A very long time ago, I took lunch in “G” Department at W&T Avery’s Limited. It was Friday, January 7th, 1977.
My friend Jimmy Friar sat opposite playing the White pieces. Albert Friar looked on, pausing over his usual bowl of soup with finely curled metal shavings. I still recall Jimmy sharing a knowing smile. Father and son stood tall, together each weekday, working their lathes side by side.
Avery once had a Chess Club in the mid-1950s which played in the canteen at the Soho Foundry.
I worked in the office of the Weighbridge Department, as Senior Clerk despite still being a junior. This was “B” Department, adjacent to the hangout where I discussed the day’s, 9 letter conundrum or Daily Express cryptic crossword with Jim Friar.
It was in Jimmy’s nature to take me under his wing, tutelage provided from one of the many Batsford books on opening theory that lay amongst his possessions.
Piecework for Jim meant continually working his lathe to shave a few valuable seconds in order to fool the Time and Motion study.
Regular for Friday lunchtime; we awaited two things; the Tote draw, and the square manila envelope that marked payday; the only difference being, mine was a salary, his a wage packet.
At midday, the Bullhorn sounded, just as it had done at 7:30am, like a call to prayer across the city.
I first met Albert Friar one lunchtime in 1975 when I pulled out a pocket chess set in the Snug of the Soho Foundry Tavern.
Jimmy and I began to spend our 45 minute lunch breaks studying between the quietened lathes; rather than spend time opposite the gateway fortification that held within, a history which smelt of freedom.
I’d spend the week collecting 10% commission for the numbers racket. The Tote involved two ping-pong balls being drawn from a bag of twenty-five. It was 5p for two numbers in-&-out; meaning whichever way the numbers were drawn, I was a winner thanks to Jim.
Jim worked out that having a block of 13 numbers costing £3.90, more than half the 25 balls in-&-out, would according to the law of averages, pay out more often than not. On average; every three to four weeks. I supplemented my income to the tune of £250 in my 4 years collecting numbers, thanks to listening to Jimmy back in the really hot summer of 1976.
The big scandal with the Tote was many years earlier, when the organisers would put two winning ping-pong balls in the freezer overnight. Come Friday lunchtime, they’d draw the cold balls from the bag.
Instead of starting at 7:30am, Avery’s responded to the soaring temperatures of 1976, by allowing everyone to work from 5am and to leave at 2:30pm with the Bullhorn strangely silent. One sweltering afternoon, Jimmy kindly drove me home in his red mini.
I recall another occasion sitting in a pub somewhere in the vicinity of Windmill Lane with Jimmy and have the vague memory of chatting with Geoff Wesson in the back of the mini.
Geoff worked on a machine in “D” Department near where the Tote was drawn. I’d occasionally bump into him. Then, one night at Lucas Chess Club; Tony Crump introduced another club close to his heart; West Bromwich.
Jimmy played Board 1 and at the other end of the row of boards, there I was, playing Geoff. It was November 23rd 1976.
While Geoff responded to my Sicilian; kids threw soil through the open window which was helping to ventilate the playing room of the Community Centre.
Our tea cups and everything else had to be cleared of soil before the game could continue; the laughing juveniles having run off.
I believe the match was a 3-3 draw. Jimmy and Geoff constantly teased me about the underhand tactics Lucas Chess Club had employed.
If I could speak to Jim now; I’d pull his leg about the lapse in concentration that led to one of my rare victories; my 11 move checkmate in the Snug of the Soho Foundry Tavern…
I’ll never forget analysing the Sicilian, Yugoslav variation with Jimmy back at his lathe. We regarded the Yugoslav as the ultimate weapon for White in response to the Dragon.
James was a really gifted player and an exceptional individual. I was devastated when learning of his passing shortly before I’d returned to chess. One of the driving forces that inspired me to give up a quarter of a century of reclusive behaviour and seek out a chess club, was the hope we might rekindle our friendship.
James had risen to a grade of 175 by July 2015 – with both of his sons, James and Joe, themselves exceptional talents, reaching similar heights already.
From the acknowledgement that is embodied in the Worcestershire Chess Association’s, awarding of the James Friar Trophy for services to Worcestershire Chess; I begin to get a sense of what it is my former friend achieved during his lifetime.
Predating Jim’s 11th move blunder by 12 days, I believe this final game was the last serious battle ever played between us at the Soho Foundry.
Discovering that Jim had been mentor to many Juniors, I took inspiration in forming my own Academy that helped rejuvenate Greenlands Chess Club. We must find ways to inspire new chess kids just as Jim Friar has done in the course of his exceptional service to chess.
LONGBRIDGE CHESS CLUB 