Tommy Wagner was finishing up his sophomore (2nd) year at a large high school in central Florida. Recall that from our last story, Tommy's coach, Coach Schann, had moved him up to fifth board on the Varsity Checker squad's first team. His performance had been solid, and with summer coming up, it wouldn't be long until fall tryouts. As a junior (3rd year), Tommy would like to be able to move up a board or two.

He had good chances. The top three players, a titled Master and two Experts, were graduating. But still the competition would be tough. The fourth board player was also an Expert. Tommy had reached Class A but there were three other Class A players on the second team and they too were wanting to move up.

There was just one little problem: Tommy was tired. He had worked hard all through the school year, not just on checkers but on his schoolwork, and had turned in a series of straight A report cards, earning top marks in nearly every one of his classes.

But he wanted some time off. He wanted to go fishing and ride his bicycle and sleep late in the morning. He wanted to sit out in the shade and read some science fiction. And he wanted to make another attempt at reconciling with his former girlfriend Tina--- or lacking that, find a new one.

He didn't want to study checkers every morning and evening. He didn't want to work as a checker coach at summer camp. And sad to say, he didn't want to go for lessons with Uncle Ben every Saturday morning.

Uncle Ben was a retired checker professional who had had a storied career and had written many well received checker instruction books. He took on a small number of students, generously giving his time for free to promising candidates. Tommy was his star pupil and the two of them had built a close relationship. Although Ben wasn't really Tommy's uncle, Tommy saw him as one.

But Tommy wanted a few weeks, maybe even a month, of pure leisure.

Tommy's mom wasn't too happy about this. "You need to talk to Uncle Ben," she said, "he's been very good to you and you really shouldn't let him down."

"Okay, Mom, I will, but gee ... "

His mom interrupted. "No more, Tommy. We'll talk about this after you've talked with Uncle Ben.

So when Saturday came around, Tommy didn't skip down the sidewalk in anticipation as he usually did when on his way to Uncle Ben's porch, where he knew a fresh pitcher of lemonade would be waiting along with lots of checker material to learn.

Tommy arrived at Uncle Ben's and pretty much dragged himself up the steps of the front porch. Uncle Ben, of course, couldn't help but notice.

"Let's have some lemonade and talk a little," Uncle Ben said in a calm voice. "We don't need to rush to get into our lesson this morning. Help yourself!" Uncle Ben indicated the icy cold pitcher. "Please pour me a glass, too."

Tommy did as he was asked. He had to admit that the lemonade looked and smelled as wonderful as always. When he had handed Uncle Ben his glass and took a seat with his own, Tommy said, "I bet my Mom called you."

"Actually, she didn't," Uncle Ben said, "but it's obvious that's something is ailing you and I know what it is."

"Really?" replied Tommy. "But how could you ... "

"Tommy, I'm an old fellow and I've seen a lot in my days. You've got a case of checker fatigue, pure and simple. It happens to all of us sometimes. Even to me."

"To you, Uncle Ben?" Tommy said incredulously.

"Yes, and more than once. The first time was in college and the second time was when I moved up from AAA checkers to the Majors. I should have been excited and thrilled, and I guess I was, but I had put in so much effort I didn't know if I had anything left to give."

"I kind of feel that way too," Tommy said. "I really think I've worked hard and now it's time to move up, but that means working even harder. And then working still harder after that to do well for the team."

"You're right," Uncle Ben said, "there is a lifetime of work ahead of you."

"What did you do when you felt that way, Uncle Ben?"

"What I did, Tommy, was to take a look back, and took the time to realize hard work had brought me a long way. But I also recognized that things go along one step at a time, and instead of thinking I was facing endless years of work, I focused on the one thing that came next. In the college case, it was making it into the pro ranks. Never mind about A or AAA or the Majors; the first thing was just to get in. And then later when I did hit the Big Show, it was just, let's win the next match. Not, let's win every match this season, but just the next one, one at a time. And ... I also made sure I got some rest during the off-season."

"How did you do that?"

