It’s National Chess Day, so thought we’d mention one of the greatest—and most eccentric—chess players in history was a New Orleans boy. Paul Morphy was born into a rich family in 1837. A physically small and bright child, he displayed an uncanny memory and was described as “logical to a fault.” Morphy was just 9 years old when, as the story goes, he was watching his father and uncle play chess on the back porch. After one long stalemate the men decided to call the match a draw, and were about to clear the board when young Paul announced his uncle was the winner. They watched as the child shifted the game pieces, showing how Uncle was indeed just a few moves from checkmate. No one had taught Paul chess. He’d picked it up through osmosis in a few hours.
Dubbed a prodigy, Paul went on to decimate every family member who dared challenge him from across a chessboard. As a pre-teen he defeated Major General Winfeild Scott, a formidable strategist and player, in just 10 moves at a chess club on Royal Street, and then dispersed with well-known Hungarian competitor Johann J. Lowenthal.
Morphy took a break from chess to study at the University of Louisiana, where he earned his law degree. His uncle convinced him to spend the year between graduating and becoming old enough to practice law testing his chess chops. And so the 20-year-old found himself in New York’s First American Chess Congress in 1857. After defeating everyone he was declared the nation’s best chessman, a victory which he parlayed into a ticket to England to challenge Europe’s chess king, Howard Staunton. But Staunton declined to play some kid from North America, not even when Morphy begged.
“Permit me to repeat,” wrote Paul to Staunton in 1858, “that I am not a professional player; that I never wished to make any skill I possess the means of pecuniary advancement, and that my earnest wish is never to play for any sake but honor.” It was still a no though.
So Morphy headed to Paris for a gauntlet of matches and a blindfolded tournament. (Seated in the Cafe de la Regence, Morphy faced eight opponents with his eyes covered...and beat them all.) By age 21 he had so endeared himself to the international chess community that he was declared “the best chess player that ever lived” and “World Chess Champion.” He returned home to New Orleans in 1859, declaring he’d won everything there was to win and would play no more matches. He was going to focus on law, like the other men in his esteemed family.
But then the Civil War broke out. Morphy—not exactly a physical specimen when it comes to literal battlefields—appears to have served the Confederacy for a period of time, but then traveled to Cuba and stayed there. When the war finally ended he again returned to New Orleans but never actually got that firm off the ground.
Instead he became a local eccentric. Morphy reportedly had a phobia about poisoning, and refused to eat food cooked by anyone but his mother or sister. He was also convinced that “neighborhood barbers” were planning his murder, and warned friends to look out for their blades. Sometimes he would become enamored of young women, but never dared speak to them, choosing instead to watch them from a distance for several hours before returning to his home alone. He never married. He also never played another competitive chess match, despite numerous attempts by members of the community to bring him out of retirement.
Morphy died of a stroke at age 47 in his family home. He is buried in Saint Louis Cemetery in Orleans Parish. His games are still analyzed by Grand Masters today—the Morphy Defense is names for him— and it has been said that he could beat any champion today if given the opportunity to learn how the game has evolved since his passing.
A street is named in his honor in the 7th Ward, just a few blocks from the Fairgrounds.