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Old January 9th 10, 12:45 AM posted to rec.games.chess.analysis,rec.games.chess.politics,rec.games.chess.misc,rec.arts.movies.past-films,alt.chess
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Default chess in the book "From Russia With Love"

7 The Wizard of Ice


THE TWO faces of the double clock in the shiny, domed case looked out
across the chess-board like the eyes of some huge sea monster that had
peered over the edge of the table to watch the game.

The two faces of the chess clock showed different times. Kronsteen's
showed twenty minutes to one. The long red pendulum that ticked off
the seconds was moving in its staccato sweep across the bottom half of
his clock's face, while the enemy clock was silent and its pendulum
motionless down the face. But Makharov's clock said five minutes to
one. He had wasted time in the middle of the game and he now had only
five minutes to go. He was in bad `time-trouble' and unless Kronsteen
made some lunatic mistake, which was, unthinkable, he was beaten.

Kronsteen sat motionless and erect, as malevolently inscrutable as a
parrot. His elbows were on the table and his big head rested on
clenched fists that pressed into his chucks, squashing the pursed lips
into a pout of hauteur and disdain. Under the wide, bulging brow the
nether slanting black eyes looked down with deadly calm on his winning
board. But, behind the mask, the blood was throbbing in the dynamo of
his brain, and a thick worm-like vein in his right temple pulsed at a
beat of over ninety. He had sweated away a pound of weight in the last
two hours and ten minutes, and the spectre of a false move still had
one hand at his throat. But to Makharov, and to the spectators, he was
still `The Wizard of Ice' whose game had been compared to a man eating
fish. First he stripped off the skin, then he picked out the bones,
then he ate the fish. Kronsteen had been Champion of Moscow two years
running, was now in the final for the third time and, if he won this
game, would be a contender for Grand Mastership.

In the pool of silence round the roped-off top table there was no
sound except the loud tripping feet of Kronsteen's clock. The two
umpires sat motionless in their raised chairs. They knew, as did
Makharov, that this was certainly the kill. Kronsteen had introduced a
brilliant twist into the Meran Variation of the Queen's Gambit
Declined. Makharov had kept up with him until the 28th move. He had
lost time on that move. Perhaps he had made a mistake there, and
perhaps again on the 31st and 33rd moves. Who could say? It would he a
game to be debated all over Russia for weeks to come.

There came a sigh from the crowded tiers opposite the Championship
game. Kronsteen had slowly removed the right hand from his cheek and
had stretched it across the board. Like the pincers of a pink crab,
his thumb and forefinger had opened, then they had descended. The
hand, holding a piece, moved up and sideways and down. Then the hand
was slowly brought back to the face.

The spectators buzzed and whispered as they saw, on the great wall
map, the 41st move duplicated with a shift of one of the three-foot
placards. R-Kt8. That must be the kill!

Kronsteen reached deliberately over and pressed down the lever at the
bottom of his clock. His red pendulum went dead. His clock showed a
quarter to one. At the same instant, Makharov's pendulum came to life
and started its loud, inexorable beat.

Kronsteen sat back. He placed his hands flat on the table and looked
coldly across at the glistening, lowered face of the man whose guts he
knew, for he too had suffered defeat in his time, would be writhing in
agony like an eel pierced with a spear. Nlakharov, Champion of
Georgia. Well, tomorrow Comrade Makharov could go back to Georgia and
stay there. At any rate this year he would not be moving with his
family up to Moscow.

A man in plain clothes slipped under the ropes and whispered to one of
the umpires. He handed him a white envelope. The umpire shook his
head, pointing at Makharov's clock, which now said three minutes to
one. The man in plain clothes whispered one short sentence which made
the umpire sullenly bow his head. He pinged a handbell.
`There is an urgent personal message for Comrade Kronsteen,' he
announced into the microphone. `There will be a three minutes' pause.'

A mutter went round the hall. Even though Makharov now courteously
raised his eyes from the board and sat immobile, gazing up into the
recesses of the high, vaulted ceiling, the spectators knew that the
position of the game was engraved on his brain. A three minutes' pause
simply meant three extra minutes for Makharov.

Kronsteen felt the same stab of annoyance, but his face was
expressionless as the umpire stepped down from his chair and handed
him a plain, unaddressed envelope. Kronsteen ripped it open with his
thumb acid extracted the anonymous sheet of paper. It said, in the
large typewritten characters he knew so well, `You ARE REQUIRED THIS
INSTANT'. No signature and no address.

