The Demise of Horowitz
In my previous blog entry I mentioned that I felt fortunate for having been able to witness the development of chess history content on the web. I have other reasons to feel fortunate chess-wise. One of those is to have met and conversed with many wonderful people from the chess world, sometimes on a personal level, whom I would never have had the opportunity to meet but for my avocation.
I was, in fact, conversing with one such person quite recently about the Fischer-Spassky match in Iceland -- more specifically, the newspaper reporting of that match. The match took place in July/August 1972. My friend specifically mentioned Horowitz' coverage. I wasn't aware that Horowitz had covered the match in person, and but I was aware he died in January of 1973 - just 6 months later. It had been my impression that he had been sick for some time.
Although I had written a lengthy article on Horowitz over four years ago (https://www.chess.com/article/view/the-player-i-d-most-like-to-have-met), I only learned that his death was unexpected from this outside article: https://www.tabletmag.com/scroll/218460/chess-memories-of-my-grandfather
Ruminating on Horowitz' demise, I re-read some material and thought it might be worthwhile sharing.
After Israel Albert Horowitz died in January 1973, Chess Life & Review published a memorial for him in the March 1973 issue.
Chess Life & Review was the melding of Chess Life magazine, founded in Sept. 1946 under the editorship of Montgomery Major and Chess Review magazine, founded by Al Horowitz and Isaac Kashdan in Jan. 1933 (using the initial publication dates as the founding dates).
from the first issue of Chess Life:
from the first issue of Chess Review:
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by Ed Edmondson
The 1930's were glorious years for USA chess, Young masters were on the rise; they played exciting, stimulating games in tournaments such as the U.S. Open and the U.S. Championship; our teams swept to victory in four consecutive Chess Olympiads; and, in 1933, a great new American chess magazine was born. It was a time for living leg-ends. Just look at our line-up in the Chess Olympiad (World Team Championship), Stockholm 1937: Reshevsky, Fine, Kashdan, Marshall, and Horowitz. Giants, every one. But to me, a high school student then just beginning to explore the delights of tournament chess, none loomed larger than I. A. (Al) Horowitz. He was everywhere — at the Olympiads, the U.S. Opens, the U.S. Championships; crisscrossing the nation (with occasional stops in my home town of Rochester) on one simultaneous exhibition tour after another; and coming into my home every month as editor of CHESS REVIEW.
Al Horowitz's accomplishments were many, but perhaps the greatest of his contributions was and is CHESS REVIEW. Planning for the first issue (which appeared in January 1933) began in the autumn of 1932. For thirty-seven years thereafter, until its merger with CHESS LIFE in November 1969, Al's magazine carried the game—with style and enthusiasm—into every city and hamlet of the nation. And this was not easy, especially during the early years. The country was just beginning to emerge from the Great Depression, which meant that few people could afford to spend scarce cash on chess.
Al's vigor and determination, however, kept CHESS REVIEW going. One way to pay the printing bills was to barnstorm, which he did. On many occasions, one could play against him in a simultaneous exhibition simply by purchasing a new or a renewal subscription to CHESS REVIEW. What a bargain!
And what a strain it must have been. Even Al's giant frame must have been fatigued by the long journeys, too often skimpy meals or inadequate accommodations, and countless hours of walking and thinking, walking and thinking, during those exhibitions. Yet his spirits remained high and his demeanor an example for all. Friendly, outgoing, beyond compare as a teller of tales, he made chess live for thousands of his contemporaries. Al peaked as a player during the late 1930's and early 1940's.
He was U.S. Open Champion in 1936, Co-champion in 1938, and Champion again in 1943. His proudest achievement as a player, however, was his lifetime percentage in the chess Olympiads. (See next column.) Al Horowtiz was, quite deservedly, one of the heroes of my youth. It was not until 1966, however, that we became well acquainted on a personal level. Among the true joys of these past 61/2 years with USCF have been the many get-togethers with Al and with his lovely wife, Edna.
During the first couple of years, our meetings were purely sociable. Then came many amicable business meetings in connection with the merger which resulted in the present CHESS LIFE & REVIEW. In retrospect, Al might have sensed then that his health was failing. If so, he must have been very concerned, but it never showed. In all of our meetings, Al was his congenial self, always interesting yet interested in others; above all, interested in chess. Last year, he was delighted when Bobby Fischer captured the World Chess Championship.
