Introduction
International Master John Donaldson, author of several chess books and long-time captain of Team USA's squad in various international chess competitions, has written Bobby Fischer and His World, a 644 page biography spanning Fischer's entire life, from young American chess champion to retired chess champion living (and, eventually, dying) in self-imposed exile in Iceland. The book contains 99 annotated games, including some games that had not been previously published; not all of the games were played by Fischer, and there are some interesting games played by his mentors, contemporaries, and rivals.
Bobby Fischer set numerous records, including youngest U.S. Chess champion (14), youngest Grandmaster (15), most U.S. Chess Championships won (eight, including a record-setting 11-0 performance in the 1963-64 event), and highest chess rating ever. Although Fischer's records for being the youngest Grandmaster and the highest rated chess player ever were both broken--decades after he set those marks--the dominance that he achieved over his contemporaries is perhaps unmatched in recorded chess history; when Fischer was a 15 year old Grandmaster it was rare for anyone to achieve that title as a teenager (now, a teenager becoming a Grandmaster is not even a newsworthy event), and when he set the FIDE rating record (2785) that stood for nearly 20 years the next highest rated player was rated 125 points--more than half of a rating class!--lower than he was. It is not an exaggeration to say that Fischer--both as a teenage prodigy, and as an adult champion--was in a class by himself.
This review does not have the same organizational structure as the book (the book takes some interesting non-chronological digressions), but examines Fischer's life--as depicted in the book but also as depicted in other sources--in chronological order. It should be noted that Donaldson has stated that his goal was to focus on questions that he always had about Fischer that he had not seen answered in other sources; therefore, Donaldson's book does not provide as much coverage of some of Fischer's greatest triumphs as the reader might expect, for the simple reason that those triumphs have already been thoroughly covered.
Bobby Fischer's Early Years
Ratings are a ubiquitous part of the chess scene for tournament players, many of whom may not know much about the history and evolution of the rating system. The U.S. Chess Federation first published a ratings list in 1950. At that time, any player who achieved a rating of 2300 was classified as a Master, a player rated between 2500-2699 was designated as a Senior Master, and a player rated above 2700 was classified as a Grandmaster (this U.S. title had no connection with the Grandmaster title awarded by the International Chess Federation, an organization usually referred to by the French acronym FIDE). Those rating classes remained the same until 1956, when Master status was redefined as 2200-2399, Senior Master status was redefined as 2400-2599, and Grandmaster status was redefined as any rating above 2600. At some point--perhaps around the time that FIDE started publishing its own rating list in addition to awarding the Grandmaster title to select players--the U.S. Chess Federation dropped the Grandmaster rating class, and subsequently the Grandmaster title referred exclusively to the FIDE honor.
The U.S. Chess Federation only had a few thousand members when Fischer began competing in rated events (the USCF now has over 90,000 members), and less than 50 of those players were rated at Master level or above. Fischer's first official rating in 1955 at the age of 12 was a little over 1700, which means that he was a strong club player but not yet a prodigy. Fischer tied for 11th-21st place in the 1955 U.S. Junior Championship with a score of 5/10. The winner, 15 year old Charles Kalme, scored 9/10, while the second place finisher--13 year old Larry Remlinger--scored 7.5/10. Just two years later, Fischer had emerged from the middle of the elite junior pack to the top of the heap in the entire country, scoring 10.5/13 to claim his first U.S. Championship. Along the way, he also captured the 1957 U.S. Junior Championship by scoring 8.5/9 (one point ahead of the field), and he improved his U.S. rating from 1726 (in the summer of 1956) to 2626 (January 1958)--a staggering rating increase that may never be seen again: in less than two years Fischer leaped from being a very strong club player to being the strongest player in the United States!
Only a genius of the rarest type can develop in the manner that Fischer did, and then reach the unprecedented heights he reached--but it must be noted that Fischer was obsessed with chess, practicing for several hours a day, and learning foreign languages at least to the extent that he could read chess literature from other countries. Saying that Fischer was "obsessed with chess" is not a value judgment--the reader can decide if such an obsession is good, bad, or neutral--but rather a statement of fact. Fischer focused on chess to the exclusion of almost everything else, and that extreme focus combined with his extraordinary talent produced a nearly unbeatable chess champion. To deny either the talent part of this equation or the obsessive work part of this equation is to deny reality.
By the time that the 14 year old Fischer was twice U.S. Junior champion and just a few months away from becoming the youngest U.S. chess champion ever, his mother Regina was already publicly expressing reservations about his obsession with chess: "It's chess, chess, chess from the minute he opens his eyes in the morning," she declared in a nationally syndicated article published on October 27, 1957, and reprinted on pages 130-131 of Donaldson's book. She stated that he gets along well with his peers, but that she was nevertheless concerned about his future: "Maybe when he gets older he'll change. I want my Bobby to develop like other boys."
Despite her misgivings, Regina Fischer made sure that her son had opportunities to play in tournaments, and as he became older she was very zealous in trying to obtain funding for him to travel to bigger events. Fischer's relationship with his mother was complex, but it is apparent that Fischer's devotion to chess increasingly
isolated him from anyone who he felt was not helping him to maximize his
talent and reach his goals. His mother's concerns about Fischer focusing too much on chess are similar to how Owen Lars, Luke Skywalker's uncle in "Star Wars," tried to keep young Skywalker from attending the Academy to become a pilot. Aunt Beru chides Uncle Owen that Luke is just not cut out to be a moisture farmer because he has too much of his father in him, and Uncle Owen replies that this is what he fears. The point is that parents, relatives, and concerned friends can try to guide a youngster, but ultimately the youngster is going to follow his own path, and he should be encouraged to do so in the most productive possible way. No one is going to convince Bobby Fischer to not play chess, or Luke Skywalker to not learn the ways of the Force, and trying to do so just creates frustration and conflict.
Fischer earned the International Master title and qualified to participate in the Interzonal Tournament by winning the 1957-58 U.S. Championship. The top six finishers in the Interzonal would advance to the Candidates Tournament, and the winner of the Candidates Tournament would play a title match versus World Champion Mikhail Botvinnik.
