NEW CONQUEST

Evening Post, Volume CXII, Issue 117, 13 November 1931, Page 3

NEW CONQUEST

LURE OF CONTRACT

GREAT AMERICAN GAME

SYSTEM AT LAST

To many Americans one'of the outstanding news items of recent weeks was the announcement of a new "official" system of bidding in contract bridge, writes George Copeland in the "New York Times." Unimportant though it may seeni to some, it brings to a climax a situation that has long precipitated cocktail-shaker tempests on country club verandahs, dreary arguments that last through the night and far. into what should "be another day, and that has even had repercussions in the Divorce Court and the: Morgue.

The matter concerns many more than those who are merely' oppressed with the'futility of life when they .make a grand slam and have ; only contracted for game, and the society people who are constantly : giving bridges .with fat entrance fees for-the benefit of worthy causes. It touches a growing number, of players, estimated at anywhere in the millions, from addicts who think and dream of .the game,: to housewives who indulge in occasional chatty rubbers at a quarter a corner—followed, of course, '.by tea—and . golf ers who shoot a few hands while waiting.to tee off. ■'. .'.■'■,.■■ ' ■•• For contract is becoming the great American card game. , Its growth has not. been particularly spectacular, as was the sprouting of pec-wee golf,_ but it has been steady and most insidious. It is a product of Europe, and over there is niore universal and taken more seriously than here. In the Far East, in Africa,; it is found wherever Europeans have-, established . administrative posts. Contract, bolstered by the introduction of the present system of scoring in 1927, began fo make serious inroads in the ranks, of the Old Guard of auction enthusiasts a few years.ago, and since then it has widely extended its empire., Among the. experts it is nearly supreme, having displaced auction almost entirely.- • Important tournaments now have difficulty, in obtaining entries for auction events; the contract contests are always crowded. MANY CLASSES. Although any, estimate as to the number of contract players would be only a I guess, their: classification is, possible. There, are.the experts, perhaps 10 per cent, of the total.:' They are almost entirely professional, and their profession takes all of their time. It is, for the successful, a highly profitable occupation. The late Wilbur C. Whitehead asserted that its was not uncommon for experts to make I'OOO dollars a week. Many avenues of profit are open to them. : They can teach, at, say, 40 dollars an hour. . They can lecture before women's clubs, or give radio addresses. They can write articles for newspaper syndicates or magazines giving advice on how to play particular hands ;■ and;; as the number of different combinations formed from fifty-two cards is almost limitless, their articles need have'nj end.

And as for books! Pew weeks go by without a book on bridge being listed high up among the best sellers. One published about .two.years ago has sold 300,000 copies. A;volume on-contract-that -appeared l.ast December has already sold 150,000 copies. . Another, a small indexed summary,'ready for, reference to settle arguments or postmortems at the card:table, is only selling at the rate of about 3000 a week because that is the maximum speed at which it can. be'printed. Experts teach' advanced players (about 15 per cent, of .the playing population) to become teachers—for. an important consideration. The latter go out into the wide, wide; world and spread the gospel of their master's system, and his books, to help the cause along. And these,, teachers teach others to become teachers. „ THE AVERAGE. Then come the vast army of poor, mediocre, or average players, the remaining 75 per cent. They are like the golf' duffers who shoot- 60 for nine holes, and they outnumber the other categories accordingly. Mediocre players can come into contact with the experts at weekly seances held in salons, bridge studios, or private clubs. Here, perhaps in an elaborate hotel room, a penthouse, or fine apartment high above the city, little groups gather and play for ; prizes or small stakes. Usually refreshments are served and a pleasant, inexpensive, evening is had. Players pay to the expert • a modest ' 'cover charge for making the arrangements, providing the room and equipment, and acting as host. There are any number of these clubs in New York City, and when the fall rolls around they are generally filled to overflowing. ' : ..'./ The stakes played at contract are usually small, in fractions of a cent a point. At the more important card clubs, however, some stiff games are found. At one, for instance, 25 cents a point is not- uncommon, and at this stake an ordinary rubber of 1600 points would cost each of the two losers 400 dollars. Also, stories are heard of the upper crust playing at huge sums. In some places contract is an/institution. What is believed to be the biggest ■ • continuous- ■:tournament is held each-year in a -well-known business club here. ''It'b'egiis' in. the fall and, lasts through, the spring,. with '„ never less than 100 players sitting in. Eyery' Wednesday night, in a hotel in the Oranges, 300 persons gather for a contract session. . . .

