Tim-Jake Gluckman

The Chess Battles of Hastings

Stories and Games of the Oldest Chess Tournament in the World

Jürgen Brustkern and Norbert Wallet

 

375 pages | 129 photographs | 81 games | Bibliography | Notes

e-book | £19.78

Alkmaar: New In Chess, 2022

 

‘The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.’

L.P. Hartley, The Go-Between

The book’s breezy title sets the tone for this history of the world’s oldest existing chess tournament. Featuring 47 biographical profiles, 129 photos, and 81 annotated games, all playable on interactive diagrams, it’s less a formal history than an engaging romp through the drama and characters that have entertained the chess world at Hastings for over a hundred years.

I shall highlight the strengths and weaknesses of the book while supplementing the discussion with noteworthy stories, individuals and sources that were not covered by the authors.

Using information from the text, I recount Hastings’ history from its nineteenth-century beginnings to the pivotal year of 1954, and sometimes a little beyond. I explain how events at Bletchley Park in 1941 contributed to Hastings receiving significant funding, likely thanks to the intervention of Prime Minister Sir Winston Churchill, just 13 years later. For details about what happened next, read this book!

I outline the e-book’s strengths and weaknesses, followed by appendices on related topics such as Aleister Crowley’s chess interests in Hastings. The final appendix is a personal note on how Hastings influenced me in the 1960s and led to my lifelong connection with chess.

The authors

The publisher New in Chess (NIC) describes FM Jürgen Brustkern (JB) and Norbert Wallet (NW) as friends, close neighbours in Berlin, and chess colleagues; I will refer to them as ‘JBNW’. Brustkern’s 50 visits to Hastings show committed support, which allows him to offer justified criticism of staff, even considering their low or unpaid work.

JB, the attendee of every Hastings Chess tournament since 1977, and co-author Norbert Wallet have thoroughly researched their subject. Their efforts bring together diverse sources, including many non-British magazines, making the book engaging and informative. The bibliography lists 76 books and 15 magazines, with 12 in languages other than English such as Schach-Echo, Magyar Sakvilag, and Tidskriftn for Schack, enhancing the book’s appeal.

 

European flair

Although Brustkern is notably Anglophile, this remains a distinctly German book, offering an impartial perspective absent of English chauvinism. British chess journalism often centres on local players and events, but JBNW’s Central European viewpoint adds valuable Continental flair to the work.

They highlight objective German sources, many of which were previously unfamiliar to British readers, and note German involvement at Hastings since 1945. Occasionally, they reference post-event reports by Dr Cherubim, an astrophysicist, as well as Brustkern, both Anglophiles. JBNW remarks that James Howell ‘speaks German well’, hinting at a general lack of interest in or knowledge about German culture at Hastings. This cultural gap is reflected in popular English media, notably the ‘Don’t mention the War!’ episode from BBC’s Fawlty Towers (1975).

 

Unorthodox structure

JBNW are refreshingly straightforward, and while there are occasional instances of superficiality or gaps in credibility (see ‘Weaknesses’ below), the book generally provides sufficient depth to inform readers’ – including those with a keen interest in chess and history’ – on numerous topics previously unfamiliar to them. Notably, it accomplishes this without diverging into unnecessary details.

JBNW have structured the book into three sections:

The opening six chapters offer a straightforward summary of Hastings’ gradual development from the nineteenth century to the post-Second World War period. The book intersperses seven ‘Highlights’ featuring major tournaments, beginning with 1895 and including others such as 1922, 1934/35, 1953/54, 1954/55, 1972/73, and ends with detailed coverage up to 1987/88.

Chapter 7, ‘Heroes of Hastings’ (HoH), is the longest, containing 47 biographies – primarily frequent Premier section participants (only 15 British, with a notable international presence). Twelve figures rose before 1939 (including Atkins, Ms Menchik and Sultan Khan), while 35 became prominent after 1945 (e.g. Gligorić, Andersson, Portisch). Soviet players like Bronstein, Keres, and Tal are among the few included.

There are 129 photos, some offering deeper insight, such as one of Dr Tartakower (1945–46) with the coy caption ‘Crossword or betting slip?’, alluding to his gambling habit barely mentioned in Chapter 7’s pen-portrait. Most readers will likely miss this detail.

The book also includes a list of top placements in every Premier event since 1895.

There are 81 games, counted manually due to the lack of indexes, each annotated with insights from JBNW and often from the winners – mostly GMs, though some, like Dr Cherubim, are less distinguished. Brustkern effectively curates a list of co-analysts, including world champions such as Euwe, Vera Menchik, Kasparov, and frequent contest winners like Gligorić, Tartakower and Szabo.

Some games span multiple pages with numerous diagrams, and NIC technology allows every move – including sub-lines – to be displayed on screen for easy reading. Unlike annotations by the late German GM Robert Hübner, there aren’t excessive sub-variations or lengthy explanations.

The list above is satisfying; so what feature is missing from this history book? The complete absence of any indexing, proof-reading and fact-checking (see ‘Weaknesses’ below). Plus the failure to use excellent online sources, especially BritBase and the British Newspaper Archive.

 

A SUMMARY OF HASTINGS’ HISTORY UP TO 1954

 

The story is fascinating and full of surprises. The authors begin in the mid-nineteenth century, when chess rules were still rudimentary and could severely test players’ patience: without chess clocks, games might last ten or eleven hours, and drawn games had to be replayed instead of accepted as draws. At that time, London was the main centre for tournaments, while the German-speaking world emerged as the hub of international chess during the final quarter of the century. Germany itself was only unified in 1871, when 26 separate states were brought together.

