of fiction, it purported to be the actual master plan by Jewish leaders to take over the world. First published in 1905, the book, at the time Bobby found it, was still believed by some to be an authentic work of nonfiction. Even today those who are predisposed to believe it swear by its accuracy, and over the years its publication has done its share to stoke worldwide anti-Semitism. To fire up hatred toward Jews, the book uses reverse psychology in presenting a d.a.m.ning case against gentiles: "It is the bottomless rascality of the goyim goyim people, who crawl on their bellies to force, but are merciless toward weakness, unsparing to faults, and indulgent to crimes, unwilling to bear the contradictions of a free social system but patient unto martyrdom under the violence of a bold despotism." people, who crawl on their bellies to force, but are merciless toward weakness, unsparing to faults, and indulgent to crimes, unwilling to bear the contradictions of a free social system but patient unto martyrdom under the violence of a bold despotism."

As Bobby read The Protocols The Protocols, he thought he saw authenticity in the book's pages, and their implicit message resonated with him. Soon he began sending copies of the book to friends. To one he wrote: "I carefully studied the Protocols Protocols. I think anyone who casually dismisses them as a forgery, hoax, etc., is either kidding themselves, is ignorant of them or else may well be a hypocrite!" At the time, one of the most militant anti-Semites and anti-blacks in the United States, Ben Kla.s.sen, had just written his first book, Nature's Eternal Religion Nature's Eternal Religion, and Bobby, who wasn't particularly anti-black, nevertheless connected with Kla.s.sen's theories concerning Jews. "The book shows," Bobby wrote, "that Christianity itself is just a Jewish hoax and one more Jewish tool for their conquest of the world." As Regina had proselytized all her life for various causes-always liberal and humanistic ones-so, too, Bobby had become a proselytizer. The p.a.w.n did not stray too far from the queen.

At one point Bobby had both Protocols Protocols and and Nature's Eternal Religion Nature's Eternal Religion mailed to Jack and Ethel Collins, without asking whether they wanted to read them. He gave their address directly to the bookseller and then wrote them a letter of apology for disclosing their address. mailed to Jack and Ethel Collins, without asking whether they wanted to read them. He gave their address directly to the bookseller and then wrote them a letter of apology for disclosing their address.

Bobby's evolving credo was not only anti-Semitic, but as he fell away from the Worldwide Church of G.o.d, completely anti-Christian. He discredited both the Old and New Testaments of the Bible, the very book that had been so much a part of his belief system. The idea of G.o.d in the form of a man appearing on Earth and then doing a "disappearing act," as Bobby put it, for two thousand years was both "incredible and illogical."

Despite holding what had become strongly antireligious views, Bobby liked to quote from a song written by Les Crane, a radio and television talkshow host. Based on the poem Desiderata Desiderata, the lyrics conveyed that everyone in the universe has a right to be here. Apparently, Bobby didn't see the discrepancy between the gentle acceptance espoused by the song and poem, and his growing philosophy of exclusivity, which rejected all people who didn't believe as he did.

The Collinses didn't know what to say to Bobby about his newfound convictions, which on their face seemed contradictory: If everyone has the right to be here, why was Bobby inveighing against Jews? Following the gift of the Kla.s.sen book, Fischer sent the Collinses another hate-filled screed, Secret World Government Secret World Government, by Major General Count Cherep-Spiridovich. The count starts off his book by saying that the Jews are Satanists, and it offers the theory that there's a Jewish conspiracy to take over the world. Bobby followed up with another letter: "Did you like the books I sent you?" Jack Collins never answered, and indeed, it's possible that neither he nor Ethel ever read the books.

But Bobby was nothing but complex. Although much of his reading was confined to hate literature, he also embraced other works, such as Dag Hammarskjold's piquant book of aphorisms and poetry, Markings; Markings; and Eric Hoffer's and Eric Hoffer's The True Believer The True Believer, which in many ways repudiates Armstrongism and about which Bobby said: "The greatest danger to an authoritarian organization like the Worldwide Church of G.o.d is when the authority is relaxed a bit-they ease up on the people a bit. Then the true believers begin to lose their fear. Most people are sheep, and they need the support of others."

Nevertheless, despite acknowledging the validity of certain liberal ideas, Bobby seemed to be hardening toward the world and losing sensitivity to people in need. He was also reading Friedrich Nietzsche at this time and was influenced by such books as The Anti-Christ The Anti-Christ and and Thus Spoke Zarathustra Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Although the German philosopher possessed great animus toward Christianity (he referred to Jesus as an idiot), he was definitely not anti-Semitic, possibly creating a conflict in Bobby's beliefs.

Through telephone conversations and correspondence, Regina began to sense Bobby's drift toward racial and religious prejudice, and she was driven to write him when he refused to offer financial help to his t.i.tular father, Gerhardt Fischer, and Gerhardt's wife and children who had been briefly imprisoned in South America for their political protests and had just been released. They fled to France. Regina's words were a not-so-subtle attempt to educate her son: I was really shocked when you refused to discuss the matter or do anything...to let somebody go under without the slightest interest in the matter. That is bad for the person who does it, too. It takes longer but that person is destroyed gradually, by his or her own conscience. The greater the person's mind and talent, the greater the destruction. A stupid, coa.r.s.e person may not suffer; he does not believe his behavior was not worthy of himself. If you are thinking I am making this up, read Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter The Scarlet Letter.... Don't let millions of people down who regard you as a genius and an example to themselves. It's no joke to be in your position. But even if you were an unknown, just being a decent person is a job these days. It's easier to shut your eyes. But that's what people did in n.a.z.i Germany while people were being tortured and murdered, children ga.s.sed to death like vermin. It was more convenient not to want to hear about it or talk about it because then their conscience would have made them do something about it.So if you are now going to be mad at me, don't be. Remember, whatever you do or whatever happens I am still your mother and there is nothing I would refuse you if you wanted or needed it, and nothing would change it.Love, Mother Rumors began to spread that Bobby and his mother were estranged. Though Fischer was was alienating some people, such as Jack and Ethel Collins, who'd been virtual grandparents to him, he did remain close to his mother, as their ongoing correspondence at the time indicates. As the saying goes, they could agree to disagree. alienating some people, such as Jack and Ethel Collins, who'd been virtual grandparents to him, he did remain close to his mother, as their ongoing correspondence at the time indicates. As the saying goes, they could agree to disagree.

