Endgame_ Bobby Fischer's Remarkable Rise And Fall Part 11

Most of his belongings-some fifty-two stuffed cartons gathered from several venues-were put into storage, and Fischer flew off to Belgrade and, ultimately, Montenegro so that he could inspect the playing site and get himself into shape before the match began. Spa.s.sky agreed to everything in the contract, and said from his home outside of Paris: "Fischer pulls me out of oblivion. It is a miracle and I am grateful."

Sveti Stefan, Yugoslavia, September 1992 Depending on the wind, a faint echo of ma.s.sive artillery could be heard occasionally across the mountains near Sarajevo seventy miles to the north. The Balkan war was then at its height, during what was called the Yugoslav Era of Disintegration. Eight thousand people had been killed in just two weeks in August in Bosnia and Herzegovina, where the fighting was raging, and millions had fled their homes in the months before. Heavy fighting between forces loyal to the Bosnian government and Serbian irregulars was taking place in Eastern Herzogovina, about fifty miles from the playing site.

However, in Montenegro, on the Adriatic, one of the most beautiful spots in Europe, all was peace, joy, and entertainment on the night of September 1. Torchbearers, dressed in traditional Montenegrin costume-loose-fitting white pants and s.h.i.+rt and a colorful green vest-lined the isthmus leading out to a well-appointed hotel called the Maestral, which had once been a thirteenth-century medieval fort. In the past it had been one of Marshal t.i.to's retreats.

The forty-nine-year-old Bobby Fischer was described by a reporter who was covering the match for The New York Times The New York Times as "an overweight, balding, bearded figure, unmistakably middle-aged, whose expression sometimes seems strikingly vacant." But Bobby's untenanted look owed itself not to vapidity but to a certain lack of interest in the world around him. Few things fired his pa.s.sion. There were his political and religious theories, his vigilant search for dark conspiracies, his joy in languages, his affection for Zita, and of course, his abiding commitment to chess. as "an overweight, balding, bearded figure, unmistakably middle-aged, whose expression sometimes seems strikingly vacant." But Bobby's untenanted look owed itself not to vapidity but to a certain lack of interest in the world around him. Few things fired his pa.s.sion. There were his political and religious theories, his vigilant search for dark conspiracies, his joy in languages, his affection for Zita, and of course, his abiding commitment to chess.

He'd just had a haircut and a beard trim, and he was neatly dressed, wearing a tan suit that he'd had custom-made in Belgrade. Surrounded by four sun-gla.s.sed bodyguards-two in front and two in the rear-he slowly paraded down the rocky path with Zita, as if he were Caesar and she Cleopatra making an entrance into Rome, smiling and nodding benevolently at their subjects. They were en route to the opening party for the celebrated rematch, and also Zita's nineteenth birthday-and since they were in medieval surroundings, the entertainment took on a fourteenth-century ambience, with musicians, folk dancers, and acrobats, and fireworks ignited from a boat offsh.o.r.e.

All the while Zita wore a smile on her open face, which was framed by straight light brown hair and dominated by thick, pink-rimmed gla.s.ses. Small in stature, she appeared childlike beside Bobby, who, at six feet, two inches, was more than a foot taller.

During the festivities, Bobby sat on a literal throne, next to the sponsor of the match, the shadowy Jezdimir Vasiljevic, who was perched on a duplicate throne: They were two co-kings, one of chess and the other of finance. Vasiljevic had bought the hotel for $500 million, so the $5 million that he fronted for the prize fund was not a particular burden for him. After Bobby signed the contract to play, and it was returned to Vasiljevic, the Serbian screamed: "I just made made $5 million!" since he'd been ready to negotiate with Fischer and raise the purse to $10 million if necessary. But he was careful to make sure that Bobby never knew how much more he might have won. $5 million!" since he'd been ready to negotiate with Fischer and raise the purse to $10 million if necessary. But he was careful to make sure that Bobby never knew how much more he might have won.

Before play began, there were mixed emotions, conflicting speculations, and a.s.sorted reactions throughout the chess world concerning the match. In an editorial in The New York Times The New York Times, grandmaster Robert Byrne summarized the theories and conjectures: "At one pole, there is elation over Mr. Fischer's return from two decades of obscurity. He is, after all, the giant of American chess, and few grandmasters can say they haven't been influenced by his ideas, or awed by the brilliance of his games. If he can still play at top form, if he goes on to play further matches, if he challenges for the champions.h.i.+p-if, if, if-then some of them [the chess public] look for a new chess craze to sweep the country, perhaps the world, as it did when Mr. Fischer defeated Mr. Spa.s.sky for the champions.h.i.+p two decades ago." But more important than the question of whether Bobby would inspire another "Fischer boom" was the question of whether his immense and innate talent could find its release on the chessboard. There was no telling what his strength would be after such a long hiatus; even Bobby couldn't be sure that he'd held on to his former insight and brilliance. Playing-and winning-a rematch with Spa.s.sky would, to some extent, prove that Bobby's prowess was intact. However, Spa.s.sky, at age fifty-five, had sunk to about one hundredth on the FIDE rating list, so many chess players doubted that the match would be a true gauge of whether Bobby deserved to still be called the strongest player in the world. Bobby asked Gligoric ("Gliga") to play a secret ten-game training match to get into shape. Bobby won the match, but only three games have been made public: Bobby won one, and there were two draws.

Garry Kasparov, the reigning champion, was one who discounted the match's significance. When asked at the time whether he'd like to engage Fischer in a match for the official champions.h.i.+p, Kasparov snapped, "Absolutely not. I don't believe Fischer is strong enough now. Boris and Bobby are retirees, not threats to me." The Daily Telegraph Daily Telegraph of London offered an atypical reaction to the impending match: "Imagine that you can hear the end of Schubert's 'Unfinished Symphony' or Beethoven's 10th, or see the missing arm of Michelangelo's of London offered an atypical reaction to the impending match: "Imagine that you can hear the end of Schubert's 'Unfinished Symphony' or Beethoven's 10th, or see the missing arm of Michelangelo's Venus Venus. These are the feelings that Fischer's return brings to the world's chessplayers."

Before the clock was set in motion for the first game, Bobby was receiving criticism for even considering considering playing in a war-ravaged country. The United States and some other countries, as well as the United Nations, were attempting to isolate Serbia because of its sponsors.h.i.+p of violence against Muslims and other minorities. On August 7, Kubat gave an interview to the playing in a war-ravaged country. The United States and some other countries, as well as the United Nations, were attempting to isolate Serbia because of its sponsors.h.i.+p of violence against Muslims and other minorities. On August 7, Kubat gave an interview to the Deutsche-Presse Agentur Deutsche-Presse Agentur in which he claimed that the U.S. government had given Fischer permission to play in Serbia. Either Kubat was engaging in wishful thinking or the statement was just a public relations smoke screen to give the match more credibility. in which he claimed that the U.S. government had given Fischer permission to play in Serbia. Either Kubat was engaging in wishful thinking or the statement was just a public relations smoke screen to give the match more credibility.

