Dutch Treat 
by Hans Ree

The Great Davidson

In Cafe Vienna in London, around the turn of the century, the
professional chessplayers would gather near the entrance, eager to
catch a promising customer as soon as he walked in. One of these
professionals was 17-year old Jacques Davidson, a Dutch boy
living in London. One year earlier his father, who had settled in
London as a teacher of languages, had taught his son to play chess.
Jacques had played with his father for a stake, he had won, and
though he was not payed, the idea had occurred to him that it could
be profitable to play chess against rich Englishmen. He learned
how to proceed from another Dutchman, Rudolf Loman.

Jacques Davidson was born in 1890, Rudolf Loman in 1861.
Loman had been living in London for a number of years. He also
played chess for money, though he had another profession, organ
player. Later, in 1912, Loman would become Dutch champion.
And later still, in the twenties, Davidson would finish second in the
Dutch championship twice, behind Euwe, who by that time was
too strong for any Dutchman.

In Cafe Vienna the stake was a shilling per game. Davidson could
beat most of the customers with his eyes closed, but from the
experienced Loman he had learned that he had to cede them a
game every now and then, or their interest would slack. About one
in five. Not more, because then the earnings would be negligible
and even worse, one would stand the chance that the customer
would lose respect for someone who could not beat him
consistently and find another pro who was better.

The pros liked it when they were invited by a rich customer to play
chess at his home. There they had him for themselves, without
interference from a competing chessmaster. Davidson was lucky to
have such a customer and he visited him regularly. He was picked
up by car. Two servants were in it, one to drive and one to open the
garden gate of the rich customer. When Davidson was brought
home after the chess session, two servants were again in the car,
because the rich Englishman liked to indulge in the fiction that his
chess partner also had a garden gate that should be opened by a
servant.

It was wise for the professional to let the rich customer win the last
game of the session. That would lead to a friendly after-chess chat
in which the natural talent of the customer could be praised. If he
would try hard, he would become a master, for sure. The rich
customer had been convinced of that all the time. But try hard he
would never do, because trying hard in anything was contemptible
for members of his class.

From Loman, Davidson had learned that he should never ask for
the money that was due to him. "Better try to get a meal at the
Salvation Army than ask for your money, even when it adds up to
200 shillings, for he will pay at once, but never ask you again,"
Loman had said. And when pay-day came at last, one had to feign
that one did not know exactly what was due, looking in a
notebook, pretending to add figures. The rich man knew exactly
what he had to pay, had the amount in hand, but kept up the fiction
that he was above such financial trifles.

Was being so difficult in paying intended to humiliate the pros?
No, Loman said. It was because the rich people could not permit
themselves to realize that their opponents were poor chessplayers
who had to live on their winnings. If that thought entered their
minds, they wouldn't be able to play anymore. One only played
with gentlemen.

But in Cafe Vienna there was someone who really pestered the
chess professionals. A pensioned colonel who took endless time
thinking about his moves and kept a professional busy for an entire
evening on one game for one shilling. And they couldn't refuse to
play him, according to the code of the cafe. They all hated him.

One afternoon they heard a chessboard fall to the floor, the pieces
clattering all about. It had become too much for one of the pros; his
nerves had cracked. Poor boy, never again would he be allowed to
play in the Vienna, his colleagues realized. That also was part of
the code.

The colonel kept coming to the Vienna, and from that moment he
felt forced to prove that he had not been slowing down the game on
purpose to minimize his losses. The professionals jumped on him.
Now it was five games an evening, and not ceding one game in
five to the customer, oh no, that rule did not apply to the colonel. A
bit hard it was, because the colonel could not really afford to lose
so many games. "Then let him burgle his general's house," Loman
said pitilessly.

Most of this I learned from an interview that Jacques Davidson
gave in 1962 to the Dutch newspaper "Het Parool." The title that
journalist Willem Witkamp gave to his wonderful article was "The
Great Davidson." This was somewhat ironic, because Davidson
was a strong chessplayer, an international master, but he was not
what most people would call a great chessplayer. But it was not
completely ironic. Davidson was the first Dutchman who
succeeded in being a professional chessplayer, and that in a time
when only the very best of the world could live on chess. 

Sometimes Davidson had to take little jobs on the side. For a while
he was a traveling salesman for a publisher of encyclopedias. But
to the end of his life, he was above all a professional chessplayer.
And because of this, in a sense he was really a great man.

