The Checker Maven

The World's Most Widely Read Checkers and Draughts Publication
Bob Newell, Editor-in-Chief


Published each Saturday morning in Honolulu, Hawai`i


Contests in Progress:

Composing Championship #77 (Concluded --- Results Posted)


Pages: | 1 | 2 | 3 | ...| 12 | 13 | 14 | Next»

Marvin's Valentine's Day Gift

20250106-valentimes.jpg

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.

20250106-bigring.jpg

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.

20211031-allchecks.jpg

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.

BLACK
20250106-valentimes.png
WHITE
White to Play and Win

W:W5,K7,K10,26:B1,17,K21,28

"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."

20250106-artcat2.jpg

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.

# # #
20241123-menumag.jpg

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.

20211004-limo.jpg

"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.

20250106-escargot.jpg

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."

20250106-envelope.jpg

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 ... "

20250106-aipoet.jpg

"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."

20250106-nappin.jpg

"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.

20250106-nothappy.jpg

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."

20250106-dontgetit.jpg


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.20050904-symbol.gif

[Read More]
02/15/25 -Printer friendly version-
You can email the Webmaster with your comments on this article.

Checkers Are Red: A Beacon Cafe Story

20190430-beacon.jpg

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!

20250101-picket.jpg

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!"

20250101-redscare.jpg

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."

20250101-police.jpg

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.

20250101-redice.jpg

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."

20050430-maskjun.jpg
Harvey Hopkins

"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."

20250101-slawyer.jpg
Deana's Lawyer

"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."

20250101-bluecrum.jpg

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.

BLACK
20250101-picket.png
WHITE
White to Play and Draw

W:WK5,12,21,22,30:B2,4,13,15,K23

"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.20050904-symbol.gif

[Read More]
02/08/25 -Printer friendly version-
You can email the Webmaster with your comments on this article.

Marvin in Winnipeg

20050222-marvinjmaven.jpg
Marvin J. Mavin

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.

20241126-winnipeg.jpg

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.

20241126-frozenred.jpg

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).

20241126-sauna.jpg

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."

20241126-icehole.jpg

"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.

20241126-stonkus.jpg
Casmir Stonkoluk

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.

20241126-choco.jpg

"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?"

20241126-muskie.jpg
Referee Muskie Muskovich

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.

WHITE
20241126-winnipeg.png
BLACK
Black to Play and Draw

B:WK16,17,K18,22:B13,K26,K31

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.20050904-symbol.gif

[Read More]
01/25/25 -Printer friendly version-
You can email the Webmaster with your comments on this article.

Beacon Cafe: Louie's Girlfriend

20190430-beacon.jpg

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.

20190724-flash.jpg
Louie the Flash

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?"

20241125-theone.jpg

"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."

20241125-agatha.jpg
Agatha Rosenfeld

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 ... "

20241125-ccbrownies.jpg
Credit: Kelly Hunter, Creative Commons License

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.

BLACK
20241125-agatha2.png
WHITE
White to Play and Win

W:W7,10,K11,19,20,24,28,30:B1,3,12,15,18,22,K27,K29

"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.20050904-symbol.gif

[Read More]
01/11/25 -Printer friendly version-
You can email the Webmaster with your comments on this article.

Marvin's New Year's Eve

20241123-nye.jpg

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.

20241123-lawyers.jpg

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.

20241123-alone.jpg

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.

20241123-suitcase.jpg

"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."

20241123-fancyfriends.jpg

"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 ... "

20241123-silence.jpg

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.

20241123-menumag.jpg

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?"

20241123-badegg.jpg

"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.

20241123-elevator.jpg

"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.

BLACK
20241122-mentalc.png
WHITE
White to Play and Win

W:W5,13,17,18,23:B1,6,12,25

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.

20241123-chickenand.jpg

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.

20241123-winston.jpg
Winston Snelson

"This is a surprise!" he said.

"Heard that one already," was the reply.

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

20241123-hermione.jpg
Hermione Snelson

"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.

20241123-kcouple.jpg


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.20050904-symbol.gif

[Read More]
12/28/24 -Printer friendly version-
You can email the Webmaster with your comments on this article.

Big Jim: A Holiday Story

20241111-jimcourt.jpg

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.

20241111-jimswine.jpg

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.

20241111-nogifts.jpg

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."

20241111-gloves.jpg

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.

