It was with great sadness that I read about Jacob Murey passing away. In Paris I had the pleasure of knowing him precisely around his peak in 1988-1991, and it is safe to say he was a fixture of the Paris chess scene. You could find him regularly hanging around the two main chess shops of that time: Le Damier de L’Opera and the Librairie Games, both of which were offshoots of the defunct Librairie St. Germain.
These places were temples dedicated to the worship of Caissa, with underground areas (literally) housing shelves packed with chess books. As a beginning player, I gravitated towards them like a moth to a flame, fascinated by the abundance of dedicated literature and the fantastic chess machines on display. I was certainly not alone, and many players would come in just to breathe in the air of all the chess books and material, and see what new arrivals had come. One such regular visitor was the venerated grandmaster Jacob Murey.
Unlike today, in 1989 France had only one homegrown grandmaster: Aldo Haik, and that was it. Others would soon follow, such as Olivier Renet and especially the prodigiously talented Joel Lautier, but at the time Murey was indeed royalty in the Paris chess scene.
He would generously share his opinions and evaluations for any chess position that might be on a board that was being discussed or analyzed. He had this signature way of taking a piece he felt belonged on a square by preceding it with a sort of odd whine, “Eeeeeeeeh….” like a bomb about to drop, and then proceed to screw the piece in place as if to emphasize its strength there. This became its own meme at the time, and players of all levels picked up on it with delight, with endless imitations being tossed around in mimicry and tribute. I was told later that Viktor Korchnoi, who Murey had seconded, had this habit on occasion (I did not know him myself, so cannot comment) and that was where he picked it up, but regardless, it was widely attributed to the Israeli player living in Paris.
The Fidelity X was essentially an overclocked Fidelity Mach VI, designed to play in the World Computer Chess Championship in 1989
In one curious moment, I actually faced him across the board, but not as a player. This was in the 1989 Aubervilliers Open, a very famous rapid event at the time that allowed chess machines to participate, and let builders and programmers test their work in a competitive environment. The machine I was operating was a massive and highly unusual ‘fish tank’, the Fidelity X, which was to participate in the WCCC later that year. The exotic build, with its special aquarium housing and fan, was not a little noisy when turned on, drawing even more attention to it than the unique appearance alone.
Jacob was not happy when he saw the large and somewhat intimidating machine opposite him, since its very looks suggested something unusual and potentially dangerous over the board. He complained a lot, before and after, but his quality was not to be denied and he completely demolished the machine positionally.
He was a great character and an endlessly generous personality, and I remember him fondly. He will be missed.