Ten days before the match began, Bobby received the following letter from the Department of the Treasury: ORDER TO PROVIDE INFORMATION AND CEASE AND DESIST ACTIVITIES FAC NO. 129405Dear Mr. Fischer:

It has come to our attention that you are planning to play a chess match for a cash prize in the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro) (hereinafter "Yugoslavia") against Boris Spa.s.sky on or about September 1, 1992. As a U.S. citizen, you are subject to the prohibitions under Executive Order 12810, dated June 5, 1992, imposing sanctions against Serbia and Montenegro. The United States Department of the Treasury, Office of Foreign a.s.sets Control ("FAC"), is charged with enforcement of the Executive Order.The Executive Order prohibits U.S. persons from performing any contract in support of a commercial project in Yugoslavia, as well as from exporting services to Yugoslavia. The purpose of this letter is to inform you that the performance of your agreement with a corporate sponsor in Yugoslavia to play chess is deemed to be in support of that sponsor's commercial activity. Any transactions engaged in for this purpose are outside the scope of General License no. 6 which authorizes only transactions to travel, not to business or commercial activities. In addition, we consider your presence in Yugoslavia for this purpose to be an exportation of services to Yugoslavia in the sense that the Yugoslav sponsor is benefiting from the use of your name and reputation.Violations of the Executive Order are punishable by civil penalties not to exceed $10,000 per violation, and by criminal penalties not to exceed $250,000 per individual, 10 years in prison, or both. You are hereby directed to refrain from engaging in any of the activities described above. You are further requested to file a report with this office with[in] 10 days of your receipt of this letter, outlining the facts and circ.u.mstances surrounding any and all transactions relating to your scheduled chess match in Yugoslavia against Boris Spa.s.sky. The report should be addressed to:The U. S. Department of the Treasury, Office of Foreign a.s.sets Control, Enforcement Division, 1500 Pennsylvania Avenue, N.W., Annex-2nd floor, Was.h.i.+ngton D.C. 20220. If you have any questions regarding this matter, please contact Merete M. Evans at (202) 6222430.Sincerely, (signed) R. Richard Newcomb Director Office of Foreign a.s.sets ControlMr. Bobby Fischer c/o Hotels Stefi Stefan (Room. 118) 85 315 Stefi Stefan Montenegro, Yugoslaviacc:Charles P. Pashayan, Jr., Esq.

1418 33rd St., N.W.

Was.h.i.+ngton, DC 20007Choate & Choate Attorneys at LawThe Pacific Mutual Building 523 West Sixth Street Suite 541 Los Angeles, CA 90014U.S. Emba.s.sy Belgrade, Yugoslavia Bobby, who had an almost anarchistic disdain for the U.S. government and had refused to pay taxes since 1977, was totally blase about the receipt of the letter and the threat of a $250,000 fine and ten-year imprisonment for violating the sanctions. As for the public, the sentiment among most people was: "What are they going to do, throw him in jail for ten years for moving wooden pieces across a chessboard?" Well, according to Charles "Chip" Pashayan, Bobby's pro bono lawyer, the Treasury Department could and would fine and imprison him. He sent Bobby a letter on August 28, 1992, practically begging him to postpone the match, and pointing out that Vasiljevic, to show his good intentions to the world, had promised to donate $500,000 to the International Red Cross for those suffering in the Balkans. Pashayan believed that the Treasury Department might appreciate the humanitarian gesture and eventually might allow the match to go forward by giving Bobby a special license to play. If Bobby returned home immediately, the match could still take place at a later date once the sanctions were lifted. "It is absolutely imperative that you comply with the attached order," he warned. Bobby was supremely obstinate, and although he could not really justify his decision to play, under the circ.u.mstances his tenacity, heart, and pocketbook prevailed. His response was to kill the messenger: He ultimately fired Pashayan.

The Yugoslav prime minister, Milan Panic, whose reasons for wanting the embargo lifted went way beyond chess, backed Bobby and said of the impending match: "Just think how it would be if the sanctions forbade a potential Mozart to write music. What if these games were to be the greatest in chess?" When the match's venue was moved to Belgrade, Slobodan Milosevic, the president of Serbia, met Bobby and Spa.s.sky and asked to be photographed with the two. He used the occasion to trumpet his propaganda to the international press: "The match is important because it is played while Yugoslavia is under unjustified blockade. That, in its best way, proves that chess and sports cannot be limited by politics." Milosevic was later charged with crimes against humanity by the International Criminal Tribunal in The Hague, and died in prison.

Despite the missing years, Bobby was being Bobby again. His list of demands continued to grow. Vasiljevic's strategy of appeas.e.m.e.nt was to give him whatever he wanted, even though the item might not have been mentioned in the contract. Bobby rejected six tables as inadequate, before asking for one from the 1950 Chess Olympics in Dubrovnik. Even that one had to be slightly altered by a carpenter to satisfy his demand. The pieces had to have the right heft and color, and he chose the same set that had been used at the Dubrovnik Olympics; he particularly liked the small color-contrasted dome on the bishops' heads, which prevented their being confused with p.a.w.ns. It's difficult to believe, but Bobby rejected one set because the length of the knight's nose was too long; the anti-Semitic symbolism was hardly lost on those who heard the complaint. As a test of the size of the pieces and p.a.w.ns in relation to the area of the squares, he placed four p.a.w.ns inside a square to see if they overlapped the edges of the square. They didn't, so he accepted the size of the pieces as well. He asked for the lighting to be adjusted so that it wouldn't cast a shadow on the board. And oh yes, spectators were to be kept back sixty-five feet from the stage.

Bobby's invention of a new chess clock that operated differently from those traditionally used in tournaments had to be specially manufactured for the match, and Vasiljevic had it made. Bobby insisted that it be used in the match. The game would start with each player having ninety minutes, and upon his making a move, two minutes would be added to each player's time. Bobby's theory was that in this new system, players would never be left to scramble to make their moves at the end of the time allotment with only seconds to spare, thereby reducing the number of blunders under time pressure. The pride of the game was the depth of its conceptions, Fischer contended, not triumph by mechanical means.

Not all of Fischer's demands concerned the playing conditions. He also wanted the lavatory seat in his villa to be raised one inch.