Fischer made his first and only trip to the Soviet Union in 1958, just prior to his participation in the Interzonal Tournament in Yugoslavia. Fischer's travel plans were not finalized until after he was a successful contestant on the game show "I've Got a Secret": he won airfare for two (his sister Joan accompanied him) for the European adventure. Donaldson asserts that Fischer's "short stay in Moscow had a major impact on his life. Prior to his trip, Bobby thought of Soviet Chess in a positive way--his attitude completely changed within a week of setting foot in the USSR" (p. 147).
Donaldson notes the lack of reliable accounts of Fischer's experiences in the Soviet Union; the exact itinerary is not even available, although Donaldson was able to piece together enough information from multiple sources to conclude that Fischer and his sister likely "left New York around June 19, spent a long weekend in Brussels (June 20-22), flew to Moscow (June 23), and then onward to Belgrade (July 9)" (p. 157). Donaldson does his typical thorough and methodical job of organizing and presenting the material that is available. It has been reported that Fischer expected/demanded to play against Botvinnik, and that when Soviet authorities informed Fischer that the World Champion would not play him but that the Soviet Union has hundreds of strong players who can play decently Fischer retorted, "There are only about a dozen players in the Soviet Union that can play decently" (p. 156). Donaldson finds that story credible, and it certainly aligns with how Fischer thought about himself and how he expressed himself. Donaldson also states that Fischer had little interest in exploring the city, and would have been most happy to just camp out all day playing chess at the Moscow Chess Club.
Fischer had a much more enjoyable experience in Yugoslavia, where he was welcomed warmly and where he played several training games before the Interzonal; Fischer had not played any serious tournaments or matches for the previous several months after winning the U.S. Championship, so he needed to scrape off some rust before making his first attempt to become World Champion.
Fischer scored 12/20 (six wins, 12 draws, two losses) and finished =5th-6th in the Portoroz Interzonal, and thus he qualified for the 1959 Candidates Tournament. At just 15 years old, Fischer became the youngest Grandmaster ever, a record that stood until 1991. Fischer also became the youngest Candidate ever, a distinction he retained until 2005 when a slightly younger Magnus Carlsen qualified as a Candidate under a different system.
Fischer scored 12.5/28 in the eight player quadruple round robin Candidates Tournament (also held in Yugoslavia), finishing =5th-6th. He lost all four of his games to tournament winner Mikhail Tal, who scored 20/28. Tal subsequently defeated Botvinnik to become the youngest World Champion ever, a record he held until Garry Kasparov broke it in 1985.
U.S. Champion but not World Champion
In late 1960, Regina Fischer moved from New York to San Francisco. Fischer's sister Joan had already gotten married and moved out of the family apartment, so the 17 year old Fischer was now living by himself. His maternal grandfather Jacob Wender had made a bequest of $14,000 (which Donaldson states is equivalent to $122,000 in 2020), and Regina placed those funds in a trust that provided $175 per month to Fischer. This enabled him to pay the rent and basic expenses without having to rely on prize money (or get a job). Fischer had dropped out of high school prior to his mother's departure, and now he could spend all of his time studying chess without anyone or anything to distract him.
Donaldson devotes an entire chapter to the controversial 1961 match between Fischer and Sammy Reshevsky. Reshevsky began his chess career as a child prodigy who--as a child--supported his family by giving simultaneous chess exhibitions. Donaldson writes that Reshevsky's parents had to go to court after being charged with not being proper guardians because they failed to provide adequate schooling for their son. The case was dismissed, and soon after that Julius Rosenwald, part-owner of Sears-Roebuck, became Reshevsky's benefactor, enabling Reshevsky to complete his education.
Reshevsky took several years off from competitive chess to go to college and establish himself as an accountant so that he could support his wife and three children. It is remarkable that after such a long absence he was able to return to the sport and dominate U.S. chess from the 1930s until Fischer's emergence in the late 1950s. Reshevsky's job and family obligations meant that he could never devote himself fully to chess. He received some funding from various benefactors and organizations, but nothing approaching the support given to the top Soviet players during that era.
The Fischer-Reshevsky match was a battle of the generations, and a battle of geniuses who had different life perspectives/viewpoints. Reshevsky was an Orthodox Jew who did not play chess on Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath. Donaldson mentions that other prominent observant Jewish Grandmasters such as Leonid Yudasin and Boris Gulko later played on Saturdays provided that they had an assistant to write down their moves and punch their clock (the Jewish Sabbath rules do not apply to playing chess but rather to tasks such as keeping score and utilizing the clock that ensures that tournament games finish on schedule). Fischer was Jewish by heritage but he was never an observant Jew, and of course he eventually became a quite outspoken antisemite. Ironically, after Fischer joined the Worldwide Church of God he refused to play on Saturdays so that he could observe that church's Sabbath, and at the Sousse Interzonal in 1967 both Fischer and Reshevsky refused to play before sundown on Saturdays!
The match was scheduled to last 16 games, with eight to be played in New York City and eight to be played in Los Angeles. All games were supposed to be played even if one player clinched victory by scoring 8.5 points prior to the 16th game. Reshevsky was a formidable match player, and even though Fischer had won
four straight U.S. titles by the time he faced Reshevsky most
commentators who made public predictions expected Reshevsky to prevail.
The match was tied 5.5-5.5 after Fischer missed an opportunity to win game 11 and had to settle for a draw. Game 12 was scheduled to be played at 7:30 p.m. on August 12, but match sponsor Jacqueline Piatigorsky rescheduled the game for the following morning so that she could watch her husband, renowned cellist Gregor Piatigorsky, perform for the first time with legendary violinist Jascha Heifetz. Fischer objected to changing the terms of the match contract, so he was deemed the forfeit loser of game 12. After Fischer did not appear for game 13 he lost that game by forfeit. Subsequently, Reshevsky was declared the winner of the match, and Reshevsky received the winner's 60% share of the purse. An outraged Fischer filed suit not against Piatigorsky but against Reshevsky, seeking a court order preventing Reshevsky from participating in any other chess events until he returned the prize money and agreed to play the final five games of the match. The two parties reached an undisclosed out of court settlement. Fischer apparently did not harbor lasting bad feelings toward the Piatigorskys, as he accepted their invitation to play in the Second Piatigorsky Cup tournament in 1966.
