It was April and the common saying about "April showers" had taken on a new meaning for Marvin J. Mavin and the Detroit Doublejumpers of the National Checker League.

The Doublejumpers were in Portland, where the old Portland Playpen Arena was still in service for the matches of the Portland Pitchers. The Arena was showing its age. Seating capacity had been reduced about 25% during bad weather because of leaks in the dome roof. The playing field itself had numerous wet spots, and play would have to take place not in the center of the field, but off to one side where the pitch remained dry.

Of course the fans were not happy and neither was team management, who saw declining ticket sales and revenue. Portland has a lot of rainy weather and it was becoming quite a problem.

Portland city government promised to build a new stadium in order to keep the team from moving to another city. Tucson, Arizona, had made an offer and pointed out that there weren't rainy weather problems or even leaky roofs to worry about. Of course Portland had promised a new stadium for a couple of years and allowed as how they could surely get it built in less than 20 more years--- or maybe a little longer than that; they didn't really know.

The irony was that Portland had been playing quite well this season and would likely make the playoffs, which were just about a month away. But fans just didn't want to come out and sit on wet seats and have a non-optimal view.

So it came about that in the first match of a three-match series, the weather was bad even by Portland standards and attendance was only about 8,000 in a stadium that was supposed to seat 50,000. But the show must go on, and on first board Marvin met up with an old foe, D. Rock Noodle, who had played first board for the Pitchers for quite a little while. Ever since they had first met, Marvin had been avoiding D. Rock's crusher handshakes, despite D. Rock's taunting.

The roof leaks were pretty bad on such a rainy day and the playing area had been set up in a slightly less wet area along what would have been the foul line in left field in a baseball stadium. Even there, the ground was slightly wet and the grounds crew had put down a tarp. Stadium management thought of erecting a tent roof over the area but that was finally vetoed as it would restrict the view of the fans even more. There was always the option of moving the match indoors to one of the conference areas but that would mean issuing full refunds plus additional vouchers as compensation to all ticket holders and management couldn't bear the expense.

The starting whistle blew and the call "Play Checkers!" rang out. The teams were surprisingly closely matched. Boards 2 through 4 produced draws; board 5 was a Doublejumper win, leading to a score of 2.5 to 1.5 in favor of Detroit. Everything was now up to Marvin and D. Rock on board 1. If Marvin could draw, the score would end at 3-2, giving the Doublejumpers the win. However if Marvin lost, the score would be 2.5-2.5, and since tie-breaks went from highest board to lowest, the loss on board 1 would give the match to the Pitchers.

The game reached a very tense position with Marvin to play. Both players were short on time, even with the 40 moves in two hours time control, and it looked like things could go either way.

Marvin, though, had an idea. With just under a minute left on the clock, Marvin reached out ...

There was a loud crack high overhead in the stadium dome roof, and all at once a torrent of water poured down directly on board 1! Both Marvin and D. Rock were knocked from their chairs and the board swept off the table.

Marvin and D. Rock picked themselves up. Both of them were soaked through, and rain continued to pour down through the new, large hole in the roof.

The referee, Willy Will Wilson, blew his whistle. "Game over!" he called out. "Win for Black!"

"Hey, ref, wait a minute," Marvin said, all the while trying to shake off some of the water from his arms, legs, and head, "I was going to make my move and draw the game. How do you get a win for Black here?"

D. Rock laughed. "Sorry, pal," he said. "The ref knows the rules. Game adjourned. And since we passed the four hour mark, Rule 3.1415926 says in time scramble situations, disruption of the board results in a loss for the player on move. You lose, fella."

"The rule was quoted correctly," said Willy Will. "After four hours the board is not reset. Player on move loses. Black wins." He blew his whistle again for good measure.

Within seconds the Doublejumper coach, Baba Dudut (who had replaced Davey Anderson after the controversial events we recounted in last fall's stories), was on the field, confronting the referee. "Just a minute there!" Baba said. "We didn't reach four hours. Look at the clocks. We're still in the first time control. Marvin had 48 seconds left and D. Rock had 54 seconds. And besides, upsetting the board was an act of nature, not deliberately done by my player!"

Baba Dudut reached down and pulled the game timer out of the sodden mess that the pitch had become. But the clock was completely filled with mud. "Oh ... well never mind, look at the stadium clock!" he told Willy Will.

"Stadium clocks are unofficial," Willy Will said, "and rule 3.1415926 doesn't take into account deliberate or non-deliberate board upsets. Do I need to blow my whistle again? Black wins and Portland wins. Clear the field, everyone. Go change into dry clothes."

"I'll appeal!" said Baba. "You'll regret this! You should have let us finish the match indoors!"

Willy Will did not reply, and Marvin looked as if he was about to speak, but Baba turned to him and said, "Not a word from you! You'll just say something dumb and make things worse!"

Meanwhile D. Rock continued to laugh and the few fans that were still in the stadium, all of them Pitcher fans, were hooting and hollering.

Willy Will blew his whistle one last time and ordered everyone off the field, making threats of fines and suspensions.

"Oh, go blow your horn!" Baba said in disgust as he took Marvin by the elbow and led him to the dugout exit.

"Coach, I coulda ... " Marvin began but Baba cut him off. "I don't want to hear it! Coulda, shoulda, well, you shoulda been faster and made your move before the roof cracked! You haven't heard the last of this!"

Marvin shrugged his shoulders. "Gee, how was I supposed to know that the roof ... "

"A player should always be aware!" Baba snapped. "No matter what!"

To be continued.

---

We'd say Marvin is in hot water again but the rainwater that soaked him was probably pretty cold. Did Marvin have a draw on the board before the "April showers" ended the match? (Do you think rule 3.1415926 is fair?) See what you can work out and then click on Read More to get the answer.

[Read More]

It was Saturday, April 9, 1955, the day before Easter Sunday. It was the regularly scheduled meeting day of Bismarck, North Dakota's Coffee and Cake Checker Club, informally led by the respected elderly gentleman Sal Westerman. The club met every Saturday from just after Labor Day until just before Memorial Day, with a brief break for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's.

But today there was a problem.

The club invariably met at the Beacon Cafe, a popular local spot run by championship baker Deana Nagel. Saturday afternoons post-lunch were typically slow and Deana welcomed the Club and was friends with all of the "boys" (all but one of whom were over 50 years of age). However, this year Deana closed up for the Easter weekend. It was something she hadn't done in prior years but this year, she wanted to spend the weekend in Gackle, North Dakota, where her aging grandmother had come from Iowa for a rather rare visit.

Of course Sal could hardly blame Deana; certainly she should visit with her grandmother. But that left open the question of what to do about the club. The "boys" had discussed it the prior week and didn't come up with much in the way of a solution. The public library was a possible option but coffee and treats were not permitted on premises. There were other cafes and coffee shops but the boys were used to meeting at the Beacon.

