HISTORICAL CHESS
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The I.G.K. Fifth Symposium Hamburg 1999

Don McLean's Diary
Wallace in Wunderland: Part III

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On The Road to Hamburg - Day 2 Saturday November 27th, 1999

When the alarm clock rang at 7:00 a.m. - it was really something like 1:00 a.m. Montreal time. I looked towards the window which was as pitch black as it had been five hours earlier. Some things never change, and I did what I usually do with alarm clocks... shut them down and roll over for another half hour of rest. But there was so much to look forward to on that second day - a full day of lectures and meetings - that it was impossible to really relax.

In fact, the sun, or some pale grey relative, did not even put in an appearance until around 8:00 a.m. , once I emerged from my room, showered, shaved and ready to join my colleagues downstairs in the breakfast room of the Ibis. Before I left Montreal, my sister had warned me of European breakfasts - not like our North American fare she cautioned. Her images were not encouraging and I turned the corner into the dining area fully expecting to see a depressing gaggle of bleary eyed folks dipping stale black bread into cups of cold coffee.

Not so! The spread was exquisite! Fresh fruit, hot coffee (not the watery stuff we often have to put up with in local diners) muslix, yogurt, sliced cheeses, various kinds of spiced meats, pickles (!!), jams and many other items that North Americans rarely equate with the first meal of the day, were assembled on huge buffet cart. Out of touch with my body as I was, I decided that no matter how I felt, I should eat as much as possible, and so, I stocked up on a little of everything and went about the perplexing task of figuring out what should go with what.

As I ate I looked around the room and noted that it had begun to fill with IGK members. My early morning recollections are never very accurate - filled with gaps and distortions. As a result, I recall nothing of my first European breakfast beyond the food itself and the fact that Mike Pennell shared the table with me. In fact, the next thing I knew I was standing in the lobby, fully dressed in winter wear, hoping that a familiar IGK face would emerge and accompany me to the Schachklub. I was fully prepared to walk, although on that morning, Koichi Masukawa, the Japanese Shogi expert from Osaka, was not. In a matter of minutes we were clambering into a Mercedes cab and speeding down the Wandsbecker Strasse in the direction of our meeting.

After another cup of coffee and a bit of conversation in the ground floor lobby of the Klub, participants gradually proceeded to the upstairs meeting hall. Once there, I drew a chair at the end of the long square of tables, situated to the left of Mike Pennell and to the right of Hans Peter Suwe. With some deliberation I proceeded to organize a variety of objects - reading glasses, pens, Goddesschess brochures, a small collection of IGK pamphlets, my little red notebook, a camera and any other odds and ends that I thought might come in handy during the meeting. It felt as though I was preparing to write an exam of some sort and the thought of a Mr. Bean vignette I had seen on the KLM flight entered my mind as I fidgeted with the assortment of goodies arrayed before me. Mr. Bean had made quite an impression on the Dutch passengers adjacent to me and I hoped that whatever impression I would make on this meeting would be much less conspicuous.

The first lecture on the schedule was to be delivered by one Herr Dr. Peter J. Monte, concerning "The Origins of Modern Chess. This lecture, delivered in clear, concise English, was one of the few that I would be able to follow effortlessly. In effect, the gist of Herr Monte's research echoed the research of Dr. Calvo and showed the propensity of today's researchers to view Valencia as the ultimate cradle of the modern game. For a professional skeptic such as I, this was a good sign - an indication that Dr. Calvo was not a Custer - a desperate man sacrificing all to maintain a hopeless position. Quite the contrary! The pronouncements and recantations of other chess historians subsequently showed a unanimous support for Dr. Calvo's thesis and so, as one not quite capable of discerning the veracity of any claim, pro or con, I was relieved to have been privy to a significant groundswell of positive opinion on the subject of Valencia in general and on the research of Dr. Calvo in particular. In a matter of about an hour, my most secret fears and apprehensions had melted away like the morning haze.

Indeed, Dr. Monte's lecture was filled with interesting references to Salinas (Courier Chess), Lopez and Staunton, as he went on to demonstrate how contact between Christians and Moors had enabled Lucena's "Dama" onward through her processional transformation into the Spanish "Wild Dancing Lady" and the French, "Dame Enragee". The names of Isabella of Spain, St Joan and the Borgias were also invoked variously, almost in the same breath as Herr Monte pointed towards the veneration of the archetype of Mary (ah! but WHICH Mary?) as circumstantial proof of the newly acquired powers of the Queen, in her role both on and of the board.