So Al has ended his brief span on this earth. But he left a legacy—nay, many legacies—to all of us. His games are here, to be enjoyed for so long as chess anthologies exist. The books he wrote will be enjoyed for decades to come. His magazine lives on as the official USCF publication. And those privileged to know Al, even so briefly as during an exhibition game, will always remember him with pleasure—not only for his great talents, but especially for his grace, wit and very presence which helped to bring joy into all our lives.
Horowitz' Olympiad Results
by William Lombardy
Al Horowitz told the following story: "Last night I dreamed that I had died. Naturally I headed for heaven. As I neared the portals I was hailed by St. Peter, asking who I was. 'I am Alekhinel' I hastened to explain. But the statement made no impression. 'I am Alekhine, Chess Champion of the World!' I repeated. 'Sorry,' said St. Peter, shaking his head. 'There is no room in heaven for chess players.' My spirit was dejected. Before leaving the pearly gates, I took one last look around. Eureka! Whom did I spy? Why, none other than my good friend Bogolyubov. Quickly I drew St. Peter's attention to my rotund crony. 'There's Bogolyubov. He's a chess player.' St. Peter smiled sadly. 'No, he only thinks he's a chess player.'"
Perhaps every top chess player worthy of the name has knocked so many heads together over the 64 squares that he fears a denial at the heavenly gates. Certainly, though never officially recognized as a grandmaster, Al collected his share of trophies. But as a sensitive, considerate, loving human being who feared hurting another person even slightly, Al could have had no fear that he would not win the candidates' tournament in the sky, with St. Peter as the impartial referee.
Most of us could only observe the obvious. Al Horowitz; the successful chess entrepreneur; the pioneering founder of America's leading chess magazine, Chess Review; the prolific author of some forty chess volumes, giving scores of thousands of people their start in enjoyment of the royal game; a distinguished International Master who helped bring three World Team Championships to the United States; a chess editor of The New York Times who taught master chess to his following while never failing to hail the accomplishments of the ordinary player. But Al had his setbacks before his heralded achievements. Yet, he possessed the enviable ability to be philosophical and to take his disappointments in stride.
When someone would come to him with a story of woe, Al was invariably sympathetic. He tried to tickle the funnybone, and might remark: "It's better than a fork in your eye!" Unquestionably, Al had experienced many such ocular affronts, so he was easily able to empathize with another's frustrations, transforming them into beneficial encounters with life by helping to extirpate their debilitating effects. I will miss Al Horowitz my friend. The great chess player, who brought the common chess buff into the inner circle by giving them Rook odds at the grand stakes of a nickel; the bridge partner who would bid a grandsiam missing an ace and occasionally make the contract while emitting contagious, joyful laughter; the witty conversationalist with whom there could never be a dull moment. That he has left us all so much by which we may happily remember him is our advantage. Edna, you may be proud for him. For yours was the greatest advantage in knowing and loving Al beyond all others. The Lord forgets our faults when we balance them with kindness, decency and charity. Al may now make all the mistakes he wishes as he joins Bogolyubov, and hopefully Alekhine, in the most blissful speed chess of his immortal career.
by Isaac Kashdan
Al Horowitz is gone!
There are a dwindling few left of the group of youngsters who enlivened the Manhattan Chess Club in the depression days of the early thirties. Arnold Denker and Albert Pinkus will remember those days. Herman Steiner and Albert Simonson are among those no longer here. Reuben Fine and Sam Reshevsky came along a few years later. We were the nucleus of the teams that amazed the Europeans when we won the Chess Olympics four times in a row from 1931 to 1937. The depression must have done something for chess, as we have never finished better than second in the post-war years.
Neither Horowitz nor I had planned on chess as a career, but jobs were not to be had, and we had plenty of time to think about the game. In 1932 we decided to found a chess magazine, more lively than the staid publications of the time, one with pictures and illustrations, bright games and problems, for the growing chess population we envisioned. The result was Chess Review, which started with high hopes and little financing in January, 1933. I was the editor and Al was business manager, sales force and everything else. We doubled as office staff and mail clerks as well. It was a labor of love. I enjoyed the work, but the income was not enough to pay the bills, leaving nothing to the staff. After some months I had to leave. We were not the only business, large or small, to founder that year. I had assumed that Al would agree Chess Review had failed. I misjudged him. He displayed the determination, the perseverance, the grit along with the good will, that were to remain his characteristics. Al decided the magazine would survive. He lived with his parents to save expenses. He played and taught chess, went on exhibition tours to earn all he could. Every available dollar went to pay the printer and Uncle Sam for postage. Chess Review was his life, and they would go on together.