"We could go to Bob's Big Boy," Delmer had suggested the previous week. Big Boy had just opened the prior year and was a popular spot. But Wayne pointed out that they didn't have indoor seating. A couple of other options were reviewed. The general feeling was not to go to a bar or a hotel lounge, and restaurants tended to be too busy.

It must have been Louie the Flash who suggested gathering at Sal's home.

"Oh, I don't know," Sal had said, "I'd have to ask Sylvia." Sylvia was Sal's wife of many decades. "And our house is pretty small."

"Hey, I've visited you and your basement is set up for checkers," Dan said. "We can all squeeze in, and we can go pot luck on bringing the treats."

Sal said he would think about it and that evening he asked Sylvia, who agreed, if a bit relucantly. "Whatever makes you happy, Sal," she said, "but just don't expect me to bake for everyone. I have an idea those boys of yours can really eat. And drink coffee, too."

The day arrived, and right on the dot of 1 PM the boys started to arrive. Delmer was first, followed by Wayne, Dan, Louie the Flash, and Larry. They all brought sacks of baked goods and thermos of coffee. The last to arrive was Ron, who brought a large mixed flower bouquet for Sylvia, to recognize her generosity in opening her home to the Club.

It was a bit of a tight fit in Sal's basement, but he had gotten out a large folding table and folding chairs and there was just enough room for everyone. The boys drank coffee and munched on treats and talked checkers until finally Sal said, "Okay, let me put out a checker problem for you to solve. No one needs to buy treats today so solve it just for fun.

Sal went over to a large bookshelf which was overflowing with checker books, magazines, and newspaper clippings. He laid out the following position from a diagram in one of the magazines.

"This is a good one," he said. "Take your time and see how you do."

The boys dug in at once and the discussions became quite animated. Nearly an hour went by until Ron said, "We've got it, Sal!"

---

Sal's basement den looks like a nice place to be solving a checker problem. We hope you have a comfortable environment, too. Join the "boys" in solving this one, and click on Read More to check your solution.

[Read More]

In our previous Beacon Cafe story, Sal Westerman, the unofficial leader of the Coffee and Cake Checker Club, had been confronted by protesters who claimed that checkers was part of a Communist plot to ruin America.

Sal's club met on Saturday afternoons from just after Labor Day to just before Memorial Day with short holiday breaks. The year was 1955 and the venue was the Beacon Cafe in Bismarck, North Dakota, a locale that was about remote from Communism as anywhere.

The protesters had been dispersed by the police but their activities were far from over. One of them in an old Nash car trailed Sal on his way home. And then there were harassing phone calls to all the members of the club, but especially to Sal's home. His wife Sylvia had gotten quite upset, and Sal had gotten the police involved, but there wasn't a lot they could do.

However, it might all come to a head soon. One of the protesters' purposes was to have checkers eliminated from the public schools. Now Bismarck, like nearly all towns (in the alternate reality of our stories) had a thriving scholastic checkers program with teams competing at every grade level. But the protesters said that this was just a means of spreading Communism. They didn't present evidence except to say that there were red checker pieces, symbolizing Communism, and that players often played in teams, which apparently reflected anti-capitalist collective policy.

The school board would meet tonight to take up the matter, and Sal and the "boys" of the club (all but one of whom were over 50) would give testimony. Sal's testimony, as State Champion, would be expected to hold some weight, and it was also expected that saner heads would prevail. However, the outcome was still uncertain given the just-concluded McCarthy era.

That evening, a line of marching protesters greeted arrivals at the War Memorial Building, where the school board was to meet. Police were on hand to try to keep things orderly, but the protesters were on the rowdy and raucous side, chanting various slogans about the purported ills of checkers.

"There's their leader--- the chief Commie himself!" one of them shouted as Sal made his way to the entrance, followed by the rest of the "boys." Sensing potential trouble, a couple of policemen stood between the protesters and the checker club members.

Fortunately everyone made it into the building without incident. By the time 7 PM came around there were no seats left and attendees were standing in the back and on the sides of the main auditorium. At a few minutes after 7, School Board chair Janet Meyer called the meeting to order and ran through a number of routine business items with the rest of the Board.

At 8 PM, with some of the crowd growing restless, Mrs. Meyer turned to the final item on the agenda. "We have a proposal from a group called 'The Anti-Communist Anti-Checkers Coaltion'", she said into the microphone. "They have a petition signed by over 200 Burleigh County taxpayers, so we must take up their issue. I'll ask their representative, Mr. Gerry Russell, to present their case."

Mr. Russell took the podium to a mixture of cheers and boos, loud enough for Mrs. Meyer to pound her gavel and call for order.

"Checkers is a evil game," Mr. Russell began. "It corrupts our children by teaching them to love Communism and hate capitalism. It is anti-American and anti-church. Do you want your children to end up in jail for treason or seeking to overthrow our government? That's what will happen if we don't ban checkers from our schools, our community, and our nation! We are here to take the first step, casting this evil influence out of our precious school system."

Mr. Russell went on for a long while until finally Mrs. Meyer asked him to please conclude his speech.

"Very well," he said, "I'll end by saying I am a checkers expert and know everything about this horrid game. I was under its influence too for many years. But fortunately I was able to cast out the devil within me, and I saw the light. I pray that you see the light, too, and do what you know is right--- ban checkers in the schools!"

Mr. Russell sat down to more cheers and boos. Mrs. Meyer then said, "A local checker club, the Coffee and Cake Checker Club, led by Mr. Sal Westerman, the State Checker Champion, has asked to respond. Mr. Westerman, please come to the podium."

There were mostly all cheers for Sal as he made his way onto the stage although there was some heckling from the protesters.

"Thank you, everyone," Sal said in a calm and measured tone. "I am here to demonstrate the error of the ways of Mr. Russell and his group. Checkers, far from being evil, is a positive influence on a young mind. It teaches planning ahead. It teaches sportsmanship. It teaches our children to be gracious winners and resilient losers. It teaches the benefits of hard work and study. But it does more than that. It teaches how to focus and to think through a problem with persistence and attentiveness. It develops analytical skills which will serve for a lifetime."

"Prove it!" a protester shouted.

Sal smiled. "That is my intent," he said. "Mrs. Meyer, may I use the projector?" When permission was granted, Sal put a transparency with the following diagram on the projector's plate and projected it onto the screen at the front of the auditorium.

"Now, Mr. Russell, as you say you know everything about checkers, I challenge you to come up to the stage and solve this checker problem. Surely you should be able to do that."

Mr. Russell, sitting in the front row, was clearly taken aback. "A checker problem? How dare you expose the attendees to such evil! I will not come up and participate in this shameful activity! You may be a Communist, but I am not!"

"Come now, Mr. Russell, the checkers on the diagram are black and white. There's not a trace of red." That elicited a laugh from the audience but a scowl from Mr. Russell.

