Artedrez

By chance I stumbled upon Artedrez, a blog devoted to chess in art and culture, and offer these reasons to visit:

“Mrs. Charles Moxton” by William Quiller Orchardson (1832-1910), Scottish portrait artist

“Man Playing Chess” by Corneliu Baba (1906-1997), Romanian painter

Gloria Walker, Playboy magazine’s Miss June 1956, playing white, captures a black knight

Bob Dylan playing chess in Woodstock, N.Y., by Daniel Kramer, 1964

Illustration by Robert McGinnis (b. 1926) for the Derek Flint film series (“Our Man Flint,” “In Like Flint”) or perhaps a paperback book adaptation, circa 1967

Carla Gugino photographed by Matthew Rolston in a tribute to pin-up illustrator Gil Elvgren, from Vanity Fair in 2006

Ungracious

“It seems ungracious to share some experiences. Though I’m sure it’s difficult to accept, my parents brought me up to believe that showing off was a bad thing, a sign of generally bad manners. (I’m not saying those values took hold, just that I might have heard them mentioned.)”

— Anthony Bourdain in Medium Raw (2010), a book that carries my highest recommendation, especially Chapter 18, “My Aim Is True,” on Justo Thomas, a man who will, if you’re paying attention, teach, inspire and awe you.

Chess & Oom Paul

Playing chess with Queen Victoria is Paul Kruger (1825-1904) a.k.a. Uncle Paul (Dutch: “Oom Paul”), President of the South African Republic (Transvaal) and the face of Boer resistance against the British in the Second Boer War (1899–1902). The general looking over Victoria’s shoulder could be Baden-Powell, but I can’t be sure. And playing chess below, two foxes dressed as lawyers, in an image that flatters neither species.

The postcards are by A. Paul Weber (1893-1980), a German artist who first put his talents to work for publications of the resistance against Hitler, until arrested by the Gestapo and encouraged to tackle other subjects. According to the website of a museum dedicated to his work, “The chess motif reoccurs in his work after 1937. Chess is a game, but it is also a struggle of minds. Weber used the game to make conflicts between different groups clearer. He steadily created new games between literary, political and historical figures.”

Pity the Woolly Mammoth

“The only way to see Hanoi is from the back of a scooter. To ride in a car would be madness–limiting your mobility to a crawl, preventing you from even venturing down half the narrow streets and alleys where the good stuff is to be found. To be separated from what’s around you by a pane of glass would be to miss–everything. Here, the joy of riding on the back of a scooter or motorbike is to be part of the throng, just one more tiny element in an organic thing, a constantly moving, ever-changing process rushing, mixing, swirling, and diverting through the city’s veins, arteries, and capillaries. Admittedly, it’s also slightly dangerous. Traffic lights, one-way signs, intersections, and the like–the rough outlines of organized society–are more suggestions than regulations observed by anyone in actual practice. One has, though, the advantage of right of way. Here? The scooter and the motorbike are kings. The automobile may rule the thoroughfares of America, but in Hanoi it’s cumbersome and unwieldy, the last one to the party, the woolly mammoth of the road–to be waited on, begrudgingly accommodated–even pitied–like the fat man at a sack race.”

— Anthony Bourdain in Medium Raw (2010)

The Obscure Mr. Besley

The pages of polo history are filled with interesting people, even in the footnotes. Browsing the winners’ list of the Pacific Coast Open, you might breeze right by J.C. Besley; he only appears once, winning the trophy in 1913 with the Coronado Country Club. His teammates were all better known: Malcolm Stevenson and C. Perry Beadleston (Yale ’08) had won the U.S. Open in 1912 playing with Cooperstown, and Stevenson was destined for the U.S. Polo Hall of Fame. Maj. Colin Ross was “the father of polo” at Coronado.

But J.C. Besley, where did he come from? And where did he go? The answer to both questions is “everywhere.”

Born in London in 1874, James Campbell Besley spent his boyhood in various corners of the British Empire, including South Africa and Australia, then back to England for Eton and Oxford, returning to Australia for a degree at the Broken Hill School of Mines in New South Wales. After two years with a mining company, he joined the rush to the gold fields of Kalgoorlie and Coolgardie in western Australia, made a bundle, sold out and went to the Klondike gold rush 10,000 miles away. In the first six months, he took out a quarter of a million dollars worth of gold, and spent 12 more months adding to that sum. He also saved two men from death by cold and starvation, and was honored by the naming of Besley Creek.

At the outbreak of the Boer War, Besley returned to England to enlist, was commissioned as one of “Kitchener’s Flying Scouts,” and sailed for South Africa. Upon arrival, he was tasked with carrying dispatches across 120 miles of Boer-held territory to General Sir Baden-Powell who was besieged at Mafeking. This Besley and a companion did, walking or crawling the entire distance, evading Boer patrols and passing through enemy lines numerous times; they then made the equally perilous return journey, again on foot, often without benefit of food, water or sleep.

After the war, Besley remained in Africa long enough to draw up a geological report of uncharted territory for Cecil Rhodes and go on a hunting trip; he then returned to the Klondike to sell his interests and turned his gaze to Mexico, where he made another fortune mining silver and copper, and running a 50,000 acre cattle ranch, in spite of rebel raids during two revolutions.

