Good luck to everyone participating in Stamford and at home in this year’s Nerd Olympics, aka the American Crossword Puzzle Tournament!
The mix of camaraderie and competition is so unique at ACPT, and there’s a general joyfulness that permeates the entire event. (Yes, even during the dreaded Puzzle #5.)
While I was unable to attend this year sadly, I did celebrate in my own way… by constructing a puzzle for you to enjoy!
Consider this a VERY easy icebreaker to shake off any puzzly ring rust you might have before diving into the devious and delightful puzzles of this year’s tournament!
We’re only a few weeks out from the 48th American Crossword Puzzle Tournament, which will be the last year the event is held in Stamford, CT, before the move next year to Philadelphia.
Westwords isn’t until June, but registration is open! (And they’ve added in-person pairs solving this year.)
Not only that, but there’s also https://www.midwestgridfest.com/ for the Midwest Crossword Tournament, which is just delightful.
Yes, you can simply type https://www.mwxwt.com/ and get to the same information, but where is the whimsy in that?!
(P.S. The Midwest Crossword Tournament isn’t until October, but registration opens April 6th!)
Crossword Con Returns!
Puzzmo’s Third Annual Crossword Con is being held on Friday, April 10th, in Manhattan, New York (and online as well).
If you’re looking for some fascinating insight into the world of puzzles both present and future, be sure to check it out!
They just announced the panel of presenters and it is stacked: Brooke Husic, Orta Therox, Saman Bemel-Benrud, Ben Zimmer, and Adam Aaronson.
Adam very deservingly won the ORCA for Best Crossword-Related Media for his piece “Square Theory,” so I’m excited to see him revisiting the topic for Crossword Con. It will be a must-watch presentation.
Be sure to get your tickets for either in-person or online attendance. They’re including a one-year subscription to Puzzmo Plus with your purchase!
These Puzzles Fund Abortion 6
Before I wrap up today’s post, I want to remind my fellow puzzlers about the important work behind These Puzzles Fund Abortion.
1913 marked the birth of the crossword as we know it, but cryptic (or British-style) crosswords have been around nearly as long as the American version!
In fact, this past Saturday — Pi Day — marked an important anniversary in the history of cryptic crosswords.
On March 14th, 1926, Edward Powys Mathers, under the pseudonym Torquemada, published the first of 670 cryptic puzzles under the umbrella of The Observer, launching a crossword dynasty that continues to this very day.
Mathers was a poet and a translator, and quite accomplished in both fields. Two years before his Observer debut as Torquemada, he was actually working for The Observer, but as a reviewer of thriller books. Apparently, he preferred to suggest how each book might be improved, rather than criticizing the book as is.
He noticed the American crossword craze crossing the ocean, but didn’t think much of them. (At the time, crossword cluing was very straightforward, consisting mostly of dictionary definitions. There was no wordplay, no misdirection, no humor. Cluing was VERY dry.)
In 1925, his first cryptic puzzles — a series of 12 crosswords where pairs of clues were rhyming couplets — appeared in The Saturday Westminster Gazette. This was where he first introduced himself to the puzzling public as Torquemada, taking the name of the Spanish Grand Inquisitor.
Well, sort of. The first puzzle was constructed for the entertainment of friends, but one of those friends took it to The Saturday Westminster Gazette against his wishes. The editors of The Gazette then managed to convince Mathers to create more. They were boldly advertised:
I recall how thrilling the green poster looked: “Crosswords for Supermen.” Alas, your tired commuter of today would swallow that first puzzle, verse and all, and correctly disgorge it between Charing Cross and Waterloo. — Torquemada, 1935
(Later those twelve puzzles were collected as “Crosswords for Riper Years.”)
After his run with The Saturday Westminster Gazette was finished, The Observer asked him to contribute puzzles to their outlet. They were called “Feelers,” as Mathers sought to widen the scope and audience of his puzzles, slowly “feeling his way” to better and more satisfying cluing.
