A SIMULTANEOUS CHESS MATCH

on 160 boards

Admission . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 kopeks

Participation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50 kopeks

Commencement at 6 p.m. sharp

Bring your own chessboards

MANAGER : K. Michelson

The Grossmeister had not been wasting his time, either. Having rented

the club for three roubles, he hurried across to the chess section, which

for some reason or other was located in the corridor of the horse-breeding

administration.

In the chess section sat a one-eyed man reading a Panteleyev edition of

one of Spielhagen's novels.

"Grossmeister O. Bender!" announced Bender, sitting down on the table.

"I'm organizing a simultaneous chess match here."

The Vasyuki chess player's one eye opened as wide as its natural limits

would allow.

"One second, Comrade Grossmeister," he cried. "Take a seat, won't you?

I'll be back in a moment."

And the one-eyed man disappeared. Ostap looked around the chess-section

room. The walls were hung with photographs of racehorses; on the table lay a

dusty register marked "Achievements of the Vasyuki Chess Section for 1925".

The one-eyed man returned with a dozen citizens of varying ages. They

all introduced themselves in turn and respectfully shook hands with the

Grossmeister.

"I'm on my way to Kazan," said Ostap abruptly. "Yes, yes, the match is

this evening. Do come along. I'm sorry, I'm not in form at the moment. The

Carlsbad tournament was tiring."

The Vasyuki chess players listened to him with filial love in their

eyes. Ostap was inspired, and felt a flood of new strength and chess ideas.

"You wouldn't believe how far chess thinking has advanced," he said.

"Lasker, you know, has gone as far as trickery. It's impossible to play him

any more. He blows cigar smoke over his opponents and smokes cheap cigars so

that the smoke will be fouler. The chess world is greatly concerned."

The Grossmeister then turned to more local affairs.

"Why aren't there any new ideas about in the province? Take, for

instance, your chess section. That's what it's called-the chess section.

That's boring, girls! Why don't you call it something else, in true chess

style? It would attract the trade-union masses into the section. For

example, you could call it The Four Knights Chess Club', or The Red

End-game', or 'A Decline in the Standard of Play with a Gain in Pace'. That

would be good. It has the right kind of sound."

The idea was successful.

"Indeed," exclaimed the citizens, "why shouldn't we rename our section

The Four Knights Chess Club'?"

Since the chess committee was there on the spot, Ostap organized a

one-minute meeting under his honorary chairmanship, and the chess section

was unanimously renamed The Four Knights Chess Club'. Benefiting from his

lessons aboard the Scriabin, the Grossmeister artistically drew four knights

and the appropriate caption on a sheet of cardboard.

This important step promised the flowering of chess thought in Vasyuki.

"Chess!" said Ostap. "Do you realize what chess is? It promotes the

advance of culture and also the economy. Do you realize that The Four

Knights Chess Club', given the right organization, could completely

transform the town of Vasyuki?"

Ostap had not eaten since the day before, which accounted for his

unusual eloquence.

"Yes," he cried, "chess enriches a country! If you agree to my plan,

you'll soon be descending marble steps to the quay! Vasyuki will become the

centre of ten provinces! What did you ever hear of the town of Semmering

before? Nothing! But now that miserable little town is rich and famous just

because an international tournament was held there. That's why I say you

should organize an international chess tournament in Vasyuki."

"How?" they all cried.

"It's a perfectly practical plan," replied the Grossmeister. "My

connections and your activity are all that are required for an international

tournament in Vasyuki. Just think how fine that would sound-The 1927

International Tournament to be held in Vasyuki!' Such players as Jose-Raoul

Capablanca, Lasker, Alekhine, Reti, Rubinstein, Tarrasch, Widmar and Dr.

Grigoryev are bound to come. What's more, I'll take part myself!"

"But what about the money?" groaned the citizens. "They would all have

to be paid. Many thousands of roubles! Where would we get it?"

"A powerful hurricane takes everything into account," said Ostap. "The

money will come from collections."

"And who do you think is going to pay that kind of money? The people of

Vasyuki?"

"What do you mean, the people of Vasyuki? The people of Vasyuki are not

going to pay money, they're going to receive it. It's all extremely simple.

After all, chess enthusiasts will come from all over the world to attend a

tournament with such great champions. Hundreds of thousands of

people-well-to-do people-will head for Vasyuki. Naturally, the river

transport will not be able to cope with such a large number of passengers.