"Very well then, you just move ... wait a moment ... no, you move ... hmm ... it must be ... "

"Five minutes, Mr. Russell," Sal said. "That's enough time for any expert to solve it."

Mr. Russell had turned pale and had begun to sweat. "Fine, you play ... no, that's not it ... okay ... "

"The clock is ticking, Mr. Russell," Mrs. Meyer said, "and I think we are all interested in how this will turn out."

---

Sal has put his opponent on the spot. Will Mr. Russell be up to the challenge? Are you? While for Sal the stakes are high, you can solve the problem at your leisure and just for your own pleasure. When you're ready, click on Read More to see the solution and the conclusion of our story.

[Read More]

Valentine's Day was just days away, and Marvin J. Mavin, superstar Captain of the Detroit Doublejumpers in the National Checker League, knew he had better come up with something.

He and his wife, Priscilla Snelson, who was the high-powered CEO of the giant Detroit based international conglomerate Rust Belt Holdings, had been married now for just over a year and a half. Marvin was on the road for the first Valentine's Day of his marriage, and, well, he sort of forgot to get a gift. Or send flowers. Or as much as make a phone call. Priscilla had, to say the least, not been amused, and Marvin had been in the doghouse for some little while.

Now, Priscilla wasn't the easiest person to please, and she had expensive tastes (see our earlier stories about her engagement ring). So a simple gift wouldn't do at all. But the problem was that Priscilla had everything, and with her $50 million annual salary (plus bonuses, of course) she could afford just about anything many times over that Marvin could manage on his relatively paltry $10 million per year.

Marvin was at home on a Monday. The Doublejumpers had one day off before starting a match with the Denver Dundees the following day. That match would run through Thursday, followed by Valentine's Day off. Priscilla, of course, was at work. Monday through Thursday, Priscilla worked from about 7 AM until at least 7 PM.

Marvin had a little time to think about an appropriate gift. He had been reading the latest issue of All Checkers Digest and had found an interesting problem.

"No," Marvin said to himself, "a gift first." So he browsed the internet, looking first at expensive jewelry. But Priscilla didn't need another necklace or bracelet or earrings. Maybe an ankle bracelet? "Nah, she never wears stuff like that."

Marvin started looking at catalogs from art dealers. Priscilla's 5,000 square foot upscale condo featured a few originals by well-known contemporary artists. But when Marvin saw the prices, he knew he had better keep looking.

He spent nearly two hours. Jewelry? No. Artwork? No. Clothing? No. A new car? Priscilla had a whole fleet of cars and she replaced them with new ones every year.

Marvin, his eyes tired and his mind exhausted, didn't know what to do.

And then it came to him.

Marvin and Priscilla had been to a holiday event at the upscale restaurant, Le Menu Magnifique and Marvin decided to take Priscilla there for Valentine's Day. He had to pull a few strings to get a reservation on such a busy day, but as Marvin was a checker superstar the restaurant was willing to accommodate him.

Priscilla was unusually pleased. "How nice of you, Marvin," she said when he told her about it, "I'm sure we'll have a great time."

Marvin, whose tastes ran more to hot dogs and beer than haute cuisine and fine wine, wasn't so sure, but he wanted to please his wife, and seemed to have hit the mark.

"We'll take my limo," Priscilla said, "so you won't have to drive the Lexus. That car is a little too ordinary for the occasion."

Marvin's old Volkswagen was a thing of the past; Priscilla had bought him a Lexus and that's what he now drove. "I could drive the Rolls," he suggested.

"No, I don't think so." Priscilla's Rolls Royce, as well as her Jaguar, Mazeratti, Aston Martin, and Ferrari, were cars that she alone drove.

At the restaurant, they shared appetizers of Escargot a la Maison and Crevettes du Roi, along with glasses of Chablis. For dinner, Priscilla ordered Coq au Vin and Marvin, Steak au Poivre. The waiter looked surprised and asked why they were ordering such pedestrian fare, but a glare from Priscilla stopped him in his tracks. They had a nice Burgundy with their "plats."

Dessert, of course, was taken from a selection of patisserie. Then there was coffee and cognac. Finally, the time came for Marvin to present his gift.

"I have something for you, sweetheart," Marvin said.

"I was starting to wonder," Priscilla replied. "You're quite good at forgetting on gift giving occasions."

"Not this time!" Marvin smiled. "It was kinda hard, seeing like, you know, you already got so much stuff and all. But--- well, anyhoo, here you go."

Marvin reached into an inner pocket of his suit jacket, and brought forth a business letter sized envelope. On the front he had written, "Priscilla." He handed it to his wife.

"I was gonna write 'Prissy' only on account of you don't like that so much I wrote 'Priscilla.'

"How nice of you," Priscilla replied, the edge in her voice clear. But then she smiled and opened the envelope.

Inside was a sheet of letter paper. She unfolded it and saw the following, printed in 12-point Times New Roman.

Oh, my dear love, how vast this heart does swell,
Each beat a song that sings of you alone.
In every glance, in every word, you tell
A truth that makes my soul feel fully known.

Your smile, a light that brightens up the day,
Your touch, a warmth that comforts through the night.
With you, the world's a place where I can stay,
Where every moment feels so pure and right.

The stars above seem dim compared to you,
Your love, a force that guides me through the storm.
Together, all our dreams are born anew,
In your embrace, I find my truest form.

On this sweet day, my heart is yours to keep,
A love so deep, it wakes me from my sleep.

"This is a sonnet," Priscilla said. "Did you actually write this, Marvin?"

"Well, uh ... well, not exactly write it," he said. "I uh ... um ... yeah ... "

"Oh my goodness," Priscilla said. "You got this off of one of those AI sites, didn't you? It's so sappy it's beyond even a HatchMark greeting card ... no poet would ever write stuff as bad as this."

"Don't you like it? I couldn't think of nothing to give you so I thought, like, something personal from me ... "

"Personal? From you? When you had a computer write it? This is a joke, right? You have a real gift for me, I assume?"

"Uh well, like I said, there ain't nothing you don't already got so, uh, I guess that's it."

"That's my Valentine's gift? A lousy computer sonnet?" Priscilla threw her napkin on the table and pushed her chair back. As she stood up, she said, "Sometimes I wonder why I married you, Marvin. I'm taking the limo home now. You can pay the check and then take the bus for all I care. Well, here's something from me to you--- from the same source." Priscilla tapped on her cell phone for a moment and then texted Marvin the following lines as she made an angry exit from the restaurant.

Roses are red, but my patience is thin,
I'm tired of your games, I'm done with your spin.
You promised a gift, but you lied through your teeth,
Now I'm standing here, feeling bitter beneath.

You say you care, but your actions don't show,
Your empty words cut deeper than you know.
I gave you my heart, but you threw it away,
Now I'm counting the moments til you're out of my day.

