The Plainview Chess Club

I’ve been surprised that no one seems to play chess anymore. In a retirement settlement, where everyone has time on their hands, it would seem that a game like chess might fill time for folks that have a great deal of time to kill, but I have yet to see anyone at Brookdale playing chess. There was a definite uptick in chess for a time, in the 1970s when American, Bobby Fischer captured the title of Grandmaster. For several years in McCook, Dee Friehe had a group of her students that met at the Bieroc after school for chess. They learned the game (and kept up a running dialog throughout the game.) But these are isolated cases.

In the years leading up to World War II, Plainview was blessed with numerous organizations, both the organized variety, such as The American Legion, The Eastern Star, The Women’s Club. The Reading Club met at the library (where we annually performed with our band instruments), and the various church organizations, but also the informal variety, such as the few friends that got together on a more or less regular basis to enjoy a common interest, like the various card clubs. and one of the strangest, from my viewpoint as a child---the Chess Club.

Chess was quite a popular game in the ‘30s. Its popularity, I believe, tells a great deal about the pace of life in the ‘30s. Of course, no one had any money. People did not travel, and they did not entertain lavishly. Chess did not cost money to play, and it took a lot of time, In the 30s most people certainly had more time than money.

My folks played chess often in the evening after they got my sister and me off to bed. My Dad regularly slipped away from the bakery afternoons. Often he took a nap, since he worked the early hours of the morning, but, as often he could be found, if absolutely necessary, at one of his favorite haunts; the doctor’s office next door to the bakery, with Dr. L.A. Johnson; at the depot, with stationmaster, Al J. Foster; or most frequently at the lumber yard with manager, Jack Pubanz, for an hour or so of chess. It still seems incredible to me that industry could stop for that period of time, but it happened.

Jack Pubanz, especially, was very fond of chess. He had become a devotee of the game while serving aboard ship in the Navy during World War I. If something would interrupt the game at the lumber yard, he would put the chess board up on his file, to be resumed another day. He had one friend, who lived in the country, with whom he carried on a long distance game of chess. Each morning, when the friend’s teenager came to town for school he would bring a cryptic note to the lumber yard, spelling out a chess move, i.e.: Rook to Queen 7. Jack would go to a chess board which he kept set up for that game, and make the move. After school, the boy would again stop at the lumber yard to pick up the note spelling out Jack’s move, to take home to his father. The game might go on for weeks.

The period of time I refer to now must have been in the middle ‘30s. We had moved to the house across from the park but had not been there very long. Once a month, or it could have been oftener, the Plainview Chess Club met at one of the member’s house for an evening of chess, and supposedly, fellowship. There must have been eight members in the club because there were always four tables set up in the living room and the dining room.

On the night that the Chess Club met at our house, I would be both pleased and sad. Dad liked oyster stew, and usually served that to the Chess Club. I loved oyster stew, so my mother always managed to prepare enough extra for the family. That was good. But Chess Club meant that I had to stay out of the living room during the entire evening. This was difficult, because the only radio of the house, a Zenith Console, was in the living room, where the chess tables were set up. That meant that my sister and I had to stay in the kitchen or go to bed. Sometimes we played a game, or my mother read to us. But we had to keep still.

It was a very strange sensation when the chess games started. Where there had been the usual banter of men when members arrived, once time started for a game, there was absolute silence, which lasted for most of the 30 minutes or whatever the time limit for a game was.

It was like a tomb, and we whispered in the kitchen. Toward the end of the time limit you could hear, in subdued tones, “Check”, meaning the opponent’s Queen was in the danger of capture, which would be the end of the game. And finally, “Checkmate”, meaning that there was no longer any move that would prevent the capture of the queen. “Checkmate” would signal the futility of further play and would be answered with “I resign”, and game over. When the little buzzer went off, all play would cease, and any unfinished games would be declared a draw. Then you would hear conversation for a few minutes, mostly congratulations to each other about how they had played the game---until they changed opponents and the next game started.

Always at least once in the evening there would be raised voices,

“I didn’t mean to move there.” “You took your hand off your piece!”

“No, I didn’t, it just slipped out of my hand.”

That would be Martin Sorensen, the postmaster. He seemed to use a feint with his chess piece as part of his strategy to determine what his opponent was going to do.

At 9 p.m., lunch was served, and then there would be one more game, and everyone would go home. For this last game, players keep their coffee cups, or glasses of beer at the table with them and sip throughout the game.

Apparently, we did not keep beer in the house in those days, and my sister, only three or four at the time, was not familiar with what it was. The morning after one of these chess parties, she got up early and went into the living room to inspect the aftermath of the party. At a couple of the tables, there were small amounts of beer left in the glasses. She took one sniff of the vile liquid, turned up her nose, and promptly dumped the contents into the toilet.

Jack Pubanz must have been the heart of the Chess Club because when he was transferred to the company headquarters in Minneapolis the Club quietly died for lack of a leader. Also, a number of the members of that Club were older men and some of them died or retired. Then too, as the ‘30s wore on, the pace of life quickened. In dad’s case, he gained some younger friends.

Dean Allen came to Plainview to manage the J.C. Penney store. Dr. M.A. Johnson took over Dr. L.A. Johnson’s practice. These two fellows were fun loving, and a lot more active than members of the Chess Club. The result was that we got a ping pong table in our basement and the Ping Pong Parties that replaced the Chess Club were definitely more to my liking.