On one of his tours he was accompanied by Harold Morton, then chess champion of New England. There was a horrible auto collision. Morton was killed instantly, and Horowitz was thrown out of the car, a flicker of life remaining. It was barely enough. He revived, and with indomitable will went back to Chess Review, resolved that both would survive.
He had a number of partners through the years, but it was always clear that Chess Review and Horowitz were a unit. Eventually the magazine began to pay its way. Horowitz authored a number of fine books, and at long last began to thrive financially. Chess Review had made it. For many years it was considered one of the great chess periodicals of the world. Then came the resurgence of Chess Life.
This had once been a controversial monthly, issued by a weak USCF, no competition for the much superior Chess Review. In time USCF was firmly entrenched as the major chess organization in the U.S., and Chess Life, especially under its present editor, Burt Hochberg, also became an outstanding publication. For a time chess players had two great magazines each month. Chess Review never faltered until late in 1969, when Horowitz decided he had proved his point.
In an amicable agreement, the two magazines were merged, resulting in the current Chess Life & Review. An institution had passed, after 36 years. I had not seen Al Horowitz for a number of years, but was always in touch with him by correspondence and telephone. Many people have told me how much they enjoyed Chess Review and missed it. I agree with them, but will miss much more the genial player, editor, publisher, and great friend. There should be a National Chess Hall of Fame for those who have been outstanding contributors to the cause of chess. Without question one of the charter members would be Al Horowitz.
by Arnold Denker
It was the summer of 1936 and that year the U.S. Open was being held in Philadelphia. A long list of the nation's best players turned out, among them Arthur Dake, Fred Reinfeld, Abe Kupchik, G. Treysman, et al. Going into the final round, Al and I were tied for the lead and out of reach of our nearest competitors. Under such circumstances, you can imagine how we laid our friendship aside and went at one another. Let me fill you in on some of the background.
In the spring of that year, Al and I had moved to the Lincoln Hotel in New York in order to prepare for the 1st U.S. Championship. We were close friends and worked well together. He supplied most of the original opening ideas, and I worked them up. We caught many a top player completely by surprise in the opening (Reshevsky, Steiner, Kashdan) in that tournament. Now back to Philadelphia, Al and I were staying in a fleabag hotel where you couldn't get out of bed without bumping into the table. When you work in such close quarters it is almost impossible not to share everything, and share everything we did—except for a little variation that Al was preparing especially for me.
The game began, with Al as White, and soon I was struggling to keep my head above water. I tried complicating the game but he would have none of it and steered a steady course for the endgame. At adjournment, I felt I was lost. Nevertheless, I ran to our room, set up the position and studied. The more I analyzed the worse it became. Then, just as I was about to give up I saw a spark of hope. If he played the best three moves, I would reply in a certain way and we would come to a most peculiar position. He would now have to avoid making a move that seemed to be a sure crusher, the kind of move any good player would make intuitively. Yet, in spite of its appearance, it would lose because of a series of beautiful sacrifices. As I sat and studied the position, Al walked in. He took one look at the board and said, "Young feller, you can give it up!" He hadn't seen the combination and my heart raced as I replied slyly; "I guess you're right, but I must play a few moves. After all, this is an important game to me."
The next day, we sat down to continue the game. Al played quickly and I responded at once. One move, two moves, then three. One more move and it would be too late for him to turn back. He began studying the position. Then, after a while he looked up and that beautiful smile came over his face. He extended his hand across the table, now laughing heartily, and said, "Nice try, but it won't work." He had seen it all and we both got up and had a good laugh. It was a great tournament for Al, possibly the greatest victory of his career, and he richly deserved it.
by Jack Straley Battell
In 1932, an English chess magazine announced that L A. Horowitz was about to start a chess publication in America. He did, founding Chess Review in 1933 and carrying it, and more than incidentally chess in the United States, through the lean years of the great depression, ultimately and after great hardships to a preeminent status. Al Horowitz, as he preferred calling himself, became likewise a preeminent author and publisher of chess books, a popular teacher both in books and lectures. He gave courses and was a vivacious and exciting lecturer in simultaneous exhibitions—lest it be forgotten, he gave many such, as he put it, "for peanuts," in the lean years of U.S. chess.
