John Lennon bought from here in the 80s. His widow Yoko Ono still comes by to check for new stock. Woody Allen’s just finished shooting a scene here, and the manager knows David Lee Roth well enough to describe him as a “really sweet guy.”
This is the charmingly disarrayed Village Chess Shop, in Greenwich Village. It couldn’t be further from Wall Street, but the flagging economy now looms over the shop’s survival.
The Village Chess Shop in Greenwich Village has been a Thompson Street institution since it opened its doors in 1971. It was founded by George Frohlinde, and sold to nephew Larry Nash in 2001. On offer are many different sets, ranging from the plastic and vinyl variety (price: $15), to hand-carved Italian marble sets that cost over $10,000. The shop’s tight confines grudgingly allow for nine tables, topped with hand-carved boards, where players can fight it out for $2 an hour. Coffee is poured at a dollar a cup, and a chalkboard warns players that each profanity will cost them $3. 
Most of the players are regulars who have been coming to The Village Chess Shop for decades. “Master Dick” shows up mornings; in the afternoons, “Richard the Computer” ambles in. Sometimes new players appear, like four-year-old Zachary, who comes by once a week with his mother. The shop stays open late, sometimes until 1 am, brewing pot after pot of coffee, National Public Radio, gospel, or classical music playing in the background.
But in the past few years business has been dwindling, according to Andrew Nash, manager of the shop and brother to the owner Larry Nash. Competition from internet retailers has driven down sales, and the rise of videogames has stifled an interest in chess in the younger generations, he says.
The business has become increasingly dependent upon two things: strong holiday sales, and trade in high-end sets, according to Elias Greendorfer, a clerk who works nights and weekends.
“There are basically two types of customers who drive sales,” says Elias. “You’ve got your players from the park, who buy the 15 buck plastic set, and the super-rich banker type, who’s looking for a really nice set to give as a gift.”
This is bad news. New York City Comptroller William Thompson has just forecast 165,000 job losses in the next two years, with 35,000 cuts in the financial sector. Gloomier still is the National Retail Federation’s prediction that consumer spending during the holidays will increase only 2.2 percent – the smallest increase since 2002. 
Still Larry, the owner, remains cautiously optimistic, saying that the shop hasn’t been put in check by the flagging economy.
“We absolutely need a strong holiday season,” he says. “But I don’t think we’re different from any small business down here.”
Larry is concerned that his landlord may choose to raise his lease rate in the next few years. By far the biggest expense the shop struggles with is its lease. Though he won’t reveal the rate he pays now, the average monthly lease in his neighborhood for retail space is between $13,000 and $18,000, according to CityFeet, the commercial real estate listing service partnered with The New York Times.
“As a small business down in the Village you’re always worried about making your rent,” says Larry. “Mostly I worry that if The Chess Shop did close down it’d be turned into another Starbucks or Bank of America.”
One thing that isn’t in doubt is the adoration the shop receives from patrons, both newcomer and regular alike.
Alphonso Sanders, a jazz musician in town from Itta Bena, Mississippi, had heard of the shop from a friend and made sure to stop by when he was in town for a recent performance. He’d picked up a chess board on a trip to China, and needed some stylish pieces to match. He left the shop with a grin and a new set of Drueke pieces for $60. Another first time buyer, Colin Campbell, an executive at Express, a clothing retailer, needed a maritime themed set to match the room he’d just added to his house in New Jersey. The Chess Shop had exactly what he was looking for, with ships’ captains now standing proudly, opposing kings of his coffee table. Well worth the $100 the pieces cost.
Employees and players comment on the unique niche the shop fills in the neighborhood. The shop gives people a meeting place.
“This is what cities need, places where people can get together, outside of bars and restaurants,” Andrew says.
Kevin Manriquez, 18, is a freshman at Hunter College who started coming to the shop regularly last year. He’s been taken under wing by some of the older players while he trains for an upcoming tournament. When asked what he’d do if the shop closed down, he says he’d likely stay home and play the game online, without the benefit of coaching by masters. He describes his other options: playing at one of the organized chess clubs in the city, which can cost upwards of $300, or playing in the park, against opponents who play for money while chain smoking cigarettes. Neither option appeals to Kevin.
Michael Bloom, a 50 year old man with salt and pepper hair, started coming to The Chess Shop over 25 years ago. He points out that the shop has helped to assimilate immigrants in a unique fashion.
“People who come over from other countries may not speak the language, but they speak chess,” he says. “So many places come and go, but The Chess Shop has survived,” says Bloom.
The talented chess player is able to turn weakness into strength, and see all sides of the attack. On that note, George, the shop’s now retired founder, who can be regularly seen casually besting unsuspecting newcomers, had his own opinion on the flagging economy, delivered with his characteristic smile.
“When people lose their jobs,” he said, “at least they have more time to focus on what’s important in life. Like chess.”
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