Kronsteen folded the paper and carefully placed it in his inside
breast pocket. Later it would be recovered from him and destroyed. He
looked up at the face of the plain-clothes man standing beside the
umpire. The eyes were watching him impatiently, commandingly. To hell
with these people, thought Kronsteen. He would not resign with only
three minutes to go. It was unthinkable. It was an insult to the
People's Sport. But, as he made a gesture to the umpire that the game
could continue, he trembled inside, and he avoided the eyes of the
plain-clothes man who remained standing, in coiled immobility, inside
the ropes.

The bell pinged. `The game proceeds.'

Makharov slowly bent down his head. The hand of his clock slipped past
the hour and he was still alive.

Kronsteen continued to tremble inside. What he had done was unheard of
in an employee of SMERSH, or of any other State agency. He would
certainly be reported. Gross disobedience. Dereliction of duty. What
might be the consequences? At the best a tongue-lashing from General
G., and a black mark on his zapiska. And the worst? Kronsteen couldn't
imagine. He didn't like to think. Whatever happened, the sweets of
victory had turned bitter in his mouth.

But now it was the end. With five seconds to go on his clock, Makharov
raised his whipped eyes no higher than the pouting lips of his
opponent and bent his head in the brief, formal bow of surrender. At
the double ping of the umpire's bell, the crowded hall rose to its
feet with a thunder of applause.

Kronsteen stood up and bowed to his opponent, to the umpires, and
finally, deeply, to the spectators. Then, with the• plain-clothes man
in his wake, he ducked under the ropes and fought his way coldly and
rudely through the mass of his clamoring admirers towards the main
exit.

Outside the Tournament Hall, in the middle of the wide Pushkin Ulitza,
with its engine running, stood the usual anonymous black ZIK saloon.
Kronsteen climbed into the back and shut the door. As the plain-
clothes man jumped on to the running-board and squeezed into the front
seat, the driver crashed his gears and the car tore off down the
street.

Kronsteen knew it would be a waste of breath to apologise to the plain-
clothes guard. It would also be contrary to discipline. After all, he
was Head of the Planning Department of SMERSH, with the honorary rank
of full Colonel. And his brain was worth diamonds to the organization.
Perhaps he could argue his way out of the mess. He gazed out of the
window at the dark streets, already wet with the work of the night
cleaning squad, and bent his mind to his defence. When there came a
straight street at the end of which the moon rode fast between the
onion spires of the Kremlin, and they were there.

When the guard handed Kronsteen over to the A.D.C., he also handed the
A.D.C. a slip of paper. The A.D.C. glanced at it and looked coldly up
at Kronsteen with half-raised eyebrows. Kronsteen looked calmly back
without saying anything. The A.D.C. shrugged his shoulders and picked
up the office telephone and announced him.

When they went into the big room and Kronsteen had been waved to a
chair and had nodded acknowledgment of the brief pursed smile of
Colonel Klebb, the A.D.C. went up to General G. and handed him the
piece of paper. The General read it and looked hard across at
Kronsteen. While the A.D.C. walked to the door and went out, the
General went on looking at Kronsteen. When the door was shut, General
G. opened his mouth and said softly, `Well, Comrade?'

Kronsteen was calm. He knew the story flint would appeal. He spoke
quietly and with authority. `To the public, Comrade General, I am a
professional chess player. Tonight I became Champion of Moscow for the
third year in succession. If, with only three minutes to go, I had
received a message that my wife was being murdered outside the door of
the Tournament Hall, I would not have raised a finger to save her. My
public knows that. They are dedicated to the game as myself. Tonight,
if I had resigned the game and had come immediately on receipt of that
message, five thousand people would have known that it could only be
on the orders of such a department as this. There would have been a
storm of gossip. My future goings and comings would have been watched
for clues. It would have been the end of my cover. In the interests of
State Security, I waited three minutes before obeying the order. Even
so, my hurried departure will be the subject of much comment. I shall
have to say that one of my children is gravely ill. I shall have to
put a child into hospital for a week to support the story. I deeply
apologize for the delay in carrying out the order. But the decision
was a difficult one. I did what I thought best in the interests of the
Department.'

General G. looked thoughtfully into the dark slanting eyes. The man
was guilty, but the defence was good. He read the paper again as if
weighing up the size of the offence, then he took out his lighter and
burned it. He dropped the last burning corner on to the glass top of
his desk and blew the ashes sideways on to the floor. He said nothing
to reveal his thoughts, but the burning of the evidence was all that
mattered to Kronsteen. Now nothing could go on his zapiska. He was
deeply relieved and grateful. He would bend all his ingenuity to the
matter on hand. The General had performed an act of great clemency.
Kronsteen would repay him with the full coin of his mind.