Despite the acrimony associated with the match, Fischer respected Reshevsky as a chess player, and a few years later Fischer wrote an article about the greatest chess masters in which he asserted that Reshevsky was probably the strongest player in the world in the 1950s, even though Reshevsky never earned the right to challenge the World Champion in a title match.
The next chapter in Donaldson's book, spanning just three pages, is about Fischer's antisemitism. It is not clear that 30 pages would be enough to try to plumb the depths of Fischer's depraved hatred but it is clear that three pages are not enough. Donaldson focuses on speculation that the sour ending to the Reshevsky match is what triggered Fischer's antisemitism, but it is evident that is not the case, and Donaldson even quotes Pal Benko stating that Fischer's "mental problems already showed when he was very young" (p. 248). Benko recalled that the 16 year old Fischer showed him a picture of Adolf Hitler while stating that Hitler was a great man. Benko offered this blunt assessment of Fischer: "He could not escape from the stuff he had in his head. I have no idea where it came from. I am not a psychiatrist. I told him, you are paranoid, and he said, yes, but sometimes paranoids are right" (p. 249, quoting an article from New in Chess #2, 2016).
It is odd to seek explanations for Fischer's pathological Jew-hatred in the behavior of individual Jews such as Reshevsky and the Piatigorskys. No one would deem it acceptable to be a rabidly racist person who hates an entire ethnic group other than Jews based on the alleged misbehavior of individual members of that ethnic group, so it is wrong to in any way suggest that Reshevsky, the Piatigorskys or any other individual Jews are responsible for anything other than their own personal conduct. They did not speak or act on behalf of an entire ethnic group, and it is absurd to even suggest that Fischer's virulent hatred of the Jewish people and, later, the United States--including saying that all Jews should be rounded up and sent to concentration camps, and that the 9/11 attacks were wonderful--has some kind of rational explanation.
Donaldson does not limit his discussion of Fischer's antisemitism to that three page chapter, but the placement of that chapter and the chapter's brevity are perhaps the only discordant notes in an otherwise first rate biography. Since there is no credible evidence that the Reshevsky match shaped Fischer's twisted viewpoints, and since Fischer openly expressed antisemitic views from his early teenage years until his final days it would have made more sense from an organizational
standpoint for Donaldson to either not place a brief antisemitism chapter right after the chapter about the match, or else devote a more lengthy chapter to this subject in a completely separate section of the book.
To be clear, Donaldson neither minimizes nor justifies Fischer's antisemitism; he just does not do a great job of explaining why Fischer became antisemitic, because the only real answer is that we do not know and we will never know, unless or until we crack the code of what causes mental illness. The etiology of any one person's mental illness is a mystery in many, if not most, instances.
Regarding the root causes of antisemitism in general, it is fair to state that fear and shame play a significant role. Fischer, a person of Jewish ancestry, repeatedly expressed antisemitic views in public, so it is reasonable to suggest that he felt shame about his own background, and it is evident that--despite his frequent (and, to a great extent, justified) boasts about his abilities--he also had many fears that impacted his life in a negative way.
Shortly after the Reshevsky match, Ralph Ginzburg wrote an article about Fischer for Harper's Magazine. Fischer's biographer Frank Brady referred to the article as "a cruel piece of journalism, a penned mugging, in that it made a vulnerable teenager appear uneducated, homophobic, and misogynistic, none of which was a true portrait" (p. 259, quoting from page 139 of Brady's book Bobby Fischer's Remarkable Rise and Fall--from America's Brightest Prodigy to the Edge of Madness). If you only have a casual awareness of Fischer's career and life but you have heard strange stories about how he thought and behaved as a young man, this article was probably the source of many of those stories. Fischer was outraged by the article, and he denied many of the assertions that Ginzburg made about him. Donaldson says that this traumatic experience profoundly affected Fischer in general, and specifically impacted his future interactions with media members. Donaldson's book includes excerpts from the article, along with his assessment of the article's validity: "Ginzburg's final conclusions were sure to have offended Fischer, and cruel to write about someone so young, but in retrospect, over a half century later, some of them ring true" (p. 258). Fischer was egotistical, he was immature in many ways, and his overall development as a person lagged well behind his development as a great chess player. Donaldson is correct that those are valid points, and he is correct that it was cruel for Ginzburg to write those things about someone who had just turned 18 and was living on his own because his mother had left and his father and his stepfather had long been out of the picture.
Donaldson notes that even though Ginzburg had not written about chess previously and did not write about chess subsequently he displayed a basic understanding of the game and did not make the technical errors that are so often committed by journalists who know nothing about chess. Donaldson adds that Ginzburg is perhaps best known for serving eight months of a five year prison sentence after the U.S. Supreme Court upheld a decision that found Ginzburg guilty of obscenity for his actions in promoting and advertising Eros, a quarterly magazine that he published.
