Frederick Dewhurst Yates (January 1884–November
1932, London) won the British Championship six times. He was an accountant by
profession but in 1909 abandoned accounting in favor of becoming a professional
chess player and journalist. He won the
British Championship title in 1913, 1914, 1921, 1926, 1928 and 1931. He was known for his tenacious and sharp style. Yates was also a good pianist.
His
record in international tournaments was not as stellar. He often defeated stronger
opponents but then lost to those at the bottom. He never won a first prize in a
great international tournament, often finishing in the lower half, but he is remembered
for some of his wins against the greats of his day. This lack of consistency
was attributed to poor health and little stamina. A constant hacking cough went
unchecked because insufficient funds did not allow him to follow his doctor’s
advice and move to a warmer climate. Another
likely reason for his spotty results was that he frequently combined his job as
a journalist with that of a tournament participant, reporting on the
tournaments in which he was playing.
A
number of his contemporaries believed Yates had the talent to be among the
world championship contenders had his circumstances been different. Still, he
defeated Alekhine at Carlsbad in 1923 won the brilliancy prize and his win
against Dr. Vidmar at San Remo in 1930 was described by Alekhine as the finest
game played since WW1.
Yates
was the chess columnist for the Manchester Guafrdian and co-authored (with
William Winter) Modern Master Play. He also covered two
world championship matches: Alekhine vs. Capablanca and Alekhine vs.
Bogoljubow. After the great New York 1924
tournament where he finished in ninth place (out of 11 players) not much was
heard from Yates.
On November 11th, 1932, Yates was found dead in
his apartment from asphyxiation due to a leaky gas fitting. In Edward Lasker’s
enjoyable book Chess Secrets I Learned
from the Masters he wrote that during WW1 Yates had committed suicide for
financial reasons, adding “He had probably been too modest to ask British
chessplayers for help.”
Lasker’s
account was totally wrong. The coroner reported a few days after Yates’ death
that the natural gas fittings in his room were turned off but there had been a
gas leak. The gas company stated an
obsolete fitting attached to the meter in the room was to blame. The fitting was apparently accidentally
dislodged resulting in Yates’ accidental death.
He was 48 years old.
The British Chess Magazine of December, 1932 reported Yates was last seen alive in the evening by a friend a couple of days before his death. On a Friday morning the smell of gas
was coming from his room and the door was broken open and Yates was found
dead in bed.
Yates’ financial circumstances were not good and several
1933 issues of Chess World
contained arguments concerning British player’s lack of support for Yates. W.H.
Watts wrote, “... we were so
infatuated by our own pettifogging antics over the chess board that we failed
to see our Champion was starving. We could not see that poor timid Yates was
literally dying in our midst, too proud to tell us so himself. The very name
Yates will be forever a shameful memory in the annals of British Chess.”
Sidebar: Watts' comment brings up a question. Do we chess players owe Grandmasters a
living? I was told by an “anonymous
source” that when a certain Hungarian Grandmaster emigrated to the US in 1958 and
landed in Cleveland, Ohio, he got in a snit and left town because the local
chess club would not hire him as a manager and thereby allow him to be free to
play chess without having to worry about income. True or not, I can’t say. Personally I would not be willing to work
like a dog every day and then contribute a portion of my income (directly or
indirectly) just so somebody can sit around and play chess, especially when
there have been many top chess players that have been successful in careers
outside of chess. It can be done.
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