`Pass over the photographs, Comrade Colonel,' said General G., as if
the brief court-martial had not occurred. `The matter is as
follows. . . .
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Old January 9th 10, 04:23 AM posted to rec.games.chess.analysis,rec.games.chess.politics,rec.games.chess.misc,rec.arts.movies.past-films,alt.chess
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First recorded activity by ChessBanter: May 2006
Posts: 14,870
Default chess in the book "From Russia With Love"

On Jan 8, 7:45*pm, samsloan wrote:
7 * * * The Wizard of Ice

THE TWO faces of the double clock in the shiny, domed case looked out
across the chess-board like the eyes of some huge sea monster that had
peered over the edge of the table to watch the game.

The two faces of the chess clock showed different times. Kronsteen's
showed twenty minutes to one. The long red pendulum that ticked off
the seconds was moving in its staccato sweep across the bottom half of
his clock's face, while the enemy clock was silent and its pendulum
motionless down the face. But Makharov's clock said five minutes to
one. He had wasted time in the middle of the game and he now had only
five minutes to go. He was in bad `time-trouble' and unless Kronsteen
made some lunatic mistake, which was, unthinkable, he was beaten.

Kronsteen sat motionless and erect, as malevolently inscrutable as a
parrot. His elbows were on the table and his big head rested on
clenched fists that pressed into his chucks, squashing the pursed lips
into a pout of hauteur and disdain. Under the wide, bulging brow the
nether slanting black eyes looked down with deadly calm on his winning
board. But, behind the mask, the blood was throbbing in the dynamo of
his brain, and a thick worm-like vein in his right temple pulsed at a
beat of over ninety. He had sweated away a pound of weight in the last
two hours and ten minutes, and the spectre of a false move still had
one hand at his throat. But to Makharov, and to the spectators, he was
still `The Wizard of Ice' whose game had been compared to a man eating
fish. First he stripped off the skin, then he picked out the bones,
then he ate the fish. Kronsteen had been Champion of Moscow two years
running, was now in the final for the third time and, if he won this
game, would be a contender for Grand Mastership.

In the pool of silence round the roped-off top table there was no
sound except the loud tripping feet of Kronsteen's clock. The two
umpires sat motionless in their raised chairs. They knew, as did
Makharov, that this was certainly the kill. Kronsteen had introduced a
brilliant twist into the Meran Variation of the Queen's Gambit
Declined. Makharov had kept up with him until the 28th move. He had
lost time on that move. Perhaps he had made a mistake there, and
perhaps again on the 31st and 33rd moves. Who could say? It would he a
game to be debated all over Russia for weeks to come.


[Event "match"]
[Site "Ch World , Moscow (Russia)"]
[Date "1951.01.24"]
[Round "23"]
[White "Mikhail Botvinnik"]
[Black "David Bronstein"]
[Result "1-0"]
[ECO "E60"]

1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 g6 3.g3 c6 4.Bg2 d5 5.cxd5 cxd5 6.Nc3 Bg7 7.Nh3 Bxh3
8.Bxh3 Nc6 9.Bg2 e6 10.e3 O-O 11.Bd2 Rc8 12.O-O Nd7 13.Ne2 Qb6 14.Bc3
Rfd8 15.Nf4 Nf6 16.Qb3 Ne4 17.Qxb6 axb6 18.Be1 Na5 19.Nd3 Bf8 20.f3
Nd6 21.Bf2 Bh6 22.Rac1 Nac4 23.Rfe1 Na5 24.Kf1 Bg7 25.g4 Nc6 26.b3 Nb5
27.Ke2 Bf8 28.a4 Nc7 29.Bg3 Na6 30.Bf1 f6 31.Red1 Na5 32.Rxc8 Rxc8
33.Rc1 Rxc1 34.Nxc1 Ba3 35.Kd1 Bxc1 36.Kxc1 Nxb3+ 37.Kc2 Na5 38.Kc3
Kf7 39.e4 f5 40.gxf5 gxf5 41.Bd3 Kg6 42.Bd6 Nc6 43.Bb1 Kf6 44.Bg3 fxe4
45.fxe4 h6 46.Bf4 h5 47.exd5 exd5 48.h4 Nab8 49.Bg5+ Kf7 50.Bf5 Na7
51.Bf4 Nbc6 52.Bd3 Nc8 53.Be2 Kg6 54.Bd3+ Kf6 55.Be2 Kg6 56.Bf3 N6e7
57.Bg5 1-0
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Old January 9th 10, 05:45 AM posted to rec.games.chess.analysis,rec.games.chess.politics,rec.games.chess.misc,rec.arts.movies.past-films,alt.chess
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Posts: 3,170
Default chess in the book "From Russia With Love"