Fischer won the 1962 Stockholm Interzonal by 2.5 points, becoming the first non-Soviet player to win an Interzonal. However, he once again fell short in the Candidates Tournament, finishing a distant 4th place with 14/28, 3.5 points behind Tigran Petrosian, who would subsequently dethrone World Champion Mikhail Botvinnik. Soviet players Paul Keres and Efim Geller tied for =2nd-3rd with 17 points each. The Curacao Candidates Tournament is best remembered for Fischer's accusation--published in Sports Illustrated--that the Soviet players had colluded against him in several ways, most notably by agreeing to short draws with each other (to conserve energy to battle against him), and by discussing moves his opponents could play while his games were still in progress. Fischer asserted that under the current rules it would be impossible for any non-Soviet player to win the World Chess Championship. It is a fact that the top three finishers drew all 12 of their head to head encounters in the Candidates Tournament; after the fall of the Soviet Union, evidence emerged that largely substantiated Fischer's claims--but, at the time, Fischer was often portrayed as a sore loser who was unwilling to accept that he was not the best player in the world. Donaldson correctly points out that--from a mathematical standpoint--a Soviet strategy to draw all head to head games would not have stopped Fischer from winning the tournament had Fischer performed better. However, Donaldson neglects to consider that Fischer's performance was obviously affected by the harsh reality that the eight Candidates were not really eight individual players fighting for top honors but rather a team of five Soviets pitted against the rest of the field with marching orders that they ensure that a Soviet player emerged victorious. Perhaps a chess computer could win the event under those circumstances, but most human beings--particularly an emotionally fragile, if not already paranoid, human being--would find that task difficult, if not impossible. Fischer vowed to never again compete in the World Championship cycle until the rules were changed. During the next cycle (and subsequent cycles), the round robin Candidates Tournament was replaced by a series of one on one matches among the Candidates, which eliminated the collusion problem.
Despite the rules change, Fischer did not participate in the 1966 World Championship cycle, foreshadowing his future and much longer lasting withdrawal from top level chess. Although people who did not follow chess closely may have been surprised or even stunned by Fischer's refusal to defend his World Championship title in 1975, the reality is that Fischer took extended absences from competition throughout his career; what made his 1975 decision different was that he gave up the World Championship without a fight and he did not compete again for 20 years.
It should be noted that during Fischer's absences from tournament and match play he was still involved in chess in terms of giving simultaneous exhibitions (Donaldson's 1994 book A Legend on the Road is about Fischer's 1964 simul tour), and also by working on various writing projects, including his book My 60 Memorable Games. Donaldson repeats the oft-told story about Fischer at first being reluctant to have that book published because it might reveal too many of his chess secrets, only to relent because he had become convinced
that the world was coming to an end soon so he might as well have some spending money for the final days before Armageddon!
After winning the U.S. Championship in each of his first four appearances, Fischer did not play in the 1961 event, but he returned the next year and won four more U.S. Championships in a row. In 1961, Fischer only played in one tournament and one match (versus Reshevsky). He played in four events in 1962. He played in three events in 1963, scoring 25 wins, one draw and no losses with 1st place finishes in the Western Open, the New York State Open, and the U.S. Championship (11-0!).
Fischer did not play in any events in 1964. As noted above, FIDE changed the Candidates round from a tournament to a series of matches as Fischer had requested, but Fischer declined his invitation to play in the 1964 Amsterdam Interzonal.
In 1965, he played in the Capablanca Memorial via teletype (as a U.S.
citizen he was not permitted to travel to Havana to play in person). Fischer went to the Marshall Chess Club to play these games. On January 31, 2019, I visited the Marshall Chess Club, and before I played in that night's tournament I took some pictures of the table used by Fischer when he participated in the Capablanca Memorial:
Fischer won the U.S. Championship in 1965. In 1966, Fischer finished 2nd in the Piatigorsky Cup, he scored 15/17 on Board 1 for Team USA in the Olympiad, and he won the U.S. Championship.
Fischer won two tournaments in 1967. He was in 1st place at the 1967 Sousse Interzonal with an undefeated 8.5/10 score when he withdrew after a dispute about scheduling, giving up the opportunity to compete for the 1969 World Championship. In 1968, he won two relatively small tournaments, and he won one game in the Metropolitan League. In 1969, Fischer did not play in any events, and it was not clear when/if he would play again.
The Ascent to the Top
In 1970, Fischer surprised observers by not only participating in the U.S.S.R. versus the World match but also by not demanding to play on Board 1 (he won his Board 2 match against former World Champion Tigran Petrosian by scoring two wins and two draws). Fischer won two big tournaments, and he scored 10/13 on Board 1 for Team USA in the Olympiad. He also won perhaps the strongest blitz tournament ever (Herceg Novi), scoring 19/22 to finish 4.5 points ahead of a field that included three former World Champions, former challenger David Bronstein, and future challenger Viktor Korchnoi.
The 1972 World Championship cycle was underway, but Fischer had stopped playing in the U.S. Championship because the organizers did not accept his demand that the event be changed from an 11 round tournament to a 22 round tournament. Fischer argued that lengthening the event made it more likely that the best player would prevail by giving that player an opportunity to overcome a slow start. However, doubling the length of the U.S. Championship would not have been practical at
that time because the tournament would have lasted too long--most of the
competitors supported themselves with regular jobs--and would have been too
expensive to organize. Fischer did not focus on practicality, or what
would be convenient for others; he decided that a 22 round robin
format is the best way to crown a champion, and he refused to play in a U.S. Championship with
any other format.
Fischer may have had a valid point about how a national championship should be run in an ideal world, but by stubbornly refusing to play he harmed himself without creating the change that he sought. There is no doubt that throughout his career Fischer took some principled stances about playing conditions and prize funds that ultimately improved the status of chess professionals, but there is also no doubt that Fischer's refusal to compromise did not serve his best interests.
The U.S. Championship was a Zonal event, so by not participating Fischer gave up the opportunity to qualify for the 1972 World Championship match. However, after Fischer decided that he wanted to participate in the 1970 Interzonal, Pal Benko graciously gave his spot to Fischer. Thus, Fischer's final ascent to the chess mountaintop began at a time when he was not even the official U.S. Champion. Fischer scored 18.5/23 in the Palma de Mallorca Interzonal, finishing 3.5 points ahead of Bent Larsen, Efim Geller, and Robert Hubner. Not counting the Sousse Interzonal, Fischer had won eight tournaments in a row dating back to 1966.
Fischer's 1970 Interzonal performance was spectacular, but it was just the start of an unprecedented streak. After winning his final seven games in the Interzonal, Fischer defeated Mark Taimanov 6-0 in the first Candidates match and he vanquished Larsen 6-0 in the second Candidates match. Fischer won the first game versus Petrosian in the final Candidates match before Petrosian ended Fischer's winning streak at 20 with a game two victory, but that was just a temporary setback as Fischer won the match 6.5-2.5 to earn the right to challenge Boris Spassky for the World Championship.
