1946-2002
Some weeks are harder than others. This week I lost a foe, a friend, and a mentor. Their names were Cedric Thompson.
Cedric was a man who loved Truth, and had no time for anything else. This thirst filled him and spilled over into his chess; at his last Western Open tournament we spent several hours searching for the truth in what at first looked like a simple pawn ending he had played earlier. We never arrived at it with certainty, but we made progress. Progress toward truth was never enough for him; he had to arrive, not simply journey. So, after we turned out the lights at the playing site, I knew he would continue to dig on his own. I don’t know if he got to the truth of that position, but I know if he didn’t, it was simply because he ran out of time.
Cedric came to Milwaukee during the latter days of the city recreation department’s playground chess program. The program was run by Pearle Mann at the time, and she spotted the worth in him and began to train him as her replacement. After her death, he served ably—until the city’s taxpayer revolt ended the program.
He was also heavily involved over the years with the Milwaukee Municipal Chess Association, keeping it running after Pearle’s death, doing the work necessary, running tournaments. And so it was as well with the Milwaukee Chess Foundation. It wasn’t always easy, but I never heard him complain. Even so, after a few decades you could see the burden wearing on him, if you knew what you were looking for.
Cedric did much the same with me over the past few years as Pearle had done with him years before. I wanted to get involved with organizing and running events, and he was tired, approaching burnout. Another man might have gladly dumped the task on me and just walked away. But not Cedric. He stepped down as president of the Milwaukee Chess Foundation in my favor and accepted the post as Treasurer, staying beside me, advising me. I can’t count the number of times I interrupted him in the evenings at home—with a question, or just to bounce a half-baked idea off him and see what he thought of it. I can tell you that he never once acted annoyed over the interruptions, no matter how inconvenient they might have been. Every time he would listen, and if he thought the idea was feasible, make helpful suggestions. Each year we went over more of the behind-the-scenes details involved in running an event, and each year I learned more. It’s as if he knew this day was coming soon, and was bringing me along so that I was ready when it happened.
The last time we met as foes has been in my mind often this week. It was at a Western Open (of course). I was having my best tournament ever, playing chess at a level I’d never played before (or since, for that matter). Going into the last round, I had a chance of forcing my way into the top three with a win. My opponent was Cedric; the game ended in a draw. The more I think about it, the more appropriate that result seems. Even on what was arguably the best day of my life, I could only equal Cedric, not surpass him.
The Milwaukee chess community had fallen on hard times, through the personal losses of Pearle and Fred, and the monetary loss of the city’s financial backing. We were lucky to have a man like Cedric to sustain us through those times. I was even more lucky to have known him. I fully expect the next time we meet he’ll have that same endgame set up on the board in front of him, waiting to finally show me the truth we’d spent hours looking for at the end of that Western.
“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” The running’s over, friend. Rest well.