Endgame

by Frank Brady

  It took several days to arrange the details: The grave had to be dug—not an easy task in the frozen volcanic earth of Iceland’s winter; a priest had to be secured; documents had to be approved before the morgue released the body; yet everything had to wait for Miyoko to arrive from Japan. Four days after his death, at eight p.m. a hearse carrying Bobby’s body took the hour’s drive to Selfoss and then to the graveyard. The funeral procession was without pomp and circumstance, exactly as Bobby had wished, and as the hearse drove into Laugadaelir, the long and biting winds of winter awaited the remains of the world’s greatest chess player. It had snowed all morning, and now it was dark and raining. Sverrisson, his wife and two children, and Miyoko had traveled to Selfoss the night before to ensure that the arrangements were in order.

  Father Jacob Rolland, a diminutive Catholic priest, originally from France, who also had the distinction of overseeing the burial of Haldor Laxness (Iceland’s only Nobel Prize winner—for literature—and a convert to Catholicism), said a few words of blessing, reportedly likening Bobby’s burial to that of Mozart’s, before the coffin was lowered into the grave. “Like him, he was buried with few present, and he had an intelligence like him that could see what others could not begin to understand.” There was no dirge, no incense, no requiem. Even the wide expanse of stars normally visible in the unpolluted sky was hidden behind rain clouds on that gloomy night. The ceremony took just twelve minutes, and then the freezing mourners departed. A white wooden cross was hastily erected on the grave mound with a placard that read:

  Robert James Fischer

  F. 9 mars 1943

  D. 17 januar 2008

  Hvil i friŏi

  “Rest in Peace” it said in Old Norse Icelandic.

  Within a few weeks daily buses began to arrive from Reykjavik—sometimes two or three a day—filled with the gaping tourists that Bobby had so desperately wanted to avoid. The grave, now with a two-foot-high plain marble stone, had become one of Iceland’s sightseeing attractions.

  At the time of his death, Bobby Fischer’s estate was worth more than $2 million, primarily the prize money left over from the $3.5 million that he’d won in his 1992 match with Spassky. Yet Fischer, the man who’d tried so hard to control things on and off the chessboard, never wrote a will. Perhaps he thought he could control his illness and didn’t believe that he was dying until he was too ill to think about legal documents. Or perhaps, in some odd way, it amused him to realize that his money would become a major cause of contention, that it would initiate a baroque chess match in which each of the estate’s possible recipients took a turn at the board to gain a stronger position.

  There were four people claiming to be Bobby’s true heir: Miyoko Watai, who lived with Bobby and contended that she was his wife; Nicholas and Alexander Targ, Bobby’s nephews (the two sons of Bobby’s late sister, Joan); and Jinky Young, who claimed to be Bobby’s daughter. All filed papers in Iceland, and were waiting for the court to sort out their respective petitions. The U.S. government also entered the fray in the hopes of gaining twenty years of back taxes owed by Bobby.

  According to Icelandic law, a wife receives 100 percent of her husband’s estate if there are no children and only one-third if there is one child or more. However, the Icelandic court questioned the Japanese marriage certificate that Miyoko presented because it was only a photocopy, and she had difficulty proving that she was in fact Bobby’s legal wife.

  The claim of the Targ brothers was clear: They are indeed his nephews. Now grown men—one a doctor and the other an attorney—both live in California. They were fully aware that they could only inherit their uncle’s fortune if “closer” relatives—such as a wife or child—are proven not to be rightful heirs. It behooved them, therefore, to try to determine the legitimacy of the other claims.

  Finally, there was Jinky. Eight years old at the time of Bobby’s death, the girl was supported financially by Bobby all of her life. Icelandic friends said that Fischer was kind to the little girl, played with her, and bought her presents while she was in Iceland. Surprisingly, though, during the three years that Bobby lived in Iceland, Jinky and Marilyn visited him in Reykjavik only once, remaining there for about a month, in a separate apartment.