A "leaping lady" seems hardly an epithet befitting the distinguished, orthodox Virgin - just as "meek and mild" is neither a very appropriate description of Spanish Flamenco. We leave it to the reader's imagination to ferret out whatever meanings for themselves, although, whether white or black, there is something formidable in the image of an agile queen, veiled in Spanish lace, rippling along the tabular squares of the European Stage. Rumour has it that Columbus was more than captivated by the Royal presence and perhaps even a little fearful.

One point during the discussion which I found particularly telling was the general lament that arose with regard to the "Lost Book of Vincent" - an early Spanish manuscript which Ricardo suspects may be shut up in a tower better known to the world as "The Library of the King". That NO ONE may procure entry into the valuable historical archives hosted there is testimony to the great pains chess researchers must sometimes take in order to verify an existing opinion or perhaps even discover a totally new perspective. At a time when we are spoiled by Internet access and quick searches into the dimmest regions of human controversy, it is a pity that certain information still remains hidden from view and that knowledge itself is made to pay an price for its own becoming.

The agenda rolled along in German for the better part of the day, although this did little to diminish my interest. As Ricardo has mentioned, certain of the topics were more provocative than others however, and in them I could see, though not completely fathom, how the details of Dr. Ulrich Schadler's dissertation on "Astrological Chess", Herr Monte's reprise lecture on the "History of the King's Leap and Castling" as well as Herr Professor, Dr. Gunther Bauer's interesting insights into Mozart, could add new jewels to the Goddesschess crown once some complete translations were effected.

Of the great disappointments of the day, Dr. Schadler's presentation was marred by a broken slide projector. Along with an unusually configured chess board, he had amassed a number of visual aids related to the court of Alphonso X which I am sure the entire entourage would have liked to have viewed. While taking this setback in stride, his demonstration of the divinatory aspect of one model of the board was quite an eye-opener and confirmed something that I had often suspected about the game and its hidden predictive powers. While not the chess with which we are most familiar, Dr. Ulrich did succeed in showing the basic points of convergence and divergence between standard chess, "alignment games", "race games" and their "transcendental" board game cousin. I found it worthy of some note that the demonstration board was circular in shape with a number of radiating axes proceeding from its center. Moreover, the divination process appeared in the outcome of play between two people - which, of itself, seemed an augury of certain Hermetical possibilities hidden in the depth of its charms.

Following Barbara Hollander's presentation, the meeting adjourned for dinner and I tagged along with small group of would-be diners in search of a likely looking restaurant. This proved to be a local taverna - a friendly place where canine pets seemed as much part of the decor as the group of regulars all bellied up to the bar counter. I had learned quickly that, in Hamburg, dogs were tolerated in almost every public place. Somehow they seemed wiser and more domesticated than our typical North American breed - more focused upon their master and less likely to kick up a fuss at the sight of food, or another dog.

In Hamburg, dogs dutifully followed their masters through complex crowds in subways, shopping malls, and other busy places - usually coming to heel and sitting placidly at their owner's feet without any visible sign having been given. I was impressed from the moment I encountered what seemed to be a stray on the previous day's subway venture and watched as this dog embarked at one stop and disembarked at another. Perhaps he was off to do some banking or visit his bone specialist.- although, from that point onward I never underestimated the sagacity of the local breed and kept a mental log of their seemingly well-informed habits.

Seated at a small table with Ricardo, Carmen, Ken Whyld, Mike Pennell and Dr. Schadler, there was no shortage of conversation, which was a steady mix of German, English and some Spanish. I can't remember exactly what we discussed as we floated in and out of chess topics, canine reflections and ordering lunch. Enriching and spirited as the conversation was, where I thought things came up short had more to do with the European idea of the mid-day meal - which was quite spare compared to the way we Canadians are used to lunching. Although I practically stared a hole through my incomprehensible German menu, I found no tell tale sign of any "Hamburger-burger". Bread, thick soups and beer seemed to be the prime ingredients of a German lunchtime.