On 9 Jan, 04:23, samsloan wrote:
On Jan 8, 7:45*pm, samsloan wrote:



7 * * * The Wizard of Ice


THE TWO faces of the double clock in the shiny, domed case looked out
across the chess-board like the eyes of some huge sea monster that had
peered over the edge of the table to watch the game.


The two faces of the chess clock showed different times. Kronsteen's
showed twenty minutes to one. The long red pendulum that ticked off
the seconds was moving in its staccato sweep across the bottom half of
his clock's face, while the enemy clock was silent and its pendulum
motionless down the face. But Makharov's clock said five minutes to
one. He had wasted time in the middle of the game and he now had only
five minutes to go. He was in bad `time-trouble' and unless Kronsteen
made some lunatic mistake, which was, unthinkable, he was beaten.


Kronsteen sat motionless and erect, as malevolently inscrutable as a
parrot. His elbows were on the table and his big head rested on
clenched fists that pressed into his chucks, squashing the pursed lips
into a pout of hauteur and disdain. Under the wide, bulging brow the
nether slanting black eyes looked down with deadly calm on his winning
board. But, behind the mask, the blood was throbbing in the dynamo of
his brain, and a thick worm-like vein in his right temple pulsed at a
beat of over ninety. He had sweated away a pound of weight in the last
two hours and ten minutes, and the spectre of a false move still had
one hand at his throat. But to Makharov, and to the spectators, he was
still `The Wizard of Ice' whose game had been compared to a man eating
fish. First he stripped off the skin, then he picked out the bones,
then he ate the fish. Kronsteen had been Champion of Moscow two years
running, was now in the final for the third time and, if he won this
game, would be a contender for Grand Mastership.


In the pool of silence round the roped-off top table there was no
sound except the loud tripping feet of Kronsteen's clock. The two
umpires sat motionless in their raised chairs. They knew, as did
Makharov, that this was certainly the kill. Kronsteen had introduced a
brilliant twist into the Meran Variation of the Queen's Gambit
Declined. Makharov had kept up with him until the 28th move. He had
lost time on that move. Perhaps he had made a mistake there, and
perhaps again on the 31st and 33rd moves. Who could say? It would he a
game to be debated all over Russia for weeks to come.


[Event "match"]
[Site "Ch World , Moscow (Russia)"]
[Date "1951.01.24"]
[Round "23"]
[White "Mikhail Botvinnik"]
[Black "David Bronstein"]
[Result "1-0"]
[ECO "E60"]

1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 g6 3.g3 c6 4.Bg2 d5 5.cxd5 cxd5 6.Nc3 Bg7 7.Nh3 Bxh3
8.Bxh3 Nc6 9.Bg2 e6 10.e3 O-O 11.Bd2 Rc8 12.O-O Nd7 13.Ne2 Qb6 14.Bc3
Rfd8 15.Nf4 Nf6 16.Qb3 Ne4 17.Qxb6 axb6 18.Be1 Na5 19.Nd3 Bf8 20.f3
Nd6 21.Bf2 Bh6 22.Rac1 Nac4 23.Rfe1 Na5 24.Kf1 Bg7 25.g4 Nc6 26.b3 Nb5
27.Ke2 Bf8 28.a4 Nc7 29.Bg3 Na6 30.Bf1 f6 31.Red1 Na5 32.Rxc8 Rxc8
33.Rc1 Rxc1 34.Nxc1 Ba3 35.Kd1 Bxc1 36.Kxc1 Nxb3+ 37.Kc2 Na5 38.Kc3
Kf7 39.e4 f5 40.gxf5 gxf5 41.Bd3 Kg6 42.Bd6 Nc6 43.Bb1 Kf6 44.Bg3 fxe4
45.fxe4 h6 46.Bf4 h5 47.exd5 exd5 48.h4 Nab8 49.Bg5+ Kf7 50.Bf5 Na7
51.Bf4 Nbc6 52.Bd3 Nc8 53.Be2 Kg6 54.Bd3+ Kf6 55.Be2 Kg6 56.Bf3 N6e7
57.Bg5 1-0