20241111-hustler.jpg

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 ... "

20241111-tenbucks.jpg

"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.

20241111-twenty.jpg

"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."

20241111-grip.jpg

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 ... "

20241111-inwhite.jpg

"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."

20241111-bigbucks.jpg

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.

WHITE
20241111-xmas.png
BLACK

Black to Play, What Result?

B:W5,K6,K7,K8,14,16,22,23,24,31:B15,26,K32

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.20050904-symbol.gif

[Read More]
12/21/24 -Printer friendly version-
You can email the Webmaster with your comments on this article.

Happy Holidays From The Beacon Cafe

20190430-beacon.jpg

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.

20220830-blaine.jpg
Young Blaine

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."

20231108-moira.jpg
Moira

"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."

20190421-nagel.jpg
Deana

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."

20241028-heartache.jpg

"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.

BLACK
20241028-galore.png
WHITE
White to Play and Win

W:WK2,K3,K10,K12,K17,K18,K20:B9,11,19,K25,K27,K28,K32

"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.

20241028-cinrais.jpg

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.20050904-symbol.gif

[Read More]
12/14/24 -Printer friendly version-
You can email the Webmaster with your comments on this article.

Thanksgiving With The Westermans

20241023-tgivingold.jpg

It was Thanksgiving, 1955, and a very festive occasion at the home of Sal Westerman in Bismarck, North Dakota.

As our regular readers know, Sal is the informal leader of the Coffee and Cake Checker Club, which meets every Saturday afternoon from just after Labor Day until just before Memorial Day, taking off for the Thanksgiving and Christmas-New Year's holidays.

20200102-sylvie.jpg
Sylvia Westerman

Sal generally celebrated Thanksgiving at home with his wife, Sylvia. Once in a while they would invite friends, or be invited by friends. On occasion, Sylvia's sister Phoebe would come over from Dickinson to join in the festivities. That was something Sal tolerated rather than enjoyed, as his relationship with Phoebe was, shall we say, prickly.

20200924-joyce.jpg
Joyce Westerman

But this Thanksgiving was special, as Sal and Sylvia's daughter (and only child) Joyce made the trip from Washington D.C., where she was a senior associate at the law firm Dark, Darker and Darkest. Joyce's work didn't give her a lot of free time and Sal and Sylvia were delighted that she was able to come and visit this year.

20241023-tgiving.jpg

Sylvia, with Joyce's assistance, had laid out a beautiful table in the small dining room of Sal's modest home. The two ladies had spent all of the previous day and all of Thanksgiving Day preparing a spectacular feast. Of course there would be roast turkey basted with butter and stuffed with Sylvia's heirloom celery, sage, and onion dressing. Homemade cranberry sauce would accompany the turkey, as would yams, baked potatoes, a vegetable casserole with broccoli, cauliflower and cheese, fresh baked bread, and pan gravy. The meal would open with a shrimp cocktail, a green salad, and onion soup. Afterwards there would be a cheese tray followed by baked Alaska with coffee and tea.

20190421-norm2.jpg
Sal Westerman

Sal watched the preparations with more than a little awe. "There will be enough food for a week of eating," he remarked, just before Sylvia asked him to please stay out of the kitchen while she and Joyce were working.

By just before five in the afternoon, when it was beginning to turn dark outside, dinner was served. There was great family conversation throughout and everyone was as content and happy as could possibly be. Dinner didn't end until about seven-thirty, and as Sylvia poured Sal's coffee, Joyce spoke up.

20241023-chanukkah.jpg

"Dad," she began, "I won't be able to be here for Hanukkah this year, as it starts on December 9 and it's long before the office closes for the week between Christmas and New Year's Day. So I brought you your gift now, and if it's okay, I'd like to give it to you."

"A gift?" Sal remarked. "Honey, I don't need a gift. Your presence is gift enough. Why with all the money you spent for airplane fares ... "

"Oh, Sal, don't spoil the moment," Sylvia said. "Joyce has something special for you."

Joyce grinned. "Indeed I do," she said. She quickly went into the kitchen and came back with a carefully wrapped package. "Open it, Dad," she said as she handed it to him.

20241023-bookwrap.jpg

"Well, well, what can this be?" Sal mused, even though from the shape of the package he could have ventured a good guess. Sal carefully removed the wrappings and lifted out the contents.

