AThe Boston Globe Boston, Massachusetts Sunday, April 30, 1972 - Page 56
Fischer-Spassky Chess Match May Stalemate Before It Begins
By Harold Dondis
Globe Staff
Preparations for the scheduled world championship chess match between the American Bobby Fischer and the Russian world champion Boris Spassky have become as complex as an abstruse chess problem.
The match is scheduled to begin June 22, but now lacks one sponsor.
It had been set for its first half in Belgrade and its second half in Iceland with an unprecedented $138,500 in prize money. The match floundered when Fischer suddenly asked for clarification of the terms of the contract, apparently with the idea that the chess players, not the sponsors, should receive the profits from the chess match.
In the ensuing negotiations, Fischer fired his representative, Ed Edmundson, a former Air Force officer and president of the US Chess Federation, who had masterfully presided over Fischer and shepherded him to the threshold of the World Crown. Fischer hired two lawyers to argue his cause, one of which was Paul Marshall, attorney for TV star David Frost.
Worried about their time schedule, the Yugoslavs first canceled the match and then, when Fischer cabled he would play, demanded a bond. Spassky agreed but the US Chess Federation did not. Communications became snarled because Max Euwe, the president of the World Chess Federation (FIDE) was in Australia. Finally, Belgrade canceled.
In this state of utter blockade, Euwe, now on his way to Indonesia, invited bids on a first-come, first-serve basis to replace Belgrade. As yet no city has stepped forward. Iceland, meanwhile, has not changed its position. Fischer, a 28-year-old, bluntly-mannered chess genius who never finished high school, is currently favored by chess experts to defeat Boris Spassky.
Spassky has held the chess crown since 1969, and has a personality in direct contrast to Fischer. He is unassuming, well-educated, fond of philosophy, classical music and Russian literature.
He is, however, an embattled world champion—for the brilliant Fischer has, with lop-sided scores, relentlessly demolished all opposition, including two fine Russian players, in his quest for the world championship.
If the match finds a home, there will still be a problem with handling Fischer, but American chessplayers, who are packing their bags without knowing where to go, reverently hope that the capable Edmundson will return as his manager-buffer. Meanwhile, Boris Spassky is preparing for the match with the help of a trio of Russian experts, including a chess psychologist, painstakingly trying to find a flaw in Fischer's purist, classical technique. Fischer, in training at Grossinger's, works all alone, pouring over a red book containing Spassky's intricate masterpieces.
What is Fischer's attitude to this tangled combination of international events? He evinces no worry that he has come close to checkmating himself out of a shot for the coveted world chess crown. He just says he is the best chess player in the world —and that is that.
