William Winter

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  • #31
    William Winter

    January 2, 2021

    21

    Furtive Glances

    Berlin was most unpleasant. In the cafe which we visited after dinner hardly anyone seemed to be speaking, and the opening of the door was the occasion for furtive glances followed by sighs of relief when it was seen that the newcomers were merely ordinary customers. So offensive was the atmosphere that Molly and I were glad to get back to our hotel and lock ourselves in our room - very unlike our usual conduct on the first night in a foreign capital. In the evening we arrived safely in Warsaw to be greeted with the news of an appalling tragedy. Mrs. Stevenson, the wife of the B. C. F. secretary, who was competing in the women's championship, had decided to make the journey by air. When the plane stopped to refuel at Posen she wandered into the town, lost her way, and arrived back at the airport just as the machine was getting ready to start. Hurrying to get to her place she approached too near the revolving propellors, was drawn in by the air suction and killed instantaneously. This terrible affair cast a blight over the whole tournament. Thomas also had a journey full of adventure but his was merely comic. He travelled overland by car and, I believe, had a very pleasant time until he got to the Polish roads. Here in the depths of the country the car stuck in the mud and was immediately surrounded by a flock of geese who advanced with ferocious hisses towards the strange monster which had invaded their domain. Afraid to get out, our Captain and his chauffeur remained beleaguered until a farmer appeared who chased away the besiegers and hitched a horse to the bogged-up Daimler.

    Behind the facade

    At first sight Warsaw seemed to be a very fine city indeed. The streets were wide and clean, there were many fine modern buildings, and the great viaduct over the Vistula, soon to be destroyed by the Nazis, was a triumph of engineering art. We had no time for exploration so did not see the dark slums that lay behind the city's imposing facade. One thing that did strike us was the number of beggars. They lined ell the principal streets at regular intervals; men and women, some offering matches, others merely whining for groschen, the Polish copper currency.

    Stronger and stronger competition

    The tournament itself was one of the hardest I have ever played in. Not only were there more teams than ever before, but they very much stronger. Apart from the Russians, who were not at that time members of the International Federation, and Lasker and Capablanca, there was hardly a grand master in the world who was not representing his country. Alekhine played for France and I had to meet him in the evening, after struggling for six hours with Stahlberg. I don't know how I managed to draw. I think it must have been my subconscious mind which guided the pieces. Two games a day against such opposition is sheer cruelty, and much as I love playing chess against great masters, I was heartily glad when the event was over.

    For the third time in succession, the Americans won. Their young team stood the strain better than most, and their top board, Reuben Fine, was in splendid form. Marshall kept himself in reserve, relieving Fine on top against some of the weaker countries. He went through undefeated while Fine lost only once - against B. Reilly of Ireland, now editor of the British Chess Magazine.

    After Warsaw, the Poles arranged an individual tournament at Lodz, to which I was one of the foreigners invited, the others being R. Fine, L. Steiner Hungary, K. Opocensky of Czecho-Slovakia, and V. Mikenas of Lithuania, now a leading Soviet master. The Polish contingent was led by Dr. Tartakover who, although ordinarily resident of Paris, was a Pole by birth, and was making an extended tour of his native country.

    Compared with Warsaw the playing conditions at Lodz made it seem like a sort of holiday and, up to a point, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I played well too. In the first round I beat Mikenas, and in the fourth inflicted on Tartakover the only defeat he suffered in three international tournaments in which he played in Poland. Tartakover blamed this defeat on my friend Dr. Seitz, the international chess journalist who was covering the event. “You gave him just the right amount of vodka” he said, “not too little and not too much.” Talking of vodka, I had a queer experience. On an off day (yes, we had one off day a week) I asked the Polish master Appel to show me round the ghetto district of which I heard a lot. It was a hot afternoon and the narrow streets were unbearably stuffy so, finding a small bar, we turned in for a drink of beer. As we quaffed the welcome beverage, I could not help noticing that four rough looking me sitting round a carafe of vodka at an adjacent table were glancing at us in an uncomfortably hostile fashion. I asked Appel what was the matter. “Oh” he said, “they’re only calling us bloated capitalists because we can afford beer while they have to be content with vodka!” What a topsy-turvy world this is – the veriest nip of spirit they despised so much costs three shillings and sixpence in London.

    War casts its shadow before

    Tartakover was first, and Fine second. I did not finish the tournament as well as I had started, but managed to get in the prize list, quite a good performance considering the opposition. Proceedings were, as usual, followed by a banquet, at which I made a short speech in Polish, received with great applause. It was prepared for me by the afore-mentioned Appel with whom I became very friendly. I fear he fell victim to the Nazi murderers as I have not heard a word of him since the war. He was a fine chess player and a very nice man. It was in Lodz that I had my first experience of a black-out, a most realistic rehearsal, with all the lights in the city extinguished, and heavy curtains or blinds of black paper drawn over the windows while aeroplanes droned. I was told these occurred monthly. It was a grim forerunner of the future, and was probably responsible for my rather stupid loss to Opocensky, with whom I was playing an adjourned game.

    AND HERE IS THE PICTURE AGAIN!