"So what do you know!" he said, a happy look on his face. He held up a large hardcover book and pointed to the title, Collected Checker Problems From All Checkers Digest. The subtitle proclaimed The 500 Best of the Best.

20211031-allchecks.jpg

"I hope you like it, Dad," Joyce said.

"Like it? I love it!" Sal replied.

"500 problems?" Sylvia said. "We probably won't see you for the rest of the weekend!" But she smiled as she said it.

"Oh, no," Sal said, "family time is precious. But ... well ... can I maybe try just one problem with my coffee?"

BLACK
20241023-t1955.png
WHITE
White to Play and Win

W:W13,19,K23:B6,K9,12

"Go ahead, Dad," Joyce said, "the book is yours to enjoy."


As our longer term readers know, Thanksgiving is our favorite holiday. It has something for everyone; it can be secular or religious as you wish; it's a great time for family get-togethers; and we happily point to its American roots. Being thankful for what we have, instead of being envious of what we don't have, can really lift our spirits.

Of course for checker fans, a good checker problem can lift one's spirits as well. Today's problem is drawn from the publications of that great American checkerist, Tom Wiswell. See if you can solve it and then lift your mouse onto Read More to see the solution.20050904-symbol.gif

[Read More]
11/30/24 -Printer friendly version-
You can email the Webmaster with your comments on this article.

State Fair: Part 7

20240928-badguy.jpg

Mortimer and Sheila immediately recognized Dale and Slug from the previous night, and the recognition was mutual.

"Well," Dale said, "if it ain't that lady cop with the fancy fightin' moves, and her little wimpy punk boyfriend. The ones nosin' around and askin' too many questions. You two musta thought you were smart, figurin' out our little back door bolt hole. But you ain't that smart. Silent alarm, nothin' fancy. You, copper girl, shoulda figured it out. Well, too bad for you."

"I'm not a cop," Sheila said in an unsteady voice.

"Oh, no, 'course not," said Dale. "You're some kinda rock star like that gal Broccoli Spears, right? Sure ya are."

20240928-broccoli.jpg

"Broccoli Spears? Hey that's a good one!" Mortimer said.

"Shut it or I'll put a slug in ya," Slug commanded. "Or maybe just slug ya one."

"Very funny," Mort said, but he kept it under his breath.

"Now," Dale resumed, "I ain't sure what you're doin' here but you're gettin' a little too deep into none a your business, and we don't like that, see? And we don't take no chances neither. So, sports, I guess you played your last little game and it ain't checkers neither. But first, you're gonna tell me what this is all about. One way or the other."

20240928-twistarm.jpg

"Want me to twist the cop lady's arm?" Slug asked, "maybe break it a little." He laughed, showing stubby yellowed teeth.

"Not yet," Dale said, "and anyhow you gotta watch out for her moves. Nah, put a bullet in her right kneecap ... unless the wimp here starts talking. Fast."

Slug pointed his gun in the direction of Sheila's right knee.

"Wait, no!" Mortimer shouted, his face flushing red. "Don't hurt her! Look, it's like this. We were in the checker tournament tent when Bob Pace was shot, and well, Sheila being with the FBI and all ... "

"FBI?" Dale said. "I thought you said you wasn't no cop. You're dead for sure, now, lady ... "

20240928-denber.jpg

"Oh Mortimer, you can be so stupid sometimes!" Sheila said. "I'm a lab tech, I'm not an agent."

"I ain't got no idea what that means, but if you're with the FBI in my book you're a cop."

20240928-whoa.jpg

"Look, look, just let me finish," Mortimer said, holding out his hands, palms facing Dale and Slug. "So anyhow we wondered about the murder and then this one cop and the Chief of Police got all nasty with us telling us not to interfere so we figured why not solve the case and then over at the bar we find out Bob Pace, he's the guy that was killed, came over here for some big time action but then when we came over you got suspicious and ran us off and we though you were maybe hiding something and so ... "

"Will you stop babbling like a fool!" Dale shouted. "Okay, you figured Pace was playing here. Well so what? He didn't owe us. We didn't have no reason to rub him out."

"Except ... oh! Now I get it! All of it makes sense! That name in the books ... "

"Whaddya mean ... "

The door to the office burst open again, and the hatch at the back flew to the floor at the same time.

20240928-raid.jpg

"Drop the guns! Police!" a voice shouted.

