William Winter
December 14, 2020
1
In the October, 1962 number of CHESS, the editor, B.H. Wood, had this announcement:
William Winter’s Autobiography, edited by David Hooper, will be serialised in CHESS commencing with our next number. Nephew of Sir James Barrie, twice British Chess Champion, a lifelong Communist and freethinker, imprisoned for his political views, “Willie Winter”, with his Bohemian way of life, was undoubtedly the most colourful figure in British Chess for many decades.
Irrespective of whether you agree with his views (most readers may not!), you will find him a delightful writer whose gifted pen draws you engrossed from page to page.
___________
I read these notes when the magazine first came out. It struck me that by giving them in ChessTalk, readers would have some alternative to the incessant stories about Covid-19 and the Presidential Election in the United States and a good read during the holidays.
I anticipate a thread in CT, with daily entries, stretching for a month to the New Year. Something a little out of the ordinary, from another era, chessic and not always politically correct in this era.
__________
William Winter (1897-1955)
Winter was a widely respected author of chess books and was a nephew of J. M. Barrie, the creator of Peter Pan. Winter was also a Communist. His over-the-board and real-life characters were in stark contrast to each other. Harry Golombek described his play as "classic, scientific and sober; away from the board, he was revolutionary, illogically moved by his emotions (he contrived to be both a fervent communist and a staunch patriot) and, more often than not, drunk."
Winter has the distinction of being the only British Champion to have served time in prison (for his political activities).
His memoirs were serialised in CHESS magazine November, 1962 to March, 1963.
Due to the outbreak of World War I, he had to break and then resume his law studies. During his time there, he was the champion of Cambridge University.
Winter played in four Olympiads in 1930, 1931, 1933, and 1935.
Books by William Winter
1 World’s Championship Match between Jose Raul Capablanca and Alexander Alekhin with annot. By F.D. Yates and William Winter, 1928, Printing-Craft 45 pages.
2 Modern master-play by F.D. Yates and W. Winter, 1929 Printing Craft, 105 pages
3 World Championship Match between Alexander Alekhin and E.D. Bogoljubow with annot. By F.D. Yates and William Winter, 1940 Printing Craft, 48 pages
4 Chess for match players by William Winter, 1936 London & Wishart, 328 pages
5 The Anglo-Soviet radio chess match by E.Klein and W. Winter, Pitman, 1947, 119 pages
6 The over-the-board chess match, September 1947, Great Britain v USSR by William Winter, 1949, The Anglo-Soviet Chess Circle, 52 pages
7 The World Chess Championship: 1951: Botvinnik v. Bronstein, Turnstile Press, 1951, 133 pages
8 World championship candidates’ tournament 1953 at Neuhausen and Zurich by D. Hooper and W. Winter, Whyld, 1953, 96 pages
9 Kings of chess: chess championships of the twentieth century by William Winter, Carroll and Nicholson, 1954, 271 pages.
___________
Most people when I tell them I am a professional chess player look on me as if I were some kind of fabulous monster. I don’t know why this should be so. Golf professionals, billiards professionals, and lawn tennis professionals are taken for granted and surely chess players have far more need of professional assistance than the devotees of any of these pursuits. The work of the professional at every form of game or sport largely consists of teaching and the complexities of chess are such that no payer can hope to achieve even a modicum of success without the skilled guidance which only a professional can give. I am glad to see that this is becoming widely recognized and far more aspirants are availing themselves of the services of the ‘pro’ than was the case when I first took on the job. There is of course much more to our work than teaching. I shall have plenty to say about the varied scope of our activities later on. Now I want to tell something about myself.
A Hampshire-reared Scot
I was born at the back-end of last century at Medstead, a small village in the heart of Hampshire. Both my parents were Scots, my father being quite a distinguished scholar. Entering the University of St. Andrews at the early age of 16, he took honours in classics and then finding himself rather at a loose end, he took to the study of mathematics, won a scholarship to Clara College, Cambridge and became a Wrangler.
Probably he could have gained a Fellowship, but he had a passion for country life and took advantage of a small legacy to buy the house at Medstead and eke out his income by taking private pupils. I may say that he made a great success of this. He was a superb teacher, especially of rather backward boys, and was responsible for squeezing more moronic creatures past the entrance exams at both Oxford and Cambridge than one could have believed possible. I must also mention that he was a very good amateur chess player. At one time he took lessons from English professional master H.E. Bird, and possessed a number of his books. However, when he settled at Medstead lack of opponents compelled him to give up the practice of the game.
