Nimzowitsch was an absolute madman:

>My last meeting with Nimzovich was also the longest. It took place in 1934, when we were both following the second Alekhine-Bogolyubov world
championship match as reporters. The games of the match were scheduled to be played in many parts of Nazi Germany – unfriendly territory for a Jew and not
particularly safe for a Gentile either, in view of the tensions immediately preceding Hitler’s bloody purge of his political enemies, among them Ernst
Roehm.

>Nimzovich considered himself protected by three consulates: the Latvian because of his birthplace, the Danish because of his residence, and the Dutch
because some of his reports were going to a newspaper in Holland. He boasted of this protection even to Reichsminister Hans Frank, who at that time was in
charge of the “protection” of art and later became the governor of Nazi-occupied Poland. Frank followed a few games of the match and sometimes
chatted with the masters and reporters, including Nimzovich. He even invited the whole chess troupe to his villa for lunch. The Jews Mieses and Nimzovich
were included in the invitation, but only Nimzovich showed up. At the luncheon he demonstrated his usual persecution mania by complaining first
about a dirty plate and then about a dirty knife. The Reichsminister, seated directly opposite him, pretended not to hear.

>Nimzovich caused several incidents during that 1934 match, all of them harmless except one. And for a moment, that one was hair-raisingly serious.
One day when a high officer in a Nazi uniform entered the press room, Nimzovich brusquely demanded to see his credentials. When the perplexed
officer didn’t answer at once, Nimzovich asked him to leave. The other reporters, including myself, were horrified, expecting the Nazi to react violently
after receiving such an order from a Jew. But, amazingly, nothing happened. The officer simply left.