"I took off the first two weeks after the season ended and didn't even think about checkers. I visited home, I went to a few shows, I slept late a few times ... kind of like you're thinking about doing."

"Yes ... but ... don't you want me to continue working hard?"

"Of course I do, Tommy. But I can tell when someone needs a break, too. Now, you've got over ten weeks until the fall tryouts. I'll show you some material today and give you some to take home with you. But I want you to take two weeks off to ride your bike and go hiking and all the things you want to do. However, after those two weeks it will be time to get back to work. And I think you'll be more than ready to do so. In fact, you'll want to get back to work."

Tommy once again thought about what a wise man Uncle Ben was and how lucky he was to have him as a mentor. "Sounds great, Uncle Ben!" he said with renewed cheer.

"All right then, young man, let's look at a problem that involves the notion of a pitch."

Uncle Ben pointed to a position he had set up on an adjacent checkerboard.

"I'll pour us a little more lemonade while you work this one out."

Tommy smiled and set to work.

---

Yes, we all need a break at times, and if we've been working intensely at it for a long while, perhaps even a break from checkers. But let's hold off on that and solve today's problem. Match wits with Tommy and then click on Read More to see the solution, the brief conclusion of our story, a sample game, and no less than 21 additional examples.

[Read More]

On Memorial Day we give honor to those who made the ultimate sacrifice and recognize all who served. The world is not a peaceful place, unfortunately, and there are others who would happily take away our freedoms and impose their will. This weekend The Checker Maven extends its appreciation to those who day in and day out have protected and continue to protect our way of life even at great personal cost.

Our own observations have been that many checker players tend to the patriotic side and here at The Checker Maven it's no different. We've often said that we are unapologetic patriots. Times have been difficult lately; we won't say more than that but we do not waver from the idea of patriotism as wanting what's best for one's country, and if things are not as they should be, we work to make them better.

We've also frequently said that a checkerist who was a true patriot was Tom Wiswell, who served in the Army during World War II. So let's look at something of his. It's from a game he played once upon a time against James Ricca. Mr. Wiswell had White and was to play and draw.

The solution to this one is fairly long and will require thought, but the situation is a practical one. Give it your best and then click on Read More to see the solution.

[Read More]

It was the next to last Saturday in May, and with Memorial Day weekend coming up the following week, this was the last meeting of the season for the Coffee and Cake Checker Club, led by Sal Westerman. The Club met Saturdays at the Beacon Cafe in Bismarck, North Dakota, from just after Labor Day until just before Memorial Day, with breaks only for the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays. Summers in North Dakota were very brief and the focus was almost exclusively on outdoor activities.

As usual for a season closeout, turnout was good. In addition to Sal there were Louie the Flash, Larry (also known as Sam), Delmer, Mike, Wayne, Dan, Young Blaine (the only member under 50 years of age), as well as Ron and Old Frank. The group overflowed into a second large booth at the back of the Cafe.

Also as usual for a season closeout, initial discussion focused on summer plans. Louie the Flash said he was taking a trip to the Pacific Northwest with his girlfriend Hortense. He said he and Hortense had been together for a little over two months now, which as Larry observed, was something of a record for Louie.

Larry in turn was going to Florida to visit family. Wayne would spend some time on the family farm up in Wilton, helping his kids with farm work. Delmer, Dan, and Mike didn't have particular plans beyond weekends camping at a lake spot. Young Blaine was going backpacking in Colorado with his wife, Moira, to celebrate their first anniversary.

Ron was going to visit relatives in South Dakota, while Old Frank spent every summer working intensely on his dollhouse business, as demand during the holiday season was increasing year by year.

But when it came Sal's turn, he was uncharacteristically quiet. "I've got something I'd like to work on," was all he said, and no amount of prodding, teasing, or pleading could get him to say anything more than that. (Regular Checker Maven readers will learn more about this next month.)

Sal finally said, "Enough summer talk; let's get down to checkers and make the most of our time. I've got a nice little problem for you to work on."