In 1895 it was groundbreaking for Hastings – a relatively small town – to host a round-robin tournament featuring notable chess masters. Numerous publications have discussed this event, which was distinguished by the presence of several fin-de-siècle stars. Pillsbury won with an impressive score of 16½ out of 21, ahead of Tchigorin, Lasker, Tarrasch and Steinitz.

Hastings chess was shaped by the master Blackburne and the businessman Herbert Dobell, whose influence lasted more than 40 years, until his death after the 1938 tournament. A second event, held in August 1919 to mark the end of the First World War, took place while the town was packed with holidaymakers. By 1920/21, Dobell, by then active in politics, was leading an experienced team in establishing the annual winter tournament, a tradition that continues today.

 

Chess unusually popular in Hastings

Chess thrived at the seaside resort: in 1921, when future female world champion Vera Menchik (1906–1944) joined, the Hastings & St Leonards Club had 184 members, including 25 women. Menchik was coached by Hungarian GM Maróczy. Chess thrived partly because there were fewer competing entertainments at the time.

The authors overlook that the Hastings & St Leonards Chess Club, founded in 1882, uniquely owns its building, thanks to a 1953 bequest. The chance to play chess daily influenced Aleister Crowley’s move there in 1944. Crowley (1874–1947) remains widely recognised, even influential, with Wikipedia entries in over 60 languages (see Appendix 2).

 

Hastings Council sponsors chess: a breakthrough in Britain’s financing of chess

The chess contest of 1920/21 evolved into an annual festival. This change was largely due to the energetic Dobell, who had become a prominent member of Hastings Council, now merged with wealthier St Leonards. Dobell’s influence likely helped secure financial support for the event, marking a first in the UK. In Germany, however, it had long been common practice for local governments to fund such events. In Alekhine’s popular account of the 1922 tournament, Sir George Thomas wrote a preface highlighting the many opportunities for chess masters to compete on mainland Europe, thanks to regular government support, unlike in Great Britain.[1] Nevertheless, he expressed high praise for the exceptional skills of the Hastings organisers.

Dobell secured substantial funding from Hastings Council, enabling an international chess event in 1922 featuring players like Alekhine, Rubinstein and Bogoljubow. Alekhine won decisively with a +5 score in the six-man double-round tournament held in September; there were enough funds too for the annual Winter event, which continues to this day.

Hastings gained European recognition thanks partly to its proximity to major English ferry ports like Dover and Folkestone.[2] Starting in 1927, the Council allocated £150 annually – a significant sum equivalent to about £7,500 in 2026 – with costs for most goods being much lower at that time.[3]  (For more re JBNW’s silence on the decreasing value of money see ‘Weaknesses’ below.)

During the 1920s, minor events usually attracted around 50 to 60 amateur participants, but by the 1930s this figure had increased to more than a hundred, indicating a gradual rise in popularity. The Second World War halted all events from 1940 to 1945.

 

1935/36: a record-breaking entry

JBNW would have done well to consult the British Newspaper Archive, as Hastings received considerable coverage in local and regional publications of the time. For instance, a 1935 article in The Scotsman reported that entries for 1935/36 had reached 130 – ten more than the previous record.[4]  The article referenced ‘many keen young players’, for whom it anticipated, perhaps optimistically, ‘a future of high distinction’. Unfortunately, such prospects were curtailed by the outbreak of the Second World War.

The popularity of chess at Hastings was evident from the high demand for both Premier and Premier Reserves events; 30 applicants were turned away from two ten-player round-robins. The festival attracted many elite players, adding to its prestige.

Women also participated actively – in 1937/38, 19 women competed, although Vera Menchik, the reigning world champion, was absent due to her husband’s illness.[5] She had previously gained significant experience at Hastings in the 1920s and is featured among the 47 portraits in ‘Heroes of Hastings’.

 

Post-war Hastings: rise to its heyday

After war was declared in 1939, chess competitions were suspended until 1945, when a victory event echoed the 1919 celebration. The tradition continued into the early 1970s, and Hastings reached new prominence between 1971 and 1981, aided by media interest, support from influential figures including Bletchley Park codebreakers, and growing sponsorship.

Contrary to the widely-held perception that chess during the first six decades of the twentieth century was limited to a small number of enthusiasts, it actually enjoyed widespread popularity across various social strata. Prior to the advent of radio, television and the Internet, chess maintained a significant presence in workplaces, including factories. Large-scale matches involving teams of 100 boards were common, exemplified by events such as the 1954 Worcestershire versus Warwickshire county match.[6] In contrast, by 2026, county team organisers frequently face challenges in assembling even twelve players for similar competitions. [League chess continues to be popular. Ed.]

Bruce Hayden noted in 1954 that nearly every large workplace had a chess club, reflecting enduring social habits.[7] For example, Stockport’s strongest player for years was S. Milan, a Croatian bus driver.

The 1953/54 tournament marked the arrival of Soviet players in top-level competition, through arrangements made discreetly by Golombek. JBNW note the secrecy but do not explain that he likely remained anonymous to protect his position as a FIDE Arbiter amid Cold War sensitivities.