    But for one thing I would have thoroughly enjoyed my stay in Lodz. Playing conditions were excellent and our accommodation in the Hotel Polonia was luxurious in the extreme. Molly and I had a huge room at the top of the building, one side made up entirely of windows through which nothing was visible save the birds whirling in the heavens. Our fellow guests were an odd company. They included a band of Greco-Roman wrestlers with whose leader, Max Kramer, we became very friendly. We went to see him give an exhibition, quite a graceful affair with -none of the grunting and heaving which characterizes the all-in version of the sport.

    A photo of myself and Kramer in the park at Lodz appeared in all the local papers and was reproduced in the magazine CHESS with the caption “Which would you rather be?”

    Another quaint guest at the Polonia was a melancholy looking man nearly seven feet high and as thin as a lath, who called himself the eating champion of Europe. I forget how many legs of mutton and fowls he had consumed at a sitting but it was quite colossal. He was anxious to get to America where he was told that really star eaters could make big money, and I wrote a letter for him to a gent who promoted exhibitions of this sort. I do not know if anything came of it. I hope so for the poor chap looked as if he could do with a few square meals.

    The Hotel Polonia was one of the few modern edifices in Lodz. Another was the post office, a red brick building which might have graced a London suburb but for the peasant women squatted on the steps and the chickens pecking about among the feet of the customers. The rest of the town was real old Poland, narrow streets lined with houses built mainly of wood, with some textile factories on the outskirts. I did not see these at close quarters but I was told that most of them were closed down or on short time.

    Appalling poverty

    This brings me to the blot on the pleasures I got from my stay in Lodz, the appalling poverty of the people. Sheer hunger, naked and unashamed, glared out of the gaunt faces on the sidewalk. Beggary was quite uncontrolled, tiny children haunting the cafes up to the small hours of the morning for groschen, and, worst of all, child prostitution was rife. I am sure that many of the emaciated little creatures who accosted me on the pavements could not have been a day over fourteen. I have never visited the new Poland, but I believe that all this has now disappeared.

    (to be continued)

    Comment


    • #32
      William Winter

      January 3, 2021

      22

      Robbed

      On the whole, our Polish expedition had been interesting and successful but the journey back was a nightmare. Remembering the unpleasantness of Berlin, I decided this time to travel straight through to Brussels, a journey of a day and a night. Before boarding the train I disposed of all my loose Polish money retaining only five pounds in English money which I reckoned, would see us safely home. We had a sleeping car and were dozing comfortably when we reached the German frontier and were boarded by the usual party of bandits demanding Geld.

      Sleepily I showed them my five pounds and replaced it in my wallet. Unfortunately I hung my coat on a hook instead of placing it under my pillow as I usually do. During the night I was conscious that the conductor entered the compartment and seemed to be fumbling about with the window, but I was far too tired to take any notice of him. It was about half past seven that I woke to consciousness and the horrifying discovery that my coat was lying on the floor with my wallet beside it, and that the five English pounds had gone. What was to be done? Molly wanted to alight at Berlin and complain to the police, but I knew that such a course was liable to be construed as an insult to the Nazi regime, and to result in almost inevitable incarceration in a German gaol. Eventually we decided to grin and bear it, and we travelled on to Brussels without a penny piece, one apple, and two cigarettes.

      At Brussels there was only one thing to do - make a splash. It would have been quite unsafe to go to the small hotel where I usually stayed in the Belgian capital, - we might have been asked to pay in advance - so we boldly summoned the porter of the extremely expensive Railway Hotel, marched in and asked for a suite. "We are very tired " I explained, "and did not wish to eat in the dining room, so could we have a meal served upstairs ?" I was afraid to enter any of the public rooms in case for some reason or other, we might be asked to pay for something.

      The bluff worked. A nice bedroom and sitting room was placed at our disposal, and dinner, plus two bottles of wine, and cigarettes, soon appeared. I have rarely enjoyed a meal so much. In the morning (after coffee and rolls in bed) I set out for the British Consulate. Unfortunately it was raining and the hall porter naturally came running up with “Taxi, Monsieur ?" "Non" I said firmly, “Je prefere a promener." He tapped his head and muttered to himself, but I escaped safely. The Consulate was at the other end of the city and I must have looked like a very drowned rat when I arrived, but my reception left nothing to be desired.

      My tale caused no surprise. "You are not the first,” said the official who interviewed me. “Anyone who can prove he has murdered two Untermenschen gets a job on that train." He was most helpful, wired to London for money from my bank, and advanced me enough for immediate needs, including a taxi back, which, I hope, redeemed my character in the eyes of the hotel porter.

      Games

      International Team Tournament
      Hamburg
      British Empire vs Hungary
      Board 4, Round 6, July 17, 1930
      Winter, William – Steiner, Endre
      E47 Nimzo-Indian

      1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 e6 3.Nc3 Bb4 4.e3 O-O 5.Bd3 d6 6.Ne2 e5 7.O-O Re8 8.f3 exd4 9.exd4 h6 10.Ne4 d5 11.Nxf6+ Qxf6 12.Qa4 Nc6 13.cxd5 Bf5 14.Bxf5 Rxe2 15.dxc6 Qxd4+ 16.Kh1 Qf2 17.Rg1 Re1 18.Be3 Qxe3 19.Rgxe1 Bxe1 20.cxb7 Re8 21.Be4 Rf8 22.Qb5 Rb8 23.Qd7 1-0