So the Ministry of Railways will have to build a main line from Moscow to

Vasyuki. That's one thing. Another is hotels and skyscrapers to accommodate

the visitors. The third thing is improvement of the agriculture over a

radius of five hundred miles; the visitors have to be provided with fruit,

vegetables, caviar and chocolate. The building for the actual tournament is

the next thing. Then there's construction of garages to house motor

transport for the visitors. An extra-high power radio station will have to

be built to broadcast the sensational results of the tournament to the rest

of the world. Now about the Vasyuki railway. It most likely won't be able to

carry all the passengers wanting to come to Vasyuki, so we will have to have

a 'Greater Vasyuki' airport with regular nights by mail planes and airships

to all parts of the globe, including Los Angeles and Melbourne."

Dazzling vistas unfolded before the Vasyuki chess enthusiasts. The

walls of the room melted away. The rotting walls of the stud-farm collapsed

and in their place a thirty-storey building towered into the sky. Every

hall, every room, and even the lightning-fast lifts were full of people

thoughtfully playing chess on malachite encrusted boards.

Marble steps led down to the blue Volga. Ocean-going steamers were

moored on the river. Cablecars communicating with the town centre carried up

heavy-faced foreigners, chess-playing ladies, Australian advocates of the

Indian defence, Hindus in turbans, devotees of the Spanish gambit, Germans,

Frenchmen, New Zealanders, inhabitants of the Amazon basin, and finally

Muscovites, citizens of Leningrad and Kiev, Siberians and natives of Odessa,

all envious of the citizens of Vasyuki.

Lines of cars moved in between the marble hotels. Then suddenly

everything stopped. From out of the fashionable Pass Pawn Hotel came the

world champion Capablanca. He was surrounded by women. A militiaman dressed

in special chess uniform (check breeches and bishops in his lapels) saluted

smartly. The one-eyed president of the "Four Knights Club" of Vasyuki

approached the champion in a dignified manner.

The conversation between the two luminaries, conducted in English, was

interrupted by the arrival by air of Dr. Grigoryev and the future world

champion, Alekhine.

Cries of welcome shook the town. Capablanca glowered. At a wave of

one-eye's hand, a set of marble steps was run up to the plane. Dr. Grigoryev

came down, waving his hat and commenting, as he went, on a possible mistake

by Capablanca in his forthcoming match with Alekhine.

Suddenly a black dot was noticed on the horizon. It approached rapidly,

growing larger and larger until it finally turned into a large emerald

parachute. A man with an attache case was hanging from the harness, like a

huge radish.

"Here he is!" shouted one-eye. "Hooray, hooray, I recognize the great

philosopher and chess player Dr. Lasker. He is the only person in the world

who wears those green socks." Capablanca glowered again.

The marble steps were quickly brought up for Lasker to alight on, and

the cheerful ex-champion, blowing from his sleeve a speck of dust which had

settled on him over Silesia f ell into the arms of one-eye. The latter put

his arm around Lasker's waist and walked him over to the champion, saying:

"Make up your quarrel! On behalf of the popular masses of Vasyuki, I

urge you to make up your quarrel."

Capablanca sighed loudly and, shaking hands with the veteran, said: "I

always admired your idea of moving QK5 to QB3 in the Spanish gambit."

"Hooray!" exclaimed one-eye. "Simple and convincing in the style of a

champion."

And the incredible crowd joined in with: "Hooray! Vivat! Banzai! Simple

and convincing in the style of a champion!"

Express trains sped into the twelve Vasyuki stations, depositing ever

greater crowds of chess enthusiasts.

Hardly had the sky begun to glow from the brightly lit advertisements,

when a white horse was led through the streets of the town. It was the only

horse left after the mechanization of the town's transportation. By special

decree it had been renamed a stallion, although it had actually been a mare

the whole of its life. The lovers of chess acclaimed it with palm leaves and

chessboards.

"Don't worry," continued Ostap, "my scheme will guarantee the town an

unprecedented boom in your production forces. Just think what will happen

when the tournament is over and the visitors have left. The citizens of

Moscow, crowded together on account of the housing shortage, will come

flocking to your beautiful town. The capital will be automatically

transferred to Vasyuki. The government will move here. Vasyuki will be

renamed New Moscow, and Moscow will become Old Vasyuki. The people of

Leningrad and Kharkov will gnash their teeth in fury but won't be able to do

a thing about it. New Moscow will soon become the most elegant city in

Europe and, soon afterwards, in the whole world."

"The whole world!! I" gasped the citizens of Vasyuki in a daze.

"Yes, and, later on, in the universe. Chess thinking-which has turned a

regional centre into the capital of the world-will become an applied science

and will invent ways of interplanetary communication. Signals will be sent

from Vasyuki to Mars, Jupiter and Neptune. Communications with Venus will be

as easy as going from Rybinsk to Yaroslavl. And then who knows what may

happen? In maybe eight or so years the first interplanetary chess tournament

in the history of the world will be held in Vasyuki."