 

                         The so-called ‘Bordell Case’

The heading has nothing to do with sleaze and refers to the career of a notable Spanish chess player whose legal surname was Bordell Rosell (1928–2008). Nevertheless, most references – including sources such as the Daily Telegraph, Times, and Daily Mail – identify him as simply Bordell. Edward Winter has investigated this issue with his characteristic diligence.

During the 1952–53 event, Bordell Rosell won the Premier Reserves division with an impressive score of 7½ out of 9, finishing 1½ points ahead of Berliner. As a result, he received an automatic invitation to participate in the 1953/54 Premier.

As noted elsewhere, Golombek achieved a modest diplomatic triumph for the 1953/54 event by securing two leading Soviet grandmasters, Bronstein and Tolush. Then fate intervened.

According to IM Bob Wade, Kotov, a leading chess apparatchik, telephoned him from the USSR to insist that the two Soviet players would not participate if ‘fascists were playing’. No specific allegation was made against Señor Bordell Rosell. Kotov’s crude implication was that all Spaniards were fascists. Bordell Rosell, a Catalan born in 1928, was only ten when the Civil War ended and far too young to have fought in the USSR with the small Spanish fascist unit that served there, most of whose members were killed.

Despite the enormous Soviet losses caused by Nazi Germany’s invasion, Kotov and his superiors did not object to the German IM Teschner being included as a second Premier player; he was later awarded the GM title in 1992. Given that around 27 million Soviets died after Operation Barbarossa, the Nazi invasion of its former ally in June 1941, an objection to Teschner would have been more understandable.

Director Frank Rhoden had to choose between British ‘fair play’ and the political realities of chess. Spain’s national federation consequently broke with the BCF, and leading Spanish newspapers attacked Britain’s reputation for fairness. Rhoden replied that the event depended on a £350 local Council grant, awarded in expectation of major publicity from the first appearance of Soviet stars.

Two years later Bordell Rosell defeated Lev Polugaevsky in 35 moves, and a different Spaniard, Jesus Diez del Corral, played in the Premier. This time there were no objections.

The next section shows how well justified Rhoden and his colleagues’ decision was.

 

                1953/54 event dominated the media for days

The 1953/54 event featured a titanic duel between C.H.O’D. Alexander and Vice-World Champion Bronstein. JBNW cover the tournament in Chapter 7, Section 4, ‘Hastings 1953–54’, and, as usual, select some of its finest games.

Their encounter became the top story in the British media, and huge numbers followed the 120-move struggle, finally won by the Alexander. JBNW write, ‘many newspapers carried columns-long accounts on front pages’; it had become ‘a national matter.’  JBNW would have done well to reproduce at least an excerpt from the original articles which appear in BritBase, John Saunders’ database for UK chess. Saunders publishes the texts of several extended reports from The Times. That JBNW did not quote them suggests a weak point in their research (see ‘Weaknesses’ below).

 

            Hastings and Bletchley Park: did Churchill secure funding?

The game between C.H.O’D. and Bronstein dominated headlines as a symbolic West vs East clash. They tied for first on 6½/9. Alexander’s victory provided a suitable climax, leading to a government policy that subsidised event costs until 1967.

Brustkern does not explain why or how the Conservative Government gave Hastings such firm support. The decision may have reflected Churchill’s characteristically impulsive style. In 1941, he famously ordered urgent help for Bletchley Park, writing: ‘Action this day. Make sure they have all they want on extreme priority.’

The irony in this story needs some explanation. In 1941, Churchill acted after four senior Bletchley Park (BP) staff members – all keen chessers –  including C.H.O’D. and Stuart Milner-Barry (M-B), appealed to him directly. Travelling alone, M-B delivered an urgent letter and succeeded in getting it onto the Prime Minister’s desk. When he arrived at 10 Downing Street, he could not explain his work because of secrecy rules, but he established his credibility by referring to Churchill’s recent visit to BP, which Colville, the Prime Minister’s secretary, confirmed.

While Churchill had been touring Bletchley Park his way was blocked by C.H.O’D., who was sitting on the floor reviewing documents. Twelve years later, the same C.H.O’D. – by then head of cryptanalysis at GCHQ (formerly GC&CS)’ – crossed paths with Churchill again. This twist, which Churchill likely appreciated, would have amused the Nobel Prize-winning historian.

Churchill was deeply interested in intelligence and likely recognized C.H.O’D. as one of the key Bletchley Park figures behind his pivotal ‘Action this day’ directive, knowing or quickly learning that C.H.O’D. later led GCHQ’s cryptanalysis. Government funding provided crucial support for UK chess, especially for the financially unstable Hastings event in post-war, cash-strapped England. Corporate sponsorship was rare until the late 1960s, when companies began viewing it as good PR.

In 1967, the Labour Government ended this financial guarantee, a move seen as shortsighted given the modest amounts involved and then-limited awareness of chess’s wider benefits. Ironically, during the same period, the Arts Council benefited from substantial government spending. It would be good to know if there was some other reason to withdraw from Hastings the comparatively small sums involved.

 

 STIMULATING LIFE-HISTORIES

­

The book’s 47 portraits of chess stars were, for me, its most illuminating section. They show how these players endured hardship and dictatorship, revealing lives and personalities largely unknown to most fans. JBNW offer useful keys to understanding their biographies and motivations, rather like discovering a hidden room in a familiar house.