The bizarre circumstances of the 1972 Fischer-Spassky match are well documented. Fischer issued many demands pertaining primarily to playing conditions and the prize fund, and at several points it seemed possible that he might not play; remember that he did not participate in the 1966 World Championship cycle, he withdrew from the 1969 World Championship cycle after taking a commanding lead in the Sousse Interzonal, and he was only able to participate in the 1972 World Championship cycle after Benko gave up his spot.
Fischer eventually showed up in Reykjavik to play Spassky. Fischer lost the first game when he could have obtained a draw, and he forfeited the second game when the organizers would not remove television cameras that Fischer claimed were making distracting noises. Spassky agreed to play game three in a small room at the back of the venue, with no cameras and no spectators. Fischer won that game brilliantly, and the remaining games were played in the main playing area. Despite spotting Spassky a 2-0 lead, Fischer won the match 12.5-8.5. One American genius ended 24 years of Soviet dominance of the World Championship.
The Wilderness Years, 1972-92
Fischer's life from 1972-1992 is not enjoyable to contemplate or write about; it is the story of a genius overwhelmed by mental illness to the extent that he was unable to do the one thing that he does at least as well as anyone who has ever lived. I am not a clinician, and even a clinician cannot responsibly diagnose a person without directly examining that person, but in the colloquial, non-clinical sense that reasonably intelligent and compassionate people understand mental illness it is evident that Fischer was mentally ill.
It is not necessary or helpful to pretend that Fischer was not mentally ill, or that he did not display symptoms prior to winning the World Championship; for example, here are International Master Nikolay Minev's impressions of the 19 year old Fischer (quoted on p. 351 of Donaldson's book; the full interview can be found here)
As a doctor, I will tell you that even at the Olympiad in Varna, in '62,
I started to see that something was wrong with him. In the first
round, there was a power failure for twenty minutes. Everyone was
talking, milling around, going here and there. Bobby took his chair,
went to the corner, and with his back to the wall, stayed there for
twenty minutes without moving. Clearly scared. This is the first
symptom of schizophrenia.
There is no reason to believe that chess in any way caused Fischer's mental illness, and there is good reason to believe that Fischer experienced his greatest moments of clarity when he was most actively engaged with chess. His objectivity about chess positions and chess players is justifiably praised--and that objectivity markedly contrasts with the way that he perceived life outside of the chess board. Perhaps the most pernicious aspect of mental illness is the lack of self-awareness regarding the disease; typically, a person who has a broken leg or some other physical malady does not actively deny the problem, but part of being mentally ill is thinking that the rest of the world is crazy.
Donaldson cites the aftermath of the publication of Brad Darrach's infamous book Bobby Fischer vs. the Rest of the World as the genesis of Fischer's downfall. Donaldson provides the text of a telegram from Darrach to Fischer in which Darrach promises Fischer that in exchange for Fischer providing Darrach with insider access for several months "I affirm my agreement that I will not use this material for a book or for any magazine article without first obtaining your written approval. Of course, my present series of articles for Life magazine is exempted from the need for this approval" (p. 492). Fischer was outraged when he found out months before the book's publication that Darrach had broken his word and violated Fischer's trust.
The book's depiction of Fischer is not favorable, to say the least. Is the book accurate? Donaldson concludes, "Opinion varies" (p. 493) and hypothesizes that if the book had not portrayed Fischer so negatively then Fischer may have been willing to overlook the broken promise--a hypothesis that is not consistent with a theme that Donaldson notes throughout his book: Fischer vigorously opposed anyone who tried to make money off of his name and his fame.
Donaldson provides the complete text of a letter that Fischer's then-attorney Paul J. Marshall wrote to Fischer (pp. 493-496). Fischer not only wanted to sue Darrach and a host of other individuals and organizations regarding Darrach's book, but Fischer also wanted to take legal action against Bill Lombardy, his long-time friend who served as his second for at least part of the World Championship match. Lombardy wrote an article about the match for Sports Illustrated, after which Fischer--adhering rigidly to his policy that no one should make money off of him--cut himself off from Lombardy for over 30 years. Several years after the article's publication, when Fischer ran into Lombardy by chance, Donaldson reports an account by eyewitness Lubomir Kavalek that Fischer's only words to his former friend were, "Hi. Do you still write for Sports Illustrated?" followed--after the stunned Lombardy left--by negative comments regarding Lombardy that Kavalek did not consider fit for publication (p. 514). Donaldson writes that at some point after Fischer was released from jail in Japan in 2005 he appreciated Lombardy's support of his plight and resumed his connection with Lombardy.
Marshall's letter painstakingly and compassionately explained to Fischer that there was no legal or ethical basis to sue Lombardy for an article that depicted Fischer positively and that, further, he (Marshall) would not participate in such a course of action after observing how loyal and devoted Lombardy had been to Fischer. Regarding Darrach, Marshall advised Fischer that a lawsuit was not only unlikely to be successful but could also be damaging to Fischer by providing more publicity to the book. Marshall advised that instead of filing a lawsuit he would be willing to work with the publisher's attorney to reach an agreement whereby Fischer would consent to the book's publication in exchange for receiving financial compensation and the removal of certain passages.
Donaldson's first sentence after Marshall's letter is heartbreaking to anyone who sympathize with Fischer's feelings about Darrach's book but wishes that Fischer had been willing to heed sound counsel: "Per his usual modus operandi Fischer followed none of Marshall's advice" (p. 496). Instead, Fischer represented himself, his lawsuit was dismissed, and he convinced himself that this was yet one more example of the vast, worldwide conspiracy against him that had been percolating in his mind for quite some time.
Donaldson believes that another source of Fischer's post-World Championship suffering is that Fischer had great difficulty dealing with the pressures and burdens of being famous, and he cites examples of how Fischer behaved normally in public situations (such as chess tournaments that he visited as a non-participant) prior to winning the World Championship in contrast to Fischer's apparent discomfort at the heightened attention he received when he made public appearances after winning the World Championship.