According to the tale told by Was.h.i.+ngton Irving, when Rip Van Winkle awoke and returned to his village, twenty years had pa.s.sed, and many things had changed. When Bobby Fischer, chess's version of Van Winkle, emerged after twenty years, the thing that had changed the most was him him. The smiling, handsome Bobby Fischer who immediately after the 1972 champions.h.i.+p charmed audiences on television shows and crowds on the steps of New York's City Hall, had been replaced with a swaggering Bobby Fischer filled with angst, irritation, and pique.

The very idea of Bobby Fischer wanting to talk to the press was astonis.h.i.+ng, but this new Fischer called for a press conference the night before the match was to begin. He'd been interviewed throughout his chess career, sometimes by a.s.sembled groups of journalists, but this was his first formal press conference in more than twenty years, and he was coiled, ready to pounce on any question. Most of the members of the press were ready to see a ghostlike Bobby Fischer appear, someone totally apart from the hero of Reykjavik; many of the journalists who were a.s.sembled had never seen him in the flesh before-nor had the public had a glimpse of him during the two decades of his Wilderness Years. Bobby strode in, looking larger and healthier than imagined, and swiftly took his seat on the dais. He appeared not quite as physically impressive as a football linebacker, but certainly looked like a broad-shouldered athlete, perhaps a retired Olympic swimmer.

He'd insisted that all questions be submitted to him in advance, and he sifted through the cards searching for those he chose to answer. Spa.s.sky, looking uncomfortable, sat on Bobby's right, and Vasiljevic, smoking a meerschaum pipe and appearing relaxed, was on his left. After a few minutes of awkward suspense, Bobby looked up and read aloud a reporter's name, his affiliation, and the first question. "Let's start with some impudent questions from The New York Times, The New York Times," Bobby said impudently: Roger Cohen: Why, after turning down so many offers to make a comeback, did you accept this one? Why, after turning down so many offers to make a comeback, did you accept this one?Bobby Fischer: That's not quite true. As I recall, for example, Karpov in 1975 was the one who refused to play That's not quite true. As I recall, for example, Karpov in 1975 was the one who refused to play me me under under my my conditions, which were basically the same conditions that we are going to play now. conditions, which were basically the same conditions that we are going to play now.Roger Cohen: If you beat Spa.s.sky, will you go on to challenge Kasparov for the World Champions.h.i.+p? If you beat Spa.s.sky, will you go on to challenge Kasparov for the World Champions.h.i.+p?Bobby Fischer: This is a typical question from Mr. Roger Cohen from This is a typical question from Mr. Roger Cohen from The New York Times The New York Times. Can he read what it says here?(Fischer then turned and pointed to the banner behind the dais that said "World Champions.h.i.+p Match." The audience applauded.) Traditionally, with rare exceptions, members of the media don't applaud at press conferences, since it would be considered an endors.e.m.e.nt of what the speaker is saying, rather than just reporting the information being given. Although a large number of reporters had been interested in attending Bobby Fischer's controversial press conference, journalists were forced to pay $1,000 for accreditation at Sveti Stefan. As a result, many chose not to cover the match-at least, not from the "inside." There were only about thirty journalists present in the room that day, although there were more than a hundred people in attendance. The applause very likely came from the non-journalists in the crowd, who may have been handpicked claques for their anti-American and pro-Bobby leanings.

Bobby kept reading Cohen's follow-up questions and not directly answering them, just making comments such as "We'll see" or "Pa.s.s on," until he read Cohen's final question: "Are you worried by U.S. government threats over your defiance of the sanctions?"

Bobby Fischer: One second here. [He then removed a letter from his briefcase and held it up.] This is the order to provide information of illegal activities, from the Department of the Treasury in Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C., August 21, 1992. So this is my reply to their order not to defend my t.i.tle here. [He then spat on the letter, and applause broke out.] That is my answer. One second here. [He then removed a letter from his briefcase and held it up.] This is the order to provide information of illegal activities, from the Department of the Treasury in Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C., August 21, 1992. So this is my reply to their order not to defend my t.i.tle here. [He then spat on the letter, and applause broke out.] That is my answer.

Vasiljevic, also applauding, looked at him approvingly and smiled; Bobby leaned back in his chair, swiveled back and forth, and smugly basked, Mussolini-like, in his courtiers' adulation.

Bobby Fischer's spit was sprayed around the world. His anti-Americanism was lambasted on the editorial pages of the Daily News Daily News ("Fischer p.a.w.ns His Honor") and ("Fischer p.a.w.ns His Honor") and The New York Times The New York Times ("Bosnia's Tragedy and Bobby's") and reported in newspapers, magazines, and television broadcasts on almost every continent. The consensus reaction was that Bobby's expectoration reeked of callousness regarding the carnage taking place in Bosnia, and was a clear flouting of, if not international law, then at least moral norms. Bobby's bizarre act was likened to such other symbols of anti-American defiance as Ezra Pound's "Heil Hitler" salute, Jane Fonda's pose on a North Vietnamese tank, and even Tokyo Rose's propaganda broadcasts during World War II. ("Bosnia's Tragedy and Bobby's") and reported in newspapers, magazines, and television broadcasts on almost every continent. The consensus reaction was that Bobby's expectoration reeked of callousness regarding the carnage taking place in Bosnia, and was a clear flouting of, if not international law, then at least moral norms. Bobby's bizarre act was likened to such other symbols of anti-American defiance as Ezra Pound's "Heil Hitler" salute, Jane Fonda's pose on a North Vietnamese tank, and even Tokyo Rose's propaganda broadcasts during World War II.

One of the most surprising criticisms of Bobby's statements came from Bobby's close friend and former teacher Jack Collins, the Yoda of American chess. "I am bored and disgusted with him," said Collins. And then, mentioning the adulation that Bobby was receiving in Yugoslavia, Collins added, "They make so much out of a goof like him." Another close friend, William Lombardy, disagreed, however: "Yes, Fischer betrayed chess and everybody. But he's still magic, and can do a lot for the game. Bobby and Boris are finally cas.h.i.+ng in. I don't begrudge them that."

Bobby continued making outrageous-or at least controversial-statements as he answered more of the reporters' questions. When asked about his views on Communism, he said, "Soviet Communism is basically a mask for Bolshevism which is a mask for Judaism." Denying that he was an anti-Semite, Fischer pointed out with a smirk that Arabs were Semites, too: "And I am definitely not anti-Arab, okay?" Calling Kasparov and Karpov "crooks" for what he considered their unethical collaboration, he also included Korchnoi on his hate list: "They have absolutely destroyed chess by their immoral, unethical pre-arranged games. These guys are the lowest dogs around."

Although she sat in the audience at the press conference, Zita didn't answer any questions, at least publicly. Later, in a semi-off-the-record interview she gave to a Yugoslavian journalist, she claimed that she was not planning to marry Bobby, but that she was attracted to his honesty. She added, "I like geniuses or crazy people," not saying which category, if either, Bobby fit into.