The book begins with Atkins, a maths teacher and seven-time British Champion, and ends with Dr Rowson. Each character profile includes illustrative games – often those that played a significant role in the winner’s life. For example, Lilienthal’s victory over Capablanca during the 1934/35 event features ‘… among the most beautiful queen sacrifices of all time’ (JBNW), while Basman’s mysterious and much-admired win against Andersson (1973/74) showcased ‘subversive passivity’ (Kottnauer).[8]

That endnote on Basman (1946–2022)  links to an AI translation of the informative Wikipedia entry in Russian re the latter’s enterprising travel when a student in Armenia. According to Mike, ‘During the holidays, I managed to hitchhike or take trains around the cities of the USSR: I attended competitions and chess clubs in Baku, Tbilisi, Tashkent, and Bukhara.’  ‘Basman dressed in hippie style, for which he constantly received criticism from the institute leadership.’

Note Basman’s adventurous spirit. Yerevan is c. 2000 kms (1300 miles) from Tashkent, but hitchhiking was indeed very widespread in the USSR and Poland. When travelling from Gdansk to Torun in 1978, I recall seeing over 50 people trying to thumb a ride – it was absolutely accepted, sometimes in exchange for a small payment.

 

How the Second World War and dictatorships shaped players overseas

Initially, I was puzzled why HoH starts with Atkins, considering his chess career barely intersected with Hastings. I suspect JBNW chose to begin with him because his life seemed remarkably peaceful, in stark contrast to many others featured who were deeply affected by the Second World War and the oppressive regimes that followed.

These vivid personal histories balance the more factual account of Hastings’ development from the landmark 1895 tournament into a regular fixture. Hungarian Laszlo Szabo (1917–1998), for example, returned from an exhibition tour in the Netherlands and won Hastings 1938/39, only to be sent to a labour camp because he was Jewish. He was later dispatched to the brutal Eastern Front to fight the USSR. Apparently, he felt able to speak about this experience only in a 1996 interview, where he said that forced labour damaged his chess but ultimately made him stronger.

Flohr and Lilienthal moved to Moscow, while Mieses settled in England. Vera Menchik was killed in London by a V-1 rocket. Maróczy lost his teaching post during Hungary’s 1919 communist revolt and returned to chess. Keres avoided Nazi-collaboration charges largely because of his chess stature. Bronstein’s father was sent to the gulag, placing the family under Stalinist suspicion through ‘guilt by association’. Gligorić served with the Partisans during the Second World War, and Khasin lost both legs at Stalingrad.

 

JBNW make some justified criticisms

JBNW’s criticism of poor Hastings management since the 1980s is perceptive and fair, showing how earlier events still colour German perceptions. Brustkern’s fifty years of regular attendance demonstrate his deep commitment to the tournament. Because chess writing often avoids serious criticism, praise is less persuasive unless it has clearly been earned.

Stewart Reuben put considerable effort into a National Lottery funding application, but it failed for lack of the necessary lobbying; Brustkern reportedly knows the details. Venue standards also declined in the late twentieth century, with events often held in uncomfortable sites such as the old pier: cold, draughty, and swaying with the sea even in winter.

 

                Terrible logistics for visiting stars

JBNW rightly identify, without moralising, a long-standing pattern of careless management. They highlight repeated failures to tell foreign stars what to expect on arrival in wintry south-east England, where twentieth-century winters could remain bitterly cold for extended periods.

GM Hort recounted his difficult arrival in London in 1967, an ordeal shared by many others that could have been avoided with prior communication from managers. A full list of similar incidents likely exists, but in my opinion Eastern Europeans were reluctant to report them, fearing it might limit future invitations to Western European tournaments and opportunities to earn valuable currencies through display tours.

JBNW recount in ‘Heroes of Hastings’ that similar incidents occurred to Istvan Bilek in 1954 and Fridrik Olafsson in 1955. Events in Eastern Europe were typically managed by experienced committees, ensuring Western players didn’t wander unattended and encounter ‘undesirable influences’.

As a regular Hastings attendee, Brustkern seems to have become an informal German representative after the departure of Dr Cherubim and Werner Nicolai. I still remember Nicolai as a somewhat awkward presence, a view JBNW also note. In general, German participation at Hastings posed difficulties, especially

until the early 1950s.

Fritz Singer, a British POW, played in 1947/48 and came third in Major A. The first official German invite was only possible after FIDE ruled in 1948 that Germans could participate in tournaments.

Dr Paul Schmidt (1916–1984),[9] an ethnic German (born in Estonia) took part in the Premier but disappointed, coming ‘only’ halfway up the table (it is not fanciful to suggest that such individuals were suffering somewhere on the PTSD spectrum, a then unidentified condition).

Wolfgang Unzicker (1925–2006) was the second German admitted to Hastings, playing in 1950/51. Already a leading IM and, until Hübner, West Germany’s strongest player for two decades, he had avoided wartime service on health grounds. He went on to win the event, finishing half a point ahead of Count O’Kelly de Galway and Nicolas Rossolimo.

 

 

WEAKNESSES

 

No indexing

The e-book’s lack of an index is a significant challenge. It hinders efficient cross-referencing and rapid identification of players or themes, which can impede research and analysis.

Unlike print books, e-books are not divided into pages. As six of the seven chapters are quite short, one obvious solution would be an index showing at least which chapter mentions a given figure, such as Fischer. By contrast, the seventh chapter is much longer than all the others combined and could usefully have been broken into shorter sections, for example: (i) pre-1930, (ii) pre-1940, and (iii) 1945–1953.