There is no question that Fischer was justifiably outraged by Darrach's portrayal of him, and there seems to be evidence that Fischer did not react well to being so famous that he could not visit a chess tournament without being swarmed by well-wishers. However, the symptoms of mental illness that Fischer displayed years before he become World Champion, and the worsening of those symptoms after he became World Champion, cannot be explained away so easily. There may be some truth to Donaldson's opinion about the traumatic effect that the Darrach book and Fischer's fame had on Fischer's state of mind, but there is a simpler explanation for Fischer's deterioration: mental illness is progressive but not necessarily in a linear or predictable fashion; thus, accounts of Fischer behaving "normally" at different places or times do not refute accounts of Fischer's erratic behavior at other places and times. In the book, Donaldson acknowledges this by pointing out that Fischer reacted calmly to a miscommunication about his opponent's transmitted move during the 1965 Capablanca Memorial Tournament but then the next day he had a fit when he was not provided with the orange juice that he had requested for breakfast.
People who deny or minimize Fischer's mental illness and his bigotry focus on the "good" stories while ignoring or minimizing the "bad" stories, but the full picture is that Fischer, like many mentally ill people, struggled to regulate his thoughts and his actions; he had "good" moments and he had "bad" moments. The documented arc of Fischer's life demonstrates that his illness became worse as he got older. The Ginzburg article, the Darrach book, and the pressure of dealing with fame all may very well have had a negative effect on Fischer--but the underlying mental illness was evident from an early age, prior to any of those situations.
It is also important to note that at least some of the people who minimize Fischer's mental illness may share his antisemitic beliefs, and thus they believe that he is being persecuted for speaking the truth! It should be emphasized that Donaldson is not in that camp; he recognizes and documents Fischer's paranoid thinking and troubling behavior, though I do not always agree with Donaldson's perspective on when, why, or how those problems began.
Would Fischer Have Beaten Karpov in 1975?
There is a topic of great interest that Donaldson does not address, in keeping with his goal of focusing his book on questions about Fischer that have not already been extensively discussed: What would have happened if Fischer had played against challenger Anatoly Karpov in a World Championship match in 1975?
Karpov received the title by default after Fischer rejected the proposed match terms and refused to play. Garry Kasparov, who won the title after beating Karpov in a 1985 World Championship match and then held off several subsequent match challenges by Karpov, has publicly stated that Karpov would have beaten Fischer, but Kasparov's objectivity cannot be trusted on this issue for at least two reasons: (1) Fischer repeatedly accused Kasparov of cheating and it is fair to say that Kasparov justifiably resents that baseless charge; (2) much of Kasparov's legacy is based on his performance versus Karpov, so elevating Karpov's status inevitably elevates Kasparov's status.
Although it could perhaps be argued that non-Grandmasters do not possess sufficient chess skill to compare world-class players to each other, it is possible to do a fair and objective analysis based on historical information and chess ratings data that require no chess skill to interpret. I would also add that, with a peak USCF rating of 2190 (just 10 points below National Master status), I ranked at or above the 97th percentile of tournament players, so I have at least some capacity to understand and evaluate annotated chess games in addition to my familiarity with chess history and the chess rating system as detailed below; also, because Fischer and Karpov never played each other it is pure speculation regarding what openings the players would choose, whose energy level would be better, whose nerves would be steadier, and what course the middlegames and endgames might have taken. Fischer played openings against Spassky that he had not used before, and he may have prepared novelties for Karpov as well--and Karpov may have prepared novelties for Fischer. So, the ability to do an in depth analysis of Fischer's games and Karpov's games is not sufficient to answer the question of who would have prevailed in a head to head match--and, even if they had played head to head games those games would not provide definitive proof because, like the stock market, past performance does not guarantee future results: Fischer's record versus Spassky prior to their World Championship match was no wins, two draws, and three losses.
Perhaps the best place to start when comparing Fischer and Karpov is to look at the progression of their chess ratings in comparison to the ratings of other elite players. In 1972, Fischer's rating was not only the highest of all-time but it was 125 points higher than the second ranked player. A rating class is 200 points, so he was more than half a class level above the rest of the world! Paul Morphy, who played before the rating system was developed, is probably the only player in recorded history who could legitimately claim to be that much better than everyone else in the world during his era.
Karpov's peak rating never exceeded Fischer's peak rating of 2785 and, more significantly, Karpov never approached the lead that Fischer enjoyed over his contemporaries. Karpov's rating in January 1975 was 2705, significantly lower than Fischer's rating (2780; Fischer's peak rating was so high that he actually lost five points after he won the match versus Spassky). In fact, by the time Karpov reached 2750 (January 1989) he was neither the World Champion nor the world's highest rated player, and it is fair to say that in general the ratings were inflated then compared to the ratings when Fischer played. Karpov achieved the number one ranking with a career-high 2780 rating in July 1994 only after Garry Kasparov (2815) had been removed from the official ratings list because he played a World Championship match versus Nigel Short in defiance of FIDE's regulations. By that time, four other players in addition to Kasparov and Karpov had ratings of at least 2710.
Fischer finished first in the previous eight tournaments that he completed prior to winning the World Championship--and he was leading the 1967 Sousse Interzonal before he withdrew. He won the 1970 Interzonal by 3.5 points. He scored 18.5/21 in the 1971 Candidates matches. He beat Spassky by four points after essentially spotting Spassky the first two games of the World Championship match.
Karpov's record prior to 1975 was much less impressive than Fischer's. Karpov tied with Viktor Korchnoi for first place in the 1973 Leningrad Interzonal, one point ahead of Robert Byrne. Karpov beat Lev Polugaevsky, Boris Spassky, and Viktor Korchnoi by a total score of 25/43 in the 1974 Candidates matches. Of course, the 1974 Candidates Final versus Korchnoi became the de facto World Championship after Fischer refused to play against Karpov. Karpov beat Korchnoi 12.5/24 in 1974, and then Karpov defeated Korchnoi in World Championship matches in 1978 (16.5/32) and 1981 (11/18).