It’s unlikely that Torquemada was the first setter to use cryptic-style cluing, but he was the first to ONLY use cryptic clues in his puzzles. But that wasn’t his only cryptic crossword innovation. He abandoned American-style grids as well, including these black bar grids:
Image courtesy of What’s Gnu? by Michelle Arnot
Apparently he was successful in feeling out his audience; no matter how difficult his puzzles seemed to many, The Observer would receive as many as seven THOUSAND correct solutions from solvers all around the world, hoping to be among the lucky few selected to win a prize. (Prizes went to the first three correct solutions opened each week at The Observer offices.) It’s estimated another twenty thousand solvers out there were regularly completing his puzzles and not sending in their solutions.
Torquemada’s wife Rosamond later recalled that solvers would thank him for helping them “rediscover forgotten beauties in prose and verse to which we might never have returned but for the stimulus of the weekly chase”.
Torquemada’s prolific puzzling and creative cluing led some to suspect that there was actually a team of constructors toiling away under a shared sobriquet, but Torquemada’s only collaborator was Rosamond. He would choose the topic/theme for the grid, providing her with a list of words to include, and she would construct the grid.
Sadly, his time shepherding cryptic crosswords came to end when he passed away on February 3rd, 1939, at the age of 46.
After his passing, Rosamond read through over thirty thousand of his clues. She found the same word used fifty times in his puzzles, and every single time, the clue was different. Fifty different clues for the same word!
The unenviable task of taking over for Torquemada fell to Derek Somerset Macnutt, who adopted the name Ximenes for his constructing career. (Ximenes, as you might expect, was the name of a Grand Inquisitor in the Spanish Inquisition who succeeded the real Torquemada.)
Taking that particular set a very high bar, a challenge that Macnutt readily accepted. He aspired to increase the vocabulary of his audience, hoping for 30 percent of the answer words in the grid to be new to solvers.
Interestingly, his interest in puzzles was inspired by Torquemada but his singular brand of cluing was more reminiscent of Afrit, aka Alistair Ferguson Ritchie, who constructed cryptics for The Listener.
Ximenes adopted a symmetrical grid — a standard which remains to this day — as well as a maximum and minimum number of unches in the grid. (Unches, for you portmanteau lovers, means unchecked squares.) He also considered some of Torquemada’s puzzles unfair, and sought to standardize cluing, ensuring each had both wordplay and definition included, even while making them more creative and inventive.
In 1966, he published Ximenes on the Art of the Crossword, which pulled back the curtain on his constructing and inspired many constructors and setters in the years to come. (One of the most famous is the setter Eric Chalkley, aka Apex, who literally named himself after Ximenes in his endeavors to “ape X.”)
He also helped kickstart the cryptic crossword movement in America. After solving some of Frank Lewis’s puzzles for The Nation, Stephen Sondheim discovered the work of Ximenes, and started to learn the ins and outs of cryptic crosswords.
He even participated in Ximenes’s weekly clue-writing competitions:
Ximenes would then judge all the clues, conferring a first prize, a second prize, a third prize, and then two levels of honorable mentions: HC (Highly Commended) and VHC (Very Highly Commended). “And you would get in the mail a slip of paper giving the winners’ names and the winning clues.”
The slip was usually four inches wide by twelve inches long. In this way, even though Sondheim was in New York City, he became part of an international community of puzzle solvers matching minds with Ximenes. “I never got past honorable mention,” he lamented, “but I did get honorable mention.”
As it turns out, Sondheim received seventeen honorable mentions, fourteen HCs and three VHCs. One of those VHCs was for the clue “Pop art panel, derived from Dada” for PATERNAL.
Later accepting the challenge of the cryptic crosswords in The Listener (which were, and are, infamous for their difficulty), he introduced them to his collaborator on West Side Story, Leonard Bernstein.
And when Sondheim and Bernstein’s creative differences got the better of each other, they would reunite over a cryptic crossword, and then get back to work.