Much as I enjoyed this highly readable book, its editing is weak. Tony Miles’ sharp 1978 critique of Hastings in the New Statesman, for example, is misplaced in HoH and would fit better in Chapter 5, where it belongs chronologically. An index would also have helped readers cross-reference topics more easily.

There are a number of outright errors of fact (e.g. Atkins’ first name was Henry not James) and a few mistranslations; moreover, there are confusing and contradictory statements which left me scratching my head. These could have been rectified by an alert proof-reader. Nevertheless very few of those errors will hamper most readers’ enjoyment. Explaining these mistakes would interrupt the flow of this article, so a few have been relegated to the footnotes as examples for the curious.

I hope I am not being eccentric in attributing the book’s intensity to its unusual blend of three elements: (1) history, (2) featured tournaments, and (3) Heroes of Hastings (HoH), with its 47 portraits. Its structure defies easy classification, giving the book the movement and surprise that have long defined Hastings for many readers, myself included. This distinctive format brings out both the passion in the players’ lives and the drama of the games themselves.

 

Silence on character flaws

At times, the authors seem overly cautious about addressing personal foibles in the 47 portraits, including Tony Miles’s gamesmanship, Tartakower’s gambling addiction, Tal’s temporary drug dependency, and his unresolved alcoholism. This restraint is unnecessary and weakens the book’s impact.

En passant, none of the East Europeans defected while visiting Britain, which suggests their state-salaried lives were comfortable enough – at least until 1989.

 

          Anthony Miles (1955–2001)

The portrait of Tony Miles exposes a broader weakness in these otherwise admirable profiles: a reluctance to address personal flaws. I have already mentioned Tartakower’s gambling addiction, and JBNW make no reference to Miles’s quirks. Genna Sosonko, whose profiles of grandmaster acquaintances are usually lively and well informed (though not always beyond question), accused him of gamesmanship in an NIC podcast.

 

The 47 profiles in HoH go a long way towards bringing these personalities to life, but JBNW should have gone that extra mile by addressing their weaknesses. There may also be an underlying ‘Don’t mention the War!’ attitude, evident in their silence on Tartakower’s background.

 

       Tartakower’s war service

Dr Savielly Tartakower, renowned for his wit and creative play, deserves wider recognition for his war record. JBNW’s brief account omits important details, including the murder of his parents. Conscripted into the Central Powers because of his birthplace, Tartakower repeatedly demonstrated courage and received several commendations. The following  account draws mainly on concise online sources, particularly Edward Winter’s Chess Notes, together with some of my own interpretations.

By 1940, Tartakower was living in France and understood the danger he faced as a stateless, outspoken Jew. At the ill-fated Buenos Aires Olympiad of August–September 1939, he had spoken forcefully about the plight of Europe’s Jews, with strong support from World Champion Dr Alekhine. This is well described by Taylor Kingston in Chess in the Third Reich.

Tartakower stayed one step ahead and reached Algiers, then a French colony. There he joined the Free French Army under General Charles de Gaulle, who later became France’s most important post-war president and helped restore political stability.

Tartakower also secured passage to London with British help, no small achievement for a stateless person. He likely pressed his case forcefully, drawing on his command of German, Russian, French, English, and probably some Polish, as well as the political and social capital he had gained as a member of the chess elite. He was far from a random adventurer.

In England, he worked as a translator, where his wit, cultural knowledge, and political and social understanding – acquired as a widely travelled polyglot – must have proved invaluable to the Free French. London was then full of exiles, especially Poles, many of whom would distinguish themselves on several fronts, including in the RAF and after D-Day.

Golombek tells a charming story. He was playing on Board 1 versus the Army, and expected his  random opponent to be a pushover: an unknown named as  Lieutenant Cartier. But that turned out to be the nom de guerre of Dr T. They chatted before Tartakower won convincingly.

In June 1944, aged 57, Tartakower returned to France with the Free French Forces. Biographical summaries often state that he took part in the French Resistance, though I have not yet found further details. Given the courage he had already shown in the First World War, it seems likely that his service fell between D-Day and the expulsion of German forces from France, a period of heavy Allied and even greater Axis losses.

JBNW mention in a few words only that he was part of FF forces.

 

          Mikhail Tal (1936–1992)

For anybody interested in what made Tal tick, then the best, first-hand accounts are GM Sosonko’s; he has devoted no fewer than three podcasts to him. Entitled ‘Mikhail Tal: a name as a gunshot’, in around two hours Sosonko presents a very different view of Soviet Russia which goes well beyond media stereotypes. He describes a bohemian Moscow circle, including Tal, in which very heavy drinking was part of daily life.

Sosonko’s account makes clear that Tal was at ease in this milieu, where heavy drinking was almost the price of admission to a relaxed, fashionable circle. He was also a chain-smoker, which contributed to arteriosclerosis, and, as I learned only decades later, struggled with dependency issues. Sosonko’s three podcasts suggest that Tal was broadly content in the USSR, where he enjoyed great social prestige, even if not comparable wealth; in the West, his name would have carried less weight.