Valentine's feels like a cruel little joke,
When your love is a flame that just up and broke.
So here's to the truth, though it's hard to admit---
I'm angry, I'm hurt, and I'm done with this bit.

Happy Valentine's, if that's what you need---
Just know I'm moving on, I've planted the seed.

Marvin, now sitting alone at the table, muttered, "I just don't get women sometimes."

---

We should note that we actually did use an AI site to generate the truly terrible sonnets above. (We did a little editing as one line was not suitable for all audiences.) We disdain, however, to use AI to produce even a single word of our columns and stories.

Marvin is once more in hot water. That seems to be a recurring problem for him. But speaking of problems, the one he was looking at in All Checkers Digest is quite interesting. Why don't you give it a try? When you're ready you can click on Read More to see the solution. And--- we do hope you didn't forget that special someone on Valentine's Day, and we also hope you avoided computer generated poetry.

[Read More]

Sal Westerman, the unofficial leader of the Bismarck, North Dakota's Coffee and Cake Checker Club couldn't believe his eyes.

It was a cold Saturday afternoon in February, 1955, and his club's weekly meeting was about to start. His little group got together at 1 PM each week at the Beacon Cafe in the Provident Life Building on Rosser Avenue, from just after Labor Day to just before Memorial Day. The club members, or "boys" as Sal called them, were almost all over 50 years of age and enjoyed solving problems, playing skittles, talking checkers, and sampling fabulous baked treats homemade by the Cafe's proprietress, Deana Nagel.

Sal had just made the 10 minute walk from his home to the Cafe. He was cold and anxious to go into the warmth of the Cafe, but what did he see?

A picket line!

About half a dozen middle aged protesters were marching back and forth in front of the Cafe, holding signs lettered with the folllowing messages.

"Checkers --- the Game of Communists!"

"Think of the Children --- Ban Checkers Now!"

"Checkers --- The Ruin of the American Way!"

"National Service, not Checkers!"

"Patriots Don't Play Checkers!"

Sal, bewildered, approached the front door of the Cafe, but several of the protesters bumped into the old gentleman and nearly sent him sprawling.

Deana, inside the Cafe observing what was happening, came through the door and roughly shoved a couple of protesters aside, making a path for Sal to enter. It seemed as if violence could possibly erupt but Deana quickly closed and locked the door behind her.

"I've called the police," she said to a flustered Sal, whose face was red and who didn't look well. "Sit down, Sal," she continued, "catch your breath. Those people should know better than to jostle an elderly person."

Sure enough, two police cars arrived a few minutes later and four burly policemen exited.

"You're blocking a public sidewalk," one of them was heard to tell the protesters. "Disperse at once or be arrested."

There were a few angry shouts from the protesters and one of them looked as if he was about to swing his sign at one of the police officers, but when he noticed the officer's hand resting on his service revolver holster, he thought better of it.

The protesters kept shouting but they all walked away, likely headed home to get out of the cold themselves. The police officers left without any further incidents taking place.

"What was all that?" Deana asked.

"There was something in the newspaper this morning," Sal said, "but I didn't know it would come to this. I certainly didn't think they would know about our club meetings."

Now that the sidewalk was cleared, a few of the boys started to come into the cafe. Dan and Wayne were first; they mentioned to Sal that they had almost gone back home when they saw the angry group of picketeers, but then when they police arrived they decided to wait it out. Tom and Larry arrived next, followed by Mike and Delmer. They all listened as Sal recapped the newspaper story.

"It seems that these folks are kind of leftovers from the McCarthy days," Sal began. The boys nodded; they certainly recalled the "Red Scare" that had only come to an end a year or so ago.

Sal continued, "Somehow they think the red and white checker pieces are really symbolic of the Red Russians and the White Russians, from back in the days of the Russian Revolution. Obviously the Reds came out on top. What this has to do with checkers is beyond me, but the article goes on to talk about how the group thinks checkers is a Communist plot to distract Americans from our democratic principles, our American work ethic, and so on. They say anyone who plays checkers is a Red, even if they play the white pieces."

The boys all laughed at that, but it was a nervous sort of laughter.

"Unbelievable," Mike said, "and don't they realize most of us served during the war?" (Editor's note: See our previous Veterans' Day story.)

"Shades of Harvey Hopkins," said Dan, referring to a late 19th century Chicago checkerist who said that nighttime baseball caused youth to degenerate, "except it's checkers instead of baseball, and it's Communism instead of crime."

"No doubt they don't like baseball either," said Delmer, "after all one of the teams is named the Red Sox."

"So what should we do?" said Dan. "The idea of them picketing in front of Deana's cafe isn't a pretty thought."

"Bad for business," Deana said from behind her counter. "I suppose they think cafes are Communist, too, because sometimes I use red food coloring in my baking."

"What's more serious," Sal said, "is their wanting to ban checkers from our schools. We all know that chess and checkers aids mental development, problem solving skills, and a lot more, but this group likely wouldn't agree."

"We need to all show up at that school board hearing next month," Mike said. "We have to make our case about checkers as a force for good rather than whatever they're making it out to be."

"The work of the Commies," said Wayne.

"What about Deana?" Sal asked. "We need to do something for her, too."

"I appreciate the thought, boys," Deana said, "but there's no need. On Monday I'm getting hold of my lawyer and we'll get a Temporary Restraining Order. One of them shoved Sal and I won't stand for it. I won't have any problem convincing the judge to grant the order. But hey, aren't you boys here for checkers? Come on, get with it; there's blueberry crumble today and we all could use a treat. On the house today." Deana paused a minute. "Although I suppose I should have served Red Rice as a lunch special."

The boys laughed again. "Thanks, Deana!" they said in unison.

"You're right, Deana," said Sal. "Let's not let the hooligans spoil our checker fun. I've got a nice problem for you boys to solve this afternoon, and no one has to worry about paying, thanks to Deana." The tradition was that Sal would show a problem, and if the boys (all of whom but one were at least 50 years old) solved it, Sal would buy treats; if they couldn't solve it, they would buy for Sal and his wife Sylvia.

Sal laid out the following position on one of the checkerboards.

"We had a bit of a late start," he said, "so how about we keep it to 45 minutes?" But there was no response as the boys were already deep in study.

When the analysis was in full swing, Sal went over to Deana's counter and slipped her a $5 bill. "Nice of you to offer to treat," he said, "but I owe you for calling the police when things could have turned ugly."

"Thanks, Sal," Deana said. She then refilled everyone's coffee and after 45 minutes, Sal called 'time.'

---

Is anyone claiming checkers has an evil political side where you are? We'd be surprised if that were the case, and we certainly hope never to see such a thing. But we suppose anything is possible.

What should surely be possible is for you to solve today's problem, and we ask you to give it your best try. When you're ready, don't protest; just click your mouse on Read More to see the solution and the brief conclusion to our story. And do note that our diagram shows white and black pieces, not white and red.