Contract bridge has /made its, greatest gain in the past year. Hard times seem to have helped the game. In the past, fiscal year 54,000,000 packs of playing cards . virere sold—not/all, of course, for bridge purposes. The sale of bridge supplies is said to be making a new record.. More clubs have been started this year, it is estimated, than

in the past decade. And the coming of contract is held responsible. A SAFETY VALVE. ■' Many a movie plot and novel has been based on the plight of the wife who insists on. stepping out into high society circles and losing at bridge more than her husband can afford, but some of the purse fillers have another story to tell. Theatres, night clubs, roof gardens,-places of entertainment in a' big city, are all expensive. 'A little game of bridge need notbe.-With small stakes neither side can lose a large sum of money, and an enjoyable time is possible. . Bridge can well be the C4reat ■ American Safety Valve, tthe friend in need to husbands with restless wives. ' ■ But what is this game, and why is this bidding business a major issue among a large portion of the semileisured class? ' , Like its predecessors, whist and auction, contract is played with an ordinary pack of fifty-two playing cards. Contestants "bid" to name the trump. They contract to get, in addition to their "book" of six out of a possible thirteen tricks/ from one to seven extra tricks at clubs, diamonds, hearts, spades, or at no-trump. A game consists of five tricks at the two suits first named, four at hearts or spades, or three at no-trump. Two games out of three make a rubber; games and rubbers are worth high scores, and it is costly to fail to make your contract. When you have a game, you are "vulnerable" and penalties are automatically increased. And you must always bid to the limit of safety to make the most of your cards; and must try to get your opponent to bid beyond the safety limit. Bidding being thus important, it has called ' ' forth; many • diverse "schools," each advocated by its particular well-known headmaster. And now, after blundering in a bewildering maze of systems, contract devotees, are confronted with a. chart designed to guide them to safe harbour, the dreamed-of utopia of correct bridge. STRANGE TONGUES. Too long, sponsors; of ; the-new system declare, have partners in this indoor sport spoken different languages. Too long has the four-handed conversation of the contract tablethere are about thirty systems,, about half a dozen of which are welliknown— resembled a jabbering in classical Latin, pig Latin, modern Italian and pidgin English. All dialects are to go, they say; a bid of such-and-such is to'mean so-and-so, with no apologetic, 'Why, I was using the Knickerdish, system" to follow a defeat of major proportions. The new slogan is to be: "From now on, whenever two contract, players meet anywhere, it will be possible for them to play pleasantly, harmoniously and successfully." But the prospect of such a consummation, devoutly as it is to be wished, has brought on ,a bridge war; a challenge to battle, with cards as the weapons. For one authority, backed by his many followers, holds that his own system is already widely accepted and is better than the now one. Hence the "Great Schism." What is the appeal of contract? Is it a gentleman's pastime, or a low gambling game—or is it, like life, what you make it? LUCK AND BLUFF. Americans, they say, like to gamble and indulge in games of chance. Sweepstakes tickets go here like hot cakes; the stock market is not always dull. Lady Luck and bluff are on hand in bridge. A player who does everything by the book, who does not know when to play "poker" bridge, soon joins that mythical army "walking the streets of London" because ho or she failed to take put the trumps held by the opponents. You sit down at tho bridge table. To you are dealt thirteen cards, face down. Beneath those uninformative backs lie great, and grave, possibilities. From them may come the. thrill that comes once in a few 'million times, a "perfect" hand, all of one suit. Or you may find there five "quick tricks," and get the supreme satisfaction of bidding "two spades," telling your partner —by one system—just as plainly as though you. kicked him in the shins under the table/"Bid or die! ; I've got a fence-buster hand. The game is certain; and perhaps we can get a slam!" Or—maybe you have a "Yarmordugh," a trickless hand. The goddess of chance sits at the bridge table as well as beside the roulette wheel. Or you can bluff them out, and get the thrill that comes to a poker player when he wins the big pot against a straight, although holding only his opening pair of jacks. Your opponents start with a no-trump bid, you scare them into a minor suit by persistent calling of a major suit. They do not contract for game. You save a 700----point rubber, and then win the tussle a few hands later.