Bobby walked rapidly to the board, sat in his chair at precisely 3:30 p.m. on September 2, 1992, stretched his right arm across, and shook Spa.s.sky's hand. He was dressed in a blue suit and wore a red-and-white tie, giving him a certain patriotic look. And if there was any doubt about his nationality, a small American flag could be seen on his side of the table, facing the audience; Spa.s.sky, who'd become a French citizen, had the tricolors of France next to him. Lothar Schmid, the arbiter who'd directed the 1972 match between the two grandmasters, was once again present, and he started the clock. And as Schmid depressed the b.u.t.ton, a wave of nostalgia rolled over everyone watching. Twenty years had pa.s.sed since the last Fischer-Spa.s.sky showdown, but each of the three main players seemed approximately the same-excepting some gray hairs, additional furrows, and extra girth around the middle. Laugardalsholl had morphed into the Hotel Maestral. Iceland had become Yugoslavia. Bobby was still Fischer. Boris was still Spa.s.sky. The game was still chess.

Within a few minutes, Bobby donned a wide-brimmed brown leather visor, the rationale for which was so that his opponent couldn't see what he was looking at. When it was his move, he pulled the visor way down and often rested his chin on his chest, almost as if he were a poker player secreting his cards.

Twenty years of rust aside, Bobby played as masterfully as he had in 1972: aggressive, relentless, brilliant, attacking on one side of the board and then the other. There were sacrifices of pieces on both players' parts.

Chess players the world over were following the game through faxes and telephone contact, and their collective question was answered at Fischer's fiftieth move. Spa.s.sky resigned. Grandmaster Ya.s.ser Seirawan wrote: "Yes, indeed, Bobby is back! A flawlessly handled game. Precise to the last moment." News outlets that, just the day prior, had criticized Fischer for his political incorrectness now had to admit that he was more than correct on the board: "Playing forcefully, the American chess genius seems to be in top form." But to paraphrase Aristotle, one chess game does not a champion make.

During the second game, Bobby seemed as if he was feeling his strength...until he again made his fiftieth move and this time made an atrocious error, converting the game, which he might have won, into a drawn position. In some respects he repeated the error of his ways in the third game as well: letting a potential-or at least a possible possible-win slip through his grasp and drift into a draw. Bobby's comment at the end of the game was revealing in its honesty. "This was maybe an off-day for me. I hope hope it was an off-day for me. I was in trouble." A scintilla of doubt had begun to insinuate itself. If the third game proved not to be just an "off-day" for him, it might be an indication that his long time away from the board was punis.h.i.+ng him and hampering his ability to emerge as the old Bobby Fischer. The fourth and fifth games almost proved to him that he it was an off-day for me. I was in trouble." A scintilla of doubt had begun to insinuate itself. If the third game proved not to be just an "off-day" for him, it might be an indication that his long time away from the board was punis.h.i.+ng him and hampering his ability to emerge as the old Bobby Fischer. The fourth and fifth games almost proved to him that he was was experiencing some decline, or an acc.u.mulation of rust: He lost both. experiencing some decline, or an acc.u.mulation of rust: He lost both.

One of the spectators at the match was the venerable Andrei Lilienthal, the eighty-one-year-old Russian grandmaster who'd lived most of his life in Hungary. He and his wife drove from Budapest to Sveti Stefan to follow the games. Lilienthal had never met Fischer, and at the conclusion of the fourth game, they were introduced at the hotel's restaurant. "Grandmaster Lilienthal, this is Bobby Fischer," said the person handling the introductions. The two chess giants shook hands, and Bobby boomed out, "Hastings, 1934/35: the queen sacrifice against Capablanca. Brilliant!"

The comment was so like Bobby in that he tended to remember and categorize people through their chess games, not necessarily anything else. Years later, Lilienthal was still shaking his head over Bobby's recollection of his famous win over Capablanca more than a half century before.

After the match, Spa.s.sky wrote: My general approach was not to think about the result of the match but how to help Bobby to restore his best form. The sixth game was critical. I was playing for a draw with white, but Bobby played so badly that I achieved a winning position. This would, of course, give me a real chance to lead with three wins and two draws!Could Bobby withstand such a situation? I did not know and this created a difficult psychological situation for me. I wanted to win the match but I was afraid afraid to win: Bobby could simply leave the match and abandon chess forever. This uncertainty prevented me from winning [the sixth game]. Bobby saved the game with his fighting spirit, and his creative capacity was restored. His self confidence returned and [from that point on] he began to play much better. to win: Bobby could simply leave the match and abandon chess forever. This uncertainty prevented me from winning [the sixth game]. Bobby saved the game with his fighting spirit, and his creative capacity was restored. His self confidence returned and [from that point on] he began to play much better.

Over the next two months, the match's momentum ebbed and flowed, but from the ninth game on, Bobby, sc.r.a.ping his way back, took the lead and held on to it. The stakes were huge: Whoever won ten games first would capture the lion's share of the prize money and secure the "champions.h.i.+p." There were few Fischer tirades while playing, but Bobby continued to lose friends and make enemies as a result of his press conferences. He gave nine before the match ended, not counting brief comments that were made jointly with Spa.s.sky after each game. Some of Bobby's controversial statements to the press: "I think I am doing quite well, considering that I've been blacklisted for the last twenty years by world Jewry."

"No, I have no regrets about spitting at that letter."

"That man [Kasparov] is a pathological liar, so I wouldn't pay much attention to whatever he says."

"I sued a company called Time Incorporated.... I sued them for many tens of millions of dollars, or maybe even many hundreds of millions of dollars on many different causes of action-defamation of character, breach of contract, etc. I spent two years in court, a lot of money, a lot of my time. This was in Federal Court, by the way. Then the judge just said: 'You have no case. I'm throwing it out without going to trial.' [The case was not only against Time, Inc., but also Brad Darrach, the author of Bobby Fischer vs. the Rest of the World; Bobby Fischer vs. the Rest of the World; the contract that Bobby signed was to give Darrach access to write articles, not a book. The U.S. Chess Federation was also sued because they advertised the book.] the contract that Bobby signed was to give Darrach access to write articles, not a book. The U.S. Chess Federation was also sued because they advertised the book.]

"So I consider that the United States government and Time Incorporated went into a criminal conspiracy to cheat me out of hundreds of millions of dollars, which is the reason I have not filed and paid my Federal and California State income tax since about 1976...since 1977, rather."

By the time they reached the thirtieth game, Bobby had won nine games and Spa.s.sky four. Games 26, 27, 28, and 29 were all draws; it was very hard for either man to defeat the other by that time. Both men were tired. In the final game, Spa.s.sky played his twenty-seventh move-it was hopeless at that point-and then resigned. Fischer had played resolutely and won what might be described as a comfortable game.