Sondheim would go on to create cryptic crosswords for New York Magazine, starting in the late 1960s, helping to introduce American audiences to that devious and challenging variety of crosswords. He also cultivated a library of cryptic puzzles and puzzle magazines, passing part of that collection (all of his Listener cryptic crosswords up through 1984) to Will Shortz.
Macnutt passed away in 1971, but the final Ximenes puzzle, number 1200, was published in 1972. In March of that same year, stewardship of The Observer cryptic crossword passed to Jonathan Crowther, who took up the name Azed. Not only does this sound like it covers the alphabet (A to Zed), but it reverses the name of another Grand Inquistor, Diego de Deza.
He had been a solver of Ximenes’s puzzles since 1959, as well as a setter for The Listener. He also continued Ximenes’s clue-writing contest as the Azed Prize.
At this point, Azed has been setting the Observer cryptic crossword for longer than both his predecessors combined.
Also, you can’t help but love that he also sets occasional puzzles under the pseudonym Ozymandias. On his Wikipedia page, it even quotes the poem: “Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Cryptic crosswords are alive and well. The Observer, The Guardian, The Independent, The Daily Telegraph, The Spectator, and The Sunday Times, in England, among others. The Ottawa Citizen, Toronto Star and The Globe and Mail in Canada. Harper’s in the US. Nearly every Australian newspaper has cryptic crosswords.
With Parsewords making the scene and hoping to demystify cryptic crossword cluing for new solvers, there’s no telling how many more solvers will discover or rediscover these challenging, playful puzzles.
Caitlin O’Kane (their Puzzles Editor) and Azed himself will be in attendance, alongside other crossword setters and cryptic crossword enthusiasts, to enjoy an evening of live-solving and celebration:
From the invention of the cryptic to the rise of the modern brainteaser, they’ll unpack the secrets of their craft – what makes a clue sing, how setters think, and why a good puzzle keeps us hooked. Expect lively chat, unexpected revelations, and at least one enigma that demands to be cracked.
Raise a glass, meet other aficionados, and celebrate a century of wit, wordplay and ingenuity with the people keeping The Observer’s puzzling spirit alive.
So whether you’re attending The Observer‘s Puzzle Centenary, tackling a Parseword puzzle, or trying one of the numerous cryptic crossword outlets across the world, be sure to give a cryptic crossword a chance this week and be a part of one hundred years of puzzly challenge and creativity!
Happy solving, fellow puzzlers (and setters)!
Sources:
The Centenary of the Crossword by John Halpurn
What’s Gnu: A History of the Crossword Puzzle by Michelle Arnot
The Strange World of the Crossword by Roger Millington
Matching Minds with Sondheim: The Puzzles and Games of the Broadway Legend by Barry Joseph
Today is indeed your lucky day, as I have a second puzzle to share with you, courtesy of constructors Michael Hanko and George Barany!
They’re hosting a puzzle contest and asked me to help spread the word to my fellow puzzle enthusiasts.
The challenge before you? Solve the crossword below, titled Calendar Arithmetic, and complete both the grid and the bonus message (a timely warning!) at the bottom of the grid.
Once you’ve printed and solved the puzzle, either photograph or scan the completed grid.
Send it AND the timely warning to barany@umn.edu for a chance to win a prize, like puzzle books or complimentary custom puzzles to be worked out with the constructors!
Submit your entry by the vernal equinox for your chance to win: Friday, March 20, 2026, 9:46 AM. (Okay, just checked, and they’re offering a grace period, as long as you get the puzzle in by midnight on Sunday, March 22nd.)
Today’s a good day. A day when people remember to be wary of sidewalk cracks, walking under ladders, or troubling that black cat on your path. A day for visiting the nearby summer camp and reminding those horny rapscallion teens of their duties and responsibilities.
Yes, it’s Friday the 13th, and I simply cannot let today a Friday the 13th pass without some sort of horror-fueled celebration.
I usually watch at least one of the Jason Voorhees films on this day. (Do yourself a favor and watch Jason X, it’s so hilariously great.)
