An evening with the Maestro
Sometime around 1964, with my friend, Larry D, I wandered into the chess studio of the international grandmaster, Nicholas Rossolimo. The studio was on Sullivan Street in Greenwich Village. At the time, Big Nick was one of the 10 highest ranking chess players in the world and one of the 2 best in the USA. Naturally, then, he could not earn a living at the game. He drove a cab as his day job, leaving his wife to minister to the chess fanatics who haunted the place day and night. In the evenings, the Great Man would arrive and give chess exhibitions. He would play simultaneously as many persons who could ante up one buck for the privilege. He spun quickly around the room, taking on average 5-10 seconds to make his move. His opponents had as long as they wanted. I decided I would take a shot at it.
Within only 4 moves, I made a blunder. He moved a piece and sped off. When he circled back to me, I did something he never heard of. I asked him if he would allow me to take back my move. He declined. I played on and in only 2 more moves, I was near the point where an 8 year old beginner would have beaten me. Then:
Big Nick: “You should resign. Your position is hopeless.”
SG: “I know, but I am curious to see what the checkmate will look like.”
I make another move and he responds. He returns soon enough and says:
Big N: “Do you know who I am? I am The Maestro. You insult me by continuing.”
At that point, he calls over all the other lunatics and thunders, “Look, look at his position.” Like a Greek chorus, after examining the board for one minute, they scream out in unison, “Resign, resign.”
SG: “I want to continue.”
Big Nick is almost apoplectic. ”It is impossible for you to win.”
SG: “I don’t understand. Does anybody ever enter this studio with the insane idea that this time he will pull off a miracle and beat you? Does anybody ever suppose, “Today is my day”? My chances now are no worse than at the moment I forked over my dollar.”
Big Nick agrees to give me back my dollar if I will leave. The deal is struck and I never had the courage to return. Given his peerless memory, I know that if he is still alive - a man in his middle or late 90s - and should ever see me in the streets of NY, he would cry out in dismay, “YOU! You still live!”
I confess that for the blunder of still being alive and ruining his day - a blunder worse than my chess move - I’d be deeply ashamed of myself.
I once interviewed a 13 yr-old kid from Oak Park named Feinstein who played Kasparov to a draw. It was for a feature article in the Free Press.
And? What did you make of it? I think you probably have the name wrong. My guess is that it was Feinberg. Maybe Mark or his younger brother, who was better. The name of the younger brother escapes me. I beat the younger brother who went on to be a Master level player. It was when he was about 11 years old and he was the number 2 under-12 player in the state. P.S. It was for the Class D championship of the state. Congratulations to me.
The draw with Kasparov was almost certainly during a simultaneous exhibition by the Great One. If you still have a copy of your article, please send it to me.
Congrats on beating the kid. I’ll look for the piece. I once beat my sociology teacher, named Jerry Kaufman, twice in a row to bump an A- to an A. I think he sand-bagged. He was a fine chess player. Died last year of ALS.