Gradually, it donned on me that the up-scale breakfast might have had something to do with the lesser portions consumed at noon. Either way, I thought, I would have a chance to equalize things a little bit at suppertime, since all IGK participants were due to assemble for a special meal later on that very evening.

If nothing else, the lunch table availed the opportunity to extend my congratulations to Dr. Schadler and to find out a little more about his research into Astrological Chess. Soon the whole table was discussing various connections this form of chess appeared to have with Tarot and other related systems of divination. Even though our conversation was brief, I could sense the hand of the Goddess had thrust itself into yet another agenda and recalled how Georgia had been posting messages along this vein shortly before my departure for Germany.

So, after only one half day of lectures and discussion, it appeared as though we tenderfoot types at Goddesschess were not alone in the woods after all and probably had even more company than I could determine. Although my lack of German did not stand me in particularly good stead for the bulk of the day's remaining topics, I could see how aspects of certain presentations fit the hand of the Goddess like a glove. This was nowhere more apparent than Dr. Monte's discourse on The History of the King's Leap and Castling.

Among the more curious features of the game's development were the various changes effected by its pre-Renaissance savants in general and the somewhat trial and error modifications that led to the ritual of Castling in particular. One notable stage in the advent of Castling innovation came through the ascription of the Knight's move to the King himself. Although this, along with so many other aspects of the game, was later retracted and redrawn, it shows an attempt on the part of game-makers to grant greater powers to the King in much the same way as was later the case with the Queen. Ultimately, it was through many similar adjustments and re-adjustments that the issue of tempo was made to dovetail with the strategic attributes of the pieces themselves, a matter so well integrated into the fabric of the game that it is easily overlooked by modern day players.

I was left pondering that possibility as the remaining lectures and discussions of the day passed mostly over my head. My note taking slowed to a near halt while all the remaining speakers addressed their audience in German. Although, a survey of the topics offered that afternoon seemed to indicate that I had missed nothing crucial. However, it was only later, while touring Hamburg itself, that I began to sense the pre-eminence of chess in the local currents of history, politics, the court and vice-versa. Undoubtedly, all the influence and mutual undercurrents seem present in this low-key port city and so, when Herr Meissenberg dispatched an impassioned plea for more formal research into the regional and national developments of the game, its mentors, mavens and magi, I thought little about the value of such an undertaking until I became better acquainted with some of the local history.

I was very tired by the time the Saturday agenda came to a close and soon found myself stumbling home to the Ibis in the company of Mike Pennell and Ken Whyld. I believe I must have been nattering once again - all split apart into barely functioning pieces - one part conscious that Mike was having some difficulty with the chilling dampness, another part aware that I was discussing history and bicycles with Ken, with the remainder of my unfocused attention gawking absent-mindedly into the local shop windows or taking note of on coming pedestrian and two-wheeled traffic. If I had been a dog, at that moment I would have been an Afghan Hound - a less than level headed breed at the best of times. Then again, I might have been doing slightly better than the average Afghan. After all, I was at least displaying visible signs of consciousness as I attempted to keep up with Ken, walking, listening avidly and responding on occasion.

It was probably Ken's enthusiasm for history that kept us dry throughout our walk back to the hotel. I think of Alice in Wonderland ­"The Caucus Race" - in which, one of the characters begins reciting history - "The driest thing I know" - so that Alice and a few other drenched specimens could take special advantage of a bizarre play on words. However, unlike Alice, I was disappointed when we finally made cover at the Ibis. Perhaps not all historical discussions are created equal - nor all historians. In Ken's presence, I could have walked and listened for many more hours, oblivious to weariness or weather.

It was barely 4:30 Hamburg time, but the skies were almost pitch black as I retreated, once again, to my room. The intrepid Calvos had invited me to join them on a tour through one of the more "colourful" sections of town, yet, once again, I was forced to decline as I sensed I needed more sleep and an opportunity to prepare for whatever the evening held in store. During moments like these, I felt as though I was missing almost as much as I was taking in. Even so, there was no other reasonable course to follow. With the stresses of time zone changes and jet lag descending upon me, I knew it would be unwise to push my physical limits past a certain point of tolerance, a point that I had probably already reached somewhere halfway through the post-lunch lectures.

