Many would
consider themselves lucky if they mastered one thing in
life. Carmine Nigro of Peachtree City has a long list of
accomplishments that cover a wide-range of areas.
He was an
accomplished band leader in the `40s. He had a strong
career as a stockbroker. He mastered the game of chess
and was Bobby Fischer's only chess teacher. In his
mid-40s he mastered the game of golf, becoming a teaching
golf pro for Sam Snead's brother, Homer, at his golf
range in Miami, Fla.
At 90,
Nigro still plays chess daily. Even now, he doesn't play
an "average" game - he challenges the
chess computer that won the World Computer Chess
Tournament in 1985.
Nigro grew
up in Brooklyn, N.Y. during the big band era. His big
brother, Sal, taught him to play the mandolin when he was
eight. He enjoyed music so much that he ultimately
learned to play the saxophone and the clarinet. Later, he
and his brothers started a small band. Possibly at the
behest of supportive friends and family, the band was
asked to play at a wedding. Unfortunately for the wedding
entourage, the band knew how to play only one song, which
they played over and over throughout the entire wedding.
Carmine
persevered, learned to play a few more songs, and became
good enough to support himself and his wife, Anne, and
son, Bill, with his music through the mid-'50s.
While music
was his focus, another talent soon became a competing
interest. Nigro took up chess "quite by
chance," he says. When he was 28, he was a member of
the Brooklyn Chess and Checker Club. However, he says, no
one played chess - they played cards. One day, a
chess grand master visited the club wanting to play
chess. With no one to play, he tried his hand at bridge,
losing 50 cents to Nigro. He paid him with a chess lesson
and told Nigro that someday, he would be a terrific
player.
The very
next week Nigro was drafted into the Army. Hooked on
chess already, he had a difficult time finding someone to
play. His wife helped ease the longing somewhat by
sending him a chess book on end game strategy. By the end
of his three years as an army musician, Nigro had end
game strategy down.
In 1944 he
was discharged and went home to Brooklyn to find
"the real chess club." He found it, and lost
before he ever got to the end game. Not daunted by the
loss, he bought a book of chess openings and middle-game
play. One year later he was the president of the chess
club, the club champion and was teaching others how to
play.
He also
started another band. Calling himself "Tommy
Little," his orchestra of seven musicians and one
female vocalist once attracted a line that wrapped around
a city block four times - the largest crowd the Asbury,
N. J. hotel had ever seen.
The band
did well, but his wife, Anne, encouraged him to find
something with a more settled lifestyle, which led Nigro
to settle into his "serious" phase and become a
stockbroker. He did, however, continue to indulge in his
other passion, playing chess.
In 1951,
Nigro, then the secretary of the Brooklyn Chess Club,
watched a young 9-year-old lose a game of chess to a
one-time champion, Max Pavey. Shortly thereafter, Nigro
was teaching the future grand master and world champion
Bobby Fischer how to play chess. Nigro was the only
instructor Fischer ever had.
Fischer was
close to the same age as Nigro's son, Bill, who was also
being tutored in the game. The two played against each
other frequently. Both Nigros note that Fischer was very
temperamental, a reputation he later built on during his
somewhat stormy chess career.
Bill notes,
"Just about every weekend Bobbie would come to our
house and spend a day. He was someone who really wanted
to learn and wanted to play the game of chess."
Carmine
recalls that he knew Fischer was going to be something
special within a month. After a year, Nigro knew Fischer
would be a world champion.
Fischer
dedicated his book, "Bobby Fischer's Games of
Chess," to Nigro. The dedication reads, "To my
chess teacher, Carmine Nigro." Of Nigro, Fischer
said, "Mr. Nigro was possibly not the best player in
the world, but he was a very good teacher."
Enter
Nigro's name into any search engine on the Internet, and
what pops up are references to Fischer. Nigro has been in
Sports Illustrated, the book "Profiles of a Prodigy
- The Life and Games of Bobbie Fischer" and many
other periodicals and newspaper articles.
Francis,
whom he married after his first wife, Anne, died, says of
later years, "The reporters used to come to the
house all the time." During World Chess
Championships reporters would descend on the couple,
asking for insights into the game and strategies.
The family
left Fischer, and Brooklyn, behind in 1956, moving to
Miami. Soon after the move, Nigro took up a new challenge
- golf. Bill states with some pride, "Whatever he
sets his mind to do, he becomes the best."
Nigro was
"extremely good" at golf, says Bill. Shortly
after learning and mastering the game, Sam Snead's
brother Homer asked him to teach at his driving range.
Nigro worked as a stockbroker by day and taught golf at
night, doing both until he retired in 1965.
After
retirement he taught music and chess, "for the fun
of it." In a 1996 article titled "Chairman of
the Board," in The Palm Beach Post, Ron Wiggins
wrote, "He is a gentle and patient teacher with an
almost Pied Piper appeal to children. But at the
chessboard, he is a bloodthirsty warrior. Sit for a few
lessons - on life as well as chess - with a master."
Last year
Nigro moved with Francis to Peachtree City to be close to
his son, Bill. Bill and his wife, Martha, moved to
Peachtree City from the Stone Mountain area in 1986,
mainly for the quality of life. The couple have six
children. Natalie, the only daughter, lives in Baltimore
and is an electrical engineer. Todd is an instructor
pilot in the Air Force and is stationed at Seymour
Johnson Air Base. Kirk is a financial analyst living in
Salt Lake City. Three children are still at home, Ryan,
15, Justin, 13, and Danny, 10.
Bill, who
served in the Navy in the Civil Engineer Corps for 20
years, has a thriving business with offices across the
country, Redicheck.
Carmine and
Francis currently live just a few blocks from Bill and
Martha in Peachtree City. When Nigro plays his daily
chess game, he overlooks one of Peachtree City's
beautiful golf courses. He still has a twinkle in his eye
when he tells a story or welcomes friends to his house.
His great-grandson is still the recipient of a golfing
tip or two. And he still gets enthused when talking about
the game of chess or about his musical career. It seems
life has been good to Nigro - and he has been good
for many lives in return.
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