Readers seeking the truth about World Champion Mikhail Tal’s long struggle with two dependencies — injected opiates and, throughout his life, alcohol, especially spirits — will find Sosonko’s extended portrait helpful. Yet a major gap, in my view, in accounts of ‘the magician from Riga’ is any serious recognition of the trauma and hunger he must have experienced as a Jewish child during the Second World War. The English Wikipedia entry ignores the war altogether, while the German version notes that, after the German invasion of the USSR in June 1941, Tal’s family fled to the Perm region near the Urals, roughly 2,000 kilometres from Riga as the crow flies.

Alongside the trauma of his early life, Tal suffered severe illness, some of it worsened by his own habits. Nigel Short recalled: ‘Once, in Yugoslavia, I saw the ursine figure of (GM) Vladimir Bagirov carrying the flimsy frame of his Latvian comrade, who was crying out in agony: Tal’s leg was literally blue.’

Tal was dependent on morphine for a time, though the duration is unclear. This suggests a pain-related medical dependency: morphine was, and remains, a standard hospital treatment for severe pain, including post-operative suffering, now often administered through patient-controlled drips. By contrast, heroin, or diacetylmorphine, would imply recreational street-drug use.

A quick Internet search produces conflicting accounts: one Guardian piece places the issue in or after 1962, when Tal withdrew from the Candidates in Curaçao because of ill health, while GM Short dates it to the period after Tal’s 1969 kidney-removal operation.

This suggests a recurring problem arising from Tal’s extremely poor health.

 

What JBNW should have said about Tal

Tal endured a traumatic childhood and serious lifelong illness. He developed two harmful habits, heavy drinking and chain-smoking, while severe pain left him temporarily dependent on medically administered morphine.

Alcohol and tobacco are well-known causes of serious illness, including cancer and organ damage. By contrast, pharmaceutical-grade opiates given by trained nurses for extreme pain would have been less physically destructive. They do nothing to diminish Tal’s standing as perhaps the greatest creative player in chess history.

As with Miles, it would have added to the depth of the profiles had there been some commentary on the peripatetic life of the chess professional then or now. Patterns of alcohol misuse seem to go with the territory as contemporary GMs Ehlvest and  Gormally  have  written about courageously. [10] They move constantly from one impersonal hotel to another, often in towns where they know no one; when the bar is the only source of company, alcohol can easily become a temptation.

 

Missing human interest stories

 

          Abram Khasin (1923–2022)

One can assume that at least some GMs from Eastern Europe had no choice but to act as informelle Mitarbeiter (IMs – unofficial collaborators) with their state’s security forces. Perhaps ‘minder’ would be the better English term. But it’s easy to make false assumptions.

I was wondering about GM Abram Khasin. He was Tal’s companion at Hastings 1963/64 and a strong player previously unknown in Britain. I recall him as a dour figure and presumed he was there as Tal’s minder. But when I checked I discovered that he taught English and was a chess trainer of some repute – in other words, the perfect second for Tal who spoke little English. What’s more, Khasin was not at all dour. Golombek describes him as ‘A cheery personality who became a great favourite with the players and spectators at the congress, his success there was highly popular.’

 Khasin had lost both legs at the decisive battle of Stalingrad (July 1942–February 1943), the beginning of the end for Axis forces in the Second World War.  Little attention has been paid to Khasin’s remarkable limbless survival. There is no reference to it, for instance, in Golombek’s contemporaneous report in the British Chess Magazine. JBNW don’t mention Khasin’s biography; while they were writing the book, he was still alive and living in Essen. Khasin’s disability was overlooked partly out of respect for him and partly because in 1963/64 the Second World War was still a sensitive topic.

I mention Khasin to demonstrate what extraordinary lives some masters had lived and how history had blighted so many of that generation of continental Europeans. Adding short biographies of these remarkable and neglected figures would have enriched the text.

 

 

Missing research

 

          BritBase and the British Newspaper Archive

The most obvious omission is the excellent BritBase, a huge collection of information and games about chess in Britain with a separate section on Hastings. For each year all the games from the top round-robin can be played through on the website’s mini-board, a number of them have been annotated. The almost complete sets of games (in pgn format)  go back to 231 encounters from the pathbreaking1895 contest.

There is also a selection from other round-robins but mostly Challengers / Premier Reserves, whose winner would ritually gain a coveted place in the following year’s Premier (but see the Bordell-Rosell case above). The names and results of all other competitors can be found there, which took me down memory lane (see Appendix 3 ). BritBase also  contains lively eye-witness reports, press cuttings and many anecdotes. JBNW could have added to their book’s vitality by reproducing some of those.

Furthermore, the British Newspaper Archive (BNA) is a marvellously rich site to explore; online, inexpensive and not difficult to scour. To illustrate that I quoted Hastings’ record participation 1935/36. While JBNW are very good on the elite Premier event, some hours in the BNA would have enhanced JBNW’s view, of Hastings.

 

           Nothing on inflation and the value of money

This is a recurring irritant in chess history. If readers have no idea what £150 in 1922 would be worth now, there is little point in stating it. Hence I provide a link to a Deutsche Bank study of inflation in the UK. In addition to multiplying sums by c.50 after 1938, readers also need to be reminded that costs were correspondingly a fraction of what they are now. One often comes across such prices (e.g. taxis/hotels/meals) in novels of the time, e.g. £100 per annum being a satisfactory pension.