  Then, a year and a half after Bobby’s death, Marilyn and Jinky traveled to Iceland again, this time to file a claim to his estate. With Eugene Torre’s assistance, an Icelandic lawyer—Thordur Bogason—was hired to represent the child, and soon after the attorney petitioned the court for a DNA test in an attempt to prove Bobby’s paternity. Getting a sample of Jinky’s DNA was simple: Doctors just took a small vial of blood. Retrieving a sample from Bobby, however, was decidedly more problematic. The National Hospital of Iceland, where Bobby died of renal failure, hadn’t saved any of his blood. His belongings were still in his apartment in Reykjavik, but who could prove whether a hair taken from a hairbrush really came from Bobby? The only foolproof way to secure Bobby’s DNA was to take a sample from Bobby’s body. That would settle the matter, everyone believed. In the United States the FBI, which often has to extract DNA in criminal cases, considers the DNA test, when done with the latest technology, infallible.

  Exhuming Bobby’s corpse was impractical for many months: His grave was covered with snow, and it was difficult to dig through Iceland’s frozen soil until late spring. Until that time, arguments for and against exhumation were debated through the lower courts, and were finally settled by the Icelandic Supreme Court: It ruled that Jinky had the right to know whether Bobby was or was not her father.

  At about three a.m. on July 5, 2010, the grave of Bobby Fischer was opened by a team of experts from the Reykjavik Official Cemeteries Department. The unusual time of morning to perform the exhumation was selected to thwart possible newsmen and curiosity-seekers from ogling the corpse and possibly taking photographs. After removing the dirt down to the level of the coffin lid, a section was dug around the base of the coffin so several people could stand next to it. Looking like mourners, a solemn group stood staring down at the coffin or in the dug-out space around it: The Rev. Kristinn A. Fridfinnsson, the pastor of the church; some of the Church’s elders; forensic experts; government officials; the attorneys for all the claimants of the estate; Dr. Oskar Reykdalsson, who officiated; and Ólafur Kjartansson, the sheriff of Selfoss—the town near the cemetery. All were there to make sure that the process was done in a respectful and professional manner and that the exhumation would not be compromised.

  At four a.m., just before the DNA samples were collected, a large white tent was erected around the gravesite to ensure even further privacy. It was a calm, beautiful summer morning with a peaceful wind.

  The coffin was never moved or raised, but the lid was opened. Some newspapers around the world reported that the body wasn’t actually dug up but that a drill was inserted through the earth, then through the coffin and into Bobby’s body. Sheriff Kjartansson corrected that report the next day. No drill was inserted, he said, and the samples were taken directly from Bobby’s body.

  Normally, a DNA exhumation consists of gathering several specimens in the event that one might not be suitable. Forensic scientists recommend a fingernail, a tooth, a tissue sample, and a piece of the femur. In Bobby’s exhumation, a fragment of bone from his left small toe was extracted, in addition to seven tissue samples—enough for a binding test. As soon as the procedure was completed, the coffin was covered with the lava-infiltrated earth and a dusting of some residual ash that had drifted to Selfoss from the recently erupted volcano. Grass turf that had been removed when the digging had begun was then placed back on top of the grave. The samples were packaged and shipped to a forensics laboratory in Germany for testing; the Icelandic DNA laboratory was ruled out to avoid any possibility of compromise or conflict.

  The idea of disturbing a dead body would be horrible for anyone—some religions such as Judaism and Islam forbid it except for highly exceptional circumstances—but Bobby, before his death one of the world’s most pri
vate beings, would no doubt have considered this final invasion of his privacy the ultimate act of disrespect. Even in death, he wasn’t being allowed to rest in peace.

  In a way, however, he was the final arbiter. According to Article 17, act 76/2003 of Icelandic Parliament, “a man shall be deemed the father of a child if the outcome of DNA-research points decisively [to the fact that he is the father]. Otherwise he is not the father.” Six weeks after the exhumation, the results of the DNA test were released by the Reykjavik District Court: the DNA did not match. Bobby Fischer was not Jinky’s father.

  With Jinky no longer being a putative heir, the remaining contenders for the estate were Miyoko Watai, the Targ nephews, and the U.S. Internal Revenue Service.