[Read More]

With the holidays having come and gone for another year, Marvin J. Mavin, the superstar Captain of the Detroit Doublejumpers of the National Checker League, was back on the road.

The League teams didn't play between Christmas and New Year's Day, but the schedule resumed in earnest right afterward, and the Doublejumpers had traveled to Winnipeg, Manitoba, for a three match series with the Winnipeg Wyllies.

Now, Winnipeg in the winter is seriously cold, and January is the coldest month of all. Marvin didn't know how this series got scheduled, but with outside temperatures staying around -10F most of the time, Marvin certainly felt the cold. He barely was able to warm up even indoors, as the hardy Canadians who resided in Winnipeg were used to cold weather and kept indoor temperatures well below 65F.

The Wyllies were a good enough team but not quite a match for the Doublejumpers, and the visiting Detroit team took the first two matches easily enough. Those matches were played at the Winnipeg Convention Centre, which was heated to 60F, still chilly for Marvin, but he made up for it by wearing a heavy woolen sweater.

The third match, though, was going to be different. It was to be part of a winter tradition of having an outdoor event at the coldest time of the year. The match would be played on the frozen ice of the Red River. Limited temporary seating had been arranged and tickets sold out long in advance.

But that wasn't all. Part of the tradition involved setting up portable saunas on the bank of the river, and then cutting a three foot diameter circular hole in the ice, which was a couple of feet thick. Players were expected to spend about 15 minutes in the sauna, and then run out and dive into the hole in the ice, immersing themselves in the frigid water before coming back out, drying off and quickly dressing, and then starting their checker match.

"It's what they do in Scandanavia," the event organizers pointed out. "It's invigorating and refreshing, and sharpens your thinking so you can play your best!"

Marvin tried to opt out but all expectations were that he would participate, and he didn't want to make too much of a fuss given all the trouble he had had with the League over the past months (see previous stories).

The next day came and Marvin was due to enter one of the saunas at 10 in the morning; an early start was necessary as darkness comes early to Winnipeg in the winter. The team bus took everyone down to the assigned place on the river bank.

"Where do I change?" Marvin asked one of the attendants, when Marvin reached Sauna #7.

"Oh, right out here," the attendant said, "we didn't bother with changing rooms because it's just a one-time thing."

"But it's freezing out!"

"Sure, but you'll warm up, the sauna's nice and hot."

Marvin quickly took off his heavy winter parka, gloves, boots, and outer garments, and put on the robe and slippers offered by the attendant. He hustled into the sauna, already shivering.

Inside it was gloriously warm, with steamy, humid air. Marvin relaxed at once on a wooden bench and nearly fell asleep. But a quarter of an hour later the sauna door abruptly opened. The attendant leaned in and said, "Out you go! Time for your dip in the river! Robes off please!"

Marvin slipped off his robe and poked his head out the door. "Time's passing!" the attendant said. "Right this way!" He pointed to a path in the snow leading down to the river.

"You're kidding ... " Marvin began, but the attendant pulled on his arm and soon Marvin was out in the cold air dressed only in slippers and an undergarment.

"Run, boy," said the attendant, "it's better if you do."

Marvin, faced with no option, ran faster than he had probably ever run in his life. But he pulled up short when he reached the hole in the ice."

"In you go!" said another attendant and before Marvin knew it, he had plunged into the hole and down into the super-cold water. It was as if a thousand needles had punctured his body. He let out a yelp as he submerged, but quickly closed his mouth to avoid letting the icy water in. As fast as he could recover he pulled himself up and the attendant helped him out, wrapping him a in large towel.

"Now, back up to the bank!" the man said. Marvin, shivering nearly uncontrollably, again ran at top speed. Up on the bank, a change of clothing and his winter gear awaited him.

He was given a cup of hot chocolate, but no sooner than he could drink it, it was time for him to go back on the ice--- this time, at least, fully clothed in winter garb--- to begin his match.

His opponent was already waiting at Board One. The man's name was Casmir Stonkoluk and he was reputed to be a rough character as well as a skilled professional checkerist. Casmir took one look at Marvin and said, "Enjoy your little winter adventure? I thought it was fun and put me in a mood to get even for the last two matches." Marvin had defeated Casmir twice in a row in the earlier matches of the series.

"I need more hot chocolate," was all Marvin could say as he gave Casmir a quite shaky handshake.

"Cold, are you? Well this is going to be one cold day for you, my American friend, 'cause I'm going to knock you cold--- on the checkerboard, I mean! Don't look like some scared rabbit--- I'm not gonna hurt you too much!" Casmir guffawed. But at that moment the referee's whistle blew and the match began.

Was it that Casmir played better than in previous matches, or did Marvin play worse? Marvin was constantly calling for more cups of hot chocolate, which were duly served by the staff, but the afternoon was wearing on, it was getting colder by the minute, and what was a light breeze was starting to turn into a significant wind.

Marvin was aware of a League rule which stated that the referee could suspend the match if conditions were unfavorable. At one point Marvin actually went to the referee and asked.

"Isn't it kinda, you know, like too cold and windy and stuff to keep playing?"

The referee, one Muskie Muskovich, replied, "You mean you want me to stop the match? Are you joking? We only stop outdoor play when the wind chill hits -100F, and we're only at -75F now. Plenty warm enough. You better go back to your board, your clock's running."

Marvin, continuing to constantly drink hot chocolate and not having time to make it to the restroom, was now squirming in his seat, having a problem besides being cold. The game, however, had reached a critical point. The other games in the match had concluded with the score 2 1/2 - 1 1/2 in favor of the Doublejumpers. To win the match for his team, Marvin needed a draw, but he was a piece down in the following position.

Marvin knew he had to bring the game to a conclusion--- for more than one reason. Quickly, he made his move.

---

We hope that you're both warmer and more "relaxed" than Marvin, if you know what we mean. You don't have to go out on the ice nor need you drink hot chocolate (unless you wish to) in order to solve this problem. It's surprisingly easy and very practical. Don't get cold feet; solve the problem and then cool your mouse on Read More to see the solution and the brief conclusion of our story.

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It was Saturday, January 8, 1955, and at the Beacon Cafe in the Provident Life Building in Bismarck, North Dakota, the Coffee and Cake Checker Club was having its first weekly meeting after the holiday break. Presided over by its informal leader, Sal Westerman, the club met on Saturdays from just after Labor Day until just before Memorial Day, with short breaks for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's Day.

There was a good turnout and many of the "boys" (all but one of whom were over 50) were on hand. Regulars Delmer, Wayne, Larry, Tom, Louie the Flash and Dan were joined by Sal, of course, and also Ron and Old Frank, who didn't attend quite as often.