Sheila dove towards Mortimer and shoved him to the floor just as shots started to ring out. Sheila and Mortimer heard bullets whiz over their heads and then everything was quiet. When they looked up again they saw Larry and Slug sprawled on the floor, unmoving.

"You're both under arrest!" a familiar voice called out. It was Detective Roger, and standing right next to Chief Easton.

"Wait, we can explain," Mortimer said, but by then he and Sheila had both already been handcuffed and pulled to their feet.

###
20240928-room.jpg

They did get to do their explaining, a lot of it, after they had been taken downtown and placed in an interview room. Sheila noted that they hadn't been booked yet, which she thought was odd, and that they were going to be interviewed together, which was odder still. They were left handcuffed to brackets on top of the interview table and made to wait.

Mortimer started to speak when they were alone in the interview room, but Sheila warned him at once that someone was almost certainly listening.

"Well, what I have to say they need to hear," Mortimer said. "Pretty funny, don't you think, that the Chief was there this morning? Why would he be? And how did they know where we were?"

"That's pretty easy," Sheila said. "They must have been watching us, ever since Detective Roger talked with us at the motel."

20240405-chief2.jpg
Chief Easton

Just at that moment both Detective Roger and Chief Easton came in the room. It was the Chief who spoke first.

"I don't know that we can pin Bob Pace's murder on you," he said, "although I aim to try."

"You haven't got anything," Sheila said, "and you know from the ballistics it just isn't possible."

20240928-guilty.jpg

"Stuff it!" Easton shouted. "When I want to hear from little miss smarty FBI lady, I'll say so. Now like, I was going to say, I can sure get you for a lot of other stuff, like breaking and entering, possession of burglary tools, tampering with evidence, and some other stuff." He chuckled. "Maybe even assaulting an officer and aiding and abetting."

"Maybe tax evasion and jaywalking too?" Sheila said.

" ... unless," the Chief continued.

"Unless what?" Sheila and Mortimer asked, just about in unison.

"Unless you cooperate," Detective Roger said. "We're pretty sure that Bob Pace was killed by that gambling gang. You tell us what you found out, and we close the case. Those two goons are both dead, and that makes everything real easy."

"What's the option?" Sheila asked.

"We pin an accessory wrap on you two, plus all the other stuff the Chief was talking about. You both go away for most of the rest of your lives. And Iowa prisons ain't pretty places."

"And if we play along?" Sheila continued.

20240928-innocent.jpg

"You play along, you sign paperwork saying you'll keep quiet, you get to go home, and you don't never set foot in Des Moines ever again."

"As if I'd want to," Mortimer said.

"Then we'll all be happy," Roger concluded. "Now what's in going to be?"

There really wasn't any choice.

###

Mortimer and Sheila explained, or tried to explain everything, starting with what they had observed in their photographs, to their research on Bob Pace, the information gathered at the sports bar, and finally the nighttime encounter at the gambling den, and their subsequent morning return.

20240713-sweetcorncafe.jpg

Of course the police had indeed been following them and knew of their movements, although they did tacitly admit that the taxi driver had lost them on the way back to their motel. When the police saw the two goons enter the Sweet Corn Cafe while Mortimer and Sheila were still inside, they decided to move in and as they put it, "capture everyone all at once."

Mortimer explained further about the betting records and how Bob Pace had gambled heavily. He was about to continue and then suddenly stopped.

"Can we take a little break?" he asked.

"What for?" Roger asked.

"Uh ... my throat's dry?" Mortimer replied.

"Finish this up," the Chief growled, "I've got other things to do. Then I gotta get out a press statement. Pace was bumped off because of gambling debts."

"But," Mortimer objected, "that's not ... "

"That's how it was," the Chief interrupted, and I don't want to hear nothing else. Roger, take care of it."

"Yes sir," the detective responded as the Chief left the room.

20240713-detective.jpg

Mortimer wiped his brow. "Look, detective, I didn't want to say this in front of the Chief. Or show you this."

Mortimer used his free hand to reach into his socks, where he had concealed a folded slip of paper.

"Look at this," said said, passing it across to the detective.

Roger unfolded the paper and read it. Then he read it again. And then a third time.

20240928-betting.jpg

"Chief Easton bet a hundred grand on Pace's match? For Pace to lose?"

"Yep."

Sheila looked as astonished as Roger. "But that means," she began, "that ... "

"The Chief killed Pace? Or had him killed? You can't prove that, and I don't believe it."

"Look," said Mortimer, "let me have a pen and something to write on."