 

          Little on funding: nothing on audited accounts

In the passages concerning the post-war Hastings, not a single precise figure re costs/ income etc. is mentioned, with a few exceptions such as what financier Jim Slater donated (where exact sums are indeed stated). Nowhere do JBNW inform us what total overheads were for any year, and whether income was exceeded. One presumes that precise accounts had to be submitted to sponsors – given the support of both the London Government (1954/55 to 1966/67 ) and the local Council in Hastings. Do those responsible have no audited financial statements available on computers or in paper files? The authors often mention the funding challenges that had to be overcome.

 

 

SUMMARY

 

For readers interested in the subject, the book is a page-turner. Its German perspective gives it a distinctive flavour and draws on sources not previously available in English. Above all, the 47 pen-portraits are largely engrossing, while the historical sections are perceptive, concise, and free of unnecessary detail.

However, a few hours’ research in the British Newspaper Archive  (as I did) would have produced many helpful statistics on Hastings; the same applies to BritBase, where all the research work has already been done; JBNW could have further enlivened their work by quoting from the many contemporary press reports.

On the plus side, the many photographs and occasional cartoon lighten the tone, while the 81 well-curated annotated games should greatly appeal to chess fans. The e-book format lets readers play through every move on the board display, whether from the actual game or a speculative variation, sparing them the strain of visualising long lines.

This is one of the e-book’s great technological advantages.

The book’s omission of major controversies and vivid biographical material creates a familiar reviewer’s dilemma: it is easy to say how the car should be driven without being able to drive it oneself. Even so, the book has real strengths, notably its first translations from contemporary chess periodicals and the distinctive perspective of German Anglophiles examining England’s – and later the UK’s – turbulent twentieth-century relationship with Germany.

Overall, the book’s strengths clearly outweigh its weaknesses. The sanitised portraits could have been sharpened with little extra effort. I have highlighted missed opportunities to challenge or qualify common misconceptions, including unsupported claims that Miles cheated, Tartakower’s under-explored Second World War record, and a fairer view of Tal as someone whose risk of opiate dependency arose from the need to relieve severe pain.

Regrettably, the text seems to have received too little proofreading or fact-checking. It is also reticent about inflation, leaving readers to do their own calculations – a common failing, admittedly. Just as importantly, JBNW say surprisingly little about costs.

There are further strengths and weaknesses, but the perfect should not be allowed to become the enemy of the good. The book’s stimulating qualities are clear: it prompted me to enter into an extended dialogue with the authors and, in doing so, to encounter fresh ideas and lines of thought. What more can one ask of a work that offers many hours of pleasure?

 

APPENDICES

 

APPENDIX 1a

 21st century view of Bletchley Park as not only codebreakers but also intelligence providers

 

For readers interested in the subject, Dr David Kenyon’s excellent and accessible survey, Bletchley Park and D-Day: The Untold Story of How the Battle for Normandy Was Won (Yale University Press, 2019), is a state-of-the-art account. Kenyon, who works full-time at Bletchley Park, explains that the Third Reich used many encryption devices and as many as 128 keys per day. Some systems, unlike the iconic Enigma, were unfamiliar to Bletchley Park and extremely difficult to break, including Lorenz teleprinters.

GM Short has argued that, through Bletchley Park, British chess made a significant contribution to the Second World War. Many active players worked there, including internationals Alexander, Milner-Barry, Golombek, and Dr Aitken, as well as enthusiasts such as Perkins, Good, Welchman, and Alan Turing.

Drawing on archives unavailable in the 1990s, DK greatly broadens the established view of Bletchley Park’s role. By early 1945 it employed almost 9,000 staff and had become, in his words, an ‘intelligence factory’. BP was no longer concerned only with interception and decryption, or with Enigma and Ultra, but produced a wide range of intelligence for its clients, drawing on sources such as Hut 3’s Index and specialist research groups. By then it had developed into ‘a fully developed, multi-source intelligence agency’ (Chapter 9).

 

APPENDIX 1b

 Churchill transformed BP in response to the chess players’ plea in October 1941

 

Many modern historians, including Max Hastings, regard Churchill’s swift response to Milner-Barry’s plea as one of his wisest decisions. The resulting increase in funding allowed Bletchley Park to expand into an ‘intelligence-producing factory’. Earlier breakthroughs by figures such as Turing, Herivel, and Tutt, achieved in BP’s more romantic pioneering phase, could then be systematised on an industrial scale through ‘primitive but revolutionary’ machines known as bombes.

Had Churchill ignored their plea and left Bletchley Park underfunded, the intelligence factory might never have developed. In that case, the Third Reich could have won the crucial Battle of the Atlantic by starving Britain into seeking peace. The four men’s appeal also helped bring about the replacement of the ageing GC&CS director, Denniston, by the tougher-minded Commander Travis, who was better suited to the organisation’s increasingly difficult management challenges.

Rolf Noskwith (1919–2017), one of Hut 8’s Naval Section codebreakers, later praised its ‘exemplary leadership’ and wrote that ‘the integrity of decoding operations was much assisted by the personal friendship between Stuart Milner-Barry (head of Hut 6) and CHO’D (head of Naval Section, Hut 8).’ Max Hastings likewise refers to Hut 8’s ‘superb leadership’ under Alexander.

Yet Bletchley Park should not be romanticised, as films such as The Imitation Game (2014) tend to do. For most of its workforce, eventually numbering up to 9,000, the work was demanding and opaque. They were poorly paid, housed in cold and uncomfortable conditions, allowed baths only once a week, and given food poor even by wartime standards. Wrens operating the bombes, for example, often suffered electric shocks. To make matters worse, staff might return home with their clothes covered in fine ink spray while still being expected to appear impeccably dressed, despite the scarcity of washing machines and the absence of launderettes.