All the talk today was about, or actually from, Louie the Flash, who was waxing eloquent about his new girlfriend, someone he had met on a holiday trip to Fargo, North Dakota.

"Come on, Louie," Dan said, "this is about your nineteenth girlfriend in one year. How long will this one last?"

"Oh, no, no, not this time, man, like she's the one. I mean the one. I just know it for sure."

"You said that about Mary, and Rose, and Marcy, and Ellen, and Iris and I don't know how many others. Every one of them was the one until you broke up with them or more like they broke up with you," Wayne said.

"Aw, c'mon guys," said Louie, "you're being kind of hard on me. No, I tell you, Agatha is it. She's beautiful and she's about my age, and get this ... she loves to play checkers."

Most of the boys sat up in their seats. "Now this is starting to get interesting," Delmer said. "Is she good?"

"Good? She's amazing. We played a few games and she won more than half of them. She said she plays on the team at the sugar mill where she works. They play in the Cass County Industrial League. In fact, look here--- well, I know Sal, you bring a problem every week for us to try, but Agatha gave me one that she composed herself. I said I would bring it here to a Saturday meeting."

"Well," Sal said, "usually either you boys buy treats if you can solve my problem, or I buy if you can't. So Louie, are you willing to take that on and buy for everyone if we solve your girlfriend's problem?"

"Hey wow man," Louie replied, "I don't know ... "

At that moment, with perfect timing, Deana, the proprietess of the Beacon Cafe and a top-notch baker, announced "Fresh chocolate chip brownies today!"

"Louie, be a sport," Old Frank said. "Step up to it. If your girlfriend's problem is a good one, you'll be getting free treats."

"Okay, okay," Louie said, "I couldn't win it and I don't think you boys will either."

Louie took a small slip of paper from his shirt pocket and laid out the following position on a couple of waiting checkerboards.

"Very nice," Sal said, "and this time I get to solve too."

"Half an hour," Louie said.

"No way!" Delmer shot back. "An hour ... "

But within seconds the boys were sharply focused on solving the problem.

---

We don't know if you, our reader, have a new girlfriend, boyfriend, or significant other, let alone one who has a deep interest in checkers, but it makes no difference, as you can enjoy today's setting no matter. As usual, though, you're going to have to supply your own treats. See how you do and then flash your mouse onto Read More to see the solution and the rest of our little story.

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It was New Year's Eve. The National Checker League took a week off from play between Christmas and New Year's Day, and Marvin J. Mavin, the superstar captain of the Detroit Doublejumpers, was at home.

Recall that last month Marvin's wife, Priscilla K. Snelson, who was herself the CEO of the international mega-conglomerate Rust Belt Holdings, had hired some high-powered lawyers who got Marvin reinstated, and then some, after he had been unceremoniously dropped from the team during Doublejumper summer camp (see previous stories for full details). The past few weeks had gone well; the Doublejumpers pulled out of their early-season slump and were moving up in the standings.

However, today Marvin wasn't just home for New Year's Eve--- he was home alone for New Year's Eve.

It all started a little over a week ago when Marvin returned from a Doublejumper road trip. The taxi from the airport dropped him off at about ten o'clock at night. Priscilla, it turned out, was waiting up for him.

"Marvin," she said, before her husband even had a chance to take off his winter coat, "I have great news for you!"

"Just a moment, honey," Marvin replied. "Let me just get changed first ... "

"But don't you want to hear what I have to say?"

"Sure I do, but could I just ... "

"Well, listen, then. You know how we didn't spend Thanksgiving with my parents, and we won't be spending Christmas with them either?"

Now, long-time readers might recall that Marvin did not get along with Priscilla's parents, just as Priscilla's parents did not care at all for Marvin. In fact, they hadn't even so much as spoken since Marvin and Priscilla's wedding about a year and a half ago.

"Uh ... what are you getting at, Prissy?" By now Marvin had at least removed his coat and gloves, although he was still standing and holding them. He had put his suitcase on the floor.

"Guess what!" Priscilla exclaimed. "They invited us for New Year's Eve! They specifically invited you! Not just me, but both of us! They even mentioned you by name! Kind of ... "

"Mentioned me by name ... kind of," Marvin said. "I hope it didn't, you know, like twist their faces up or something."

"Don't be rude. No, they didn't twist up their faces ... all they did was ... well, never mind."

"Come on honey, spill the beans. What did they actually say?"

"Well, I was over there for dinner tonight after I left work, and they said that they'd like to have me over for Christmas Day. I told them we had already made other plans, which is actually the case."

"Yeah, we're meeting your fancy doodle friends at some swank restaurant ... "

"Like I said, Marvin, don't be rude. So Mom went on with asking about New Year's Eve. I said we hadn't made plans ... "

"Gee Prissy, why'd you say that?"

"Because it's the truth, Marvin, and how many times have I told you not to call me Prissy! So anyhow my Mom said, 'I suppose you ought to bring that husband of yours, too.' And my Dad said, 'Well, if you must, you must. Not that I'll like it.'"

Priscilla's hand went to her mouth. "Oops," she said, "I guess I wasn't supposed to tell you that last part. But still, you're invited, and you're going, right? I mean it's a great opportunity to ... "

"It's a great opportunity to do something besides go there. No, Prissy, I ain't going. Not no how, no way. I ain't really welcome and you know it as well as I do."

"Uh, well, except I already accepted on your behalf."

Marvin glowered. "Well then you can just un-accept on my behalf."

"I'll do no such thing ... "

Things didn't actually get better from that point. A kind of stony silence prevailed in Priscilla's swank condo for the next couple of days, with only brief phrases being exchanged between the spouses. Christmas Day came along and Marvin went with Priscilla to meet her upper-crust friends at Le Menu Magnifique, who featured Christmas dinner at the special rate of $749 per person (of course not including tip and tax). Things thawed a bit then as Marvin was at least somewhat polite with Priscilla's friends--- polite, at least, by Marvin's standards.

Then the morning of December 31 came around. "Are you excited for tonight, honey?" Priscilla asked at the breakfast table. "I made you some scrambled eggs. The staff is off for the day and I cooked for you."

"Thanks," Marvin said, looking down at a plate that contained an unidentifiable item and a yellow substance that could have been scrambled eggs, "I know you don't cook often and I appreciate it. But ... uh ... what did you mean by excited for tonight?"

"Why, that's obvious," she replied. "Now, don't forget, we're due at my parents' place at seven for dinner and we'll stay through the arrival of the New Year. It will be really a lot of fun, and it will just be family. None of my father's business associates this year." Priscilla's father, Winston Snelson, was Managing Partner at the high-powered law firm of Snelson, Nelson, Kelson and Delson.

Marvin's fork dropped with a clatter. "I thought we agreed that I ain't going," he said.

"We didn't exactly agree either way. But since I made your breakfast, the least you could do is come along with me. In fact you should do that, breakfast or no breakfast. Besides, I thought that you had changed your mind after the great time we had at Le Menu Magnifique."