      International Team Tournament
      Warsaw
      B.C.F. v. France
      Board 1, Round 5, August 19, 1935
      Winter, William – Alekhine, Alexander
      A43 Old Benoni Defence

      1.d4 c5 2.e3 d5 3.Nf3 Nc6 4.c3 Bg4 5.Nbd2 cxd4 6.exd4 e6 7.Be2 Bd6 8.O-O Nge7 9.Ne5 Bxe2 10.Qxe2 Bxe5 11.dxe5 Qc7 12.f4 Qb6+ 13.Kh1 h5 14.Nf3 Nf5 15.Re1 Nce7 16.Be3 Nxe3 17.Qxe3 Nf5 18.Qxb6 axb6 19.a3 h4 20.Rad1 Ra4 21.Nd4 Nxd4 22.Rxd4 Rxd4 23.cxd4 Kd7 24.Rc1 Ra8 25.Rc3 f6 26.Kg1 Rf8 27.exf6 gxf6 28.Rb3 e5 29.Rxb6 Kc7 30.Re6 Kd7 31.Rb6 1/2-1/2

      After the text move, Alekhine offered a draw, which Winter accepted because the British team were assured of victory in the match. White would be justified in seeking victory by retreating his rook down the QN file, but whether he would be successful against best play is not certain.

      International Team Tournament
      Warsaw
      BCF vs Czecho-Slovakia
      Board 1, Round 18, August 30, 1935
      Winter, William – Flohr, Salomon
      C01 French, Exchange variation

      1.d4 e6 2.e4 d5 3.exd5 exd5 4.Bd3 Nc6 5.c3 Bd6 6.Ne2 Nge7 7.Bf4 Be6 8.Nd2 Qd7 9.Qc2 Ng6 10.Bg3 Nce7 11.O-O-O O-O-O 12.Nb3 b6 13.Nc5 Bxc5 14.dxc5 Kb7 15.Nd4 Nc6 16.Qa4 Nxd4 17.Qa6+ Ka8 18.cxd4 f5 19.h4 f4 20.Bh2 Qf7 21.c6 Bc8 22.Qa4 Rd6 23.Bb5 Ne7 24.Rd3 Qf6 25.Rc3 Kb8 26.Kb1 a6 27.Bxa6 Nxc6 28.Bxc8 Rxc8 29.Ra3 Na5 30.b4 Rc6 31.bxa5 Rc4 32.Qd1 Rxd4 33.Qg4 Re8 34.Rd1 Rb4+ 35.Rb3 Qc3 36.Qf3 Rxb3+ 37.axb3 Re3 38.Qxd5 Re2 39.Qd8+ 1/2-1/2

      White draws by perpetual check

      International Tournament
      Lodz
      Round 1, September 1935
      Winter, William – Mikenas, Vladas
      A97 Dutch, Ilyin-Genevsky, Winter variation

      1.d4 e6 2.Nf3 f5 3.g3 Nf6 4.Bg2 Be7 5.O-O O-O 6.c4 d6 7.Nc3 Qe8 8.Re1 Qh5 9.e4 fxe4 10.Nxe4 Nxe4 11.Rxe4 Nc6 12.Bf4 Bf6 13.h4 h6 14.Rc1 a6 15.c5 Nxd4 16.Rxd4 e5 17.Rd5 c6 18.cxd6 cxd5 19.Qxd5+ Kh8 20.Nxe5 Bxe5 21.Bxe5 Qf7 22.Rc7 Bd7 23.Qxf7 Rxf7 24.Bxb7 Re8 25.f4 Be6 26.Bxa6 Bxa2 27.b4 Be6 28.b5 Rd7 29.b6 Rb8 30.b7 Kg8 31.Rc8+ Rd8 32.d7 1-0

      International Tournament
      Lodz
      Round 4, September 6, 1935
      Winter, William – Tartakover, Saviely
      Nimzo-Indian Defence

      1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 e6 3.Nc3 Bb4 4.Qc2 Nc6 5.Nf3 O-O 6.a3 Bxc3+ 7.Qxc3 d6 8.b4 Ne4 9.Qc2 f5 10.b5 Ne7 11.e3 Ng6 12.Bd3 Nh4 13.Nxh4 Qxh4 14.O-O Rf6 15.f3 Ng5 16.f4 Nf7 17.Bb2 Bd7 18.Rf3 Rg6 19.d5 Nh6 20.c5 exd5 21.cxd6 c6 22.bxc6 bxc6 23.Be5 Re8 24.h3 Qh5 25.Be2 Nf7 26.Rg3 Qh6 27.Rxg6 Qxg6 28.Bd4 a5 29.Qc5 Nxd6 30.Qxa5 Nb5 31.Bc5 Qf6 32.Qe1 Nc3 33.Bh5 g6 34.Bd4 Qe6 35.Qxc3 gxh5 36.Rb1 c5 37.Qxc5 Qc6 38.Qa7 Qa4 39.Qxa4 Bxa4 40.Rb7 h6 41.Rg7+ Kf8 42.Rg6 Rc8 43.Rf6+ Kg8 44.Rxf5 Rc2 45.Rxh5 Ra2 46.Rxh6 Rxa3 47.Ra6 Ra2 48.Ra7 Bb3 49.Rxa2 Bxa2 50.g4 Bb1 51.Kf2 Kf7 52.f5 Be4 53.Kg3 Kg8 54.Kf4 Kh7 55.g5 Bg2 56.h4 Bf1 57.Ke5 Bg2 58.Kf6 Be4 59.g6+ Kg8 60.h5 1-0

      Winter says at move 50 that it is discourteous of Black to play on and after his 60th move, Black at last resigns.

