Bernice & Floyd Sarisohn - photo by Jennifer M. KleiA Lifetime of Fun and Games
By Chad Kushins
When Floyd Sarisohn expects company at his home, he and wife Bernice raise the red flag.
It’s not a warning, but rather, a sign that visitors have found the right house, the location of one of the largest and most eclectic chess collections in the country; the flag, once momentarily rested against the wind, vividly displays three chess pieces, ushering the inquisitive into the Sarisohn’s converted garage – the entrance to the makeshift museum.
In anticipation of a visit, the Commack couple greets their visitors with proper
photo by Jennifer M. Klei attire: Floyd, a retired district court judge who still maintains his private law practice, in a playful necktie showing, like the outside flag, chess pieces fitting into the design. Bernice wears both a light jacket with the patterns of a checkered chessboard and a gracious smile. They’re always proud to share their renowned private collection and the stories that come with each set; the storytelling, according to Floyd, is an important part of the collection itself, and the experience of being granted a by-invitation only visit.
“Each set comes with a history all it’s own,” he says, ushering guests through the converted foyer, a dazzling introduction to the hundreds of chess sets on display. “And every set that we’ve collected comes with our own story about how we got it.” The first thing that comes to mind, seeing the initial three walls adorned, top to bottom, with all sizes and shapes of little chessmen, carefully arranged behind the shimmering glass of the professional display cases one would expect in a china shop – is that when Floyd tells you for the first time, “We have a pretty big collection,” he wasn’t kidding. In person, smiling with pride, he says, “Take a look around first, then you can ask about any of the sets you like – and please feel free to take photos!”
Next month marks the Sarisohns’ 60th wedding anniversary, a feat equally impressive and beautiful as their chess set collection. As a guest walks around, carefully, carefully – there’s so much glass and history surrounding – they are watched by Floyd and Bernice, not out of distrust, but rather, to study the reactions and curiosity of the guest – like proud curators. After all, even in their own home, that’s what they really are.
The collection, decades in the making, takes up four solid rooms: the converted garage, an adjacent sitting room, the den which doubles as a personal study, and finally, the basement – the crown jewel in the collection. In each of the rooms, glass cases hold the displayed sets in meticulously arranged order – each piece itself and the full sets according to motif. The foyer, for example, holds some very rare, more overtly artistic sets and, close to floor, sets originally designed to entertain children – Disney and other cartoon characters, fairy tales. (The adult-oriented collections, such as the expensive subgenre of “erotic” chess pieces, are down in the basement; Floyd’s personal favorite genre, that of modern political and historical figures, is located in the study. Of course, all of those are, too, arranged in a specific order of time period and country or origin.)
Taken as a whole, the collection is overwhelming and magnificent to behold. As Floyd and Bernice continue to watch and smile, it is apparent that they know visitors are having just that thought. Again, that was their intention. How could one not marvel at walls of chess pieces that represent all of American history, from Sacco and Vanzetti to Ken Starr and the Clinton impeachment, with all the presidents and first ladies standing guard in-between; or a Russian-designed set that features rounded squares in the board and pieces that are constructed like children’s “weebles”, so people could play on trains and the game would never be interrupted by the rocking of movement; or a six-tiered variation of the game, meant as a space-age prop from Star Trek (“Spock played this in an episode,” Floyd says. “I read the book it came with, but it would be impossible to really play this way.”)
Or the various international versions of the game that feature pieces carved out of rare stones, woods, and found materials?
According to Floyd, the smallest chess set he and Bernice own falls into that category – what looks like a large nut that slides open to reveal chess pieces no bigger than wooden splinters. Of course, this set, made of taguanut and coming from Ecuador, isn’t for actual play; most of the Sarisohn’s collection is truly works of art meant solely for display purposes.
Floyd, leading the way back upstairs to the dazzling foyer, says, “I’ll show you the largest set in the collection.” Once there, he points to the wall itself, where, close to the floor, a modular chess board that comes apart to conserve space has been arranged horizontally to make four self-contained tables that run the length of the room. In proper order, the table’s top is aligned with a gorgeous white chess pieces, each approximately the size and height of beer steins.
“It’s Italian,” he says, smiling. “It’s made of porcelain.”
“It’s ceramic, dear,” calls Bernice, who has been watching her husband’s excitement from across the room.
Floyd, now playfully confused, says, “Are you sure?”
“Well,” she says, goading him with a matching smile, “porcelain is a type of ceramic, I think.”