By his own standards, Bobby was Champion of the World once again, and $3.5 million richer. He'd made what Charles Krauthammer described in Time Time magazine, somewhat facetiously, as the greatest comeback since Napoleon Bonaparte sailed a single-masted fleet from the island of Elba in 1815. Grandmaster Ya.s.ser Seirawan said of Fischer's performance that it put him "somewhere in the top ten in the world." And a few months later, on the occasion of Bobby's fiftieth birthday, grandmaster Arnold Denker said, concerning his old friend and compet.i.tor: "True, the match with Spa.s.sky was not all that great, but after such a long lay-off, wasn't that to be expected? Yet, he did win convincingly. A match between him and the present world champion [Kasparov] would outdraw anything yet seen, and create a publicity explosion for world chess." magazine, somewhat facetiously, as the greatest comeback since Napoleon Bonaparte sailed a single-masted fleet from the island of Elba in 1815. Grandmaster Ya.s.ser Seirawan said of Fischer's performance that it put him "somewhere in the top ten in the world." And a few months later, on the occasion of Bobby's fiftieth birthday, grandmaster Arnold Denker said, concerning his old friend and compet.i.tor: "True, the match with Spa.s.sky was not all that great, but after such a long lay-off, wasn't that to be expected? Yet, he did win convincingly. A match between him and the present world champion [Kasparov] would outdraw anything yet seen, and create a publicity explosion for world chess."

Bobby revealed that he'd be willing to play a match for the champions.h.i.+p with Kasparov, but that he'd like to play a few training matches with younger players as a warm-up and then face Kasparov in 1994. But before Bobby could consider his next chess opponent, he had to, first, face a formidable non-chess non-chess opponent: the U.S. government. At issue were his violation of the sanctions, the fifteen years of back taxes he owed, and the taxes he potentially owed on the millions he'd just won. opponent: the U.S. government. At issue were his violation of the sanctions, the fifteen years of back taxes he owed, and the taxes he potentially owed on the millions he'd just won.

At the closing banquet, Bobby was coaxed onto the dance floor for a few spins with some young Serbian women and then said some gracious words of thanks in Serbo-Croatian to his host and to the people of Yugoslavia.

After receiving the entire payment due him (within forty-eight hours of the conclusion of the match, disproving rumors that Vasiljevic would renege on the amount) Bobby by prearrangement met up with his sister, Joan, at the Belgrade Intercontinental Hotel. There was was still a question concerning money due Bobby from the company that had purchased the television rights to the match-some $1 million. (Ultimately, Bobby never received any of it.) Joan took most of the match money, however, and traveled via train to Zurich, where she opened an account in Bobby's name at the Union Bank of Switzerland. This was done because it wasn't clear whether Bobby would be stopped at the Yugoslav border due to his violation of the sanctions and, if that were to occur, whether U.S. government officials might try to impound some, if not all, of the money. still a question concerning money due Bobby from the company that had purchased the television rights to the match-some $1 million. (Ultimately, Bobby never received any of it.) Joan took most of the match money, however, and traveled via train to Zurich, where she opened an account in Bobby's name at the Union Bank of Switzerland. This was done because it wasn't clear whether Bobby would be stopped at the Yugoslav border due to his violation of the sanctions and, if that were to occur, whether U.S. government officials might try to impound some, if not all, of the money.

At this time Vasiljevic was making an arrangement for another match for Bobby, this one to be played both in Belgrade and in Spain with Ljubomir Ljubojevic, the leading Yugoslavian player and one of the world's strongest tacticians. Bobby had met Ljubojevic. They liked each other, and both were eager to play.

Vasiljevic's plans concerning Bobby always contained ulterior motives. Certainly, he never made anywhere near a profit from the Fischer-Spa.s.sky match, despite the revenue from admissions fees, the sale of souvenirs, posters, television rights, etc. He promoted the match to bring global publicity to the Yugoslavian embargo and to make it appear as though the United States and other nations were attempting to suppress an important artistic endeavor. Within a few months after the match ended, Vasiljevic's financial house of cards began to collapse. Five hundred thousand depositors had funneled $2 billion into his sixteen banks and had been promised 15 percent interest on their money. Eventually, he found himself unable to meet the interest payments. He fled to Hungary and then to Israel, supposedly with bags of money-to avoid prosecution and with hope of setting up a government-in-exile. Years later he was extradited to Serbia and put into Belgrade Central Prison to face charges of embezzlement. Bobby grew to hate Vasiljevic, claiming that he was a Zionist agent. Further, he felt that the $3.5 million he had won in his match against Spa.s.sky was money garnered illegally by Vasiljevic. He made no move to return the money, however.

There were press reports that Bobby might be indicted and extradited back to the United States. Although he wanted to return to California, he didn't want to take the chance of entering the United States just yet. In mid-December, he received a telephone call from his attorney that a federal grand jury was about to meet and consider his case, and there was an almost certain chance that they'd vote for an indictment. The spitting incident, symbolically equivalent to burning the American flag, had apparently earned the government's wrath. Bobby immediately left Belgrade-taking with him his second, Eugene Torre, and two bodyguards provided by Vasiljevic-and secretly traveled to the small town of Magyarkanizsa, in the northernmost reaches of Serbia, on the border with Hungary. Vasiljevic had selected this location for Bobby for a few reasons: Its population consisted of about 90 percent Hungarian nationals, so people from Budapest and its environs could cross the border with impunity, meaning that Zita could visit him easily. Also, should Bobby have to quickly cross from Serbia into Hungary, it was probable that he could do so without being stopped, since the checkpoint was undermanned and the guards wouldn't likely be on the lookout for him. The fact that Magyarkanizsa was known as "The City of Silence" also made it attractive to Bobby...at least at first.

On December 15, 1992, a single-count indictment in federal court in Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C., was handed down by a grand jury against Bobby Fischer for violating economic sanctions, through an executive order issued by President George Bush. A letter to that effect was sent to Bobby in Belgrade, and upon announcement of the indictment, federal officials issued a warrant for his arrest. It wasn't clear how rapidly-or aggressively-the government would pursue him.

In the middle of winter, there was little to do in Magyarkanizsa. Bobby didn't want to write letters or receive them, for fear of being tracked by the U.S. government, which was attempting to arrest him. When he communicated by telephone, he did so by having one of his bodyguards call the intended person and then hand over the phone. No call-back number was ever left. Trying to outwit any government pursuers, he at first stayed at a small hotel and then at an inn on the outskirts of town. And when the weather became warm, he moved into a health and rehabilitation center, not because he was ailing but because the facility had a swimming pool and a gym where he could work out. After a while, he moved to another hotel. Occasionally, Svetozar Gligoric, his old friend, would visit him and stay for a week or so.

