We remember Fischer as the unbalanced genius who became World Champion in 1972 at the age of 29 in one of the most famous title matches ever played. The mature Fischer is both attractive – in the beauty of his play – and also disturbing in his personality. Was he always like this? What did observers make of him at the start of his chess career?

I recently came across this report of the Interzonal Tournament at Portoroz in the October 1958 edition of Chess magazine. It was closely-contested: only 2 points separated the top 11 players. Tal won the event on 13½ points, ahead of Gligoric, Benko, Petrosian, Fischer and Olafsson. The top six qualified for the 1959 Candidates’ Tournament. See the table below, from the News section of the magazine.

This section includes a long report on the event, unattributed but presumably written by Baruch Wood, the founder and editor. Here is the assessment of the young Fischer, in the kind of breathless prose that you simply don’t see these days.

Nothing short of amazing is the success of America’s Bobby Fischer. As qualifying for a Candidates’ Tournament earns the title automatically, he is already a Grand Master of Chess at fifteen – an achievement unlikely to be matched in our lifetimes, if ever.

We give later in this issue, several of his Portoroz games which all our readers will be eager to see. Cool, deep in calculation, equal to any emergency, he exhibits a power and skill almost beyond belief for his age.

Politiken recently published an article by its New York correspondent who had interviewed Bobby Fischer: “The tufts of brown, cropped hair, which cover the edges of his ears, make him look more childish and neglected than he really is. Regardless of that, however, he looks like anything rather than a chess, or, for that matter, any other sort of genius. Long fingers on his disproportionately long arms are his only prominent features. Sentimental people might think it is a pity that his poor mother, who is a divorced nurse from Brooklyn, was unable to send him to a school of music. His shoulders have already become slightly drooped, his face is yellowish pale in colour and he has a high forehead. He wore a colourful wool pullover that evening and, every now and then, he would pull into it almost the whole of his thin neck. It is only after observing him for some time that one convinces oneself that the fifteen-year-old champion is no ordinary Brooklyn teenager. He finds it more difficult to control his youthful instincts when his position is good. He is then, in his own way, more natural and likeable. His small, deeply-set eyes sparkle with confidence and joy; he can hardly keep still in his chair, he gesticulates proudly and, assuming the pose of an experienced magician, he entertains the bystanders with witty remarks at the expense of his speechless opponent. At such times, he is happy, restless, aggressive. If the luck is against him, he suddenly becomes more quiet, more serious, and turns all his attention to the chessboard, as if there were a vital decision to be made. He falls silent, bites his nails. He now looks older than his age and more like a chess player. It is easier to spot his true qualities: exceptionally quick reflexes, ability to concentrate, complete self-control, ambitious imagination and enthusiasm for the beauty of chess.”

Bobby Fischer was six when his sister taught him chess. He is fond of sports and competitive pastimes of all kinds. He is keen on learning Spanish but shelved this language for some months in preference for Russian (for obvious reasons).

He is not in the U.S. team for Munich [the 13th Chess Olympiad held in October 1958, won by the Soviet Union]. It is said he demanded a big appearance fee.

There is a sense of wonder and potential in this positive and illuminating account of this young genius. But already there are negative signs: his contempt for his opponents and his large ego.

Fischer’s games are of course very widely available. It’s interesting to compare three sources.

(1) This October 1958 edition of Chess magazine contains six of the 20 games played in the Interzonal. All given without analysis at the end of the magazine – presumably they came in too close to the copy deadline.

(2) Fischer’s own collection in “My 60 Memorable Games”, first published in 1969. This contains two of his games from the Interzonal, his draw with Black against Petrosian in a King’s Indian, and his win with White against Larsen in a Sicilian Dragon. His annotations to this game contain his famous summary of the right way to play against the Dragon: “I’d won dozens of skittles games in analogous positions and had it down to a science: pry open the h-file, sac, sac … mate!” In general his annotations are concise and clear, with analysis of the key variations.

(3) The largest part of Volume 4 of “My Great Predecessors” by Kasparov, published in 2004, is devoted to the life and games of Fischer. Kasparov covers the famous win against Larsen in nine pages of analysis and comment, which are also a commentary on Fischer’s own annotations. Kasparov finds a remarkable defence, for Larsen to offer an exchange sacrifice on move 24 in a very complicated position, which would have resulted in equality. Both Fischer and Larsen missed this.

I was interested to see this and so I played through the game and analysed it with the latest version of Stockfish (15.1). This confirms the soundness of Kasparov’s analysis of the resource 24…Rc4!, which does indeed seem to hold for Black. Kasparov goes on to say:

It is psychologically understandable why Fischer missed this possible defence in his analysis: it casts doubts on the entire conception of his commentary, beginning with ‘the losing move’ 15 … Rac8.

Kasparov may have rehabilitated the line for Black, but the original game and Fischer’s commentary have cast a long shadow. Larsen’s move 15…Rac8 has not been repeated in any recorded game since 1958, according to the very large 2023 database that I’m using.

For ease of reference, the game is available on Lichess here.