Roger hesitated but tore a page from his notebook and passed it and a pen to Mortimer, who drew the following diagram.

BLACK
20240928-stfair7.png
WHITE
White to Play and Win

W:WK10,14,18,21,27,32:B5,9,12,20,23,28

"So?" Detective Roger said.

"So? Bob Pace was going to win this one. And the Chief bet against him. The Chief was going to be out most of a year's pay. And he must have been looking the other way about the goons making book. He was in pretty deep and might be looking at jail time himself."

"I still don't believe it," Roger said. "The Chief ... he just wouldn't. Not the Chief. And you think based on this I'm putting my career on the line by accusing him? Nope."

The door opened and a woman entered. She whispered in Roger's ear and then left.

20240928-fire.jpg

"Well ain't that interesting," he said. "There was a fire at that gambling den and everything was destroyed including all the betting records. The place was supposed to be under police seal. Stuff happens, I 'spose."

"Doesn't that tell you something?" Sheila asked. "I mean, as a detective, doesn't that lead to ... certain conclusions?"

"Maybe it does," Roger replied, "and maybe it don't. But I ain't goin' there." He unlocked the handcuffs attaching Sheila and Mortimer to the steel interview table. "But I do know something. You two better get outta here. Go get your stuff, and be on the next plane to anywhere. There won't be no arrest record or nothing. Leastwise, not if you're in a different state by midnight."

###
20240928-flight.jpg

Sheila and Mortimer, again not having any other option, did as the detective had said. When they were on their flight back to Denver, Sheila said, "Well, we did solve that one, Mortimer."

"For all the good it did," Mortimer replied, and then added, "do you suppose Roger was in on it?"

"Maybe," Sheila said, "although for sure there must have been others. Chief Easton wouldn't have done the shooting himself. He would have had someone else who was part of the scheme do it. But he forgot one thing, and so did you."

"What was that?"

"That I can talk to some people at my office in Denver. The FBI takes a lot of interest in police corruption and without a doubt I'll be able to get someone to start a little look-see. Chief Easton and probably a few others are going to be behind bars within a couple of months, mark my words."

20130513-sheila.jpg

Sheila smiled and Mortimer smiled back.

"One thing for sure, though," Mortimer said. "Next time I suggest we go to Iowa, whack my head a couple of times."

20240928-whack.jpg

THE END


The last problem in this series is very difficult and you may need to refer to the solution. Don't whack your own head, though; see how you do and then whack your mouse on Read More to see the solution.20050904-symbol.gif

[Read More]
11/23/24 -Printer friendly version-
You can email the Webmaster with your comments on this article.

Marvin J. Mavin: The Rest of the Story

20240914-mcdouglas.jpg

In our last episode, Marvin had been fired from his $12 per hour job flipping burgers for McDouglas. Priscilla had been seriously insulted by the McDouglas manager and had been very angry.

That was on a Sunday evening. At first Priscilla had taken out her frustrations on Marvin, but the range of her ire quickly spread to McDouglas and the Doublejumpers.

20211004-limo.jpg

Monday morning came along. Priscilla normally rose at 5 AM to exercise, have breakfast, and then ride in her chauffeur driven limo to her office, arriving promptly at 7:30 AM.

Marvin, especially since he had started working the two to midnight shift at McDouglas, generally didn't get up until around nine.

But this morning, he felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him roughly. It was, of course, Priscilla.

"Wake up, Marvin. Now." It was said in a loud and insistent voice.

Marvin rolled over. "What time ... "

"Time for you to wake up and listen to what I have to say."

20240928-sixthirty.jpg

Marvin managed to glance at the bedside clock. "Gee Prissy, it's only six thirty ... "

'Don't call me Prissy! Now listen!"

Marvin sat up and tried, without a lot of success, to look alert.

20240917-busphone.jpg

"I'll be leaving for office in a few minutes. When I get there I'm going to make some phone calls, and I expect a lot of things will start to happen after that. I want you up and dressed and ready to go out on a moment's notice. If your phone rings, you are to answer it immediately, and, I might add, in a polite and business-like manner. Should I call and give you instructions, you are to follow them to the letter and without question. Am I making myself clear?"

Marvin, looking puzzled, replied, "Uh yeah, but what's the big deal? I mean, well, sure, I'm out of work now and need to look ... you trying to line me up with something? Or like, I dunno, get me back on at McDouglas?"