Perhaps determined to prove that he was a legitimate successor to Fischer, Karpov won many big tournaments during his reign as World Champion. Karpov may be one of the top 10 players of all-time, but he never displayed the dominance that Fischer displayed. Karpov's main rival until the emergence of Kasparov was Korchnoi, a player 20 years older than Karpov. During Korchnoi's prime, he never qualified to play in a World Championship match; it is less likely that he became a stronger player in the 1970s as he entered his 40s than it is that he declined less than the players of his generation declined while at the same time the younger generation did not produce players of quite the same caliber.
In other words, the evidence suggests that Karpov faced weaker competition than Fischer did; Fischer emerged as the best player in the world battling against Tal, Petrosian, Spassky, Korchnoi, and others during their prime years, while Karpov faced those players when they were past their prime but still better than the younger players. For example, consider the January 1979 FIDE rating list: Karpov ranked first (2705), followed by Korchnoi (2695), Lajos Portisch (2640), Spassky (2640), Jan Timman (2625), Polugaevsky (2625), Larsen (2620), Henrique Mecking (2615), Tal (2615), and Petrosian (2610). At that time, Korchnoi was almost 48 years old, Portisch was almost 42, Spassky was 42, Timman was 27, Polugaevsky was 44, Larsen was 43, Mecking was 27, Tal was 42, and Petrosian was almost 50. Eight years earlier, Fischer decisively beat Spassky in the World Championship match after sweeping Larsen 6-0 and eliminating Petrosian 6.5-2.5. Prior to losing to Fischer, Petrosian had won a close match versus Korchnoi, with one victory and nine draws. Are we supposed to believe that if Fischer had kept playing he would not have been dominating those same players throughout the 1970s the way that he dominated them in 1971-72? Note that the rating difference between number one Karpov and number 10 Petrosian in 1979 was less than the rating difference between number one Fischer and number two Spassky in 1972! Spassky's rating was 2660 in July 1972 and 2640 in January 1979, so even though his reputation is that he became lazy after losing the title his rating was stable for several years after that match.
In January 1980, the teenage Kasparov was already ranked in the top 20, and the top 10 was still filled mostly with the generation that Fischer had dominated: Tal ranked second, Korchnoi ranked third, and Spassky and Petrosian were part of a three way tie for sixth-eighth.
In the pre-chess computer/pre-internet era, elite players were able to extend their careers longer than they do in the current era--now the best players become Grandmasters as teenagers and are considered old when they reach their mid-30s or early 40s--but even taking that into account it is difficult to persuasively argue that Karpov faced stronger opposition than Fischer, at least until Karpov contended with Kasparov. If Fischer had maintained the necessary psychological stability to continue his chess career, it seems likely that he would held on to the title at least until the emergence of Kasparov.
Although Donaldson does not address how Fischer might have fared against Karpov in 1975, he quotes Grandmaster Duncan Suttles' appraisal of the 49 year old Fischer's potential chances against prime Kasparov in the wake of Fischer's comeback and his match victory versus Spassky in 1992 (p. 592):
I would say Spassky is, maybe, 2650. I don't know how you determine Fischer's performance from that number. It depends on how you count the draws. Not counting draws, maybe 2800...He beat him two to one, didn't he? What does that mean? I would say something between 2750 and 2800. What's Kasparov's rating? About 2780? Let's just say Fischer is within about 25 points of Kasparov--plus or minus.
Suttles added that he would consider Fischer the favorite against top players such as Anand, Ivanchuk, Short, and Timman, and that if "Fischer plays himself back in form" then he would even beat Kasparov. Donaldson notes that some of the sloppiness that critics observed in the second Fischer-Spassky match can be attributed to fatigue caused by how long the games were; due to the unusual time control insisted upon by Fischer, one of the games lasted nine hours! Donaldson also reminds readers that one year after losing the return match against Fischer, Spassky lost a match to Judit Polgar 5.5-4.5, a narrow margin against a top player demonstrating that Spassky was far from just a washed up legend.
I am not sure that the 49 year old Fischer would have beaten the 29 year old Kasparov, but the fact that at least one Grandmaster thinks that this is possible speaks volumes about how prime Fischer would have fared against young Karpov. Suttles' view is perhaps not the majority opinion, but if you read Suttles' complete take (pp. 592-594) then you will see that he makes excellent and credible points about the playing styles of Fischer and Kasparov.
The phrase "built different" is often thrown around now. If there ever was a chess player who was "built different" then Bobby Fischer was that player. His combination of exceptional genius and fanatical work ethic is difficult, if not impossible, to match. Donaldson quotes from an article by Richard Fireman, an amateur player who observed Fischer analyzing with the top U.S. junior players between rounds at the 1969 U.S. Junior Invitational (p. 371):
You'd think we asked for a daffodil and he'd pulled out the Burning Bush, we were so stunned. It wasn't just the sheer speed of his action--though that was certainly impressive enough--but the seeming effortlessness of it, the naturalness which he exhibited; it was as though it were all simple and straightforward and of-course-this-is-what-happens-if-you-don't-do-that, isn't it obvious? That's what was so stunning, as though his mind were a computer, as though anything we could have thought of had already been considered and incorporated and analyzed and dismissed, all in one simple algorithm. As though he were just on a whole other level. I've since met and analyzed with a number of grandmasters, and they weren't even close, so it's not just the difference in playing strength. Sure, they exhibit a natural feel for the game and understanding beyond that of the rest of us mortals, but they're still in the same order of things, the same part of the universe: they fumble around with this idea and that, and they're more likely to come to the right conclusions because of their talent and experience and insight. But they still have to work at it. With Bobby it wasn't like that. With him it was like he had a key to the door containing the mystery, a special pass.
Sadly, we will never know what would have happened if Fischer had played against Karpov in 1975, but the evidence indicates that if Fischer would have shown up in form and completed the match then he would have beaten Karpov.