      Comment


      • #33
        William Winter

        January 3, 2021

        22 (continued)

        Over-anxious

        Somehow or other, I have rarely played at my best in the British Championship and it was not until 1935, ten years after I joined the professional ranks, that I won the title for the first time.

        I think the reason was probably over­anxiety. To win the championship is naturally the primary object of all professional a considerable though indirect financial gain. Consequently I went into contests too keyed up and was apt to make blunders at critical moments.

        British Championship 1931
        Worcester
        Round 6, August 15, 1931
        Winter, William – Sergeant, Edward G.
        D63 QGD, Orthodox Defence, Pillsbury Attack

        1.c4 Nf6 2.Nc3 e6 3.Nf3 d5 4.d4 Be7 5.Bg5 O-O 6.e3 Nbd7 7.Rc1 b6 8.cxd5 exd5 9.Bd3 Bb7 10.O-O Ne4 11.Bf4 c5 12.Qe2 Nxc3 13.bxc3 c4 14.Bf5 g6 15.Bxd7 Qxd7 16.Ne5 Qe6 17.Bh6 Rfe8 18.f4 f5 19.Rf3 Bf6 20.Rg3 Re7 21.Rf1 Bxe5 22.fxe5 Bc6 23.h4 b5 24.h5 Be8 25.e4 dxe4 26.Qxe4 Bc6 27.Qh4 Be4 28.Bg5 Rg7 29.Bf6 a5 30.Bxg7 Kxg7 31.hxg6 hxg6 32.Rh3 Rg8 33.Qh7+ Kf8 34.Qc7 a4 35.Rh7 Bc6 36.d5 1-0

        British Championship 1933
        Hastings
        Winter, William – Khan, Mir Sultan
        E24 Nimzo-Indian, Samisch variation

        1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 e6 3.Nc3 Bb4 4.a3 Bxc3+ 5.bxc3 c5 6.f3 Nc6 7.e4 d6 8.Be3 Qa5 9.Qd2 e5 10.d5 Ne7 11.Bd3 Ng6 12.Ne2 Qa4 13.Ng3 h5 14.Qb2 Rb8 15.Qb5+ Qxb5 16.cxb5 h4 17.Ne2 Bd7 18.a4 Ke7 19.Kf2 Nh5 20.g3 Rh7 21.f4 exf4 22.gxf4 Bg4 23.e5 Bxe2 24.Bxg6 fxg6 25.Kxe2 Rf8 26.Raf1 Rf5 27.Rhg1 dxe5 28.Bxc5+ Kd7 29.fxe5 Rxe5+ 30.Kd3 Rxd5+ 31.Kc4 Rf5 32.Rd1+ Kc7 33.Rge1 Rf7 34.Bxa7 Rh8 35.Re5 Kc8 36.b6 Rf6 37.Rc5+ Rc6 38.Rxc6+ bxc6 39.a5 Kb7 40.Rd7+ Ka6 41.Bb8 Kxa5 42.Kc5 Ka4 43.Be5 Re8 44.Ra7+ Kb3 45.Bc7 Nf6 46.b7 Kc2 47.Kxc6 Re6+ 48.Bd6 1-0

        British Championship 1935
        Great Yarmouth
        Winter, William – Michell, Reginald Pryce
        E36 Nimzo-Indian, Classical, Noa variation

        1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 e6 3.Nc3 Bb4 4.Qc2 d5 5.a3 Bxc3+ 6.Qxc3 Ne4 7.Qc2 O-O 8.e3 f5 9.Ne2 Nd7 10.Nf4 Ndf6 11.f3 Nd6 12.b3 c6 13.Bd3 Bd7 14.Bb2 Qe7 15.O-O Rad8 16.Rae1 Bc8 17.Kh1 Rf7 18.c5 Nde8 19.g4 g6 20.g5 Nd7 21.h4 Ng7 22.Qh2 e5 23.dxe5 Nxe5 24.Bb1 Re8 25.h5 Nxh5 26.Nxh5 gxh5 27.Qxh5 Qe6 28.f4 Ng4 29.Rg1 Ref8 30.Rxg4 fxg4 31.g6 Rg7 32.Bxg7 Kxg7 33.Qxh7+ Kf6 34.f5 Qd7 35.Qh4+ Kg7 36.Qh7+ Kf6 37.Qh4+ 1-0

        British Championship 1936
        Bournemouth
        Round 4, June 11, 1936
        Noel-Johnson, Reginald Charles – Winter, William
        A45 Queen’s Pawn game

