My 3 Paul Massons

Masters were lucky: they got to play in the shade of cypresses (or some trees like that). Experts and As were in a more crowded area...but at least it was still near the entrance to the place.

The rest of us were stuck down in The Pit. This huge and packed (and terribly sunny) place on the level below. They had immense intermittent parasols set up, but mostly it was lots and lots of hats. Seriously, like a whole field of them.

The joys were many though. Like the money. Everyone was playing for a $1000 first prize. Not just the masters. Everyone.

That first year I played there ended up being 751 players altogether. The line to register extended all the way down a hill; it was like something out of Woodstock.

I was a C player then. Usually 5-rounders would have 3 on Saturday and 2 on Sunday, but this was reversed at Paul Masson (for all us plebes who had to play 5 rounds instead of 4) due to the fact that registration would go on until noon or later.

Browne (2580) ended up winning the Open section with a 4-0. Incidentally, next year he would do the same; the only difference being his rating would've dropped to 2560.

Anyway, he became the first GM I'd ever seen in person. Standing over amongst the trees while setting up his board (much to my surprise, he was nowhere near nine feet tall).

That Sunday we'd finished our round and took our boards up into the shade by the masters to analyze our games (there were only a few games left going on up there). Then we headed out for lunch. When we came back this 2300--a guy who'd just been playing Browne--was sitting there analyzing his adjourned game with Walter on my set! I felt like Hayden Fox when Christine tells him that Arnold Palmer actually used his golf clubs; he yells at the bag, "I just hope you guys remember everything he did!"

Next year there were 756 players. But I mainly remember it for one rather unexpected encounter.

I was just heading down into the little building where they posted the pairings and you handed in your score sheets (I had just managed to proverbially "castle queenside on the wall chart"; i.e, starting out at 0-0-0). When I very nearly bumped into a very large fellow indeed on his way outside. He seemed oddly somehow familiar...and then I remembered. It was Max Euwe, who was visiting the site (presumably the largest tournament in the world at the time) in his role as president of FIDE. The guy who'd actually beaten Alekhine. Zowie!

Two years later, there were 73 players in my section alone. I was an A by then, so fortunately only had 4 rounds to worry about.

Last round it was actually getting rather dark. My opponent offered a draw. Then he left. Unfortunately I couldn't see any way to progress, so I finally decided to accept it. He returned. I shook hands. Then he pointed out that it was a win. A queen sac (which I hadn't even noticed) made it a mate in 4. He had only offered the draw because he'd blown a game at last year's Paul Masson due to the encroaching darkness, so he didn't want to make the same mistake twice.

Anyway, it all made for a truly Fischer-Era experience, I must say. :)