  Like a chess game between equally matched competitors, however, the battle continued. Samuel Estimo, a chess master and Jinky’s attorney in the Philippines, wrote to Bogason, his Icelandic counterpart, and protested that Jinky’s claim had been relinquished too soon. Implying that there may have been skullduggery afoot, Estimo wrote a letter to The New York Times and sent it to other media as well:

  The exhumation of Bobby Fischer was not done the normal way. His coffin should have been brought up and opened so that it would have been sure that the seven tissue samples that were taken from the alleged remains in that coffin were that of Bobby Fischer. Indeed, the procedure undertaken borders on the doubtful. The lot where Fischer was buried belongs to the family of Gardar Sverisson, a close friend of Miyoko Watai, one of the claimants to the estate of Bobby. He had complete access without the church pastor knowing it. Fischer was buried in front of the church in an early January morning without the church pastor knowing it. Who knows what could have taken place there between the date of burial and on the days before the exhumation.

  Although Bogason warned Estimo that his statements could be considered slanderous and that he should accept that the case was closed for their client Jinky, Estimo would not resign. He requested DNA samples of Bobby’s nephews to determine, through their familial heredity, whether the samples taken from the gravesite actually matched Bobby’s DNA. Estimo’s implication—that another body might have been substituted for Bobby’s and somehow placed in the grave—tested the credulity of many. And the idea of deception brought off at the exhumation itself seemed even more far-fetched. With all the government officials, doctors, scientists, and church people present, all seeking the truth as to whether Bobby was Jinky’s father, it seemed impossible that the exhumation was performed improperly. Nevertheless, the Icelandic court reopened the case to allow Jinky’s attorney to present more evidence in support of her claim that she is Bobby’s daughter. Bogason, in disagreement with Estimo, withdrew from the case. Estimo then renewed his request that the Targ brothers submit their DNA, so it could be compared with the samples taken from the body in the coffin. If there’s no match, Estimo can press his claim that the samples purportedly taken from Fischer’s body are fraudulent.

  Even if the match is positive, Estimo claims that Jinky Young is still entitled to be named an heir, because Bobby treated her as a daughter. Had the estate been negligible, one wonders whether there would have been such a fight over who is the true heir. But it is not just a question of money: The legitimacy of the girl’s paternity—biological or titular—is at stake, and the Philippine nation would certainly like to know whether one of its citizens, Jinky Young, is the daughter of the greatest chess player who ever lived.

  Meanwhile, the two Targ brothers now have only Miyoko standing between them and their claim to their uncle’s millions. Or, at least, Miyoko would be the only impediment if it weren’t for the U.S. government, which, ironically, may walk away from this chess match with the best score. If the U.S. Internal Revenue Service is able to collect Bobby’s back taxes and fines, the multimillion-dollar “purse” the competitors are vying for will have been seriously reduced. What was once a fortune may become a pittance, a lost game for the heirs.

  And what, then, will be the inheritance bequeathed by Bobby? For chess players, and for people who followed the story of Bobby Fischer’s rise to become what many say is the greatest chess player who ever lived, his legacy for his heirs and the world alike may simply be the awe that his brilliance evoked.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I have been studying the life of Bobby Fischer for decades. There is hardly a tournament that I attend where someone doesn’t tell me a story about him, and locked away in my memory are scores of anecdotes and first-person narratives that have been given to me. The problem has been to sort through a labyrinth of fables to select what is true and what is not, what is exaggerated and what is journalistically accurate, what is biased—pro or con—and what is a credible tale. In any event, to all of those players and friends who have shared with me over the years their recollections and eyewitness accounts, their brief encounters and amusing and dramatic incidents concerning Bobby, I express my deep gratitude.

  In researching this book, I have delved into just about everything that has been written about Fischer in English, listened to all of his broadcasts, read his books and other writings, and carefully examined his letters to and from his mother, Pal Benko, Jack Collins, and others. I have had translations done of other materials whose languages were unknown to me.

  When I worked on previous writings about Fischer, I had discussed him with several former World Champions—Mikhail Botvinnik and Vasily Smyslov in Macedonia and Max Euwe in New York and Iceland—and dozens of players, and the reader may find a small portion of material reworked, redeployed, and integrated in Endgame that can be found elsewhere in other prose of mine. My attempt was to capture Bobby Fischer the man and not just offer a chronology of his tournaments and matches.

