By David Walter, Special Writer
As a charter member of the Ivy League, Princeton University has enjoyed more than its share of storied rivalries — but in terms of sheer novelty, none can quite compare to the one between the Princeton Chess Club and the inmates of New Jersey State Prison.
Wednesday marked the return of the “Ivies vs. Inmates” chess competition, a much-anticipated event in which Princeton’s best players matched their skills against those of the state’s most heavily guarded criminals.
”This is literally the highlight of the year for the inmates, and by the same token this is an experience unlike any other for the students as well,” said Matthew Schuman, a state Department of Corrections public information officer.
The goal of the event, Mr. Schuman said, was to promote the prison’s chess program while also exposing future leaders to the realities of life beyond the university gates.
And so six students, five male and one female, left the gothic spires of Princeton early Wednesday morning and headed to Trenton’s maximum security facility.
”There it is – the Big House,” John Marshall, one of the event’s coordinators, told the sleepy students as they approached the imposing brick building. “You’ll wake up when the doors slam shut.”
Once inside the lobby, the players talked quietly with each other about what to expect in the tournament. None of them had ever played in, or even visited, a prison before Wednesday.
”In Bulgaria, we say that prisoners are good at chess because they have lots of time to practice,” said Atanas Petkov, a freshman international student.
Mr. Petkov said that he would not let the unusual circumstances of the event faze him.
”The rules are the same everywhere, the strategies are the same everywhere. It’s the same 64 squares, it’s the same goal, it’s the same fundamental setting,” he said.
Guards escorted the players to the prison gymnasium. Forty-six inmates seated around long tables set with chessboards waited quietly for the games to start.
Any visible nervousness on the students’ part soon gave way in the face of chess’s ritualized formality.
Each Princeton player was assigned a different row of about eight inmates to play. As the matches began, the students quickly made their way down the tables, pausing at each board to shake their opponent’s hand and make an opening move.
The pace slowed after the first few turns. The students now moved more deliberately, their brows furrowed and their arms crossed.
The inmates spent the time between moves plotting strategy.
”I just have to be patient. I don’t want to be too aggressive,” said Edwin Spears, who is in prison until next year for resisting arrest and assault.
Robert Small, sentenced in January to up to 35 years in prison for attempted murder, played Princeton junior Sudeep Doshi.
”If this is the best he’s got, I can crush him. He hasn’t shown me anything new,” Mr. Small said with a joking smile.
In the previous tournament, held three years ago, only two inmates managed to beat a Princeton player. Expectations this year were similarly low. Some prisoners recorded each move so that they could study the games later on in their cells or with a group of similarly enthusiastic players.
With the support of the Department of Corrections, inmates at New Jersey State Prison have organized a chess club of their own. It meets regularly to teach newcomers and review winning tactics.
The club’s members take chess very seriously. Some read advanced chess books for ideas to improve their attack and defense. Others cite strategies such as “the Colle system” and “the Hamim attack” as the foundation of their games. Most all see chess as an escape of sorts.
”When you play chess it takes your mind off your immediate situation,” said Warren King, an older inmate currently serving a 31-year sentence for kidnapping. “It solves a lot of the stress.”
Mr. King’s matchup against Princeton sophomore David Wang was a classic clash of book smarts versus street smarts. Mr. King first learned the game during a stint in county jail and has 39 years of playing experience under his belt. Mr. Wang, just 19, has competed in international tournaments and attained the official rank of master.
Ultimately Mr. Wang proved too strong an opponent for Mr. King.
Elsewhere the inmates had more success. As the wins began to trickle in — eventually tallying an unprecedented 12 victories for the inmates — the atmosphere in the gymnasium brightened considerably.
Inmates and students began to joke around more, and even some guards cracked hints of smiles. Prisoners moonlighting as concession workers served sugar cookies and apple juice to all.
But the mood, and the event, couldn’t last forever.
At around 1 p.m. officials told the inmates to finish all remaining games. The prisoners complied, clearing the tables of chess pieces and boards. Devoting four straight hours to nothing but chess had been an incredible luxury. They sometimes had to wait three days for a short yard break during which they could play.
The Princeton players began to take deeper stock of the grim surroundings as their competitive focus wore off. The certainties of in-game decision-making gave way to some confusion about the tournament’s larger lessons.
”That was ridiculous!” sophomore Susan Hu said as she walked towards the prison’s parking lot. “You could talk to them, and it was casual. … I can’t believe they’re in for any sort of crime.”
Atanas Petkov, the freshman from Bulgaria, said that the strangeness of the situation had only begun to sink in.
”I asked (the inmates) after the game what they had done. One was triple homicide, one was a prison riot, one was murder,” he said.
”I was like, ‘Whoa.’ When you play chess with someone, he’s like a normal person, you know?”