"Never mind the questions," Priscilla said curtly, "just do as you're told. That's the least you can do after what you put me through last night."

"What I put you through?"

20230403-angry.jpg

"Don't start. I've calmed down, don't stir me up all over again."

With that Priscilla left their bedroom. Soon thereafter Marvin heard her leave the condo by her private elevator.

Marvin wasn't sure what to make of all this, but he thought it best to listen to Priscilla. She had been very poorly treated by his now ex-boss the previous evening, and Marvin did feel bad about it even though he shouldn't have to accept the blame. But Priscilla was Priscilla.

He quickly showered and dressed, and by 8 AM--- rather early for him--- he was ready for whatever might come along. Or at least so he thought.

20191001-morecoffee.jpg

There was nothing to do but wait. He took a cup of coffee into the breakfast room along with a copy of All Checkers Digest. This month's issue had a number of good checker problems and Marvin was looking at the one shown below.

BLACK
20240926-prizefixed.png
WHITE
White to Play and Draw

W:WK19,K20,24,29:BK10,21,K27,K31

Marvin thought he had a line on the solution when his phone rang. It was now about 10 AM. Heeding Priscilla's instructions he answered at once. The phone display showed "Unknown Caller."

"Hello?" Marvin said.

"Is this Mr. Mavin?"

"Yes, it is."

20240917-andrewterry.jpg
Andrew Terry

"This is Andrew Terry. I'm a senior partner in the law firm of Katzen, Ratzen, and Jatzen. I'm representing you in your lawsuit against the Detroit Doublejumper Checker Club, Inc."

Marvin, once again surprised, said, "What lawsuit?"

"You don't know? Ms. Snelson, your wife, called us this morning and had us institute an action seeking your full reinstatement plus statutory, punitive, exemplary, consequential and collateral damages for a variety of just and adequate causes including ... "

"Okay, uh, Mr. Terry, I get it. Is there something you need from me?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Mavin, you're to be at a meeting at Doublejumper corporate at 11 AM. That's an hour from now. The front desk will direct you. It seems the Doublejumpers are willing to settle on terms favorable to us. Can you be there?"

Marvin thought about what Priscilla might say if he didn't show up and said, "Okay."

20240917-ringing.jpg

"See you soon, Mr. Mavin." The line disconnected and immediately rang again. It was Priscilla.

"The limo will pick you up in fifteen minutes," Priscilla said. "Be ready." The line disconnected once again.

Marvin changed very quickly into a seldom worn suit and tie, and hurried to meet the limo, which was already waiting in front of the condo.

# # #

20240917-djhq.jpg

The limo sped him downtown to Doublejumper headquarters, a place which Marvin had been to many times before, generally as a part of contract negotiations. In the lobby he met up with Priscilla and a small man in a very expensive blue suit and lemon-colored tie. "Prissy --- I didn't know you'd be here ... "

Priscilla glared but only said, "Marvin, this is Mr. Terry, your legal counsel."

Marvin and Mr. Terry shook hands, after which Mr. Terry said, "Well, Mr. Mavin, are you ready?"

"Uh ... sure ... but for what?"

"You just let me take the lead," Mr. Terry said.

20240917-conftable.jpg

They all took the elevator to the top floor and were shown into the Checkers Conference Room, a large well-appointed meeting area with a long, wide mahagony table surrounded by leather chairs. A minute or so later, a bevy of Doublejumper personnel entered the room. Marvin recognized the Chairman of the Board, the Chief Executive Officer, the V.P. of Human Resources, and the V.P. of Legal Affairs, along with their assistants.

20240917-ward.jpg
Chairman Ward Warden

Everyone shook hands with Priscilla, Mr. Terry, and Marvin, and then seats were taken. The Doublejumper Chairman, Mr. Ward Warden, rose and addressed the group.

"We'd like to settle this dispute quickly," he began. "As you know the Doublejumpers are not having a good year, so to make a long story short, we'd like to reinstate Marvin as a member of the team and as team captain, effective at once." Mr. Warden smiled. "We think that's a great offer under the circumstances and should easily settle all outstanding issues."

But Mr. Terry put his palms flat on the table and said, "Not so fast, Mr. Warden. While my client appreciates your willingness to settle this case, you're going to have to do a lot better than simple reinstatement. My client suffered abuse and humiliation at the hands of the Doublejumpers. His life was thrown into chaos. He is suffering from trauma, elevated blood pressure, insomnia, sciatica, hives, dandruff, swollen ankles and ... um ... other problems."