The Comeback and the Sad Conclusion
Fischer may have lived the rest of his life in obscurity if not for a perfect storm of events that brought him back in the public eye and provided him with the financial resources to support himself. Donaldson quotes in full a 2017 article by Lou Hays in which Hays provides his perspective about why and how Fischer came back in 1992 to play a multi-million dollar match versus Spassky. Hays asserts that Fischer's primary motivation was wanting to have enough money to woo Hungarian chess player Zita Rajcsanyi (who traveled to the United States to spend time with Fischer, although she ultimately did not reciprocate Fischer's romantic interest). Hays states that Fischer had been destitute for quite some time, but Rajcsanyi provided inspiration to Fischer to change his circumstances after he had previously squandered many opportunities to make money. Hays notes that a major self-inflicted problem for Fischer was Fischer's insistence that any person who met with him had to first pay Fischer a fee (which had risen to $5000 by the time that Hays met with Fischer, though Hays writes that Fischer accepted half of that from Hays, in part because Hays provided some chess books to Fischer and Hays also paid a portion of Rajscanyi's airfare to the United States). Hays reports that he told Fischer that no self-respecting businessman would pay a fee to Fischer just to meet him--Hays met Fischer as a fan, not as someone who expected or hoped to profit financially from the meeting--but Fischer stubbornly insisted that every person who met him received a tangible benefit (the status of having met the World Chess Champion) and therefore he was justified to charge each person in advance for that tangible benefit.
Hays' reflections on his interactions with Fischer provide an interesting glimpse at the thoughts and actions of the often reclusive genius. Hays concludes on a poignant note. Although Fischer's comeback provided millions of dollars to Fischer, the comeback also shined a spotlight on Fischer's paranoia and on Fischer's repugnant opinions about Jews and the United States, and Hays wonders if it would have been better to leave Fischer's legacy as a great champion untainted: "Nowadays, I look back at 1992 with some degree of remorse, seeing the devastation Fischer ultimately brought to his reputation and himself as a human being. It was a grand and exciting adventure, but in view of how Bobby Fischer's life and legacy turned out, if I had the opportunity to do it all over again, I wouldn't." Hays' perspective is understandable, but it is not his place to make such decisions on Fischer's behalf: regardless of how much help Hays or anyone else provided, Fischer deserves most of the credit--or blame--for how his comeback went and for how his life turned out. Fischer chose his path.
Fischer's paranoia and anger both increased after many of his most prized possessions were sold at an auction in 1999. For many years, Fischer had been renting a storage unit in California. After the 1992 match versus Spassky, Fischer could not return to the United States because he faced prosecution for violating federal law (the U.S. sanctions against the former Yugoslavia, where the Fischer-Spassky return match took place), so Fischer sent $5000 per year to Bob Ellsworth to pay the storage unit fees and handle other matters on Fischer's behalf. The storage unit was not rented in Fischer's name, but rather under an assumed name and also under the name of a friend who subsequently moved from California to Texas. When the storage unit company Bekins was bought by a different company, Ellsworth was not aware of the change and the new company had no way to contact Ellsworth, nor any way to know about Fischer's involvement, let alone to contact the reclusive genius. So, when the storage unit fees were not paid, the new company auctioned off the property inside the storage unit. An aghast Ellsworth belatedly found out what was happening, and he spent over $8000 of his own money to buy some of Fischer's property. Ellsworth then brought that property to Fischer, who simply asked Ellsworth where was the rest of his property. Ellsworth had no answers. Fischer was furious, and what he termed the "theft" of his property became a recurring theme in many of his most infamous (and deplorable) radio interviews.
Fischer had every right to be upset about what had happened to his property. However, he failed to take any personal responsibility for (1) his actions that caused him to become a fugitive and (2) his decision to own the storage unit anonymously, which contributed to the series of events that culminated in the auction. There is no question that Ellsworth should have done a better job of staying informed about the storage unit, but there is no evidence of personal animosity by Ellsworth toward Fischer, let alone evidence of Ellsworth's participation in some vast conspiracy against Fischer.
The book concludes with a brief Epilogue mentioning that Fischer did 35 radio interviews between 1999 and 2006, most of which Donaldson terms "painful (or impossible) to listen to when Fischer gets on a roll and expands upon his conspiracy theories with a vengeance." However, Donaldson notes that in those moments when Fischer confined his comments to chess Fischer provided welcome insights. For example, Fischer called Morphy and Capablanca "two of my favorites," while adding that Steinitz "was very great too." Fischer termed Alekhine's style "rather heavy," in contrast to Capablanca, who he described as "much more brilliant and talented, he had a real light touch."
Fischer added, "But the thing that was great about Capablanca was that he really spoke his mind, he said what he believed was true, he said what he felt."
There are virtues and drawbacks to being a person who always speaks his mind and who always says what he feels is true, and Fischer's life eloquently (and, at times, tragically) showcases both those virtues and those drawbacks.
Errata
The book is put together attractively with an easy to read font and its content is fascinating for any chess player, and for anyone who is interested to learn more about genius (and mental illness). However, the book could have benefited from better editing/proofreading. There are so many typographical errors that I will limit myself to just citing the most prominent: in the section titled "Part Five: The Late Sixties" the letter "e" in the word "the" is rendered as an "r" on the top of every single page containing that heading! As a writer whose work has sometimes been mangled by sloppy editing, I can say that this is likely not Donaldson's fault but rather the fault of the editor and/or publisher. There are also some chess notation errors; for example, on page 376 Donaldson describes a game--his own!--that began 1. d4 g6 2. d4; based on the subsequent moves, one of those d4 moves was probably e4.
Donaldson has mentioned in at least one interview that he is working on a second volume about Fischer, though he did not specify what subject matter and/or time periods would be covered. A second volume would be a great addition to chess literature, and I eagerly anticipate its publication; it would also be great if a second edition of this book is published that corrects the typographical errors.
Further Reading:
Bobby Fischer's Mixed Legacy (January 19, 2008)
Bobby Fischer Comes Home is a Beautiful Portrait of Genuine Friendship (February 24, 2013)
Dr.
Joseph Ponterotto's Psychobiography of Bobby Fischer Provides a
Balanced and Sensitive Look at a Tormented Genius (February 27, 2013)