Having picked up polo at Oxford, Besley began playing in Southern California in 1907, captaining the Hermosillo team, named for the headquarters of his mining company in Mexico’s Sonora province. And thus, we find him in 1913 playing for the Coronado Country Club and winning the Pacific Coast Open with a fabulous string of horses and two ringers from the east coast.

Where would you have gone from there? In July of 1913, J.C. Besley chose Peru and led an expedition that penetrated the wilds to the headwaters of the Amazon, then rafted down the river 4,000 miles to the Atlantic Ocean. Along the way, the group discovered three lost Inca cities, found the bones of two earlier explorers who had been eaten by cannibals, fought their way out of an ambush, lost members to malaria, black-water fever and the bite of the deadly Uta fly, lost horses to vampire bats, battled snow at 12,000 feet at Lake Titicaca, and took the first motion pictures of Machu Picchu (which had been discovered two years before by Professor Hiram Bingham of Yale).

In February of 1914, Besley returned to New York City with a small monkey named Changa who telephoned room service from Besley’s suite at the Waldorf. The New York Times reported, “Capt. Besley will stay here three or four days, and then go to California to play polo.”

Of course.

* * *

Something of an epilogue: The original film footage and artifacts brought back by the Besley expedition were stolen in New York, so Besley led a second expedition to Peru, retook the footage, and returned in October of 1914 with new film and two mummies. While approaching New York harbor, Besley’s ship, the Metapan, was rammed and sunk by the Iowan, but Besley managed to save his cargo. Two films were released: The Captain Besley Expedition (1914); In the Amazon Jungles with the Captain Besley Expedition (1915), directed by Franklin B. Coates, with photography by  J.H. Holbrook.

* * *

For the list of the winners of the Pacific Coast Open, I am eternally grateful to Alex Webbe. Other sources include:

“Besley, Captain James Campbell,” Press Reference Library, Los Angeles Examiner; “Plan to Explore Peru” New York Times, September 15, 1913; “Inca’s Capital Filmed” Poverty Bay Herald (N.Z.) February 17, 1914; “Explorers’ Bones in Peruvian Wilds” New York Times, February 18, 1914; “Changa Tries to ‘Phone” New York Times, February 19, 1914; “Found Bones of Lost Explorers in Peruvian Jungle” New York Times, February 22, 1914 (also the source of the photo of Besley shown above); “Found True Source of Amazon, He Says” New York Times, October 17, 1914; “S.S. Iowan” Wikipedia; Internet Movie Database.

On Toil and Sin

WITHIN THIS VALE

OF TOIL

AND SIN

YOUR HEAD GROWS BALD

BUT NOT YOUR CHIN

BURMA-SHAVE

One of the joys of my youth was discovering a series of Burma-Shave signs during a car trip. This one I remember fondly, from 1958, collected now in The Verse by the Side of the Road (1965) by Frank Rowsome Jr.

Trees

“Another characteristic feature of the Cape Gloucester campaign made its appearance that first day: the peril of falling trees. Indeed, one of the first fatalities the Division sustained resulted from this cause. This danger is ever present in rain-forest jungle where excessive wetness and excessive heat accelerate decay of the lush growth they engender. The soundest-appearing trees may, or may not, be rotten to the core, ready to collapse at the slightest shock, or no shock at all. Here the shattering effect of intensive aerial bombing and naval gunfire had been superimposed upon natural causes, multiplying the peril a hundredfold. A number of men were killed by falling trees in the course of the campaign, many more were injured, and the constant danger came to constitute something of a mental hazard to all hands…”

“In a letter home an officer attached to the Divison CP described the scene there as the climax developed: ‘The rain had achieved cloudburst proportions, and about 0400 we were hit by a windstorm of what must have been hurricane velocity, complete with thunder louder than any naval gunfire I’ve heard yet and lightning which seemed to be hitting close all around us. About 200 yards forward, where the Japs were trying to break through, machine guns raved and mortars coughed. A short distance in the rear, artillery — both 75’s and 105’s — was firing over our position, the passing shells sounding like the Third Avenue El in a hell of a hurry. Closer at hand, our own private sniper began whanging away with his Nambu. Between the lightning and the wind, the trees were crashing down all around us — big 150-footers, some of them — and the scene revealed in the lightning flashes was not of this world. I remember thinking that all we needed to make the pandemonium complete was to have Mount Langla start erupting, topped off by a nice earthquake. Well, Langla behaved all right, but just after daybreak, damned if we didn’t have the earthquake.'”

— The Island War (1947) by Maj. Frank O. Hough, U.S.M.C.

Green Hell

“A jungle is the practically impossible ‘green hell’ of popular imagination, and an amazing variety of other things. It varies from mangrove swamps and scrub thickets to vine-draped, giant forests. It towers skyward, and it cowers at its own feet; it’s as prolific as microbes, and it’s as sterile as a stone; it’s as all-embracing as quicksand and it’s as repellent as nausea. The jungle is the enemy of all creatures; it devours its own young, and its young strangle it; the jungle is Moloch, the dark stench of whose corruption is overwhelming.”

— Capt. Ralph B. Jenkins, a U.S. Marine Corps communications officer who served on Bougainville, in the South Pacific, quoted in The Island War (1947) by Maj. Frank O. Hough, U.S.M.C.