        1.d4 Nf6 2.e3 g6 3.Bd3 d6 4.Ne2 Bg7 5.O-O O-O 6.c4 e5 7.Nbc3 Nc6 8.d5 Nb4 9.e4 Nxd3 10.Qxd3 Nd7 11.Be3 f5 12.f3 f4 13.Bf2 g5 14.b4 Nf6 15.Kh1 g4 16.c5 Nh5 17.fxg4 Bxg4 18.Ng1 Qg5 19.Nf3 Qh6 20.Ne2 Rf7 21.Rac1 Raf8 22.Rc3 Qg6 23.cxd6 cxd6 24.b5 Nf6 25.Rc4 Bh6 26.Nh4 Qh5 27.Ng1 Bd7 28.a4 Ng4 29.Qe2 Bg5 30.Nhf3 Bd8 31.h3 Nxf2+ 32.Qxf2 Rg7 33.Rfc1 Rg3 34.Qf1 Bb6 35.R1c2 Bxg1 36.Nxg1 f3 37.Kh2 Qh4 38.gxf3 Rfxf3 39.Qxf3 Rxf3 40.Rg2+ Kh8 41.Nxf3 Qxh3+ 42.Kg1 Qxf3 43.Rc7 Bg4 44.Rxb7 h5 45.a5 h4 46.Rf2 Qg3+ 47.Rg2 Qe3+ 48.Rf2 Bf3 0-1

        From The Times, June 20, 1949.

        A short international tournament finished on Saturday at the Mandrake Club, London. First prize was won with ease by Dr. Bernstein of Paris. He scored seven points out of eight, losing only one game to W Winter. In his other games he was never in any difficulties, playing with all his old combinative and positional mastery. [born 1882, died 1962]

        The Mandrake International Tournament 1949
        London
        June 1949
        Bernstein, Dr. Ossip – Winter, William
        B73 Sicilian, Dragon, Classical, Richter variation

        1.e4 c5 2.Nf3 d6 3.d4 cxd4 4.Nxd4 Nf6 5.Nc3 g6 6.Be2 Bg7 7.O-O Nc6 8.Be3 O-O 9.Qd2 d5 10.exd5 Nxd5 11.Nxd5 Nxd4 12.Bxd4 Qxd5 13.Rfd1 Rd8 14.Bf3 Qc4 15.b3 Rxd4 16.Qa5 Qc3 17.Qxc3 Rxd1+ 18.Rxd1 Bxc3 19.Rd8+ Kg7 20.Kf1 Be5 21.c4 Rb8 22.c5 b6 23.Rd5 Ba6+ 24.Kg1 Bf6 25.c6 Rc8 26.Rd1 Bb5 27.Rc1 Bb2 28.Rc2 Ba3 29.b4 a5 30.c7 Bxb4 31.Bb7 Bd7 32.Bxc8 Bxc8 33.Rc1 Bc5 34.Rd1 Bd6 35.Rb1 Kf6 36.Rxb6 Ke6 37.Rb3 Bxc7 38.Re3+ Kd7 39.Rf3 f5 40.Rh3 a4 41.Rd3+ Bd6 42.h4 e5 43.Rg3 h5 44.Rxg6 a3 45.Rh6 Bb7 46.Rxh5 Bd5 47.Rh8 Bxa2 48.Ra8 Bc4 49.h5 a2 50.h6 e4 51.g4 fxg4 0-1

        Position after Black’s 36…Ke6

        

        Black captures the passed pawn after which the rook is helpless against the bishops. This game took place a few feet from the club bar in a Soho basement oppressive with heat and smoke-haze. By Winter’s board there stood a pint glass, continually replenished by his friends who were anxious that nothing should stand in the way of his victory. Bernstein may have interpreted events differently, otherwise he might now have resigned with a clear conscience. Winter played the remaining moves with his customary accomplished technique.

        (to be continued)

        Comment


        • #34
          William Winter

          January 4, 2021

          23

          Wrecked by Chicken Pox

          I would have won in 1928 at Tenby had I not missed a forced mate against one of the weaker competitors ultimately losing the game, and in 1931 I led the field by one and a half points at the end of the first week but played too cautiously in the second half. My greatest tragedy was in 1933 when the tournament was played at Hastings. For once I seemed to be in my best form, and when I beat Sultan Khan and Thomas in successive rounds I was feeling very much on top of the world. After the last of these games I turned in to my favourite pub for a drink. “Sorry, sir, but I can't serve you” said the barman. “What do you mean?” I replied indignantly, “I haven't had a drink all day.” “No sir, it's not that, but look at yourself in the glass! ”I turned and looked. My face resembled nothing so much as a decayed Christmas pudding. I had developed chicken pox.

          I knew perfectly well how it had come about. A month previously a West African native and his English wife had come to lodge in our house in Mornington Crescent with a little half-caste girl about six years old. Neither Molly nor I were particularly fond of children but our hatred of the colour-bar compelled us to make friendly overtures to family who were rather looked down on by the rest of the household. On one occasion I had taken the brat to the pictures and even kissed it good-bye, This was the result. Naturally I had to resign from the tournament and even worse things threatened. How was I to carry on my Manchester Guardian column? At first it seemed easy. I was able to remain in my hotel and Molly, who had developed into quite an efficient chess secretary, went along twice a day to collect the scores, pick up what gossip she could, and copy out one or two games. From this material I was able to write a passable column. All would have been well it not been for Tinsley. This egregious old ruffian, who had long been conscious that the difference between my column and his own drivellings in The Times could not escape notice for ever, thought he saw a chance to put an end to my column once and for all, and he managed to persuade the committee to exclude Molly from the tournament room on the grounds that she might be a carrier of germs.