So when inspiration struck last week, I sought out my horror movie friend Julien, who helped me brainstorm entries for this theme.
Oh, and I couldn’t resist turning the black squares red to fit the aesthetic.
I hope you enjoy, especially in a lakeside cabin, or a cruise ship, or for about 15 minutes, in the streets of Manhattan.
Yesterday marked a sad anniversary in the history of crosswords, but one that I think is worth talking about.
On March 4th, 1926, a 25-year-old waiter in Budapest, Hungary committed suicide at the Emke Kávéház (the Cafe Emke or the Aero Cafe), near the corner of Rákóczi út (Rákóczi Way) and Erzsébet körút (Elizabeth Boulevard).
His name was Antal Gyula. He had come in just after midnight. He ordered a coffee, and used the cafe’s telephone to call the same number repeatedly, without success. Approximately an hour after he entered the cafe, the cloakroom attendant heard a loud bang sound from the bathroom. She opened the door as a second bang noise rang out. She found Gyula lying on the floor, pistol in hand.
That was the sad end of Antal Gyula, a young man who had, in his own words, lived in “misery and unemployment” for some time. He was already struggling with depression, and had been evicted from his apartment a few days earlier. His landlord claimed Antal left his clothes behind to help settle his debts.
In most cases, that would have been the end of the story. A young man’s life ended far too soon. Sadly, this was not an uncommon occurrence in Budapest at the time, as Budapest had earned a reputation as a suicide hotspot. (On the same day, a newspaper reported 10 other attempted suicides.)
But Antal’s story persists a century later. Why?
Well, the detail that pushed this event from a sad footnote into the territory of urban legend was what police found on Antal’s body.
A suicide note accompanied by a crossword puzzle.
According to the note, the crossword would offer more of a glimpse into Antal’s fatal choice: The solution will give you the exact reasons for my suicide and also the names of the people interested.
(Before realizing Antal had constructed the puzzle, the police had originally surmised that he had ended his life because he couldn’t solve the puzzle. Which is an absolutely insane conclusion to draw.)
The crossword was taken to police committee headquarters, where detectives worked on both the crossword and the case for a month, but apparently they failed to solve it or decipher Antal’s intended message. Supposedly the police then asked the public for help solving the crossword, but there are no records to indicate anyone ever solved the puzzle, nor is there any sign of a copy of the puzzle itself in publicly available records.
Although Antal’s story floated around newspapers and the world of crosswords for decades, it was long believed to be an urban legend, one of the curious anecdotes about the mania of crossword fandom in the 1920s.
That was the case until Marinov Iván, a Hungarian urban legend enthusiast, explored endless strips of microfilm and unearthed the original article about Antal’s death in Az Est, an evening daily newspaper that ran from 1910 to 1939.
Antal’s sad tale was true. Sadder still, unless that crossword turns up in some police archive, none of us will ever know what he meant, or why exactly he chose a crossword as his final missive.
Maybe it was just for the notoriety. I would probably never have come across his name if it wasn’t connected to crosswords. It could have been deliberate, a curiosity designed to ensure that people would know his name, that the ripples in the water he left behind would last longer, travel farther. (A mention in Thomas Pynchon’s novel Shadow Ticket cynically suggests just that.)
Whether he intended to or not, he has succeeded in this regard.
“Why?” is a question that invariably follows in a suicide’s wake. Having lost several dear friends and loved ones to suicide myself, I’ve spent countless hours trying to understand why they made that single, irrevocable choice.
As T Campbell quite eloquently put it, “we may never know Gyula’s last message to the world. And that’s the real tragedy of suicide—all those chances to explain or continue one’s own story, snuffed out.”
Suicide leaves a crater in the lives of those left behind. Unanswered questions, unresolved feelings, persistent doubts about possible wrong turns and other choices that could have been made, the soul-crushing wish that you could have done more to intervene, to avert, to help. We don’t know who mourned Antal after his death. Maybe they were among the people named in his crossword.
But I do know this… I’d rather still have the person than the mystery.
PuzzCulture 