Olga Clark was the widow of Capablanca. Both Capablanca and Alekhine were world chess champions during their lifetimes. Capablanca was known as a true genius of chess, while Alekhine was renowned for his sheer determination. They didn’t like each other, as you can see from this excerpt from a great book by Sosonko.
‘So, it was at this party that I met Capablanca. What was he like? You must understand, he was a king. And in every way he conducted himself like a king. When before some simultaneous display someone asked them to point out Capablanca, they said to him: “When they all enter the hall, you yourself will see who is Capablanca.” In Belgium Capablanca was at a diplomatic reception, and, being a diplomat, he had to be presented to the Belgian King. A minister later told me that, when the King heard Capablanca’s name, he ran up to Capa like a child, which was contrary to all protocol. The King showered him with compliments: “I know your games, and now, what an honour, I am seeing you in person.” He was liked by everyone, and he had good relations with everyone, except, of course, Alekhine. I first saw Alekhine somewhere near Carlsbad, I think it was in ’36. It was summer, and there was some party in a garden. I was talking with Stahlberg, who Capa had just introduced me to, but a few minutes later we were approached by some man with dishevelled hair, who looked like a shop salesman. It was Alekhine. Was he attractive? On the contrary, he was rather unsavoury. I immediately recognized him from photographs, Capablanca’s sworn enemy, and I froze on the spot. He introduced himself: “I am Alekhine.” “You must excuse us”, he said to Stahlberg, “I have to say something private to Madame.” Alekhine took me to the end of the garden – I can still see the tomato beds along which we walked – and he began speaking very determinedly. He said that Capablanca can think what he likes about him, but in company they must greet each other. That Capablanca did not even bow to him, and so on. “Evidently,” I replied, “Capablanca has strong reasons for this.” “Perhaps,” said Alekhine, “but the whole world understands that, although I lost the match to Euwe and he is now the official World Champion, it is myself and Capablanca who are the strongest players.” “Capablanca and you,” I said, “and you know this, and that is why you do not give Capablanca a return match.” He looked at me strangely and continued: “I was not altogether well during my match with Euwe, but I can assure you that…” Again I interrupted him: “Just as Capablanca was not well, when he gave up his title to you in 1927 in Buenos Aires.” “C’est impossible de parler avec vous. Vous êtes une tigresse”, said Alekhine, and I never again spoke to him. Yes, in French. In French and in Russian. We switched from one language to the other, and rushed along the beds, shouting at each other. “Do you know”, I said to Capablanca when I came back, “Alekhine has just called me a tigress”, and I retold the whole conversation to him. “Ah, you are my tigress”, Capa said, and he kissed my hand. Later I told him all this again. He did not want to miss a single detail. When I arrived in Nottingham, that day Capa won against Alekhine and was happy. It was there that he asked me what impression Alekhine made on me. “It seems to me”, I said, “that if you were to pinch him, he would squeal, whereas another man would roar.” “You are indeed a little tigress”, Capa said. There in Nottingham he said to me: “I hate Alekhine.”’
Sosonko, Genna. The Essential Sosonko: Collected Portraits and Tales of a Bygone Chess Era (pp. 119-120). Continental Sales, Inc.. Edição do Kindle.
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