"No," Marvin said and repeated once more, "I didn't change my mind and I ain't going, and I didn't have a good time with your fancy shmancy friends neither."

"Fine then!" Priscilla said sharply. "Whatever!" She stood up, reached over, whisked Marvin's plate off the table, and threw both plate and contents in a nearby trash can. The plate shattered as it hit the bottom of the can. "No breakfast for you, and get your own lunch and dinner, too!" Priscilla concluded.

Priscilla swept out of the room, and that was the last Marvin saw of her until he spotted her again in the early evening, on the way to their private elevator.

"My limo will bring me home ... whenever! Maybe!" she said as she entered the elevator. The door closed in front of her and then complete silence prevailed through all 5,000 square feet of the condo.

Marvin sighed. He went into his study and picked up a recent copy of Championship Checker Challenges and found what should have been an interesting problem, but he was unable to focus.

Finally he sighed again and closed the magazine, without solving the problem. Maybe he could watch television. He got out his cell phone and put in an order for fried chicken and biscuits from Cackle Club Chicken and then tuned in to the Checker Channel on the small television in his study. But reruns of last season's championships didn't hold his interest either. Eventually his order of chicken arrived and he picked at it in the breakfast room with little appetite. He couldn't shake off a restless, discontented feeling.

Marvin sat for a while, thoughts coursing through his mind. Finally, he knew he had a decision to make and it wasn't an especially easy one.

He called Priscilla's cell phone number, not expecting much, but to his surprise, she answered.

"Yes, Marvin, what is it?" Priscilla snapped. "I'm not especially pleased to hear from you, so make it quick. We're at dinner right now."

"Uh, well ... it's kind of like this ... "

Marvin spoke for a minute or two and Priscilla's reply was about the same length.

It was actually Priscilla who answered the door at her parents' mansion in Grosse Point.

"I'm happy to see you," Priscilla said, and her smile was genuine.

"Same here," came the reply.

"I'm also kind of surprised."

"Same here."

"Well, come on in. There's still a couple of hours until midnight."

Both Priscilla's mother, Hermione, and her father, Winston, looked up in surprise from their seats in the middle of the mansion's Great Room. Winston was the first to speak.

"This is a surprise!" he said.

"Heard that one already," was the reply.

"Don't know if it's a good surprise," Winston continued.

"Winston, really!" Hermione said. "You agreed to be nice ... "

"Yes, dear, yes, I suppose I did."

"A Happy New Year to you both," Marvin said. He went over and shook hands with Winston and then gave Hermione a hug--- a brief one, but still a hug.

A little later on, after the New Year had arrived, when Marvin and Priscilla had made their farewells and finally gotten back home, Priscilla asked, "What made you change your mind?"

"I dunno," Marvin said. "I just kind of thought that maybe it was time to let bygones be bygones and to move on. Your folks did invite me, even if it was in kind of an off-handed way, and I was wrong to not respond to it at first. So I sorta wanted to make it up ... to them, but more than anything to you."

Priscilla smiled and put her arms around Marvin's neck. "Thank you, husband," she said, and then ...

Well, perhaps at this moment we should give Marvin and Priscilla a little privacy.

---

Let's hope your New Year's Eve isn't preceded by domestic drama; it might distract you enough to draw you away from a challenging checker problem. See how you do with today's offering and then click on Read More to see the solution, which involves numerous "star" moves.

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Jim Court was a big man. Big in every sense of the word. At six feet six inches and 200 pounds, he was physically large. He worked out regularly at an exclusive gym and was muscular and strong, and it all led to a very intimidating appearance. He was in his late 30s in age but he had the strength and endurance of a twenty year old.

He was a big man in other ways, too. Big in business, as the CEO of a major construction company headquartered in the midwestern city in which he lived. A big man around town, as a member of the City Council, chair of the Budget Committee, and with prospects of maybe being elected Mayor at some point.

He was wealthy. His construction company had started long ago as a family business. When Jim inherited it, he took it public and make a fortune overnight. He had a hundred million in investments, property, and cash, and he knew that would only grow with time.

Nothing could stand in Jim's way, and if you were to ask Jim he would tell you as much.

One Sunday in mid-December, when the cold weather had set in, Jim was sitting in his penthouse condo with a glass of French wine, and he started to think about the upcoming holidays. He didn't like this season. For one thing, he had to pay his employees for not only Thanksgiving but Christmas and New Year's Day as well, days on which they did no work for the company at all. Jim had wanted to do away with the holidays. If the workers wanted off, they could go without pay for a day. But it didn't work out and the holidays stayed on the books. However, when the workers started asking for the day after Thanksgiving off, too, Jim drew the line. "I pay you for six holidays a year already," he roared, "and you're not getting another one as long as I'm here!"

He was stingy about raises, benefits, and just about everything else, doing just the minimum the law required. He actually had cut wages once when unemployment was high and the workers had nowhere else to go. "A dime a dozen," he said of his laborers. Jim was a little more careful with the office staff, doing just enough to avoid too much turnover. But he would instantly fire anyone he thought of as disloyal.

Another thing he hated about the season was all this nonsense about giving gifts. Some of his staff gave him gifts; that was fine if they thought they could butter him up that way, but he'd be darned if he'd give gifts to anyone else, and as he had no living family, he didn't have to bother with relatives, either.

His thoughts weren't making him happy and were ruining his enjoyment of his $250 bottle of wine. Jim was stingy with everyone but himself. "It's my money and I'm the one who should enjoy it," he would often say, especially when turning down requests for charitable donations.

"I think I'll go for a walk and clear my head of all this Christmas nonsense," he said to himself, "although I suppose there will be those stupid decorations everywhere and people asking for handouts."

Jim put on his faux fur coat and hat and his Italian leather gloves and took the elevator down to the lobby. When the doorman said, "Happy holidays, Mr. Court," Jim scowled at him and said, "You must be new here. If you want to keep your job you better watch what you say."

Jim walked for maybe twenty minutes, setting a brisk pace, until he came upon a park where the checker hustlers hung out, at all times of the year in all sorts of weather. Now, Jim fancied himself a good checker player, much as he thought he was good at nearly everything. In fact, he was pretty good, though short of professional status.

"Maybe I'll go win a game or two," he thought, and he let his footsteps carry him into the park. There were concrete tables all around with embedded checkerboards. Despite the cold there were quite a few people in the park, as you might expect for a sunny Sunday afternoon. A few were playing chess but most were playing checkers. A couple of tables seemed open, with just one person sitting at the board.

A ragged looking fellow, probably in his forties and sporting a scruffy beard, waved at Jim. The man's hands were encased in gloves with the fingers exposed. "Hey man," he said, "how about a game? Only five bucks and you'll learn something for sure."