  When I was in Reykjavik for two months attending every round of the first Fischer-Spassky match, I had the opportunity to talk about Bobby with such chess lights as Miguel Najdorf, Svetozar Gligoric, Robert Byrne, Bent Larsen, Max Euwe, William Lombardy, Lubomir Kavalek, Lothar Schmid, Dragoljub Janosevic, I. A. Horowitz, and Larry Evans, as well as most of the chess community present, in addition to such literary lions as Arthur Koestler, George Steiner, and Harold Schonberg. Bobby’s legal eagles, Paul Marshall and Andrew Davis, although reserved, also opened up to me. All of the above gave me the benefit of their insights into Bobby. In some cases, I have continued a dialogue with some of them in my recent preparation of Endgame.

  Back in 1972, the Soviet players who accompanied Spassky—Efim Geller, Nikolai Krogius, and Ivo Nei—refused to speak to me, probably thinking of me as a spy for the United States side, or at least someone who would aid Bobby in some way in his pursuit of the championship, as if anyone could. Spassky, however, ever the gentleman, was not afraid to at least pass the time of day with me. We have recently corresponded, and he was kind enough to share his warm feelings about Bobby.

  I am indebted to the following people who, during the past year, talked to me or helped me in other ways to grasp the essence of Bobby Fischer: Fridrik Olafsson, Walter Browne, Bernard Zuckerman, Boris Spassky, Leslie Ault, Arthur Bisguier, Lev Khariton, Renato Naranja, Kirsan Ilyumzhinov, Gabor Schnitzler, Richard Vattone, Stuart Margulies, Shelby Lyman, Joseph Smith, Aben Rudy, Eliot Hearst, David Oddsson, Mark Gerstl, William Ronalds, John Bosnitch, David Rosenblum, Tibi Vasilescu, Paul Jonsson, Arthur Feuerstein, Asa Hoffmann, Hanon Russell, Susan Polgar, Alla Baeva, Lion Calandra, Vincent Mallozzi, Bill Goichberg, Helgi Olafsson, Ralph Italie, Dr. Joseph Wagner, Gudmundur Thorarinsson, Sam Sloan, Allen Kaufman, Sal Matera, Curtis Lakdawala, James T. Sherwin, Anthony Saidy, Saemi Palsson, Russell Targ, Pal Benko, and Bragi Kristjonsson. Special thanks to International Master John Donaldson, who placed the manuscript under his microscope of chess knowledge and plucked some weeds from my prose. Edward Winter, the world’s most eminent chess historian, found some rhetorical, linguistic, and factual discrepancies which were caught just a short time before publication. My deepest thanks.

  Additionally, four friends, all chess players and writ
ers, read the entire manuscript and offered truly invaluable advice, correcting whatever lacunae that had crept in: Jeffrey Tannenbaum, a relentless editor; Dr. Glenn Statile, a philosopher; Glenn Petersen, the longtime editor of Chess Life; and Don Schultz, who probably knows more about American chess than anyone else. I grieve for the slaughter of some of my favorite cows that they suggested I kill, but how can I ever thank them for making this a better book?

  Three Icelanders were so helpful when I traveled to Reykjavik last October that I am truly indebted to them for the deep courtesy they displayed and their concern that I accurately portray Bobby’s life in their little but fascinating country: Einar Einarsson, who shared everything he knew about Bobby; Dr. Magnus Skulasson, who probably understood Bobby better than anyone I have ever met; and Gardar Sverrisson, who was closest to Bobby, and his spokesperson during his time in Iceland. Thank you, thank you, and thank you.

  The following libraries offered up surprising nuggets of Fischeriana: the New York Public Library, the Brooklyn Public Library, the Long Island Collection of the Queensborough Public Library, the John G. White Collection of the Cleveland Public Library, the Columbia University Library, and the Lilly Library of the University of Indiana. The publications New in Chess, Chess, and Chess Life, as well as the websites ChessBase, Chess Café, and Chessville, were of enormous help. To each I am indebted, as I am to Mirjam Donath, a Fulbright scholar; and Taryn Westerman, my former graduate assistant; both of whom helped me research the work.