As Chess Review prospered also, Al promoted many chess activities: he helped bring on the Radio Match of 1945 and subsequent matches; he led the U.S. team to the Olympiad of 1960; and he founded Postal Chess in which thousands play chess-by-mail. As a player, too, Al was preeminent: three times U.S. Open Champion; for years, second only to Samuel Reshevsky in U.S. chess; and a strong representative for this country in foreign tournaments and on U.S. teams. It is regrettable that there is no book of Horowitz' games. His aptitude for brilliancy, thoroughly prepared by sound play for small advantages (Al was the leading exponent here of the advantage of the Two Bishops) and fortified by remarkably quick sight of the board, made his games memorable.
These dry bones of his career, however, leave out something vital. In 26 years with Chess Review, I found Al and his devoted wife, Edna, warm and sympathetic personalities. At work and in chessplay, Al was an enlivening stimulant. His engaging humor made sparkling alike his lectures, writings, chessplay and even the dull routine of office hours. It ran the full gamuts from wry to robust and from mastery of understatement to the complete putdown of carping critics. His humor and his penchant for the startling brilliancy made vivid and unforgettable the lessons of his lectures and writings, and his own games. His annotated games and articles, because of the clarity of his expositions, thus made their points unmistakably. In fact, when groping for what most characterizes Al's contributions to chess, I am forced to one conclusion. He put in long, patient years encouraging interest in the game. He punctuated his presentation of chess with the startling, in his own play and in publishing that of others. And he added humor. And there we have it, I believe. Most of all, he contributed entertainment. When Al set out to be entertaining, there were very few to equal him, as seen best, I think, in his column, Chessiana, in the old Chess Reviews. And, by entertaining thus and by his direction of what went into Chess Review, Al made the chess lessons enlivening, pepped up the pedagogy and won many to the charms of chess. I think Al will be hilariously happy in the Valhalla of chessplayers. Can you imagine him, say, against Blackburne, in a rousing setto of counterploys and repartee?
The following game may be Al's best. It comes readily to mind and is also the selection of Robert Byrne in a commemorative article in The New York Times. It was the second of two in the Radio Match of 1945 against the Soviet Union, and against one who was at the time considered a logical contender for the world championship. And it was awarded the prize by USSR judges of the match for the brilliancy game of that event.
by Burt Hochberg
There are some personalities in the chess world who become eminent and exercise great influence without having played a single memorable game of chess. One can mention the late Morris Kasper, for example, or the famous chess authors Fred Reinfeld and Irving Chernev, or the influential Kenneth Harkness and Arpad Elo. Those who play beautiful games are, of course, rewarded with fame, if not fortune, and their names live forever in the published collections of chess masterpieces. Al Horowitz had the rare distinction of becoming eminent as a player and in many other ways as well. Had he never played a beautiful game I feel certain that his immortality would have been assured anyway. But he did play beautiful games. A player in the Marshall tradition, he loved the sparkling attack, the brilliant sacrifice, the smashing blow. He was one of the torch-bearers of the aggressive American chess style. In another way, Al Horowitz made history through the founding of Chess Review. Begun in 1933, Chess Review raised two whole generations of chess players through Al's indefatigable leadership and farsightedness. As the author of a few dozen chess books, he influenced untold thousands who became, through his own love of the game, enamored of chess. As chess columnist for The New York Times and Saturday Review for many years, he gave so much of himself that no one who read those columns regularly could have failed to be touched by Al Horowitz, the man. He loved not only chess but chess players and he communicated this to his countless readers. At the venerable Manhattan Chess Club, his regular chess hangout, Al never tired of playing odds games with all corners. As some of his old friends died or drifted away, Al good-naturedly complained that everyone was afraid to play him. He may not have really believed that, but it was at least partly true. For the old-timers at the Manhattan, it can never again be the same.