Deana Nagel, the proprietess of the Beacon Cafe and a blue ribbon baker, was of course listening to every word, and with perfect timing called out from behind her counter, "Fresh strawberry rhubarb pie today!"

The idea was that the "boys" as Sal called them, would try to solve his weekly problem. If they could win it, Sal bought the treats for all. If they couldn't, the boys would buy for Sal as well as an extra serving for Sal to take home to his wife, Sylvia.

Sal laid out the following position on one board at each table, and announced that solving time would be limited to 45 minutes. But the boys, already deeply engrossed, barely heard him.

---

The Checker Maven doesn't pause for summer or holidays, and our columns will continue as always. But can you meet Sal's challenge, and earn yourself some strawberry rhubarb pie (which, alas, you will have to supply for yourself)? See how you do and then click on Read More to see the solution and the brief conclusion of our story.

[Read More]

Marvin lay unconscious in a hospital bed, with bandages and casts all over his body, including most of his face. An IV drip was in each arm.

Priscilla tried to get herself back under control. But the sight of Marvin in the condition he was in was a lot for her to process.

"I told you," Dr. Walters admonished, in a voice that could have been a little more friendly than it actually was. "He's going to be okay, but he was badly hurt and it shows."

"I ... I see that ... ", Priscilla stammered. "Can I talk to him?"

"We're keeping him sedated. Meanwhile, though, there's this detective waiting to talk to you. Perhaps you could do that first and maybe you'll be able to talk to your husband in the morning."

"Uh, okay."

"This way, Ms. Snelson," said the doctor.

A squat man in a rumpled suit was sitting in the waiting room. "I'm Detective Nero Lyon," he said, offering a hand. Priscilla gave it a perfunctory shake. "I've got a couple of questions if you don't mind."

Priscilla took a seat and the detective began, "Quite a beating your husband took," he said, "and he was found under a bridge where he was evidently dumped. Nothing was taken from him, so it wasn't a robbery. So it looks like some sort of mob action. They didn't kill him but they made it as close as possible, like they were sending a message. You know anything about it?"

"Mob action? What would I know about that?"

"Your husband have gambling debts? Maybe loans from loan sharks?"

"Marvin makes $10 million a year. I make five times that, and more with bonuses ... "

The detective showed signs of impatience. "Look, lady, just because you're some kind of hot-shot executive and he's some kind of hot-shot sports guy, that don't mean you don't got no debts. I seen a lot of stuff in my day and there ain't nothing that would surprise me. So just answer the question, okay?"

In the back of her mind, Priscilla wondered why the detective's English had suddenly dropped a few levels of education. "No," she said, "we ain't got no debts or nothing."

"You makin' fun a me? Ah, whaddya expect. Look here, if you think of anything give me a call." The detective handed over a copy of his business card. "I ain't got no more time to waste here."

Marvin was in the hospital for a few days, but he seemed to recover quickly. Meanwhile, a police investigation turned up nothing. A couple of people thought they saw a car in front of Marvin's dive bar, but they couldn't provide any details and there were seemingly no witnesses at the bridge under which Marvin had been dumped. Priscilla thought the investigation was rather perfunctory, and her efforts to get more information from the police ran up against a wall, even when she had her lawyers start making calls.

On the night before Marvin was due to be sent home from the hospital, and just after Priscilla had stopped by for a quick visit, another visitor entered Marvin's room. It was definitely someone known to Marvin.

"Commissioner!" Marvin exclaimed. "Oh, I mean, like, you know, Deputy Commissioner."

Indeed the person who had just come into the room was none other than Cliff Arachnida, who was in fact Deputy Commissioner of the National Checker League.

"How you doing, Marv, old boy?" Cliff asked. "Heard you met up with a kind of mishap."

"I"m gettin' better," said Marvin. "Goin' home tomorrow though they ain't gonna let me play for a few more days."

"A shame," Cliff said. "Look, I just wanted to drop by and tell you that everyone at NCL HQ is thinking of you."