Jim looked over at the man. "Learn something, will I? Okay, let's play and we'll see who learns what."

"Five bucks," the man said. "That's the stakes."

"Make it ten," Jim said, "or more if you like."

"Okay, ten, but I don't ... "

"Play, don't talk," Jim said as he sat down on the concrete bench attached to the table. The seat was cold and Jim swept the lower part of his coat underneath him.

The game went on for a little while and Jim won. The hustler was pretty good but he made a mistake and Jim took advantage of it.

Jim made to stand up. "Pay me," he said.

"Aw, man ... how about double or nothing?" the hustler said.

"Okay. Go on. You get White this time."

Jim won again, and the disheartened look on the hustler's face was impossible to miss.

"Twenty dollars," Jim said, "and no more double or nothing stuff, either."

"Gee, I'm poor and can barely buy food ... hey, it's Christmas, and from the looks of you, you got money ... can you give me a break? Anyhow I'm sorry but I ain't got twenty bucks."

Jim leaned over the table and grabbed the hustler by his tattered coat. He lifted him off his seat with one hand and tightened his grip, making a fist with the other. "Twenty dollars, or else."

The hustler struggled a little but Jim's grip was too strong. The man looked frightened. "Mister, come on, I told you, I ain't got ... "

"I'll pay it." Unseen by Jim, another, more elderly man, dressed all in white and wearing a white cap and gloves, had approached. "Put the man down, Mr. Court. You're committing assault."

"Who are you?" Jim roared, "and how do you know my name?"

"Everyone knows you, Mr. Court, you're a big man, aren't you now?"

"That I am, and now I'm warning you to mind your own business. This hustler is a fraud and he owes me."

"I said I'll pay it," the white coated man said. He offered a twenty dollar bill to Jim. "My name is Gabe and I'm happy to clear this up."

Jim let go of the hustler, who fell back onto the hard bench. Gabe took another twenty and handed it to the hustler. "For your troubles," Gabe said, "and a Merry Christmas to you."

"Thanks ... I ... Merry Christmas to you too!" the hustler said. He quickly got up and hurried out of the park.

"Now," Gabe said, "there seems to be an opening at this table, Mr. Court. Would you like to play a serious game for a serious stake?"

Jim looked Gabe squarely in the eye. "I don't know who you are and what you're up to, but you're an interfering busybody and I'll be happy to teach you a lesson. Name your stakes."

Gabe pulled out an envelope. "I have here cashier's check, made out to you, for one hundred million dollars," he said. "Examine it if you wish. It is genuine. You don't have anything similar with you, but I will accept your marker when you lose."

Jim's eyes popped when he saw the check. It was indeed genuine; Jim had an eye for that sort of thing. Another hundred million --- that would just about double his fortune. Of course if he lost, he'd be dead broke ... but there were ways around that. And he wasn't going to lose.

"Let's play," Jim said.

The game began. Jim built up a huge material advantage and was certain he would win. He could barely believe that when the following position was reached, with Gabe to play, Jim was ahead by six pieces. It was the strangest game Jim had ever played.

Jim was smiling--- but so was Gabe, as he reached out to make his move.

---

We doubt that any checker player anywhere has ever played for a one-game stake of a hundred million dollars. Big Jim certainly has a lot on the line here. But for you, our reader, there are no stakes at all and it's just for fun. Give today's problem a try--- maybe a hundred million tries--- and then click your mouse on Read More to see the solution and the rest of the story.

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It was Saturday, December 17, 1955 and in Bismarck, North Dakota the Coffee and Cake Checker Club was having the last of its weekly meetings prior to a two-week holiday break.

The club, under the informal leadership of Sal Westerman, met at the Beacon Cafe in the Provident Life Building, where proprietess Deana Nagel made and sold the best baked goods in the region. There was a good turnout today; Young Blaine was there along with Sam, Wayne, Delmer, Dan, Old Frank (who was hardly the oldest one there; in fact only Young Blaine was under the age of 50), seldom-seen Ron, Kevin the Spooler, and Louie the Flash. That made for quite a crowd and it spilled over into the second large booth at the back of the cafe.

The talk was about Young Blaine, who during the previous holiday season had become engaged to his girlfriend in Minot. The engagement was now about a year old and Young Blaine was getting teased (Young Blaine was always getting teased) about not yet having set a wedding date.

"Don't make her wait too long," Louie the Flash--- himself a confirmed bachelor--- was saying. "She'll drop you if you don't get a move on."

"As if you'd know," said Wayne, who had been married for many years.

"It's been a year since you gave her that ring," Dan observed. "What are you going to do to top that this year? You not only ought to set the date, you need to give her something nice besides."

"Aw, come on guys, give me a break," Young Blaine protested. "I'm still a junior engineer at the power company and I don't make a big salary. It's like I've been telling Moira lately, we can set a date as soon as I get my first promotion. That won't take more than another year."

"Another year?" Delmer exclaimed. "When you told Moira that how did she take it?"

"She got kind of quiet for a while," Young Blaine said, "and then she was kind of grumpy for a few days. I didn't really get it."

The rest of the boys could be seen to shake their heads, and then Deana, who never missed anything, spoke up from behind her counter. "I don't want to be mean about it," she said, "but if I were your girlfriend, you'd get a real clear ultimatum from me and you'd have about sixty seconds to deal with it. Come on Blaine, you know darn well what to do. Go buy her another piece of expensive jewelry--- buy it on time if you have to--- and then ask her to set the date. And make it real clear that she can choose any date she wants and you'll be delighted to go along with it."

"Wow," Young Blaine said, "I'm getting it from all sides. Not my day, I guess."

"No, young fellow," Deana went on, "it is your day. We're giving you good advice which is going to save you a lot of grief and heartache."

At that point Sal decided to step in. "Okay, boys," he said, "we're here for checkers so let's get down to today's business. I have a nice problem for you, one that will take you into the holidays in good cheer until we meet again in January."

So saying, Sal set up the following position on a checkerboard in each of the big booths.

"Now, my wife Sylvia and I could use some nice treats today, so maybe you won't get this one and you'll be buying for us," he said, referring to the tradition that if the boys could solve Sal's problem Sal would treat everyone, while if they couldn't solve it, the boys would buy for Sal and Sylvia.

Meanwhile Young Blaine looked relieved to be off the hook at least for the moment, as the boys were very quickly deep into the checker problem. They didn't even hear Deana announce that today she had freshly baked cinnamon raisin bars.

---

Were the boys and Deana giving Young Blaine good advice, even if it was unsolicited and perhaps unwanted? We'll leave that up to you to decide, just as we'll for the moment leave it up to you to solve today's problem. Don't wait a year or more for a possible job promotion; see how you do, after which we advise you to click on Read More to view the solution. You will have to provide your own treats and coffee, though, and it's only fair to warn you that this problem is tricky and devious in the extreme.

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