 

APPENDIX 2

Aleister Crowley, a passionate chesser in Hastings

 

In 2002 a popular BBC poll had Crowley (1875–1947) placed at 73 (higher than any chesser) of the 100 ‘greatest Britons’. He was throughout his life passionately interested in chess: at Cambridge University he was ‘…president of the chess club and practising the game for two hours a day; he briefly considered a professional career as a chess player .’ Wikipedia entries in 59 languages (!) indicate the global impact of a daring explorer / climber, an experienced British double-agent, and all-round creative powerhouse. See, for example, Ch. 14 ‘Spying in the USA: 1914-18’ in Tobias Churton’s convincing Aleister Crowley: the biography (London: Watkins Publishing, 2011).

Aleister Crowley retired to Hastings in 1944. Churton notes that he ‘played a lot of chess in Hastings’. Crowley’s diary entry for 16 January 1946 records: ‘Went to Club, found it frozen. One game in p.m.’ For him, this meant the chess club, not another institution such as a masonic lodge, Constitutional Club, or British Legion.

Superficial accounts of Crowley’s final year often dwell on his post-breakfast injections of diacetylmorphine, or heroin. His GP supplied it under the then-respected British system of prescribing. [11]

Rather than dying in poverty, Crowley left £450 – about £20,000 in 2025 – hidden in a bag under his bed, apparently set aside not for personal use but for a larger purpose.

Crowley was not alone among devoted chess players in sustaining a chosen way of life despite dependency problems.

 

 

APPENDIX 3

 A Personal Note

 

The book opens with a touching foreword by GM Stuart Conquest, suffused with ‘felt-thought’ – a phrase from T. S. Eliot’s Essays on Criticism – which resonated with me as he recalled how Hastings changed his life.

The book holds special interest for me because two visits to Hastings – 1961/62, when Botvinnik scored 8/9, and 1963/64, when Tal scored 7/9 – transformed my youthful absorption in Planet Caïssa into a lifelong, if sometimes flickering, passion. As a Christmas present, my parents sent me to stay in a boarding house run by Violet Turner, the mother of one of my father’s colleagues.

BritBase just reminded me that my first visit was as a spectator, and I drank up the heady atmosphere. The second time, I came joint first in the Open Morning,  a lowly event to keep us patzers making patzers.

I came unusually close to chess greatness when I was asked to manage one of the demonstration boards and found myself sitting beside World Champion Dr Mikhail Botvinnik in cramped quarters. He was then playing a strategic masterpiece against GM Arthur Bisguier, still well worth replaying on BritBase.

At twelve, I knew almost nothing about the USSR, the Second World War, or the history surrounding these players. What mattered to me was that Botvinnik was World Champion, standing at the summit of a peak I was struggling to climb. Hastings also offered a rare glimpse, at least in Britain, of a world in which chess seemed to matter enormously.

I soon heard or read fragments about the lives of regular visitors, including Baretic, an unsighted player who had lost his sight while fighting as a partisan. Philip Kitcher (b. 1947) befriended me and, through brief comments on some of the participants, helped open up this unfamiliar world. I have only recently learned that he is now an emeritus professor of philosophy at Columbia University.

From those two visits, I retain clearer memories of the setting and the players than of almost any other non-school experience before I left school.

Finally, I wish I had learned about Bletchley Park decades earlier than I did. Mea culpa.

 

Notes

[1] Alexander Alekhine, The Book of the Hastings International Masters’ Chess Tournament, 1922 (London: Printing Craft, 1924).

[2] The Father Brown crime fiction story by G.K. Chesterton, ‘The Curse of the Golden Cross’ (1925), shows how easy it was to hire a car on landing at an English port.

[3] A 2018 Deutsche Bank study found UK monetary value stable 1800-1938 but since then rising by a multiple of 50. Though £7,500 may seem small, many things were c.5% of their current prices e.g. hotel/rail/dining /mail … and prizes; precisely costs relevant to events.

[4] The Scotsman, 28 Dec.1935.

[5] Linlithgowshire Gazette, 24 Dec.1937.

[6] Birmingham Daily Post, 6 April 1954.

[7] Daily Herald, 11 Nov.1954.

[8] While checking facts in Wikipedia, I came across some – for me – new information on Basman’s time in the USSR. It is noteworthy that there are Wikipedia entries on Basman in 14 languages, an unusually high count which indicates his international appeal.

[9] There is a biography of Dr Schmidt (a PhD in chemistry) by his daughter Eva Regina Magacs and chess historian Michael Negele: Paul Felix Schmidt. A Winning Formula (Berlin: Exzelsior-Verlag, 2017). Schmidt was the second best Estonian player, had even defeated Paul Keres in a 1936 match; and after relocating away from the ‘hot’ conflict areas became one of the top German players.

[10] Daniel Gormally, Insanity, Passion and Addiction – A Year Inside the Chess World (Thessaloniki: Chess Evolution, 2016). The leading centre-right German newspaper, the FAZ, singled him out for praise in 2024.

 

Display image: Hastings pier, the playing venue in 1996, one of many excellent photos in the book.

Tim Gluckman lived for over 20 years in Germany, where he worked as a translator, interpreter and journalist. See his previous reviews for Kingpin on Fred Reinfeld and Chess and the Nazis.