By the time a group of us had assembled in the lobby, I was totally ravenous and quite grateful that the designated restaurant lay just around the corner from the Hotel. IGK members were massing for an advance upon a local Chinese establishment which, as things proved out, served a very tasty combination of platters to one and all of the eighteen assembled at the table. Herr Meissenberg had done the head count and I double checked his numbers, bemused as I always am when ones and eights have anything to do with anything, but, most particularly, when they have to do with chess. "Ah eighteen! A very good chess number!" exclaimed Mr. Meissenberg and with that remark still ringing in our ears, we took almost immediately to ordering drinks and food.

I am somewhat embarrassed to say that I do not fully recall the identity of the gentleman seated to my left, although, to my right was Mr. Koichi Masukawa. We had pantomimed our way through a previous conversation during one of the refreshment pauses and so, I was aware that while we made quite the odd couple, somehow this elderly Japanese gentleman could convey a great deal in broken English once I managed to wrap my mind around some of the pronunciations. Perhaps it was as much luck as anything that kept our conversation flowing like the wine. Good wine! Yes! Perhaps it was the wine which inspired the non-stop dialogue which caused my food to grow cold on its plate and produced one of the strangest stories I had heard in a long time.

Mr. Masukawa is a venerated, well known Shogi expert who, in his younger days, embarked upon the study of German in the part of that country which was under communist rule. While residing in East Germany, after much effort, he finally located the only other Japanese Shogi player in the district and they proceeded to form a friendship based upon their mutual Japanese background and love for the game. At length, it became apparent that there were no Shogi boards to be had locally and so they were obliged to come up with their own invention, substituting the board and its pieces for hand made chits and paper coded moves which they exchanged casually from time to time whenever they met in hotel lobbies or other public places. At some point however, these rather innocent comings and goings came under the suspicion of the local gendarmes, who made it their business to examine the Shogi documents and their accompanying Japanese icons. No doubt, they mistook the game for something more sinister and in subsequent weeks, Mr. Masukawa never lacked for uniformed company as he rode the elevator to and from his hotel room.

Other tales and other less than likely fare also intruded into the conversation. I am, told that it is rare indeed for most Japanese to utter off-colour stories. Thus, I consider myself to have been especially honoured as Koichi astounded me with a wry bit of wit and I astounded myself by actually "getting" the punch line. Chess and bawdy tales know no language barriers I suppose. While Koichi giggled behind his hand I found it impossible to suppress my guffaws. It took awhile for us to settle down and I entertained the distinct impression that this distinguished gentleman and I had marked ourselves as unruly schoolboy types, telling tales out of school while seated amid the deans of chess.

Our conversation continued for quite some time before Mr. Masukawa withdrew from the table. We parted with a handshake, a nod and a smile, although I lingered on for sometime afterwards exchanging general views with the remainder of the tribe. Of course the topic of Quebec nationalism was a focal point for my opinions on the political caste and while I felt more comfortable discussing modern American literature with Ken Whyld - (Pynchon, Updike et al - under the subtitle: "Books I have not Read") - the consensus seemed to be that politicos of all nations appear to function identically when it comes to inducing factionalism and conflict throughout all parts of the globe. It was at that point that I began to percolate and while Mr. Peter Banaschak and I may not have been in total agreement on many points, once again I found myself staying up into the wee hours discussing the World Board and the distant historical events that had seemingly caught up to us once again, even as, on the other side of the world, the WTO and its henchmen were tear gassing and pepper spraying hordes of protesters in the streets of Seattle.

There are aspects of our history which lie hidden and irretrievable save by the heroic efforts of a small minority, or the tricks of time and happenstance. That there seem to be vital aspects of an entire political and economic world view that remain couched in obscurity (even while so called WTO "experts" attempt to swing the sympathies of the public their men are clubbing to their side) is no doubt indicative of some gnarly logistical processes that future historians will bandy about in the coming years. When it comes to understanding the semantic difference between "Fair" and "Free" trade, they too will be as perplexed as those who, in the context of the present day, have set about reconciling the Indian and the Chinese versions of Chess. Yes, perhaps in both cases, there are hidden shards of meaning that have yet to surface - tell-tale artifacts and interpretations that only time and vigilance might summon to the public eye. What will those be? How will we know when we have all the clues? Who will put forth a final judgment?

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