ANew York Times, New York, New York, Friday, July 14, 1972 - Page 1-29
Fischer Stays Out, Forfeits 2d Game; Appeal is Expected by Harold C. Schonberg
Reykjavik, Iceland, July 13—Bobby Fischer remained in his hotel room today, refusing to show up for his scheduled game with Boris Spassky. He was declared the loser by forfeit and the score of this strange world championship chess match became 2 to 0 in favor of the Soviet titleholder.
Fischer's lawyer was expected here tomorrow to press for a reversal of the forfeit. He said before leaving New York that if chess officials refused to wipe the forfeit off the books he would sue to force them to do so.
Spassky appeared on the stage of the Exhibition Hall promptly at 5 P.M. Lothar Schmid, the referee, started Fischer's clock. According to Rule 5 of this match, a player who has not appeared on time has an hour to arrive after his clock has started. When the hour is up, his game is declared forfeit.
Spassky sat before the chessboard for about five minutes, looking uncomfortable, and then left the stage. The audience of about 1,000—less than half the capacity of the dimly lighted hall — watch the two empty chairs for an hour, with a sort of mesmerized fascination. There was no talking.
Fischer's clock kept ticking away. A projection of it was shown on the closed-circuit television screen, and the audience could watch the minutes slip by.
(Photo caption: (AP) Boris Spassky leaving yesterday after Bobby Fischer did not appear.)
When the hour had elapsed Schmid came to the front of the stage to announce that under Rule 5 Spassky was the winner by a forfeit. The 35-year-old Russian briefly appeared and was given a standing ovation.
“It is a great pity,” he murmured to Schmid.
Removal of Equipment
Fischer had refused to play unless all film and television equipment was removed from the hall. Then he added a demand that his clock be turned back. Schmid later said that under no circumstances could he had acceded to the second request. “There has to be some limit,” he said.
The rule of competition chess had already been bent to accommodate the American. One such accommodation was the two-day postponement in the originally scheduled July 2 start of the match.
During Fischer's sitdown there were frantic efforts to make him change his mind. The Icelandic grandmaster Fredrick Olafsson rushed to Fischer's room. A police car was standing by at the hotel, motor running. The Rev. William Lombardy, Fischer's second, was with him, urging him to play.
At the very last moment, Andrew Davis, Fischer's attorney, called from New York. He got in touch with Richard C. Stein, the attorney for Chester Fox, Inc., and proposed that the cameras be removed for this game only, pending further discussion. Chester Fox is the filmmaker who purchased film and television rights for the match.
No Time to Spare
Mr. Stein, who took the call at 5:30, while Fischer's clock was running, immediately agreed. He called Father Lombardy on a hot line that had been set up from Fischer's room to Exhibition Hall. But the point at issue now was the elapsed time on Fischer's clock. In any case, Fischer at best could have made it to the hall with only a few minutes to spare.
The American delegation did not even call back.
At 11:58 P.M., two minutes before the deadline for filing a protest, Fischer's aide, Fred Cramer, handed a formal written protest to Schmid. Cramer said Fischer had not seen the note.
[In New York, one of Fischer's attorneys said last night that two protests had filed in Iceland — one by Fischer and one by Cramer. They were based on what the attorney said had been a guarantee by Iceland that all television equipment would be “invisible and noiseless.”
[The lawyer, Paul G. Marshall, said he talked with Fischer by telephone at 10:30 last night. “Bobby has never allowed television on any match,” he said, “but for this match, he agreed. Iceland promised that he would not know there was filming taking place, so he could concentrate. In two inspections prior to the match, he was not shown the television equipment.”
The presence of cameras—one of them, with a crew of three, placed 15 feet from Fischer—rattled Fischer, Marshall said. “Bobby told me, ‘I can't think, it's a distraction.’” the lawyer added.
[Marshall said Fischer would make his appeal on grounds that Iceland had not adhered to the rules.]
Schmid said a tournament appeals committee would meet tomorrow on the matter.
[The Associated Press reported that Dr. Max Euwe, president of the International Chess Federation, said in the Netherlands that Schmid was still the arbiter, but that “if this situation continues,” the federation “will consider whether to step in.”
[“The limit has been reached and is even transgressed,” he was reported as saying.]
Problem of Tickets
The Icelandic Chess Federation has not yet determined what to do about the tickets sold for today's nongame. Presumably, said an official, refunds will have to be made.