Bobby's life during this period was not all theological, political, or philosophical, however. There were also legal battles to wage.

The old adage "Talk is cheap until you hire a lawyer" didn't apply to Bobby since he had two high-profile lawyers working for him pro bono. Still clinging to the material support of the Church, despite his grumbling about it, Bobby was using Stanley Rader as his "on-site" attorney in California for present and future deals and Paul Marshall in New York for any business left over that concerned the Icelandic match. Three issues emerged, all in 1973, concerning publications and film rights. One was a sixty-four-page booklet, 1972 World Chess Championship, Boris Spa.s.sky vs. Bobby Fischer: Icelandic Chess Federation Official Commemorative Program 1972 World Chess Championship, Boris Spa.s.sky vs. Bobby Fischer: Icelandic Chess Federation Official Commemorative Program, which presented the games with notes written by Gligoric. It also gave a history of the match-before, during, and after-and was not particularly flattering to Bobby. Both Rader and Marshall considered a lawsuit since Bobby hadn't given permission for the booklet, since his name on the cover falsely implied that he'd had a role in its creation; and since neither he nor Spa.s.sky were to receive any remuneration for its publication. Marshall wrote a cease and desist letter to the prime minister of Iceland and to the president of the Icelandic Chess Federation, but it's not known how many copies of the booklets were sold from bookstores in the United States before it was withdrawn from sale.

It was then announced that a book ent.i.tled Bobby Fischer vs. the Rest of the World Bobby Fischer vs. the Rest of the World was to be published in 1974, written by Brad Darrach, the was to be published in 1974, written by Brad Darrach, the Life Life magazine writer who'd covered the match and was given exclusive access to Bobby. Marshall investigated a possible injunction to stop publication of the work since according to Bobby, Darrach had allegedly violated his contract: Supposedly, he'd agreed to write only magazine writer who'd covered the match and was given exclusive access to Bobby. Marshall investigated a possible injunction to stop publication of the work since according to Bobby, Darrach had allegedly violated his contract: Supposedly, he'd agreed to write only articles articles about Bobby, not a book. Gaining such an injunction through what is called "prior restraint" was almost impossible in the courts, however, and Marshall advised Bobby to wait until the book was published. Then, if there were any other violations by Darrach, such as libel or invasion of privacy, a stronger suit could be brought. Marshall, after all, was well aware of Darrach's reputation for revealing the most intimate details of the lives of his subjects. Bobby ultimately did go to court but lost, the judge throwing the case out because it was so poorly presented and without sufficient evidence. about Bobby, not a book. Gaining such an injunction through what is called "prior restraint" was almost impossible in the courts, however, and Marshall advised Bobby to wait until the book was published. Then, if there were any other violations by Darrach, such as libel or invasion of privacy, a stronger suit could be brought. Marshall, after all, was well aware of Darrach's reputation for revealing the most intimate details of the lives of his subjects. Bobby ultimately did go to court but lost, the judge throwing the case out because it was so poorly presented and without sufficient evidence.

The third legal problem was that Bobby was being sued by Chester Fox because he'd interfered with the filming of the Icelandic match. Although Bobby had received numerous requests to give a deposition, he continued to refuse, so the case was dragging on.

While he was waiting to see how these entanglements would work out, Bobby began to prepare for his defense of the World Championship, almost a year away.

Anatoly Karpov, a pale, short, slight twenty-three-year-old economics student from Leningrad University, who always looked as though he could use a haircut, seemed an unlikely contender for the t.i.tle against Bobby Fischer, the thirty-two-year-old ex-wunderkind from Brooklyn, the World Champion with the physique of an athlete and the confidence of a king. But Karpov had qualified to play Bobby by winning his three Candidates matches, during which he'd played forty-six grueling games and only lost three. Contrasted with Bobby at the same age, he was further along in his chess ability by several years, and many chess players-not only Soviets-were saying that he could be even greater than Bobby as he matured. Bobby's former nemesis Botvinnik had become Karpov's teacher.

Hoping the match would be another Reykjavik-in explosive media attention if not financial outcome-cities around the world submitted bids to host the compet.i.tion. Topping them all was Manila, which came up with a staggering $5 million offer-a sum that, were the match to happen, would make it one of the most lucrative sporting events (if, indeed, chess is a sport) ever. There was only one problem: Bobby Fischer.

He pet.i.tioned FIDE for a rules change that would sc.r.a.p the old Reykjavikstyle method of determining the winner of a twenty-four-game match. The old method dictated that in the event all the games were played and there was a tie, the reigning champion would retain the t.i.tle. Bobby proposed a new approach whereby a match would consist of an unlimited unlimited number of games, and the first player who scored ten wins would be named the winner. Draws wouldn't count, and in case of a 99 tie, the reigning champion would retain his t.i.tle. number of games, and the first player who scored ten wins would be named the winner. Draws wouldn't count, and in case of a 99 tie, the reigning champion would retain his t.i.tle.