          In vain I sent a letter from my doctor, to the effect that chicken pox could not be transmitted in this way. Tinsley’s bluster carried the day, and Molly was excluded from the tournament room. I was saved by Abrahams. With his characteristic generosity he volunteered to write out a game, and the highspot of each round, and hand the copy to Molly outside the tournament room so that each day I managed to make some sort of report.

          The cold war hots up

          From then onwards the cold war between Tinsley and myself became a hot one. I denounced his appalling incompetence to anyone who would listen to me, and he retaliated by spreading abroad slanderous lies about my private life.

          In the chicken pox year, as I always think of 1933, Molly's husband died, and more to please my people than for anything else we decided to get married. In some ways this made things a good deal easier for us. The doors of 'The Boynes' , firmly closed to Molly while we had been living in sin, were now thrown open, and Sir James Barrie invited us several times to dinner at Adelphi Terrace. Molly got on quite well with him.

          Fortune smiles at last

          In the championship of 1934 I played badly, but in the following year the wheel of fortune at last turned my way. The tournament was played at Yarmouth, a place which just suited me, providing enough extraneous amusements to take my mind off the games when not actually playing or writing, and at the same time not uncomfortably crowded. In addition we were able to get rooms in a delightful little pub where everyone took the greatest interest in my progress and the landlord posted up a bulletin every night in the bar.

          In spite of this encouragement I made a poor start, losing in the second round to Thomas, the holder of the title. Michell in the meantime started off with four clear wins, but in the fifth round I met and beat him. As Thomas had also lost a game I finished the first week on terms with the leaders. In the second half I was careful not to repeat my Worcester mistake of keeping the draw in hand, but played boldly for the win in every game. Somehow I felt this was to be my year. I entered the last round half a point ahead of Thomas who was opposed by Tylor, while l had to face Spencer - always a dangerous opponent - who had a knack of pulling out a little bit extra against the best opposition. As may be imagined I spent almost as much time watching Thomas as I did in studying my own game, and great was my joy when I saw he was getting the worst of it. The crisis came after about three hours play. I had reached a position where I had the choice of forcing a draw by perpetual check or entering on a sacrificial variation which looked like a win but was distinctly speculative. One last look at the other game convinced me that Thomas had a lost position, and I decided to take the chance and force a draw. Tylor made no mistakes in his game but Thomas, as always, put up a stiff resistance, and it was nearly an hour before he finally knocked over his king. It was probably the worst hour I ever spent in my life.

          Here the memoirs end and this note from the editor:

          Here William Winter's memoirs end - only jottings really, but in a smooth flowing style-inevitably reminding us of his playwright uncle. Was his a happy life? Whether or no, the world would be a poorer place without such colourful characters.
          ___________

          Chessgames.com has many comments about Winter. I quote some of them below:

          September 27, 2005 - I believe an Australian named Kevin Brown is currently writing a biography of William Winter. I discovered him during my research on the Winter family for part of my own recently published book about my grandmother who lived with the Winters at Medstead and knew William as a boy. She was their housekeeper, and also housekeeper to William's uncle, J M Barrie, some 15 miles distant.

          August 18, 2007: William R. Hartston (Cambridge, England) submitted the following from the London Evening News of 5 December 1921: Chess Prodigy Goes Astray Counsel Thinks Brain May Have Been Weakened

          A child chess prodigy, William Winter, known afterwards to the police as ‘Simple Simon among the Communists’ appealed today against a six months’ sentence at Bristol for seditious speeches. He was described as an international chess player and a student of Cambridge University. Mr H. S. Diamond, on his behalf, said he could not really appeal against the conviction, as there was evidence that he uttered the speeches. During the war, he said, Winter was in the Honourable Artillery Company, being discharged with a good character. He seemed to have left his studies at Cambridge to air his extreme Socialistic views and join the Communist ranks. It was said that he was under the influence of a woman older than himself. While he did not suggest that chessplayers all become weak in the head, he submitted that in this case the man’s brain was weakened. A term of imprisonment might have a severe effect on him. Mr Justice Branson said no fault could be found with the trial. This young man left his studies and employment to stir up strife among those less fortunate than himself. The sentence was not too severe, for those who made such seditious speeches inflamed and perverted many people. The appeal was dismissed.

          (to be continued)

          Comment


          • #35
            Thanks for taking the time to post all of this material. I am really enjoying the daily instalments.

            Comment


            • #36
              William Winter

              January 5, 2021

              24

              Excerpts from chessgames.com continued

              May 12, 2012 - "Kings of Chess" was my first good chess book, and it remains one of my favorites. In the book Winter annotates games from the world championship matches, presenting them in chronological order with detailed historical introductions and biographies for each match. As a child chess beginner, I was fascinated by the well written accounts of the matches and descriptions of the great players. While most informative on the diverse personalities and exploits of the champions and their challengers, the book never offered a clue as to Winter's own proclivities or politics, neither of which I would criticize.

              July 12, 2014 - The CHESS annual you're speaking of is Vol.28(Nov.'62-Sept.'63). I recently read Winter's memoirs and they're entertaining, but read with a grain of salt. On p.149, he tells a fable about Hans Kmoch - a much beloved figure in American chess - that makes Kmoch look like a racist troglodyte. The alleged incident stems from Kmoch's game vs. Sultan Khan at the 1930 Hamburg Olympiad. Kmoch's rebuttal letter appears on p.245 of Vol.28. The editor's conclusion: "We believe Mr. Kmoch!"