Ostap wiped his noble brow. He was so hungry he could have eaten a

roasted knight from the chessboard.

"Ye-es," said the one-eyed man with a sigh, looking around the dusty

room with an insane light in his eye, "but how are we to put the plan into

effect, to lay the basis, so to say?"

They all looked at the Grossmelster tensely.

"As I say, in practice the plan depends entirely on your activity. I

will do all the organizing myself. There will be no actual expense, except

for the cost of the telegrams."

One-eyed nudged his companions. "Well?" he asked, "what do you say?"

"Let's do it, let's do it!" cried the citizens.

"How much money is needed for the . . . er . . . telegrams?"

"A mere bagatelle. A hundred roubles."

"We only have twenty-one roubles in the cash box. We realize, of

course, that it is by no means enough . . ."

But the Grossmeister proved to be accommodating. "All right," he said,

"give me the twenty roubles."

"Will it be enough?" asked one-eye.

"It'll be enough for the initial telegrams. Later on we can start

collecting contributions. Then there'll be so much money we shan't know what

to do with it."

Putting the money away in his green field jacket, the Grossmeister

reminded the gathered citizens of his lecture and simultaneous match on one

hundred and sixty boards, and, taking leave of them until evening, made his

way to the Cardboard-worker Club to find Ippolit Matveyevich.

"I'm starving," said Vorobyaninov in a tremulous voice.

He was already sitting at the window of the box office, but had not

collected one kopek; he could not even buy a hunk of bread. In front of him

lay a green wire basket intended for the money. It was the kind that is used

in middle-class houses to hold the cutlery.

"Listen, Vorobyaninov," said Ostap, "stop your cash transactions for an

hour and come and eat at the caterers' union canteen. I'll describe the

situation as we go. By the way, you need a shave and brush-up. You look like

a tramp. A Grossmeister cannot have such suspicious-looking associates."

"I haven't sold a single ticket," Ippolit Matveyevich informed him.

"Don't worry. People will come flocking in towards evening. The town

has already contributed twenty roubles for the organization of an

international chess tournament."

"Then why bother about the simultaneous match?" whispered his manager.

"You may lose the games anyway. With twenty roubles we can now buy tickets

for the ship-the Karl Liebknecht has just come in-travel quietly to

Stalingrad and wait for the theatre to arrive. We can probably open the

chairs there. Then we'll be rich and the world will belong to us."

"You shouldn't say such silly things on an empty stomach. It has a bad

effect on the brain. We might reach Stalingrad on twenty roubles, but what

are we going to eat with? Vitamins, my dear comrade marshal, are not given

away free. On the other hand, we can get thirty roubles out of the locals

for the lecture and match."

"They'll slaughter us!" said Vorobyaninov.

"It's a risk, certainly. We may be manhandled a bit. But anyway, I have

a nice little plan which will save you, at least. But we can talk about that

later on. Meanwhile, let's go and try the local dishes."

Towards six o'clock the Grossmeister, replete, freshly shaven, and

smelling of eau-de-Cologne, went into the box office of the Cardboardworker

Club.

Vorobyaninov, also freshly shaven, was busily selling tickets.

"How's it going? " asked the Grossmeister quietly.

"Thirty have gone in and twenty have paid to play," answered his

manager.

"Sixteen roubles. That's bad, that's bad!" -

"What do you mean, Bender? Just look at the number of people standing

in line. They're bound to beat us up."

"Don't think about it. When they hit you, you can cry. In the meantime,

don't dally. Learn to do business."

An hour later there were thirty-five roubles in the cash box. The

people in the clubroom were getting restless.

"Close the window and give me the money!" said Bender. "Now listen!

Here's five roubles. Go down to the quay, hire a boat for a couple of hours,

and wait for me by the riverside just below the warehouse. We're going for

an evening boat trip. Don't worry about me. I'm in good form today."

The Grossmeister entered the clubroom. He felt in good spirits and knew

for certain that the first move-pawn to king four-would not cause him any

complications. The remaining moves were, admittedly, rather more obscure,

but that did not disturb the smooth operator in the least. He had worked out

a surprise plan to extract him from the most hopeless game.

The Grossmeister was greeted with applause. The small club-room was

decorated with coloured flags left over from an evening held a week before

by the lifeguard rescue service. This was clear, furthermore, from the

slogan on the wall:

ASSISTANCE TO DROWNING PERSONS IS

Date: 2015-01-02; view: 761