"Real nice of them," said Marvin.

Cliff took a seat in one of the visitor chairs at the side of the room. He scooted it up to Marvin's bed and leaned forward with his hands on the bed's railing. "Well, see, Marvin, there's one other thing. I heard about that story that lady in New York wrote after she talked to you. Shame what happened to her, though. Everyone said she was one of the best investigative reporters in the city."

Marvin suddenly looked alert. "What are you gettin' at?" he asked, his tone sharp.

"Oh, now, relax, Marvin, it's just that--- well, see, it occurred to me that maybe somebody is trying to tell you something."

Marvin, who had already thought that Carol Catchem's "accident" and his beating were too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence, didn't reply.

"I heard the police suspect one of the mobs was involved," Cliff continued. "Pretty serious people, those mobsters."

"How did you know ... " Marvin was sure the newspapers hadn't mentioned the mob in reporting the incident.

"Oh, well," Cliff said, "I'm supposed to know things. That's how I help everyone out, including you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. So you say you'll be out for a couple of days yet?"

"Yeah ... "

"So then you'll be back in time for the Doublejumpers road series with the Kansas City Kelsos."

"Sure, but ... "

"Now, here's the deal. You're good, really good, and you win a lot, right?"

"That's what I'm supposed to do," Marvin replied. "Play to win, score for the team and stuff."

"Maybe you win a little too often. Now, keeping in mind the message the mob boys delivered to you--- in person--- you might want to win a little less. Specifically in the second game of that Kelso series. And you for sure you might want to stay away from reporters, cops, and so on. You get the drift, I'm sure."

Marvin looked shocked. "Are you tellin' me to throw a game?"

Cliff raised a finger to his lips. "Ssh ... too loud. I'm not telling you anything except how it could just happen that you lose in the second match of the series. Of course, you might win, but of course ... well, anything might happen afterwards. Now, I need to get going; I've got a plane to catch back to headquarters in Ohio. Let's not meet again, shall we? Just stay on the path and we won't need to. And neither will you need to meet up with--- certain others."

Before Marvin could say anything, Cliff had left the room.

Marvin didn't know what to do. The threat was clear, and his suspicions that something wasn't right in the NCL seemed to be confirmed.

Marvin went home the next morning and would convalesce for a couple of days before rejoining the team and flying to Kansas City. That evening, he mentioned Cliff's visit to Priscilla, who was as shocked as Marvin. She too, had not thought the death of Carol Catchem and Marvin's assault by thugs was just a coincidence.

"Should I talk to Coach?" Marvin asked. "When I talked to him before he didn't wanna listen, and then there's all that stuff with bringin' in subs who were scrubs and lost matches for us."

Priscilla thought for a little while. "I'd say it's your duty to tell Coach. I'm sure somewhere there's a player rule about reporting attempts to influence games. Coach may have been doing some odd things, but we don't know more than that, really. Coach has never had much of a liking for you so maybe that's all there is to it."

"I 'spose," Marvin said, "but I ain't really so sure. Okay, lemme try."

Marvin didn't get a chance to speak privately with Coach Baba Dudut until after the team's arrival in Kansas City.

Marvin caught up with Coach in the hotel lobby. "Coach, I gotta talk to you."

"What do you want?" Coach seemed quite impatient. "I have strategy to plan for tomorrow's match and I don't have time to spare."

"Over here, okay," Marvin said, grasping Coach's arm and pulling him toward a quiet corner of the lobby. Coach somewhat angrily pulled his arm away. "This better be good," he growled.

Marvin quickly explained the visit from Cliff and what Cliff had said. Coach didn't bat an eye. When Marvin had finished, Coach said, "Quite a story, Marvin. I wouldn't believe it except you have no reason to lie. Well, you do whatever you want. It's your affair. But I'll tell you this, if I were you, I'd think about whether I wanted to win that game in the second match. You already had bad things happen to you once."

At that Coach walked away, unwilling to listen to Marvin any further.

Marvin, once again, was stunned. Things were possibly much worse than he would have imagined.