              Letters on The Winter Memoirs

              From CHESS page 212, Volume 28, No. 431, April 20th, 1963

              May I take the opportunity of congratulating you for printing the memoirs of that fine chess player W. Winter. He was a great character. I for one, have derived great pleasure from reading this excellent work.

              G. Ball, Blaina, 12 Feb. 1963

              I would like to take this opportunity of saying how much I enjoy the William Winter memoirs. They make grand reading and should be better still in the next issue when he enters the international arena.

              A Sayers, Sunderland, 2 February 1963

              The most regrettable feature of William Winter’s candid memoirs – and there are several – to me is his venomous attack on Walter Russell, whom I remember as a courteous and harmless old gentleman who devoted his life to the City of London chess club. Perhaps it was enough for Winter that Russell came ‘of good family’ or perhaps Russell remonstrated with Winter for his ostentatiously squalid attire and appearance. I joined the City Club in 1901 so I saw something of Russell. Anyhow it would be interesting to read comments on Winter as trenchant as those he offers on his contemporaries.

              Yates, who seems to me to have been at least as hard up as Winter, managed to present a decent appearance in public.

              J. Y. Bell, Guilford, March 10, 1963

              [B.H.Wood editor – Yes, Winter often presented a most filthy and disreputable appearance. We met Walter Russell personally and found him dominating and irascible]


              From CHESS pages 244-5, Volume 28, No. 433, End-May 1963

              In 1952, when I was on the point of winning the Kent Championship and my star was in the ascendant. Canterbury met Maidstone in a local league match and my game went for adjudication in this position:

              

              I claimed a draw with 1.Ra7+. My opponent thought he could win once he escaped the checks, on the purely psychological grounds that he was a piece up. I tried to show him that he should ignore psychology and bow to brute force:

              1.Ra7+ Kf8 2.Ra8+ Ke7 3.Ra7+ Kd6 4.Ra6+ Kc5 5.Rxa2 Nxa2 6.g7 Rb8 7.Kf6 Nc3 8.Kf7

              and White queens his pawn in time to draw. My opponent insisted on sending the game for adjudication and the result came through: a win for him! I asked who the adjudicator was? “William Winter”. I had met Winter a couple of times; I penned him a polite letter of enquiry, could he kindly let me know why my analysis was unsound. No reply.

              Hardly worth publishing perhaps but it does show a certain dishonesty of intellect.

              H.E.G. Courtney, Mavern, 28 March 1963.

              [Note from WK – I agree with the analysis above.

              My engine says that Black wins with these variations:

              1.Ra7+ { -1.10/22 } 1...Kf8 2.Ra8+ Ke7 3.g7 Rg1 4.Ra7+ Kd6 5.Ra6+ Kd7 6.Ra7+ Kc6 7.Ra6+ Kb5 8.Rxa2 Nxa2 9.Kf6

              ( 1.Ke5 { -11.96/22 } 1...Rb4 2.Rxa2 Nxa2 3.Kd5 Kxg6 4.Ke5 Nc3 5.Kd6 Kf5 6.Kc5 Ra4 7.Kc6 Rc4+ 8.Kb6 Kf6 )

              ( 1.Ke6 { -12.15/22 } 1...a1=Q 2.Rxa1 Rxa1 3.Kd6 Kxg6 4.Kc5 Ra4 5.Kd6 Kf6 6.Kc5 Ke6 7.Kc6 Rc4+ 8.Kb7 Kd5 9.Kb6 Kd6 10.Ka6 Rb4 11.Ka5 Rb5+ 12.Ka6 Kc7 13.Ka7 )

              ( 1.Ra8 { #-17/22 } 1...a1=Q 2.Rxa1 Rxa1 3.Ke5 Rd1 4.Kf5 Rd5+ 5.Kg4 Kxg6 6.Kf4 Rd8 7.Ke5 Rd1 )

              ( 1.Rxa2 { #-15/22 } 1...Nxa2 2.Ke4 Rd1 3.Kf5 Rd5+ 4.Kf4 Kxg6 5.Kg4 Rd1 )

              ( 1.Kg4 { #-13/21 } ) 1...Kf8 2.Ra8+ Ke7 3.g7 Rg1 4.Ra7+ Kd6 5.Ra6+ Kd7 6.Ra7+ Kc6 7.Ra6+ Kb5 8.Rxa2 Nxa2 9.Kf6 ]

              Winter’s Memoirs were the finest thing you have ever published. Despite my repugnance at his appearance in later years, I was enthralled by his lucid expositions on chess. When I ventured to suggest that I enjoyed endings, he withered me with the retort “Mr. Rushbrook, if you don’t know the openings, you will never get an endgame…”
              When he only drew a game in which he had held an advantage, an onlooker remarked “What a pity he was unable to force home that passed pawn that got bogged down in his cigarette ash on the QB file.”

              R.E. Rushbrook, London, E.C.2, 10 May 1963

              Winter, who was trying to earn a living in chess, was refused membership of the City of London Chess Club because of his political beliefs – a matter of principle not raised by your correspondent Mr. A. Y Bell. Evidently for him it is not manners – Winter’s were impeccable - but clothes that maketh man.

