ANew York Times, New York, New York, Monday, July 17, 1972 - Page 1, 25
Fischer Presses His Lead As 3d Game Is Adjourned by Harold C. Schonberg
Reykjavik, July 16 — Bobby Fischer decided to play the scheduled third game of the world championship chess match with Boris Spassky. The game was adjourned after five hours in a position favorable to the American challenger.
The day was another turbulent one in this match, which —had everything gone smoothly—would have been up to the seventh game instead of the third.
The site of the game was moved from the 2,300-seat Exhibition Hall to a closed, private room. The referee said he had made the switch—for this game only—“just to save the match” ([a lot of crowing from the man who was the ring leader of Soviet meddling to upset the match! “Under agreed rules of the match, [Fischer] had the right to object and to demand removal of the cameras if they disturbed him.” -Col. Edmond Edmondson, USCF]) following Fischer's ([justifiable protests well within his rights!])
And one of Fischer's aides walked out on talks involving Fischer's forfeiture of his second game, charging that a Russian negotiator was trying to sabotage the match.
Later, the Russians filed a protest over the change in playing site, ([temperamental conniving Soviets, always complaining and creating unnecessary drama to upset the match!]) and it became obvious that the match was still far from being clear of the ([Soviet]) troubles, protests and problems that started besetting it even before the date had been set.
At adjournment—Spassky played 41 moves and Fischer sealed his reply—the 29-year-old American grandmaster was ahead by a pawn and had strong mating threats. In the opinion of many experts, he had a won game. Play was to resume at 5 P.M. tomorrow.
“At least a draw and probably a win,” said an Icelandic grandmaster, Fridrik Olafsson.
“It is a clear win for Fischer,” said a Yugoslav grandmaster, Dragolub Janosevic.
A Strong Effort
From the beginning of the game it was clear that Fischer was going to make a strong effort to wrest the initiative from Spassky. He went into the game on the short side of a 2-0 score. He lost the first game after making what many experts feel was a blunder ([due to disruptions from men, hired to disruptively operate the cameras, in crews of up to three men, and stationed no more than 15 feet/5 meters from Fischer, certainly not “hidden” nor “silent” as was widely circulated in the media's rumor mill]) and the second by forfeit after refusing to show up ([due to a legal boycott of the disruptive camera men, which was permitted within the rules. The “forfeit” was a sham action made by a Soviet-dominated “committee”.]) Today, playing the black pieces, he swung into the Benoni Counter Gambit after Spassky's expected first move, pawn to queen four.
“This is wild stuff,” said one expert. “Fischer is announcing that he wants to slug it out. He wants the point.”
Experts called Fischer's 11th move, knight to king rook four, an entirely new conception. Spassky spent a half-hour studying it. Apparently Fischer was willing to break up his king side for a possible attack. Three moves later, Fischer brought out his queen with menacing attacking possibilities, and the audience—watching on closed-circuit television piped into the main hall—was electrified.
“Bobby's attacking as though his life was involved,” said a grandmaster.
Spassky defended himself skillfully, and the action shifted to the queen side. Soon a positional struggle developed, with Fischer always on the attack and Spassky doggedly holding on.
Tonight there will be hours and hours of analysis by both players and their seconds. Spassky's position is described by virtually every grandmaster here as unenviable.
The game was played in a private room of Exhibition Hall because Fischer had objected to the presence of the television and film cameras used in the first game, saying they ([the crews of, up to three men, operating the cameras]) were noisy and disturbed his concentration.
Lothar Schmid, the referee, explained to the audience immediately after play started why the site had been moved upstairs. Fischer had a right to protest the use of the cameras under Rule 21 ([but not protest the devices be “video tape film that didn't make any noise… un-manned,stationary and automated” as Fischer was led to wrongly believe, by the Soviet's colluder Chester Fox, Inc.]) of the match, Schmid said. Therefore it was decided to change the site of the game this time only.
“I made the decision just to save the match,” Schmid said. ([Come off the soap box with such grandstanding! “Under agreed rules of the match, [Fischer] had the right to object and to demand removal of the cameras if they disturbed him.” -Col. Ed Edmondson, US Chess Federation, who aided in drafting the Amsterdam Agreement and Schmid, along with Soviet delegates have denied this rule, from the beginning hoping to turn world coverage of the imminent humiliating Soviet defeat, against Fischer… so that Fischer makes the call to remove the cameras, and hence, achieve a Soviet black-out in press coverage.])
Shortly after the game was adjourned, the Russians delivered a protest to Schmid demanding that tomorrow's playoff, as well as all future games, be played on the stage of the Exhibition Hall.
Meetings to thrash out the issue have been called for tomorrow and the focus of attention may shift once more from the chessboard to the negotiating table.