The Doublejumpers won the first match in the series and Marvin, playing first board against Kansas City's Billy "BBQ" Benson, won his own game without too much difficulty.

But it was now the next day and time for the second match. And Marvin had a decision to make.

Except, that decision came easily to him. Marvin might have his faults but dishonesty was certainly not one of them. The game began and after a little while reached the following position with Marvin to move.

Marvin knew he could easily play a bad move and lose, and avoid--- whatever might be coming his way.

"Nah," he said out loud, and made his move.

---

We have to admire Marvin's honesty and ethical sportsmanship. But nonetheless he's in quite a situation. Hopefully none of our readers face equivalent dilemmas, and you can solve today's position at ease and at leisure. When you're ready, click on Read More for the solution and the conclusion of today's episode.

[Read More]

Looks like the folks in the photo above are in quite a rush. Maybe they should "make haste slowly" lest they trip and fall.

"Make haste slowly" is the watchphrase for this month's speed problem. In the diagram below, White is two pieces up and the win, as they say "should be easy" and it actually is --- if you make haste slowly.

How fast can you solve this one? Perhaps fast enough --- but not too fast? Proceed a bit slowly, and when you're ready hasten to click on Read More to see the solution.

[Read More]

Our site is and always will be completely free and non-commercial, with no advertising of any kind, and no donations asked or accepted. But hosting costs have increased greatly over the years.

So we have switched to a webhosting plan that will save us about 11% right away and 40% in 2027. We were promised a smooth transition and no decrease in service and that's been the case so far.

If you do see something that doesn't seem correct, please let us know at webmaster@checkermaven.com. Mahalo for visiting our site!

Since time immemorial, in the world of politics, business, religion, what have you--- someone will come up with an idea or a concept and invariably there will be opposition from someone else, typically another political party. In genteel Parliamentary circles, these opposers are often called "The Loyal Opposition" but behind the polite facade often lies something entirely different. In less genteel circles, less genteel terms may be used but the concept is still the same.

In our game of checkers "the opposition" refers (happily) to quite another thing. In years past, and even now, this has been called "the move" and to paraphrase various famous checkerists, "Much nonsense has been written about it."

Do you win with the move? Sometimes. Does having the move make a difference? Sometimes. But recasting the notion as "having the opposition" (loyal or not) can clarify matters a bit, and this leads to today's position, accredited to J. Wyllie and published, among other places, in Andrew Banks' electic book Checker Board Strategy.

This one is pretty easy; figure out "the move" that wins, and after that, we have no "opposition" to your clicking on Read More to check your solution.

[Read More]

Marvin made his exit once Coach Baba Dudut finished chewing him out about the newspaper article. He went home fuming. The Leapers were another contending team and Marvin couldn't understand why Coach, despite his anger, would send him home and put in a lower ranked substitute. Surely he knew they needed to put forth their best efforts against the Leapers?

He arrived home around 6 PM after fighting with rush hour traffic. He immediately opened up a beer and sat down in the theater room to watch a movie classic, Gone With The Wind, whose title about expressed his feelings about the Doublejumpers chances against Los Angeles. He was so upset he didn't even want to watch the Checker Television Network or read a checker newspaper or magazine.

An hour or so later his wife, Priscilla, returned home in her chauffeur driven Rolls Royce limousine. Priscilla, as the CEO of the giant international conglomerate, Rust Belt Holdings, nearly always worked late, and 7 PM was a relatively early time for her to return to her 5,000 square foot luxury condo.

She heard the movie playing in the theater room, and when she went to look, to her surprise Marvin was in one of the reclining leather chairs, sleeping, with an empty can of beer at his side.

Priscilla switched off the movie and gave Marvin a gentle shake of the shoulders. "Marvin," she said, "what are you doing here? Don't you have a match tonight?"

Marvin shuddered and woke. "Huh, wha ... ? Oh, hi honey," he said. "Yeah, well about that match ... "

Priscilla guided Marvin into the living room where they sat together on one of the Chesterfields. "Can I get another beer?" Marvin muttered.