If Fischer refuses to play any more games, the problem of the $250,000 purse will have to be considered. The winner is to get five-eighths and the loser three-eighths. There are also shares of other rights involved.
Will Fischer be entitled to any of it? No answer is yet forthcoming. Mr. Stein let it be known that Chester Fox, Inc., might consider putting an attachment on Fischer's share.
The Russians were not available for comment on today's nongame, but many chess enthusiasts were.
Fischer had objected to the television yesterday because, he said, it was noisy and it disturbed his concentration. Mr. Stein tried to discuss the matter with him last night.
([Mr. Stein wants to mislead the public into the wrong belief Fischer's complaint has directly to do with “cameras”… and for the public to be put under the erroneous impression those cameras ‘operate themselves’! On the contrary, the complaint could not be more emphatic as stated by Fischer: “...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.” - Robert J. Fischer, November 1972])
He said that he and the American delegation, consisting of Father Lombardy and Fred Cramer, were up all night trying to reach an agreement. They talked in one room, and the gist of the conversation was relayed by telephone to Fischer in the next room. Fischer never appeared. ([Can't blame Fischer, refusing to allow himself to be drawn into the Soviet drama, instead of studying and practicing his and Spassky's upcoming moves.])
It was suggested that Mr. Stein write a letter to Fischer, and he drafted one that urged the American challenger to reconsider his position.
“I can only express my admiration and appreciation for the elevation of chess in the eyes of the people of the [United] States, through your Herculean efforts,” he wrote.
“As a folk hero of the Americans,” he continued,“you must permit millions of Americans to share this experience with you in their homes” through television.
Mr. Stein explained to the American delegation that neither Mr. Fox nor the Icelandic Chess Federation would back down on television and film coverage. ([At what cost? Shoving a camera in Robert's face, fifteen feet away with a 3-man crew to disrupt Fischer's concentration and assisting the Soviet Union to win this tournament by default, through unfair advantage and unethical calculated off-the-board interference which Fischer never gave consent to?])
Mr. Fox had made a “substantial investment,” ([Whose choice was that? Not Fischer's and not Spassky's. Blame the Icelandic Chess Federation and their boss in Moscow, the slippery Soviets, who decided to “sell photographic and news coverage rights,” as an affront to constitutional liberty of a “free press” and chose instead out of greed to keep 100% of the take in profits. Supposing Chester Fox Inc., is to pay Iceland's expenses? The Icelandic Chess Federation is 100% to blame, and that's exactly how the Soviet wanted it, to come out of this fiasco with clean hands.]) and the Icelandic Chess Federation was counting on video and film proceeds to help out their deficit. ([Deficit. Bah!]) “Their entire financial structure depends on it,” Mr. Stein said. ([The Icelandic organizers are entirely to blame for poorly managing a fiasco they created. Not Fischer. When Australia offered $225,000 bid, it stated a paltry sum of $25,000 of the bid was needed to cover expenses. If Iceland could not afford to host the tournament, they should never have cast a bid! Clearly a breech of contract with FIDE and the two countries the challengers represent.])
In an effort to please Fischer, technicians this morning placed the film and television cameras in the wind tunnels adjacent to the stage. A four-inch hole was bored for each lens. Only one operator was to be at each camera ([Ooo, those disruptive camera MEN… characters which Fischer reports you could see, and hear them… a nuisance… “moving around”]), and to ensure additional quiet, the operator was not to wear shoes and not to carry coins or anything else in his pocket that might rattle or make noise ([Oh! So it wasn't actually the “camera” rattling, but rather coins and stuff, “rattling” in the men's pockets. By now, after the loss of two games, I think, Fischer has spoken and his patience worn thin with these Soviet characters.])
Fischer, who refused to visit the hall, then said that the mere presence of the cameras was enough to unsettle him. He wanted them off the premises. If he knew they were there, he said, that would be enough to bother him.
Many problems were created by Fischer's failure to appear. It was made clear by Schmid, however, that the match was still officially on, and that the same charade would be repeated Sunday, this time with the white pieces going to Spassky, as though a game actually had been played today.
According to the rules, Schmid said, the remaining games have to be started. If Fischer leaves the country, however, that would provide an excuse for declaring the match over. ([Which is exactly what the Soviet Union is aiming for.]) Or the central committee of the International Chess Federation could hastily convene for a special ruling to end the match.
“My stomach is churning,” said Schmid, looking less dapper than he has up to now.