In late May of 1993, the Polgars, the royal chess family of Hungary, visited Bobby-Laszlo, the father, and his two precocious daughters, Judit, sixteen, and Sofia, nineteen. Both girls were chess prodigies. (The oldest daughter, Zsuzsa, twenty-three-a grandmaster-was in Peru at a tournament.) Bobby welcomed their arrival since he was starved for companions.h.i.+p.

Soon after they left, though, he began to feel very hemmed in by circ.u.mstances. His funds were getting a bit crimped since he was fearful of traveling to Switzerland to draw money from his account-and if he tried to have the Swiss bank wire money to a bank in Magyarkanizsa, he'd once again be violating the sanctions. Not having many people to interact with or much to do was making him feel lonely and bored. ("I have no friends here; only Gliga and the bodyguards," he wrote to Zita.) Somehow, he had to extricate himself from Yugoslavia.

Without naming the country he wanted to go to, he sought legal advice from an attorney in Los Angeles and without mentioning names, should the phones be tapped, he had an English-speaking attorney in Magyarkanizsa take down the information. The country that Bobby had in mind to go to was the Philippines, although other than Torre he told no one of his intended destination. Getting there would be complicated.

If Bobby managed to get to Hungary without being arrested, he could fly directly to the Philippines. If traveling there directly directly appeared too risky, he could rent a small private plane somewhere in Hungary, or even Yugoslavia, and fly to Greece or Egypt and then to Manila. Another possibility was taking a boat or a tramp steamer, but that might be too prolonged. Bobby worried that his funds in the Union Bank of Switzerland might be sequestered, so he wanted to get the money out of there as soon as possible. appeared too risky, he could rent a small private plane somewhere in Hungary, or even Yugoslavia, and fly to Greece or Egypt and then to Manila. Another possibility was taking a boat or a tramp steamer, but that might be too prolonged. Bobby worried that his funds in the Union Bank of Switzerland might be sequestered, so he wanted to get the money out of there as soon as possible.

Ultimately, Bobby felt that traveling to the Philippines-as much as he wanted wanted to go-was a risk he wasn't prepared to take at that particular time, and in any event, he learned that his UBS funds couldn't be sequestered. While he was still pondering what to do, he received some shocking news. to go-was a risk he wasn't prepared to take at that particular time, and in any event, he learned that his UBS funds couldn't be sequestered. While he was still pondering what to do, he received some shocking news.

Zita had taken the bus from Budapest to visit him, and she had an announcement to make: She was pregnant, and not by Bobby. One can only imagine Bobby's shock, anger, and sadness at hearing this. He couldn't understand or accept that the pa.s.sion he felt for Zita wasn't reciprocal. His proposal of marriage was categorically refused. A bitter argument raged through the night. "He was rough," Zita said. "His behavior was very, very bad.... he hurt those that I love." Finally, as dawn approached, Bobby went to sleep and Zita awoke a few hours later. She left a good-bye note indicating that her affair had nothing to do with why she didn't want to marry him. The fact was, she just didn't love him.

When Bobby awoke, he wrote a letter of apology to her, but she didn't answer.

When Zsuzsa Polgar returned to Budapest, her family made a second visit to Magyarkanizsa, specifically so that she could meet Bobby. Accompanying the family in Zsuzsa's VW Pa.s.sat was Janos Kubat. Describing her first impressions of Bobby Fischer, Zsuzsa recalled: "I was surprised to see how tall and big he was. He was slightly overweight, though I wouldn't call him fat, and he seemed to have enormous hands and feet. He was very friendly and open with me right away, and had a lot of questions including about my recent trip to Peru."

Zsuzsa questioned Bobby about why he was staying in Magyarkanizsa-an ancient town, small and colorless-when he could be living in Budapest, the Paris of Eastern Europe, a city with many restaurants (including ones that featured his favorite j.a.panese cuisine), movie theaters, bookshops, thermal baths, concerts, and libraries. She added that there he could socialize with some of the great Hungarian players he knew-men such as Benko, Lilienthal, Portisch, and Szabo.

Bobby listened closely to what Zsuzsa was saying. He realized that if he was in Budapest he could continue to pursue Zita much more easily. He saw his quest for her in chess terms: "I have been in lost positions before...worse than this, and I won!" Laszlo Polgar invited Bobby to stay with his family anytime at his country home. That left only one question to ponder: Would he be stopped at the crossing into Hungary and turned over to the U.S. authorities?

The Polgars, thinking of everything, had taken a chance on their way across the border and asked the guards that very question. They were a.s.sured that Bobby wouldn't have any trouble entering Hungary. He was somewhat skeptical, however, and wrote apprehensively to his friend Miyoko Watai in j.a.pan: "I think the Hungarians may arrest me as soon as I cross the border."

Realizing that his next move might ruin his life, Bobby, whose life on the chessboard had always been about preparation and calculation, decided that people in desperate positions must take desperate chances. Two weeks later, Bobby, Eugene Torre, and the two bodyguards drove in a rented car to the border of Hungary, were asked for their pa.s.sports, and without further delay were allowed to pa.s.s. If the guards recognized Bobby and knew he was a wanted fugitive, they gave no evidence of it.

Entering the sparkling city of Budapest, Fischer checked into one of the most romantic and elegant hotels in the city, the Gellert, right on the Danube, and had lunch on the terrace. Bobby couldn't wait to slip into the Gellert's thermal bath; he felt he was in paradise. Even the bell captain made him feel at home. When the man carried Bobby's luggage to his room, he suddenly recognized the reclusive champion and challenged him to a game.

13.

Crossing Borders

YOU DON'T NEED BODYGUARDS in Budapest," Benko told Bobby. "Only the Russian Mafia have bodyguards here." Benko was concerned that Bobby's two barrel-chested Serbian bodyguards, both with necks like wrestlers and carrying automatic pistols, would bring even more attention to Bobby than if he made his way through the city by himself. Bobby wasn't quite ready to give them up, however. Not only did they protect him, but he used them to run errands, serve as chauffeurs and occasional dinner companions, and be available to do whatever else he wanted at any hour. Primarily, of course, their job was to keep him in Budapest," Benko told Bobby. "Only the Russian Mafia have bodyguards here." Benko was concerned that Bobby's two barrel-chested Serbian bodyguards, both with necks like wrestlers and carrying automatic pistols, would bring even more attention to Bobby than if he made his way through the city by himself. Bobby wasn't quite ready to give them up, however. Not only did they protect him, but he used them to run errands, serve as chauffeurs and occasional dinner companions, and be available to do whatever else he wanted at any hour. Primarily, of course, their job was to keep him safe safe. He thought he needed protection from the U.S. government, which just might have him a.s.sa.s.sinated instead of extraditing him and bringing him home for a costly and unpopular trial. He was worried about Israel as well. Because of his statements finding fault with Jews, he believed that either the Mossad or an inflamed pro-Israeli patriot might also try to kill him. And he'd always thought that the Soviets wanted him dead, because of the international embarra.s.sment over the 1972 match, and his accusations of Russian cheating. To protect himself, he bought a heavy coat made of horse leather that weighed more than thirty pounds; he hoped it would be thick enough to deflect a knife attack. It's also likely that he wore a bulletproof vest.