"No, dear," Priscilla replied, "dinner will be served soon and you don't need more beer. Now, tell me what happened."

Marvin told Priscilla the whole story, about the phone call from the investigative reporter, Carol Catchem, the unfortunate news story in the New York Times-Herald, and Coach's subsequent anger. "It just don't seem right," Marvin concluded.

Priscilla looked pensive, and after a few moments she said, "No, it isn't quite right. But neither was it right for you to have given that pushy reporter so much ammunition for an attack piece."

"I 'spose," Marvin said, "but now I'm suspended for the whole series with the Leapers and it ain't gonna end well.

Marvin and Priscilla had their dinner, prepared as usual by Priscilla's private chef; the appetizer was Oysters Rockefeller, the main dish was Coq au Vin, and the dessert was Profiteroles au Chocolat. Each course was naturally accompanied by an appropriate wine.

"I think I'll go to bed early," Marvin said, but he couldn't resist checking on the results of the Doublejumper match that evening.

The first four boards had played well against the Leapers but the team had lost the match thanks to poor play by substitute Maxie Minima. She was on fifth board and managed to lose by playing 17-21 in the following position.

It had happened again. A substitute player on 5th board had cost the Doublejumpers the match. Marvin was beside himself. He wanted to call Coach on the phone but in the end thought better of it. Neither could he protest in person, as Coach had banned him from the Checkerdrome until the three match homestand with the Leapers was over.

The following morning after the usual early breakfast with Priscilla, who liked to get to work no later than 7 AM, Marvin poured himself a second cup of coffee and picked up the morning newspaper. He didn't have the heart to turn to the sports section and read further about the Doublejumpers' loss last night, so he browsed the news.

To his surprise and shock, on the fifth or sixth page he saw the following story.

INVESTIGATIVE REPORTER KILLED IN PEDESTRIAN ACCIDENT

"The famed New York Herald-Times investigative reporter, Carol Catchem, was killed in a pedestrian accident last night near Times Square. Witnesses said Ms. Catchem was waiting at a crosswalk for the light to change, when a large black sedan with heavily tinted windows swerved onto the sidewalk and hit Ms. Catchem. She was pronounced dead at the scene. No one else was injured. Police are investigating. Witnesses further reported that they didn't think the sedan bore any license plates."

"Hola mola," exclaimed Marvin, "I just talked to that gal and like, got into trouble and stuff. And now lookit what happened ..."

Marvin gave this further thought and didn't like what he was thinking. He didn't really believe in coincidences, and this was one colossal coincidence--- if that's what it was.

# # #

Marvin went out for a run to clear his head, then took a long hot shower. He supposed he had ought to be doing some checker study, but he wouldn't be playing for another couple of days and so decided to give himself a day off.

He hadn't had lunch, and it was now already two in the afternoon. Priscilla wouldn't be home for a while and dinner wouldn't be until eight. Rather than dig in the fridge (Priscilla's chef didn't serve lunch on workdays) Marvin decided that maybe a little bar food--- and a theraputic beer or two--- would be in order.

So he dressed casually and headed out for his favorite local dive bar. He would never drink and drive so he called for a taxi; dive bars didn't exist in Priscilla's very posh neighborhood, and so there was some little distance to travel.

He made limited small talk with the cab driver, who of course instantly recognized him and wanted to talk checkers, but Marvin was pretty laconic. The cab driver seemed a bit miffed but Marvin gave him a good tip and that seemed to satisfy him.

Marvin was well known at the bar, too, being something of a frequent customer when the Doublejumpers were at home, but the bar patrons and bartenders generally left him to himself unless he invited conversation. Today, he didn't. He just ordered a plate of sliders and a beer and sat quietly on his bar stool.

Time went by faster than Marvin realized, and before he knew it he had had several beers, several plates of sliders, and now it was fully dark outside. "Oops," he said, "Priscilla ain't gonna like this." Turning to the bartender, he said, "Put the tab on my card and call me a taxi, Dan, 'kay?"