Around 1920 he was one of the strongest Dutch chessplayers, but
not much notice was taken because Euwe was so much stronger.
Davidson played in tournaments, the strongest being that in
Semmering, 1926. But most of his income came from
simultaneous displays, lectures, newspaper articles and the selling
of chess books, often going from door to door. The income was
small. In the interview mentioned he said: "Nevertheless I have
raised four children decently. You shouldn't do that. Raise
children, yes. But not from chess."

And he had petty enemies in the Dutch chessworld. Euwe was
always helpful, but there were little men of influence who
begrudged a professional chessplayers the light in his eyes. In the
interview Davidson talked about a tournament held in Amsterdam
in the twenties. There was a special price for a special game.
Loman who, like Davidson, had returned to the Netherlands, was a
member of the jury. When the tournament was finished and the
prizes had been distributed, Loman and Davidson walked home
together. "You should have won that prize," Loman said to
Davidson. But he hadn't, and it turned out that one of the jury
members had said that Davidson would bring this trophy
immediately to a pawnshop, so better to give it to a more worthy
chessplayer.

Davidson was not surprised. "I'll show you this. It has to be seen
by one real chessplayer, and then we will forget about it," he said
to Loman. He showed Loman a postcard from that same jury
member and explained what it was about. That jury member had
recently given a journalistic job to Davidson, but had received the
money himself and never payed Davidson, the man that was
supposed to be so poor that he would pawn his trophy. The
postcard from the jury member explained why he had never payed.
He had been ill and his wife had spent the money. Bad luck.

"That's cruel, isn't it? But life is cruel - but still there is something
to it," Davidson said in the interview.

Davidson died in 1969, 78 years old. On his gravestone there is a
chess problem, white to play and mate in one. His life was ten
times harder than we modern Dutch professionals have it now, but
he managed gracefully. The game that follows is from a
quadrangular tournament in Amsterdam, 1925. The result was 1.
Davidson, 3; 2. Euwe, 2; 3/4 Saemisch and Weenink, 1/2. I am not
sure, but this might be the one that should have won the brilliancy
prize.

White: Davidson Black: Euwe 1. d2-d4 Ng8-f6 2. c2-c4 g7-g6 3.
g2-g3 c7-c6 4. Bf1-g2 d7-d5 5. c4xd5 c6xd5 6. Nb1-c3 Bf8-g7 7.
Ng1-f3 0-0 8. 0-0 Nf6-e4 9. Bc1-f4 Nb8-c6 10. Ra1-c1 Qd8-a5 11.
Qd1-b3 e7-e6 12. Rf1-d1 Ne4xc3 13. Rc1xc3 Rf8-d8 14. e2-e3
f7-f6 15. g3-g4 g6-g5 16. Bf4-g3 Qa5-b4 17. Qb3-c2 Bc8-d7 18.
Nf3-e1 Bd7-e8 19. Ne1-d3 Qb4-e7 20. a2-a3 Rd8-c8 21. Rd1-c1
Bg7-f8 22. Qc2-d2 b7-b6 White had an easier game, but after this
move the dangers for black become acute. 23. e3-e4 Qe7-d7 24.
Qd2-e3 e6-e5 An emergency measure that turns out badly. 24.
e4xd5 Nc6xd4 (See Diagram) 26. Nd3xe5! f6xe5 27. Bg3xe5
Rc8xc3 28. Rc1xc3 Nd4-b5 29. Qe3xg5+ Be8-g6 Also after
29...Bg7 30. d6 Nxc3 31. Bxa8 white's multiple treats would
guarantee him a decisive material advantage. 30. d5-d6 Qd7-e6 31.
Bg2xa8 Nb5xc3 32. Be5xc3 Bf8-h6 To get a perpetual after 33.
Qxh6 by 33...Qxg4+ 33. Ba8-d5 Bh6xg5 34. Bd5xe6+ Bg6-f7 35.
Be6xf7+ Kg8xf7 36. Bc3-e5 Kf7-e6 37. f2-f4 Bg5-h4 38. Kg1-g2
Ke6-d5 39. g4-g5 Kd5-e6 40. Kg2-h3 Bh4-f2 41. Kh3-g4 b6-b5
42. h2-h4 a7-a5 43. h4-h5 b5-b4 44. a3xb4 a5xb4 45. g5-g6 Black
resigned.

This column first appeared in the Dutch newspaper
"NRC-Handelsblad" April 4, 1998. Copyright 1998 Hans Ree, All
Rights Reserved. 