Here's an eerie chess photo that brings to mind the old 'Shadow' radio programme introduction, 'Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows! "
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Re: Eerie chess photo
From the horrific to the ridiculous (to our ears): The Shadow - The Chess Club Murders -
Re: Eerie chess photo
I rather found the 'Blue Coal' ads amusing (:Originally posted by Stephen Wright View Post
As to the wont ineptitude of 'The Shadow', we can certainly blame that on Jerry Divine (:
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Re: Eerie chess photo
And in the truth trumps fiction department we have:
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Re: Eerie chess photo
And in 1943 Stephen Leacock wrote a story about a murderer going to the chess club.
Pawn to King's Four
by Stephen Leacock
"Pawn to King's Four," I said as I sat down to
the chess table.
"Pawn to King's Four, eh?" said Letherby,
squaring himself comfortably to the old oak
table, his elbows on its wide margin, his atti-
tude that of the veteran player. "Pawn to
King's Four," he repeated. "Aha, let's see!"
It's the first and oldest move in chess, but
from the way Letherby said it you'd think it
was as new as yesterday. . .Chess players are
like that... "Pawn to King's Four," he re-
peated. "You don't mind if ! take a bit of a
think over it?"
"No, no," I said, "not at all. Play as slowly
as you like. 1 want to get a good look round
this wonderful room."
It was the first time I had ever been in the
Long Room of the Chess Club — and I sat
entranced with the charm and silence of the
long wainscoted room — its soft light, the blue
tobacco smoke rising to the ceiling — the open
grate fires burning — the spaced out tables, the
players with bent heads, unheeding our entry
and our presence. . .all silent except here and
there a little murmur of conversation, that rose
only to hush again.
"Pawn to King's Four" — repeated
Letherby — "let me see!"
It was, I say, my first visit to the Chess Club;
indeed I had never known where it was except
that it was somewhere down town, right in the
heart of the city, among the big buildings. Nor
did I know Letherby himself very well, though
I had always understood he was a chess
player. He looked like one. He had the long,
still face, the unmoving eyes, the leathery,
indoor complexion that marks the habitual
chess player anywhere.
. . .
I was glad when the waiter came with a sec-
ond glass of Madeira. It warmed one up. . .
"That man seems a wonderful waiter,"
"Fred?" said Letherby. "Oh yes, he cer-
tainly is... He looks after everything — he's
devoted to the club."
"Been here long?"
"Bishop to Bishop's Four," said
Letherby... He didn't speak for a little while.
Then he said, "Why practically all his
life — except, poor fellow, he had a kind of
tragic experience. He put in ten years in jail. "
"For what?" I asked, horrified.
"For murder," said Letherby.
"For murder?"
"Yes," repeated Letherby, shaking his head,
"Poor fellow, murder . . some sudden, strange
impulse that seized him... I shouldn't say jail.
He was in the Criminal Lunatic Asylum. Your
Move. "
"Criminal Asylum!" I said. "What did he
do?"
"Killed a man; in a sudden rage. . .struck him
over the head with a poker."
"Good Lord!" I exclaimed. "When was
that? In this city?"
"Here at the club," said Letherby, "in this
room."
"What?" I gasped. "He killed one of the
members?"
"Oh, no!" Letherby said reassuringly. "Not
a member. The man was a guest. Fred didn't
know him. . just an insane impulse... As soon
as they let him out, the faithful fellow came
right back here. That was last year. Your
move. "
. . .
"Joel Linton." I said, "Why he's arrested."
"Not yet... they 're looking for him. You're in check."
"That's Joel Linton now," said Letherby,
and in he came through the swing doors, a
hard-looking man, but mightily deter-
mined... He hung his overcoat on a peg, and
as he did so, I was sure I saw something
bulging in his coat pocket — eh? He nodded
casually about the room. And then started
moving among the tables, edging his way
toward ours.
"I guess, if you don't mind," i began... But
that is as far as 1 got. That was when the po-
lice came in, two constables and an inspector.
I saw Linton dive his hand towards his
pocket.
"Stand where you are, Linton," the in-
spector called. . .Then right at that moment
I saw the waiter, Fred, seize the hand-grip
of the poker, . .
"Don't move, Linton," called the in-
spector; he never saw Fred moving to-
ward him. - .
Linton didn't move. But I did. 1 made
a quick back bolt for the little door behind
me... down the little stairway. . .and down
the other little staircase, and along the
corridor and back into the brightly lighted
hotel rotunda, just the same as when I left
it — noise and light and bellboys, and girls
at the newsstand selling tobacco and
evening papers. . .just the same, but oh,
how different! For peace of mind, for the
joy of life — give me a rotunda, and make
it as noisy as ever you like.Comment
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Re: Eerie chess photo
And here's a book full of chess murders and mysteries, 'Sinister Gambits' (:
If anyone hasn't read Stefan Zweig's classic, 'Royal Game', the $3.05 price tag for the used paperback edition of 'Sinister Gambits' is money well spent (:Comment
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