"Sure Marv," Dan replied. "Good to see you here. You have a nice evening and say hi for me to that pretty wife of yours."

We'll at least say this much for Marvin; he had drunk his beers slowly and was still mostly sober and reasonably steady on his feet.

"See ya, everybody!" he said, waving in no particular direction. He made his way out the door and stood on the sidewalk in front of the bar, waiting for his cab. It was a cool night and Marvin hadn't brought a jacket.

"C'mon, taxi," he said, wrapping his arms around himself, "I'm kinda chilly out here."

Just at that moment a long black limousine pulled up to the curb. Three large men in leather jackets poured out of the vehicle and ran straight at Marvin. Two of them grabbed him by an arm each while the third one gave Marvin a hard punch to the solar plexus. All the air rushed out of Marvin's lungs and he went limp. The thugs piled Marvin into the limo, with one on each side of him and one on the opposite bench seat.

"Ve take you for leetle ride," one of them said. "Ve teach you someting about talking vit reporters."

The limo sped away from the curb and hurried off into the night.

# # #

It wasn't until maybe one in the morning when a patrol car spotted an inert form under a bridge some miles from the bar Marvin had visited. The car stopped and the two patrolmen manning it got out to have a look.

They rolled the body over. "He's breathing, one of them said, and then the other remarked, "Why ... that's Marvin J. Mavin! Someone's beaten him pretty badly!"

# # #

Priscilla was by now quite worried. Marvin wasn't at home when she arrived and wasn't responding to his cell phone. She was about to call the police when her own phone rang.

"Ms. Snelson?" the voice on the other end said. "This is Dr. Walters at City Hospital. We have your husband here. He's suffered quite a beating but there's a good chance that he'll make it."

Priscilla, in shock, could barely reply. "What ... what do you mean ... "

"I'd suggest you come down here right away," Dr. Walters said. "For one thing, there's a police detective that wants to talk to you."

Priscilla quickly called for her limo and the driver sped as rapidly as possible to City Hospital.

"I want to see him," Priscilla said upon arrival. 'My husband. Marvin J. Mavin. I want to see him. Now."

The reception desk called for Dr. Walters, who arrived in a minute or so. "This way, Ms. Snelson," he said, "but perhaps it would be best to wait ... "

"I want to see him now," Priscilla repeated in a tone that brooked no contradiction.

"As you wish, ma'am," the doctor said.

But when Priscilla entered Marvin's room and saw him, she burst into uncontrollable tears.

To be continued.

---

It looks like this time our hero has run into real trouble and perhaps his life may be in danger. We'll learn more in next month's episode. Meanwhile, though, there's still that checker problem to solve, and it presents no physical danger that we can think of. Risk solving it and then click on Read More to see the solution.

[Read More]

It was the first Saturday of April 1955, in Bismarck, North Dakota. Long-time readers of our column may recall that in Bismarck, the first Saturday of April was the day residents raked up their yards in preparation for spring. It was something that approached a religious requirement. Yards must be raked on that day, and whomever raked up the biggest piles of dead thatch and other debris was considered the most meritorious.

On the other hand, failure to rake your yard, on-time and properly, was simply unthinkable to nearly all Bismarckers, and anyone who didn't--- well, they became instant social pariahs, incurring the disdain, scorn, and often wrath of not just their neighbors but of anyone who even walked or drove by their properties.

Raking the yard yourself was of course the expected method, but there were allowances made for the sick or elderly. Sal Westerman, whom we know as the unofficial leader of the Coffee and Cake Checker Club, was in his seventies and just barely qualified for the elderly exception. Sal generally hired an enterprising young lad to do the raking for him. This was acceptable, but didn't garner any sort of status no matter how many bags of debris the young fellow raked up.

The Club normally met at 1 PM at the Beacon Cafe; they would meet on Saturdays from just after Labor Day to just before Memorial Day. On Raking Day, a smaller than usual turnout was expected, with a couple of latecomers, as not everyone completed their raking by one o'clock, and it simply had to be done before they could think of checkers.