Well, it's not a Meran, is it?
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Old January 9th 10, 06:22 AM posted to rec.games.chess.analysis,rec.games.chess.politics,rec.games.chess.misc,rec.arts.movies.past-films,alt.chess
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Posts: 14,870
Default chess in the book "From Russia With Love"

On Jan 9, 12:45*am, Offramp wrote:
On 9 Jan, 04:23, samsloan wrote:



[Event "match"]
[Site "Ch World , Moscow (Russia)"]
[Date "1951.01.24"]
[Round "23"]
[White "Mikhail Botvinnik"]
[Black "David Bronstein"]
[Result "1-0"]
[ECO "E60"]


1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 g6 3.g3 c6 4.Bg2 d5 5.cxd5 cxd5 6.Nc3 Bg7 7.Nh3 Bxh3
8.Bxh3 Nc6 9.Bg2 e6 10.e3 O-O 11.Bd2 Rc8 12.O-O Nd7 13.Ne2 Qb6 14.Bc3
Rfd8 15.Nf4 Nf6 16.Qb3 Ne4 17.Qxb6 axb6 18.Be1 Na5 19.Nd3 Bf8 20.f3
Nd6 21.Bf2 Bh6 22.Rac1 Nac4 23.Rfe1 Na5 24.Kf1 Bg7 25.g4 Nc6 26.b3 Nb5
27.Ke2 Bf8 28.a4 Nc7 29.Bg3 Na6 30.Bf1 f6 31.Red1 Na5 32.Rxc8 Rxc8
33.Rc1 Rxc1 34.Nxc1 Ba3 35.Kd1 Bxc1 36.Kxc1 Nxb3+ 37.Kc2 Na5 38.Kc3
Kf7 39.e4 f5 40.gxf5 gxf5 41.Bd3 Kg6 42.Bd6 Nc6 43.Bb1 Kf6 44.Bg3 fxe4
45.fxe4 h6 46.Bf4 h5 47.exd5 exd5 48.h4 Nab8 49.Bg5+ Kf7 50.Bf5 Na7
51.Bf4 Nbc6 52.Bd3 Nc8 53.Be2 Kg6 54.Bd3+ Kf6 55.Be2 Kg6 56.Bf3 N6e7
57.Bg5 1-0


Well, it's not a Meran, is it?


I do wonder why a self-respecting spy would play a Meran Variation.

Why not a Hedgehog Defense?

Sam Sloan
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Old January 9th 10, 05:42 PM posted to rec.games.chess.analysis,rec.games.chess.politics,rec.games.chess.misc,rec.arts.movies.past-films,alt.chess
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First recorded activity by ChessBanter: Oct 2007
Posts: 3,073
Default chess in the book "From Russia With Love"

On Jan 9, 1:22*am, samsloan wrote:
On Jan 9, 12:45*am, Offramp wrote:





On 9 Jan, 04:23, samsloan wrote:


[Event "match"]
[Site "Ch World , Moscow (Russia)"]
[Date "1951.01.24"]
[Round "23"]
[White "Mikhail Botvinnik"]
[Black "David Bronstein"]
[Result "1-0"]
[ECO "E60"]


1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 g6 3.g3 c6 4.Bg2 d5 5.cxd5 cxd5 6.Nc3 Bg7 7.Nh3 Bxh3
8.Bxh3 Nc6 9.Bg2 e6 10.e3 O-O 11.Bd2 Rc8 12.O-O Nd7 13.Ne2 Qb6 14.Bc3
Rfd8 15.Nf4 Nf6 16.Qb3 Ne4 17.Qxb6 axb6 18.Be1 Na5 19.Nd3 Bf8 20.f3
Nd6 21.Bf2 Bh6 22.Rac1 Nac4 23.Rfe1 Na5 24.Kf1 Bg7 25.g4 Nc6 26.b3 Nb5
27.Ke2 Bf8 28.a4 Nc7 29.Bg3 Na6 30.Bf1 f6 31.Red1 Na5 32.Rxc8 Rxc8
33.Rc1 Rxc1 34.Nxc1 Ba3 35.Kd1 Bxc1 36.Kxc1 Nxb3+ 37.Kc2 Na5 38.Kc3
Kf7 39.e4 f5 40.gxf5 gxf5 41.Bd3 Kg6 42.Bd6 Nc6 43.Bb1 Kf6 44.Bg3 fxe4
45.fxe4 h6 46.Bf4 h5 47.exd5 exd5 48.h4 Nab8 49.Bg5+ Kf7 50.Bf5 Na7
51.Bf4 Nbc6 52.Bd3 Nc8 53.Be2 Kg6 54.Bd3+ Kf6 55.Be2 Kg6 56.Bf3 N6e7
57.Bg5 1-0


Well, it's not a Meran, is it?