Sir James Barrie
My mother also had claims to distinction, though perhaps rather vicariously. She was the youngest and favourite sister of the great J.M. Barrie who seemed to tower over my boyhood like some colossal ogre. A benevolent ogre it is true, who produced handsome presents and provided the wherewithal for holidays which would otherwise have been quite beyond our reach, but I never felt quite sure when he might not start: “fee, fi, fo, fum!” My mother’s desperate anxiety to please him in everything was responsible for this attitude of mind: “What will Jamie think? What will Jamie say?” Actually, he was quite harmless and, I imagine, did not think very much about us. We were far removed from the aristocratic circle which was already taking him to its bosom in Town.
Gifted parents
My mother was by no means without talents of her own. She was a pianist of considerable skill and had a singing voice of such quality that my uncle toyed with the idea of having her trained for the concert stage. Her poor health (she was always delicate) held up the idea and it was finally abandoned on her marriage and retirement into the country. She had her baby grand piano and practised Scottish folk songs in the drawing room, but Medstead was not, I fear, capable of providing an appreciative audience.
Unfortunately, she was the complete opposite of my father in that she took not the slightest interest in the country avocations which were his joy. Our fowls she regarded as nasty creatures who scratched up her flower beds, and an encounter with a gobbling turkeycock was sufficient to send her into hysterics. Looking back, I think she was happy enough when I was young and she could give her time to looking after me. When I became older and no longer had need of her care then she became unutterably bored and frustrated, and at odds with life in general. Unfortunately, she took refuge in a sort of religious mysticism which undoubtedly affected her otherwise excellent brain. There were four persons in her Trinity: God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, and God Sir James Barrie – who often became so inextricably mixed that it was difficult to know of which she was speaking. All this was of course a great grief to my father who was a Christian in the sense that it never occurred to him to be anything else but thought that religion was a thing to be trotted out only on Sundays.
(to be continued)
December 14, 2020
1
In the October, 1962 number of CHESS, the editor, B.H. Wood, had this announcement:
William Winter’s Autobiography, edited by David Hooper, will be serialised in CHESS commencing with our next number. Nephew of Sir James Barrie, twice British Chess Champion, a lifelong Communist and freethinker, imprisoned for his political views, “Willie Winter”, with his Bohemian way of life, was undoubtedly the most colourful figure in British Chess for many decades.
Irrespective of whether you agree with his views (most readers may not!), you will find him a delightful writer whose gifted pen draws you engrossed from page to page.
___________
I read these notes when the magazine first came out. It struck me that by giving them in ChessTalk, readers would have some alternative to the incessant stories about Covid-19 and the Presidential Election in the United States and a good read during the holidays.
I anticipate a thread in CT, with daily entries, stretching for a month to the New Year. Something a little out of the ordinary, from another era, chessic and not always politically correct in this era.
__________
William Winter (1897-1955)
Winter was a widely respected author of chess books and was a nephew of J. M. Barrie, the creator of Peter Pan. Winter was also a Communist. His over-the-board and real-life characters were in stark contrast to each other. Harry Golombek described his play as "classic, scientific and sober; away from the board, he was revolutionary, illogically moved by his emotions (he contrived to be both a fervent communist and a staunch patriot) and, more often than not, drunk."
Winter has the distinction of being the only British Champion to have served time in prison (for his political activities).
His memoirs were serialised in CHESS magazine November, 1962 to March, 1963.
Due to the outbreak of World War I, he had to break and then resume his law studies. During his time there, he was the champion of Cambridge University.
Winter played in four Olympiads in 1930, 1931, 1933, and 1935.
Books by William Winter
1 World’s Championship Match between Jose Raul Capablanca and Alexander Alekhin with annot. By F.D. Yates and William Winter, 1928, Printing-Craft 45 pages.
