Chesstories - Chess Hustlers Never Die

At such places money is routinely exchanged. Some players, whether the lucky or the best, manage to scratch out a living hustling unsuspecting tourists and the occasional grandmaster who succumbs to the scent of a supposed easy victory. That the grandmaster often falls to defeat is usually not publicized. The hustler doesn't care to "grow" his or her reputation beyond a certain extent by claiming the scalp of a grandmaster, because that might only drive away future paying "customers". And the grandmaster doesn't want it known that he fell into the clutches of - and lost to - a hustler. Playing rapid chess for money? The very idea! Ha!

Washington Square in New York, popularized in the movie "Searching for Bobby Fischer", is one such place. Former U. S. Women's Chess Champion Angelina Belakofskaia hustled chess in Washington Square as a 17-year old immigrant. Toronto, too, had such a place on Gould Street, but it was sacrificed in the name of urban redevelopment:

The Toronto Star
http://www.thestar.com
Aug. 6, 2003. 01:18 PM

Chess moves: Gould to small park
Forced to leave, games carry on Few players at city hall square
GAVIN TAYLOR
STAFF REPORTER

The "fisherman" is sitting with hunched shoulders and crossed legs, a navy blue sweatshirt wrapped around his head.

He comes to Nathan Phillips Square every day to trawl for "fish" - tourists, amateurs and other poor fools who are parted from their money in matches of street chess.

In years past, he would have set up shop on Gould St. next to Sam the Record Man, alongside dozens of other chess hustlers who had made the corner their home since the early 1980s.

Renovations to the record store this year forced the players away from the battered tables and benches of Gould St., and city officials suggested they move their games to the southeast corner of the square.

But the fisherman, who refuses to give his real name, is a lonely sight at the chess tables. A few tourists are eating their lunch at the chess tables, but none of them want to play.

"The sunlight is too strong during the day you just bake - and at night there's no light," he says.

The real scene, it turns out, is a few blocks east, in a small park near the corner of Queen and Church Sts. Beneath the elm trees, on chess tables and picnic benches, a dozen games are in progress.

A tall, gaunt man with sandy hair is playing against another man wearing Ray-Bans and a black T-shirt. The opening of their match is a flurry of movement - hands grab pawns, slide them forward, then slam down on the time clock - thwack!

The pace slows as the players consider their moves, but the banter never relents.

"All you have to do is move your rook down and take my queen. What are you, blind?"

"Do you try to lose or does it just come naturally?"

A few members of the old Gould St. gang started moving to the park this summer, and on some weekends more than 50 people gather to play chess and backgammon. The matches begin early in the morning and last late into the night, played under two Victorian lamps in the centre of the park.

The players come from all walks of life, and most want to remain anonymous. Some are patients at nearby St. Michael's Hospital. Others are entrepreneurs, construction workers, and people out of work. "Here we get millionaires mixing with the homeless," says Larry Castle, a housing maintenance co-ordinator who boasts "the perfect chess name."

Many of the people in the park are chess enthusiasts like Castle, but for others the chess corner is a place of refuge.

"Almost everyone here has something to hide," says J.J., a gambling addict who turned to chess as a substitute for betting on horses.

He points to some of the other players: One is an alcoholic, one might be mentally ill, and a third suffers from chronic illness. As he speaks, four volunteers from the Centre for Student Missions walk among the chess players, handing out sandwiches, soap and toothpaste.

There are some dangers in the park. A number of crack dealers use the park as their place of business, just as drug dealers had congregated near the Gould St. chess corner in recent years. Police patrol the park regularly, and plainclothes officers have made arrests near the chess tables, J.J. says.

And the tourists who once were easy prey for hustlers on Gould St. are nowhere to be found.

"You're not going to catch any fish here. The pond is empty."

Back at Nathan Phillips Square, though, the fisherman has made a catch. A young boy and his mother have sat down to play. In a matter of minutes and with a few well-chosen moves — thwack! thwack! thwack! — the fisherman wins.

The mother passes him a five-dollar bill, and he uncrosses his legs, ready for his next catch.