I do wonder why a self-respecting spy would play a Meran Variation.

Why not a Hedgehog Defense?

Sam Sloan- Hide quoted text -


Hedgehogs tend to work better against e4


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Old January 10th 10, 04:56 PM posted to rec.games.chess.analysis,rec.games.chess.politics,rec.games.chess.misc,rec.arts.movies.past-films,alt.chess
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First recorded activity by ChessBanter: May 2006
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Default chess in the book "From Russia With Love"

Quote:
Originally Posted by Steve_Immitt
Quote:
Originally Posted by David Ames
Quote:
Originally Posted by rfeditor
there is hardly much point in lecturing you on calculus before you
learn to add.

John Hillery
Irony: Sam was a math major in a university with an esteemed math
department.

David Ames
His picture is on the wall of the Justices' Chambers in the back of
the Supreme Court.

Steve Immitt
Is this really true? Which Supreme Court? I know that this looks like
a joke, but it might actually be true.

It is a fact that my name is on the inside wall of the former Citibank
Headquarters at 55 Wall Street. You can still see it. Go inside the
door and look to the right. You will see a long list of names in two
columns. At the very bottom by itself is my name, Sam Sloan.

This is not to mention that there is a statue erected in my honor near
the Path Train station in Hoboken NJ.

Sam Sloan
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Old January 10th 10, 06:19 PM posted to rec.games.chess.analysis,rec.games.chess.politics,rec.games.chess.misc,rec.arts.movies.past-films,alt.chess
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First recorded activity by ChessBanter: Jun 2009
Posts: 319
Default chess in the book "From Russia With Love"

On Jan 10, 8:56*am, samsloan wrote:
Quote:
Originally Posted by Steve_Immitt
Quote:
Originally Posted by David Ames
Quote:
Originally Posted by rfeditor
there is hardly much point in lecturing you on calculus before you
learn to add.

John Hillery *

Irony: *Sam was a math major in a university with an esteemed math
department.

David Ames *

His picture is on the wall of the Justices' Chambers in the back of
the Supreme Court.

Steve Immitt *

Is this really true? Which Supreme Court? I know that this looks like
a joke, but it might actually be true.

It is a fact that my name is on the inside wall of the former Citibank
Headquarters at 55 Wall Street. You can still see it. Go inside the
door and look to the right. You will see a long list of names in two
columns. At the very bottom by itself is my name, Sam Sloan.

This is not to mention that there is a statue erected in my honor near
the Path Train station in Hoboken NJ.

Sam Sloan


You mean the Sam Sloan Memorial Public Urinal?
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Old January 11th 10, 03:59 PM posted to rec.games.chess.analysis,rec.games.chess.politics,rec.games.chess.misc,rec.arts.movies.past-films,alt.chess
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Default chess in the book "From Russia With Love"

On Jan 10, 1:19*pm, jkh001 wrote:
This is not to mention that there is a statue erected in my honor near
the Path Train station in Hoboken NJ.


Sam Sloan


You mean the Sam Sloan Memorial Public Urinal?


You mean the graffitti scribbed in the public urinal?

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Old January 11th 10, 10:14 PM posted to rec.games.chess.analysis,rec.games.chess.politics,rec.games.chess.misc,rec.arts.movies.past-films,alt.chess
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Default chess in the book "From Russia With Love"


"samsloan" wrote in
message
...
7 The Wizard of Ice


THE TWO faces of the double clock in the shiny, domed case looked out
across the chess-board like the eyes of some huge sea monster that had
peered over the edge of the table to watch the game.

.......

And here is the video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZWDxnXJI-s


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Old January 12th 10, 12:58 AM posted to rec.games.chess.analysis,rec.games.chess.politics,rec.games.chess.misc,rec.arts.movies.past-films,alt.chess
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First recorded activity by ChessBanter: Jun 2009
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Default chess in the book "From Russia With Love"

It is interesting to note that the position used in the film is from
Spassky-Bronstein, USSR Champ. 1960 -- a King's Gambit, though the
book says that the game was a Meran.

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