All of these fears, tinged with paranoia, seemed to Bobby to justify constant concern for his life. Though some thought his fears were imaginary, he responded to physical threats just as he did threats on the board. He wanted to be prepared for any eventuality-an attack from any any direction-so that it could be thwarted. His continual fear of being arrested, killed, accosted, or insulted fatigued him, and that may be one of the reasons he slept ten or twelve hours every night. He was ever fearful of what lay in the shadows, and that ever-present dread, combined with his constant tilting at windmills, exhausted him. direction-so that it could be thwarted. His continual fear of being arrested, killed, accosted, or insulted fatigued him, and that may be one of the reasons he slept ten or twelve hours every night. He was ever fearful of what lay in the shadows, and that ever-present dread, combined with his constant tilting at windmills, exhausted him.

As soon as he was settled at the Hotel Gellert, Bobby was invited to spend part of the summer with the Polgars at their country compound at Nagymaros, about thirty-five miles north of Budapest, in the verdant Danube Bend section of the Slavic Hills of Hungary. As he and his two bodyguards drove along the banks of the Danube, Bobby noticed that the river wasn't the color he'd thought it would be. Unlike "The Blue Danube" of Strauss's waltz, this deep water was mud brown.

Bobby and his guards were given a small cottage at Nagymaros, but he ate all of his meals and spent most of his time at the large family house. All of the sisters played chess with him, but acceding to his preference, they played Fischer Random. Invented by Bobby, this was a variation on the standard game. The p.a.w.ns are placed in their normal positions at the beginning of the game. The pieces remain in the back row and are placed randomly, on squares that are different from where they normally reside. Thus players who've spent years studying chess openings don't have much advantage: Memory and book learning (except as they concern endings) aren't as important. Imagination and ingenuity become more essential. As it happened, eighteen-year-old Sofia, the middle of the Polgar daughters, beat Bobby three straight. Zsuzsa played him "countless games" and never revealed the results other than to say she did "all right." She observed that Bobby's ability as an a.n.a.lyst was awesome.

Laszlo Polgar was a man who didn't mince words. When Bobby denied the very existence of Auschwitz, refusing to acknowledge that more than one million people had been murdered there, Laszlo told him about relatives who'd been exterminated in concentration camps. "Bobby," he said, frowning, "do you really think my family disappeared by some magic trick?" Bobby had nothing to back up his claim and could only refer to various Holocaust denial books.

It seems in keeping with Bobby's beliefs and personality that even though he was a guest, he had the audacity to voice his anti-Semitic views in the Jewish household of the Polgars'. Zsuzsa recalled: "I tried to convince him in the beginning about the realities, telling him the facts, but soon I realized that it was impossible to convince him, and I tried to change the topic." Judit was more outspoken: "He was an extremely great player, but crazy: a sick-psycho." And her father agreed: "He was schizophrenic."

Despite Bobby's insensitivity and bullheadedness, the Polgars were gracious hosts and continued to entertain and care for him. Eventually, Bobby s.h.i.+fted his monologues from hatred of the Jews to chess. He became angry, however, when Laszlo showed him a book published in 1910 by the Croatian writer Izidor Gross. The book described a variation of chess that seemed to be the forerunner of Fischer Random, with the exact same rules. Muttering something about Gross being Jewish, Bobby went on to change the rules of his variation to make it different from Gross's.

One day that summer the family went on an outing to the Visegrad water park. They invited Bobby to join them, along with his bodyguards. After taking the ferry across the river to reach the park, Bobby was soon in his element: swimming, and lounging in the hot tubs. He even went on the giant water slide, and wound up trying it over and over again. "He was like a big kid," Zsuzsa fondly remembered.

Laszlo kept a watchful eye on Bobby's behavior toward the three sisters. Bobby favored Zsuzsa, but she stated afterward that she wasn't aware of his growing affection. Laszlo was, and he didn't like it.

After three and a half weeks, Magyar Television somehow learned that Bobby was staying at Nagymaros and sent a camera crew to film him. Crew members hid in the woods at a distance of about fifty yards and filmed him using a telescopic lens. When someone became aware of their presence, there was panic. Bobby was a fugitive, and he obviously didn't want the world to know where he was hiding. He sent his bodyguards after the cameramen, and they wrenched the ca.s.settes out of the cameras: No one was going to argue with the two bruisers. Bobby then asked Polgar for a hammer, sat on the stone floor of the living room, and ceremoniously and with increasing anger smashed the ca.s.settes to pieces.

The Polgars had offered Bobby friends.h.i.+p and a respite, but it was now clear that the press was aware of his specific whereabouts. He departed from Nagymaros immediately, returned to Budapest, packed his bags, and left the Gellert in short order. Accompanied by his bodyguards, who were now doubling as porters, he checked into the Hotel Rege, at the foot of the Buda Hills, across the street from Benko's apartment and about fifteen minutes by bus from the city's center. Then, taking his friend's advice, he permanently dismissed his bodyguards as being too obvious and therefore potentially dangerous.

The Budapest that Bobby roamed through in 1993 was a rapidly changing city. No longer under the thumb of the Soviets, the city (and all of Hungary) had rid itself of the Iron Curtain in 1989 and had opened its border to Austria. Many businesses had been privatized, and only a small percentage were still connected to Russia. Among the people, there was a sense of vibrancy and freedom. It could be felt just walking down the Vaci Utca, the city's princ.i.p.al mall street, with shops of all kinds selling wares. People were smiling, and staying out late enjoying themselves.

When Bobby determined, or at least believed, that he was no longer being followed or pursued, he began to freely wander the city, taking trams and buses to various destinations. Though many people undoubtedly recognized him, they almost never approached. Indeed, he always felt he was an alien and never a true resident of Budapest. Even after living there for years, he referred to himself as a "tourist."

He continued to visit the Polgars in Budapest, and on days that he wasn't playing chess or Ping-Pong with them, he'd be at the home of eighty-two-year-old Andrei Lilienthal and his wife, Olga, who was thirty years younger. The Lilienthals were genial hosts and they adored Bobby, and he greatly respected Lilienthal, a man who had once defeated former World Champion Mikhail Botvinnik. The old grandmaster had many tales to tell, and listening to him was like reading a book of chess history.