In the living room, Floyd and Bernice are open to any questions about their joint passion for collecting. This, too, is reflected by the motif of the room – paintings and framed prints of classical images of chess and historical figures playing, always a look on the subjects’ faces more serious and pensive than that of the Sarishons themselves when they get to talking about their life together, as they are decidedly playful in how they’ve spent their decades of married life. “It all started when she gave me my first chess set as an engagement gift before the wedding,” he says. “In 1957.”
“That was my mistake,” Bernice says, laughing. Seated beside her husband on an adjacent couch, she is wholly aware of how cinematic-looking and all encompassing their home truly is. Of their children, long grown and moved-out, she admits that it took an immense amount of patience for their unorthodox parents. “We’ve met so many collectors – not just of chess sets – but of all kinds of things,” she says. “It’s a common thing – the children of collectors always have more tolerance than genuine interest.” As she says this, Floyd returns to the living room with a photograph of him and Bernice on Halloween many years ago; as in real life, he is the king and she is the queen – but here, dressed as actual, life-size chess pieces. He immediately laughs again. “That was actually for work – an office function.”
It’s difficult not to join in Floyd’s laughter at this. He is a founding member of his firm. A graduate of St. John’s University School of Law, and was elected as one of the first District Court Judges in Suffolk County; later, he served as Special Counsel to the New York State Assembly. Among his other impressive legal credentials are tenures as Law Chair for the Suffolk County Democratic Committee and as Town Leader for the Smithtown Democratic Party.
But, that’s just his day job. Chess collecting is something different, something special in its own way.
Floyd, answering the first real question that comes to mind, says, “Well, we play chess – sort of. It’s really about the sets themselves … However, we both love the game and I really believe that it’s a positive thing that chess is taught in schools, particularly in the inner cities where they’ve established after-school clubs and things like that. It’s a teaching tool and a great way to get kids to think and strategize.” A longstanding member of the Boy Scouts of America, Floyd was an advocate for getting chess recognition as a merit badge within that organization, another point of pride to him and Bernice both.
But, among the genuine wonders of their home, what – with so many sets to choose from – are their favorites?
“We have three favorites,” he says. “I have a personal favorite, so does Bernice. Then, we have one that I think we both love.”
Bernice says, “My favorite one is the set we got in Venice. We were on vacation and it was our last day there. Whenever we get back from vacation, we’re always asked, ‘How many chess sets did you get while you were there?’ But this time, it was our last day there and we found it – I had to convince Floyd.” That set, made of genuine Venetian glass, dates back to the 1700s.
“I think that was in 1986 or 1988,” says Floyd. “Something like that.”
“You had to talk the man down in price, says Bernice.”
“In the antiques store?”
“That’s right,” she says, and laughs.
With a sincere appreciation for tongue-in-cheek humor, Floyd’s personal favorite is his “Clinton versus Dole” set, another of the entries in the historical section of his study. A close second, he admits, is the one-of-a-kind set of the Clinton household, which was supposed to be given, as a gift, to the then-Clinton White House. The problem? “Hilary apparently hates caricatures!” says Floyd, still amused at how close the commissioned piece came to landing in a sitting President’s hands.
“Our shared favorite, though,” says Floyd, “is the large one downstairs – the one in the middle of the room.” Indeed, once entering the basement, any visitor would first see an antique chess table, the board itself under glass, an air of an actual artifact in their midst. This set, the Sarisohns’ most beloved piece in the collection, one made from Danish porcelain and made in Copenhagen, depicts the Moors against the Saracens. “It may be spelled differently,” Floyd says, “but I can’t help loving that it has our name.”
Over the years, the Sarisohns’ collection has drawn them tons of accolades and admirers, particularly within the chess world and among fellow collectors. Always looking to add new additions to their home, they’ve sold and traded certain sets for new ones. “The internet literally opened up a new world of possibilities,” says Floyd. Currently, the Sarisohns’ home contains approximately 900 sets on display; all told, they’ve acquired just under 2,000 sets total. “It may not be the biggest in the world,” he adds, “but it’s definitely one of the biggest in the country.”
At one time, the couple even investigated the possibility of having their home declared as a recognized museum – something that may very well happen in the future. For now, however, they still enjoy the chance to have visitors from all over the world come and see the shared passion that has added so much fun to their marriage for so many years.
And not all museums have the personal touch of being formally walked out and back to your car once the visit is over – and a sincere thank you for the interest.
“Oh,” Floyd says, before returning back inside. “I almost forgot.”
At that, he lowers the red flag.
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Sunday, April 15, 2012 at 11:48PM 
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