"I am?" Marvin muttered but he was silenced with a glance from Priscilla.

However Mr. Terry was still speaking. " ... punitive and compensatory damages in the amount of $10 million, reinstatment at double his contract salary, full back pay, a public apology ... "

20240917-grimly.jpg
Gerald Grimly, V.P. of Legal

The Doublejumper V.P. of Legal Affairs, a Mr. Gerald Grimly, rose to his feet. "You can't seriously expect us to listen to such demands on behalf of someone who has behaved as poorly as ... "

"Sit down!" Mr. Warden told Mr. Grimly. "We have to settle this! Can you imagine the bad publicity we'll get? In case you haven't noticed, the team is in last place and we're losing money in ticket sales, sponsorships ... I want you to settle this case now."

20240917-inokea.jpg
Ino Kea, V.P. of H.R.

The V.P. of Human Resources, a Ms. Ino Kea, said in a stage whisper, "But Mr. Warden, sir, our employee handbook strictly forbids ... "

"Keep quiet, you!" Mr. Warden said with an angry glance at Ms. Kea. "Now let's get on with this.

The discussion, or perhaps debacle from the standpoint of the Doublejumpers, lasted only another 15 minutes. Marvin was to be immediately reinstated to his former position, he was to receive full back pay, and also the full $10 million in damages. The only concessions were that his contract salary would be raised by 20%, to $6 million per year instead of doubled, and that the public apology would be mild rather than abject.

20240917-handshakes.jpg

The meeting concluded with another round of rather cold handshakes. Back down in the lobby, after Mr. Terry had departed, Marvin remarked to Priscilla, "Gee honey, you sure did get some action with whatever calls you made this morning. But I thought you said it wasn't worth suing the Doublejumpers because of all their hot-shot lawyers and stuff?"

"A woman has a right to change her mind," Priscilla said with a smile, "and I have resources that you don't." She paused a moment. "By the way, we're not quite done yet. We're meeting our other lawyer for lunch."

"Other lawyer? What other lawyer?"

20240917-sprinkler.jpg
Sandra Sprinkler

"Sandra Sprinkler, of Sprinkler, Mower, and Edger," Priscilla said. "She's handling our case against McDouglas. The McDouglas CEO will arrive on his private jet this afternoon and we're to meet with him at four o'clock. I expect we'll get quite a good settlement from them, too. And you'll probably like to know that your former manager has already been dismissed from his position."

"Wow!" Marvin exclaimed. "Don't mess with Priscilla!"

Priscilla gave Marvin a long, steady look before saying, "That's right, Marvin. Remember that. Don't mess with Priscilla."

20240917-dontmess.jpg


We hope you liked the conclusion to our latest Marvin J. Mavin series. Marvin will surely have further adventures in the months to come.20050904-symbol.gif

[Read More]
11/16/24 -Printer friendly version-
You can email the Webmaster with your comments on this article.

Pages: | 1 | 2 | 3 | ...| 12 | 13 | 14 | Next»

The Checker Maven is produced at editorial offices in Honolulu, Hawai`i, as a completely non-commercial public service from which no profit is obtained or sought. Original material is Copyright © 2004-2025 Avi Gobbler Publishing. Other material is the property of the respective owners. Information presented on this site is offered as-is, at no cost, and bears no express or implied warranty as to accuracy or usability. You agree that you use such information entirely at your own risk. No liabilities of any kind under any legal theory whatsoever are accepted. The Checker Maven is dedicated to the memory of Mr. Bob Newell, Sr.

MAVEN, n.:

An expert or connoisseur, often self-proclaimed.


Articles


Numbered Board and Notation

Book Reviews

Game Site Reviews

Program Reviews

A Mind Sport for the Common Man

Learning Checkers

The Unknown Derek Oldbury

Rediscovering Checkers

Regulation Checker Sets

Marvin's World

Downloads


Richard Pask Publications

Reisman: Checkers Made Easy

Clapham Common Draughts Book

Grover/Wiswell: Let's Play Checkers

Bob Murray's School Presentation

Jim Loy Publications

PDN collections

Oldbury: MoveOver

Reinfeld: How to Win

Ginsberg: Principles of Strategy

Draughts Books of the 20th Century

3-Move-Deck