Although Olga was almost the same age as Bobby, she treated him in a motherly way-for example, by preparing the foods she knew he preferred. He spoke to Olga in Russian, and she'd later tell people that his command of the language was "pretty good." All throughout the years that he lived in Budapest, Bobby studied Russian almost every day, and he used Olga to correct his grammar and p.r.o.nunciation. In his library, he collected various Russian-English dictionaries and, also, books on Russian grammar and conversation. Lilienthal and Bobby talked in German.

When Bobby aired his views regarding the Jews, Lilienthal stopped him: "Bobby," he said, "did you know that I, in fact, am a Jew?" Bobby smiled and replied, "You are a good man, a good person, so you are not a Jew." It was becoming apparent that, although Bobby's rhetoric was clearly anti-Semitic, he tended to use the word "Jew" as a general pejorative. Anyone-whether Jewish or not-who was "bad," in Bobby's opinion, was was a Jew. Anyone who was "good"-such as Lilienthal-whether Jewish or not, was a Jew. Anyone who was "good"-such as Lilienthal-whether Jewish or not, was not not a Jew. "I reserve the right to generalize," Bobby wrote about his penchant for stereotyping. a Jew. "I reserve the right to generalize," Bobby wrote about his penchant for stereotyping.

After dinner almost every night, when he was at the Lilienthals' home, Bobby would watch a wide range of Russian television broadcasting-concerts, news, films-which he preferred to the Hungarian and American programming that was available. Such viewing also helped increase his understanding of the language. And then Bobby and Lilienthal would repair to the study and a.n.a.lyze games far into the night. They never played.

Since the Lilienthals were supportive of Bobby, he reciprocated with gifts: a television satellite dish, a vacuum cleaner, leather goods that he'd buy on trips to Vienna, and special gifts for birthdays and other holidays. His relations.h.i.+p with the Lilienthals wasn't unlike the one he'd had with Jack and Ethel Collins: Together, the three created a family atmosphere that was consistently supportive, involved chess, and hopefully would last for years.

After four years of interacting affectionately with the Lilienthals, however, two incidents severed the bond. Andrei had surrept.i.tiously taken a photograph of Bobby at a New Year's Eve dinner party and sent it to Shakhmatny Bulletin Shakhmatny Bulletin, the Russian chess magazine. They published the picture and as an honorarium sent Lilienthal $200. Bobby was furious when he saw the issue and became more incensed when he learned that Lilienthal had been paid for the photo.

Bobby continually talked about the royalties he was owed for the Russian-language edition of My 60 Memorable Games My 60 Memorable Games, and Lilienthal sent a letter to Kirsan Ilyumzhinov, the current president of FIDE, and signed Bobby's name to it (without his knowledge), asking for a meeting. At one of his press conferences in Yugoslavia, Bobby had said, just to open discussions about how much was owed him, that the Russian publishers would have to pay $100,000, but that it was possible he really was owed "millions." Ilyumzhinov was also the president of the Russian Republic of Kalmykia, on the northwest sh.o.r.es of the Caspian Sea. An extraordinarily wealthy man with a pa.s.sion for chess, he wanted to pay Bobby some of the royalties that were due him. He relayed a message to Lilienthal that he'd deliver the $100,000 in American cash to Bobby personally.

A meeting was arranged-a dinner at the Lilienthals'. It had been eighteen years since Bobby had broken off relations with FIDE, when he forfeited his match with Karpov, and therefore Bobby was not p.r.o.ne to be friendly, although Ilyumzhinov had had nothing to do with the organization at the time of the Karpov debacle. Speaking excellent English, Ilyumzhinov greeted Bobby and handed him a suitcase of money. Bobby sat there and resolutely counted every dollar. The dinner that followed was lively and cordial: Bobby showed Ilyumzhinov how Fischer Random was played, and he plied the president with questions about Russian politics. Ilyumzhinov recalled: "I was struck by how Fischer was up on everything that was happening in our country. He named our politicians and members of the government, and asked who I thought would win the elections."

Offers of possible reconciliation between Bobby and FIDE were made that evening, and Ilyumzhinov suggested that Bobby move to Kalmykia, where he'd be given free land and a new house could be built to his specifications. The federation president gave Bobby a deed for more than an acre of land in Elista, his capital city. Bobby thanked the president and asked about Kalmykia's medical care program but did not accept Ilyumzhinov's offer to live in Elista. Ilyumzhinov also offered to put up millions for another Fischer-Spa.s.sky match, but all Bobby would say was "I am only interested in Fischer Random." Somehow, in the course of the conversation, Bobby learned that the letter that had been sent to Ilyumzhinov had his forged name on it. The evening was getting late, and Ilyumzhinov began to make motions to go, but before doing so, he asked Bobby to pose with him for a photograph. "No," said Bobby ungraciously, silently fuming over what he regarded as two betrayals by Lilienthal (the photo and the forgery), "the $100,000 that you gave me doesn't include a photograph." Ilyumzhinov, the spurned suitor, left in a huff, and Bobby, the resentful friend, exited just behind him-with the money. Bobby always held that it was easier to forgive an enemy than a friend. He never saw the Lilienthals again.

When Bobby finally started writing a book on how he'd been cheated by various publishers, he dedicated it to: "The old Jewish scoundrel Andrei Lilienthal whose forgery of my name on his letter to FIDE was the straw that broke the camel's back [to write an anti-Semitic tract]."

Eventually, Bobby lost as friends not only the Lilienthals, but also the Polgars. Sofia Polgar was invited to give a simultaneous exhibition at the American emba.s.sy of Budapest, and Bobby was furious that she'd even consider it, claiming that his enemies-that is, the U.S. government and, therefore, the American emba.s.sy-must be considered the Polgars' enemies as well. Bobby quarreled not only with Sofia but with the entire Polgar family about the exhibition. Incredulous, Bobby asked Sofia: "How can you even talk to those people?" She went ahead anyway and performed well. The Polgars stopped all contact with Bobby after that, and he with them.

All while he was attempting to establish a life in Budapest, and yet alienating everyone around him, Bobby was also trying to win over Zita. It was a campaign fated to end badly. In the nearly eight years that he lived in Hungary, he only managed to convince her to see him a few times-once when she attended his fiftieth birthday party in Bulgaria. That time, he again proposed marriage, even though she was happily ensconced with her boyfriend and had a child. "It's out of the question," she told him. "Then what about your sister Lilla?" he asked. When Zita told her mother what he'd said, that Bobby was looking for a breeder, Mrs. Rajcsanyi was horrified.