But how can a man's life be measured? Al Horowitz lived fully and productively. It is inconceivable that there is a single chess fan in this country who does not know of Al Horowitz. The chess world, now on the brink of its greatest expansion in history, must stop for a moment and remember the enormous debt it owes Al Horowitz, whose contributions were frequently made at great personal sacrifice. We join Al's everlastingly patient and understanding wife Edna in grieving the loss of this great man of chess.
by John Devlin
The Al Horowitz I knew at The New York Times news-room was the tall, smiling and kindly man who sat at a desk next to mine and totally belied any picture of him as a man whose international reputation at the chess board grew out of his philosophy that to be a crack player you had to be "ruthless and have a killer instinct." If I had heard that was his advice, and without ever having seen the man, I would have concluded that in appearance and manner he must have been some kind of a Dracula or a Western Frontier type with a cold, deadly manner. Nothing, of course, could possibly have been further from the truth. In all the time I had known Al Horowitz in the newsroom, there had never been a gentler, kinder or more democratic person. His whole manner was one of calm serenity. And there was special warmth and a quick smile for those occasions when some of his regular visitors at The Times included such old friends as "Father Bill" Lombardy, Morris Steinberg and Sammy Reshevsky who would arrive oftentimes when Al Horowitz would be replaying a game on a tiny chess set he always carried in his pocket. The scene was like a miniature Manhattan Chess Club, which Al held in special affection and where he served on the Board of Directors. At other times Al Horowitz would be chatting with Alan Truscott, The Times' bridge editor, who sat behind him. As often as not, Al Horowitz would discuss the play at his regular Tuesday night bridge game at the Marshall Chess Club, where other game-switchers included Arthur Bisguier and Alexander Kevitz. "I had always hoped," Truscott said the other day, "that one day I could devote one of my columns to a bridge hand Horowitz had played, and that he could do a chess column on a chess game I had played. But, it was just one of those things that we never got around to doing."
So, now Al Horowitz is gone—this good, patient and kindly man. Warm and rich memories of him will always remain.
Some notes:
Horowitz was inducted into the US Chess Hall of Fame in 1989.
Hall of Famers abound in the above article reprint:
Isaac Kashdan, 1986
Arnold Denker, 1992
Edmund Edmondson, 1995
Burt Hochberg, 2009
William Lombardy, 2019
Not knowing which names seen here are familiar, I've given a brief introduction to each one:
Jack Straley Battell was a correspondence legend. At one time the highest rated member of the Correspondence Chess League of America, he became Postal Director of the USCF. He was also a prolific contributor to Chess Review (of which he came co-editor) and Chess Life.
Burt Hochberg was editor of Chess Life and then Chess Life & Review and worked as acquisitions editor for Sidney Fried's R.H.M. Press, a highly regarded if short lived publishing entity that started in the 1960s as a vehicle for financial books, branching out into chess in the 1970s.
Lt. Col. (Air Force) Ed Edmonson had served both as President and Exectutive Director of the USCF and was publisher of Chess Life from 1966-1977.
GM William Lombardy had been one of Fischer's early mentors. In 1957 he became the first American to win the Junior World Championship and did so with a perfect, record-setting 11-0 score. He participated in 7 men's Olympiads winning 1 gold and 3 silver medals. He participated in 7 World Student Team Competitions collecting 2 gold and 1 silver medals. Studying for the priesthood put a damper on his chess aspirations, but still he was able to win a U.S. Open. He was ordained in 1967 but left the priesthood in 1980. During the interim he served as Fischer's second during his W.C. title match.
GM Isaac Kashdan was one of the strongest Pre-WWII players in the U.S. He played in 5 Olympiads winning 2 gold, 1 silver and 2 bronze medals. He also won the US Open twice (sharing one with Horowitz). In the late 1940s he traded the New York winters for Los Angeles sunshine and, giving up competitive chess, took over the LA Times chess column after Hollywood Herman Steiner died suddenly in 1955. Kashdan became a beloved organizer and arbiter.
(Hon) GM Arnold Denker was born the same year as Reuben Fine but never quite reached the same level. Still, he was one of the strongest American players during the 1930s and 1940s. He won the U.S. Chess Championship twice (1944 and 1946). Denker followed Hermann Helms and George Koltanowski in being officially named "Dean of American Chess." (since then Arthur Biguier was also conferred that title.)
John C. Devlin was a reporter for the N.Y. Times from 1949-1978. Although he specialized in nature and the environment, he did cover the first important computer chess tournament
(see: https://www.chess.com/article/view/the-first-computer-chess-champinship-in-the-usa)