2 Modern master-play by F.D. Yates and W. Winter, 1929 Printing Craft, 105 pages
3 World Championship Match between Alexander Alekhin and E.D. Bogoljubow with annot. By F.D. Yates and William Winter, 1940 Printing Craft, 48 pages
4 Chess for match players by William Winter, 1936 London & Wishart, 328 pages
5 The Anglo-Soviet radio chess match by E.Klein and W. Winter, Pitman, 1947, 119 pages
6 The over-the-board chess match, September 1947, Great Britain v USSR by William Winter, 1949, The Anglo-Soviet Chess Circle, 52 pages
7 The World Chess Championship: 1951: Botvinnik v. Bronstein, Turnstile Press, 1951, 133 pages
8 World championship candidates’ tournament 1953 at Neuhausen and Zurich by D. Hooper and W. Winter, Whyld, 1953, 96 pages
9 Kings of chess: chess championships of the twentieth century by William Winter, Carroll and Nicholson, 1954, 271 pages.
___________
Most people when I tell them I am a professional chess player look on me as if I were some kind of fabulous monster. I don’t know why this should be so. Golf professionals, billiards professionals, and lawn tennis professionals are taken for granted and surely chess players have far more need of professional assistance than the devotees of any of these pursuits. The work of the professional at every form of game or sport largely consists of teaching and the complexities of chess are such that no payer can hope to achieve even a modicum of success without the skilled guidance which only a professional can give. I am glad to see that this is becoming widely recognized and far more aspirants are availing themselves of the services of the ‘pro’ than was the case when I first took on the job. There is of course much more to our work than teaching. I shall have plenty to say about the varied scope of our activities later on. Now I want to tell something about myself.
A Hampshire-reared Scot
I was born at the back-end of last century at Medstead, a small village in the heart of Hampshire. Both my parents were Scots, my father being quite a distinguished scholar. Entering the University of St. Andrews at the early age of 16, he took honours in classics and then finding himself rather at a loose end, he took to the study of mathematics, won a scholarship to Clara College, Cambridge and became a Wrangler.
Probably he could have gained a Fellowship, but he had a passion for country life and took advantage of a small legacy to buy the house at Medstead and eke out his income by taking private pupils. I may say that he made a great success of this. He was a superb teacher, especially of rather backward boys, and was responsible for squeezing more moronic creatures past the entrance exams at both Oxford and Cambridge than one could have believed possible. I must also mention that he was a very good amateur chess player. At one time he took lessons from English professional master H.E. Bird, and possessed a number of his books. However, when he settled at Medstead lack of opponents compelled him to give up the practice of the game.
Sir James Barrie
My mother also had claims to distinction, though perhaps rather vicariously. She was the youngest and favourite sister of the great J.M. Barrie who seemed to tower over my boyhood like some colossal ogre. A benevolent ogre it is true, who produced handsome presents and provided the wherewithal for holidays which would otherwise have been quite beyond our reach, but I never felt quite sure when he might not start: “fee, fi, fo, fum!” My mother’s desperate anxiety to please him in everything was responsible for this attitude of mind: “What will Jamie think? What will Jamie say?” Actually, he was quite harmless and, I imagine, did not think very much about us. We were far removed from the aristocratic circle which was already taking him to its bosom in Town.
Gifted parents
My mother was by no means without talents of her own. She was a pianist of considerable skill and had a singing voice of such quality that my uncle toyed with the idea of having her trained for the concert stage. Her poor health (she was always delicate) held up the idea and it was finally abandoned on her marriage and retirement into the country. She had her baby grand piano and practised Scottish folk songs in the drawing room, but Medstead was not, I fear, capable of providing an appreciative audience.
Unfortunately, she was the complete opposite of my father in that she took not the slightest interest in the country avocations which were his joy. Our fowls she regarded as nasty creatures who scratched up her flower beds, and an encounter with a gobbling turkeycock was sufficient to send her into hysterics. Looking back, I think she was happy enough when I was young and she could give her time to looking after me. When I became older and no longer had need of her care then she became unutterably bored and frustrated, and at odds with life in general. Unfortunately, she took refuge in a sort of religious mysticism which undoubtedly affected her otherwise excellent brain. There were four persons in her Trinity: God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, and God Sir James Barrie – who often became so inextricably mixed that it was difficult to know of which she was speaking. All this was of course a great grief to my father who was a Christian in the sense that it never occurred to him to be anything else but thought that religion was a thing to be trotted out only on Sundays.
(to be continued)
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