But for today's game, at least, Fischer won his point about camera equipment. Chester Fox, Inc., which had ([based on an unethical move, unconstitutional suppression of freedom of press, by the Icelandic Chess Federation]) purchased film and television rights, agreed to waive the use of cameras for this game. Whether it will do so in the future remains an open question.
The room in which today's game was played is normally used for table tennis tournaments. It is long, narrow and bare, with a sloping ceiling. The players did not use the special table constructed for the match. That was left on the stage of Exhibition Hall. Instead, a plain utilitarian oak table was used, on which was set a wooden board constructed by the same artisans who had built the elaborate table.
This morning nobody would have given much of a chance for the game to be held. Meetings that started yesterday afternoon and continued through the early morning hours resulted only in the match committee's affirmation of the forfeit lodged against Fischer for not appearing on Thursday night. Fred Cramer, who has acted as Fischer's spokesman, walked out of the deliberations at 12:30 this morning, claiming that the Soviet delegate, Nikolai Krogius, a grandmaster as well as a psychologist, was trying to sabotage the match.
Fischer had made reservations on all three flights out of Reykjavik today. At one point in the afternoon, his entourage had entirely given up hope, but Fischer changed his mind once again and sent two of his aides—the Rev. William Lombardy, his second and Paul Marshall, one of his lawyers—to inspect the new playing site. One being assured of absolute privacy and the exclusion of film and television cameras ([men, disruptively operating cameras, in crews of up to three]), Fischer decided to play.
The only equipment in the room was the closed-circuit television camera that brought the game to the audience downstairs.
In some respects the game was more interesting to watch than the Tuesday game and its Wednesday playoff. The huge screen over the stage gave close-ups of both players, and these were supplemented by diagrammatic representations of the moves.
It was not necessary for viewers in the hall to remain silent. They could chat and use their pocket sets to try out variations.
Thus there was a much more relaxed air. Spassky arrived first, and could be seen on the screen talking to the referee. When Fischer arrived, about 10 minutes later, there was some surprised laughter from the audience, numbering about 1,000, and a smattering of applause. Fischer is so unpredictable that many had not expected him to show up.
The two players shook hands. The 35-year-old Soviet titleholder removed his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair.
As before, they were studies in immobility during the play, both leaning forward across the board, not eyeball to eyeball, but rather forehead to forehead. They never looked at each other, but concentrated on the pieces, occasionally rising to stretch their legs.
The camera crews are angry at Fischer not only because they were not allowed to work today but also because they regard Fischer's comments about them two days ago an unwarranted slur. Fischer, in his letter of protest to Schmid, had referred to them as “bungling unknowns who claim to be professional motion-picture cameramen.” They demand a written apology, or else, they said, they will bring a suit for libel.
Fischer Protest Recalled
In New York, a lawyer for Chester Fox, Inc., purchasers of film and television rights for the match, said yesterday, “We won't do anything to disrupt Tuesday's ball game.”
The lawyer, Richard C. Stein, went on:
“We are not the least bit interested in creating any friction to disrupt the games, but we cannot just stand idly by and let such a substantial investment be destroyed.” ([You're a lawyer, Mr. Stein. Why didn't you read the contract? “Under agreed rules of the match, [Robert Fischer] had the right to object and to demand removal of the cameras if they disturbed him.” -Col. Edmund Edmondson, US Chess Federation])
Mr. Stein said Fischer “knew everything in advance…certainly he was aware” that TV cameras were to be operating. ([Actually, no. Mr. Fischer was misled by Chester Fox Inc., while shown the playing hall prior to the match, he was not shown the television camera equipment and especially the crews of men who would be operating the devices, mere feet from where Fischer was to be seated. Fischer clarifies in November 1972, “I was more disappointed than anybody that this thing wasn't televised because, you know, there was a lot of publicity and a lot of money involved and I wanted the people to see me in action. Let's face it. But they had these characters there, who instead of having, some kind of video tape film that didn't make any noise, just, nobody around to operate them, just sort of stationless and they just had guys there with film cameras that were worrying, and they were all around me. Making a racket. A nuisance. Too much noise, and visually you could see them moving around.”]) He pointed out that Fischer, in the original negotiations for a match site, had objected to Iceland for the lack of television coverage there. ([Precisely, and that is a major reason behind the motive of the Soviets choosing the notoriously racist and Anti-American Iceland—to bury the match with help, of Chester Fox Inc.])
“We're not making any overt moves now,” Mr. Stein said. “Everything is subject to negotiation and discussion.” ([and soon enough, turned into an excuse to relentlessly persecute and harass Robert Fischer with a $3.2 million lawsuit for the “crime” of taking the world crown from the Soviet Union whose track record is one of such notoriously poor sportsmanship and sore losers!])
Caption: Fred Cramer, representing Bobby Fischer, conferring with Lothar Schmid, left, match referee, near the sports hall in Reykjavik. The man in the center is unidentified.