              David Hooper, Chertsny, 1 May 1963

              May I add a few words to Mr. Bells vindication of the late Mr. J. Walter Russell. Mr. Russell was Secretary to the City of London C.C. from 1895 to 1930 and his long tenure of office was a dedication of his life and resources to the honour and glory of the Club. I was a member from 1930 to its end in 1938 and was honoured by Russell’s friendship. I remember the incident of a printer who joined for a short period and turned up with dirty hands and perhaps Russell’s justified and outspoken indignation against this man was a pointer towards the bad feeling between Russell and Winter. Russell’s great services to Chess included the organisation of the 1899 London Tournament, the Clubs invitation Tournament of 1900, the Cable Matches and the Clubs 75th Anniversary Tournament in 1927. He was generous in financial help to impoverished British Masters and I hold a document which shows that he gave £1 to a hard up German master – quite a lot of money 50 years ago. Russell lent me the book of the 1889 New York Tournament which was kept locked up because of its value and he added his set of architects drawing instruments to a tournament prize which I won. All in all, he was a fine old English gentleman and Winter’s uncharitable words were quite unworthy of him.

              R.E. Robinson, Ealing W.5

              (to be concluded with the next posting)

              Comment


              • #37
                William Winter

                January 6, 2021

                25

                Letters to CHESS continued

                Not that it matters, nor that I would cast any blame on the late Winter whom I knew as a perfect gentleman. It is only for the sake of curiosity that I ask permission to comment on Winter’s story concerning my game against Sultan Khan.

                I never asked Winter or anybody else what language Sultan Khan spoke. Nor did I shout (I never do). Sultan Khan and I had met before. What little conversation there was between us was done in English of which we both had a common sufficient for the purpose.

                Winter, being not asked, had no opportunity to reply “Chess” or anything else.

                I did not offer a draw three times, nor did Sultan Khan who never smiles, meet my offers with a smile. Nor again did I resign a few moves later. And I was not the Austrian champion (contests have not been held at all in my active time.)

                Sultan Khan had White: we played a Giuoco Piano. After a small number of moves probably 18 or so, a position was reached which I considered as fully satisfactory for Black.

                I offered a draw so as to gain time for my work as a reporter. (I used to be very strict in never offering a draw to anybody unless my position, to the best of my understanding, was fully satisfactory).

                Sultan Khan accepted my offer outright. The game’s ending in a draw in a provable fact.

                Hans Kmoch, New York, 17 April 1963

                (We believe Mr. Kmoch! – Editor)

                [WK – I have searched for the score of the Sultan Khan – Hans Kmoch game in the most recent book on the Olympiad:
                Chess Olympiad Hamburg 1930 by A.J. Gillam, The Chess Player, 2016 but, evidently, it has not been discovered.

                The Match was British Empire – Austria and the final score, 2.5-1.5. Round Four, July 15, 1930.

                Sultan Khan-Kmoch, H. 0.5-0.5
                Muller, H.-Yates, F. 0-1
                Thomas, G.-Lokvenc, J. 0.5-0.5
                Wolf, S.-Winter, W. 0.5-0.5]

                From CHESS page 266, Volume 28, No. 434, Whitsun 1963

                I take this opportunity to congratulate you on those really terrific numbers that contained the William Winter memoirs.

                I thoroughly enjoyed reading the “Memoirs” and when they came to an end I felt as unhappy as though I’d been caught in a double check!

                W.E. Lock, London W.W.8., 22 May 1963
                _________

                Edward Winter in his Chess Notes has a feature article on William Winter:

                https://www.chesshistory.com/winter/extra/winter.html

                There is also an article in the British Chess News which mentions his death:

                http://britishchessnews.com/2020/12/...8-18-xii-1955/

                He died of tuberculosis in London in December 1955, after refusing to go into a sanatorium.
                __________

                Thus ends the long saga of William Winter. I have posted it to provide relief to chessplayers during this long covoid-19 lockdown.

                I would hope that most readers would agree that it is an interesting and diverting personal history of our great game.

                Finish










                A Note about Mornington Crescent

                Winter mentioned living on this street near Regent’s Park. It is also the name of a London Underground station in Camden Town in north west London, nearby.

                The name is very euphonious and became the name of a non-game on the BBC Radio 4 comedy program “I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue”.

                A typical game on ISIHAC progresses as follows:
                • There are several players (at least two, and usually four).
                • Each player in turn says the name of a London Underground station apparently at random but with no repeats.
                • The first player to say Mornington Crescent is the winner.
                So, why doesn't the first player simply say "Mornington Crescent" on their first move, and thus win? There are two objections to this strategy. Firstly, if you always did this then no one would ever play with you again. Secondly, and much more importantly, your pay off measured in terms of laughs and/or comedic impact, increases the longer that the game lasts. This now gives us the clue to finding a strategy for winning at Mornington Crescent without having to know the rules for playing it…

                If you find this puzzling, please go to:

                https://plus.maths.org/content/how-w...ngton-crescent

                I first became aware of the comic implications of Mornington Crescent by listening to a lecture by the English comedian, Kenneth Williams, on BBC, April 1970. I think he was running for Parliament for that area and gave this poem after addressing the potential voters:

                The crowd effusively cheered me
                Their reaction to me was sublime
                They made me a present of Mornington Crescent
                And threw it, a brick at a time

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