So it was that just after one, Sal was in the big booth at the back of the Cafe with regulars Larry, Wayne, Louie the Flash, and Delmer. Dan had a big yard and might not make it; Mike would likely be there in a half hour or so. Young Blaine hired out his services so he wouldn't be there today as he had several yards to rake.

They were all, of course, drinking coffee and talking about the day's raking. But then in came a stranger. He was about 40 years old (much younger than all the Club members except for Young Blaine).

The newcomer walked back to the big booth and asked in a somewhat brash manner, "This the checker club?"

Sal replied, "Indeed it is. And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

"My name is Dexter," the newcomer said, "Dexter Werner. I'm new to town but I'm a fan of checkers and some folks told me about there being a small-town club."

"Well, have a seat, and welcome, Dexter," Sal said, "we're always happy to have new members." Sal did introductions and then Dan asked, "So where are you from, Dexter?"

"New York City," he said. "I got a job here as a technician with the phone company. My wife and I had lived all our lives in the city and we were tired of the rat race. So I got this job, we bought a house, and we've been here now for a few months. We finally got settled and it seemed like a good time to look up your club."

"Sounds great," said Wayne, and then asked the question of the day. "So how did your raking go today?"

"My what?" Dexter said. "Did you say raking? What do you mean?"

"Well, Dexter, it's well known that you rake up your yard on the first Saturday of April, you know, to get it ready for spring."

"You're kidding," Dexter said with a sort of half smile. "Why would anyone do that?"

"Because that's what you do," Wayne answered. "You want a nice yard, don't you?"

"Never thought about it. But it really doesn't sound very important. Yard, shmard, who cares?"

"Uh, Dexter, your neighbors will care," said Delmer. "They'll care a lot if they have nice yards and yours ... well, frankly ... if yours spoils the neighborhood."

"Never heard anything so silly as that!" Dexter said. "Why, back in the City ... "

"This isn't the City," Delmer went on. "You said you wanted out of the rat race, well, you got that, but things are done a certain way here."

"Oh, give me a break, willya," Dexter said. "Can we just play some checkers and not fuss about raking the yard, for heaven's sake?"

At this Sal interjected, "Yes, Dexter, we'll do some checkers. But a word of advice from a long time resident such as myself ... it will go much better for you if you try to fit in."

"I don't give a hoot about fitting in," Dexter said. "Now, please, checkers."

Dexter was getting glares from all of the boys. He was even getting a dark look from Deana, the Cafe's proprietess.

"All right then," Sal said with a sigh, "here's today's problem. Nothing to do with leaves but a nice little situation. Deana, what's on offer today?"

The tradition was for the boys to pay for treats if they couldn't solve the problem, and for Sal to pay if they could.

"Old fashioned apple pie," Deana said, "and if you're nice to me, I'll put a dollop of whipped cream on top."

The boys expressed their appreciation although Dexter didn't seem to join in.

Sal laid out the following position.

"Half an hour," Sal said, "starting now."

---

We don't know if you're from New York City, Bismarck, points between, or anywhere else. It doesn't matter; you can try Sal's problem and win a piece of apple pie (which unfortunately you'll have to provide on your own). See how you do and then click on Read More for the solution and the rest of our little story.

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Easy? Hard? If you know how to do something, it's easy. If you don't know how, it's hard. While a bit of a simplification, this rings largely true. If you know what you're doing, you'll be able to succeed, even if perhaps with some effort. And that's very much the case in our game of checkers.

In the problem above, White is a piece up and should easily win, correct? And indeed the win isn't that hard--- if you are able to visualize it. In other words, if you know how.

There are actually two winning moves; one wraps things up pretty nicely, while the other wins but takes more effort. Save yourself some time; find the faster win. After all, this is a speed problem! With the time you save, get yourself some coffee and cake and relax a little.

See how you do and then, quick-quick, click-click your mouse on Read More to see the solution.

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