A Commodore of Errors (23 page)

In a few minutes, they were done. The Commodore took the stepper and placed it under his desk. He told Mitzi that now was as good a time as ever to tell Mogie about Captain Tannenbaume. He asked her to bring him into his office.

Mitzi found Mogie pacing outside the office door. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead. When he saw Mitzi, he got right in her face. “What the hell was going on in there?”

“None of your business.”

Mogie's neck bulged. A knotty vein shot up to his temple like mercury in a thermometer.

Mitzi turned her back on him and said over her shoulder, “Come on in. The Commodore has something to tell you.”

Mogie stormed into the office and sat himself in the chair in front of the Commodore's desk. His neck was a forest of gnarly veins. The Commodore, on the other hand, sat at his desk looking quite pleased with himself.

“I must say, Ms. Paultz, that aerobic stepper of yours is a handy device,” the Commodore said, as if Mitzi had scripted it. “How clever of you to suggest it.”

The Commodore nudged the stepper with his foot and smiled at Mitzi. Mogie looked down at the aerobic stepper under the Commodore's desk and his eyes nearly came out of their sockets. Mitzi, who was standing beside the Commodore's desk, put her hands out in front of her. Maybe the fun had gone a bit too far. “Easy, Moges. It ain't what you're thinking.”

The Commodore continued with his sincere compliment. “I mean, what can I say? I'm in heaven when my toes are hanging off that stepper.”

Mogie's hands were around Mitzi's neck before she knew what was happening. Mitzi, though, was considerably taller than he and that gave her the leverage to beat him back.

“Get your goddamn paws off me, Moges, it ain't what you think!”

“He was using my stool!”

“He was only practicing his Toe Hang!”

Mogie came at Mitzi again, shoving her up against the wall to get a better hold of her.

“A Toe Hang? You call it a Toe Hang!”

The son of a bitch was hurting her. Mitzi choked right back, digging her nails into Mogie's neck. “It's not what you call it, Moges, it's how you do it that counts!”

The Commodore sat at his desk while Mitzi and Mogie fought.
Remarkable
. He knew his Toe Hang had come a long way, but, still, it surprised him that a man like Mogie could be so insanely jealous of it. Well, to be fair to himself, it
was
an effective technique. And not something that just any man could do. Only the most dexterous of leaders had the wherewithal to become one with an audience of average Joes. The Commodore serenely watched Mitzi and Mogie scratch and claw at each other. It was more than the satisfaction of possessing an enviable Toe Hang. His POA called for him to keep Mitzi and Mogie at odds with each other, and he had obviously touched on a point of contention between the two of them. Mogie kept calling it
his
stool.

But of course! The aerobic stepper. How on earth could the Commodore have forgotten? Mitzi's aerobic stepper was the same stepper that Mogie used to service his paramour and the same stepper that Mrs. Tannenbaume had used in her sex ed class with Putzie. That he utilized the sordid stepper for his own lofty purposes was repugnant, repugnant indeed, but he was also pleased at the result the stepper had unwittingly wrought. Mitzi and Mogie were at each other's throats, quite literally.

The Commodore stood up from his desk and approached Mogie. “Mr. Mayor, pardon me, sir.”

The battle went on.

The Commodore finally had to separate Mogie from Mitzi by placing his physical superiority between them.

“Mr. Mayor, I did not call you here to my office, you've come of your own volition. But now that you are here, there is some business for us to discuss.” The Commodore led Mogie back to the chair in front of his desk. “Will you please have a seat, sir?”

Mogie took his seat and glared at Mitzi. “The Commodore and I've got business to discuss, Mitzi. Beat it.”

Mitzi looked at the Commodore, the Commodore nodded his head, and Mitzi left the room. When Mogie and the Commodore were alone, Mogie spoke up first.

“Boy, you WASPs are too much. Any port in a storm, isn't that your expression? And using another man's stool—is nothing sacred with you people?”

“All's fair in love and war, is it not, Mogie? Do you mind if I call you Mogie?”

“You're acting awfully sure of yourself, Commodore.”

“Well, I merely assumed that since we are now business partners, we might want to be on more familiar terms.”

“Since when did we become partners?”

“Since I've lived up to my end of our business deal, that's when.”

“You found a Jew captain?”

“I have indeed, sir.”

Mogie showed no reaction. He reached in his pocket for his cigar. The Commodore wagged his finger at Mogie, but he stuck the cigar in his mouth anyway.

“I think better with a cigar in my mouth.”

“What is there to think about? You said to find a Jewish captain. I've found one.”

“I'm just thinking is all.” Mogie stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the water. After a moment, he returned to his chair in front of the Commodore's desk. He stared at the Commodore for a long time without saying anything.

The Commodore could tell that Mogie was trying to sniff out a rat.
Well, two can play that game.
The Commodore remained coy.

It was Mogie who spoke next. “So this means we finally get rid of Johnson?”

The Commodore's heart leapt. He tried not to let his excitement show.

“Precisely.”

“So what do we know about this guy? What's his name?”

“His name is Captain Tannenbaume. He is a respected member of the International Brotherhood of American Merchant Marine Officers. His curriculum vitae is quite impressive.”

“Tannenbaume, huh? My dentist's name is Tannenbaume. Yeah, Tannenbaume, that sounds good. So when do we make the switch?”

“Captain Tannenbaume is on a ship presently. The ship is en route to New York as we speak, due to arrive mid-October, just in time for the unveiling of the Mariners Monument.”

“And what about Johnson? Is he gonna go quietly or what?”

“In fact, I have in my possession a resignation letter from Johnson. He is all too aware that a superior adversary has bested him.”

That was clearly all Mogie needed to hear. It was written all over his face. Yes, the Commodore knew how to play Mogie.
When a man has an ego as large as Mogie's, it is so easy to use it against him
.

“You're goddamn right he's been beat,” Mogie said. “Nobody beats Mogie. Nobody. I'm gonna go into business with some
schmuck Goy
—no offense, Commodore. This arrangement is much better for you too. Trust me, you'll be better off in the long run. Look, I know you wanted to be admiral, but just let me and Tannenbaume run things. Okay? I've told you you'll get your cut of the action. The dry cleaning alone'll be worth millions. We're gonna soak the government for all it's worth.”

Mogie stood up. He stuck his hand out across the Commodore's desk. The Commodore shook Mogie's hand.

“That's all you'll need, Commodore. A handshake from Mogie is all you'll need. Me and Tannenbaume'll run things. You just keep the WASPs off our backs. What an arrangement, huh? This is gonna be great.”

Mogie went on about how he was going to run the Merchant Marine Academy like a business, not like some Moose lodge. The Commodore was not listening. He needed to find a way to end the meeting—the less they talked about Tannenbaume, the better. Fortunately, Mitzi came to the rescue. Her voice broke in over the intercom.

“Commodore, pick up please.”

The Commodore reached over and answered the phone.

“You're not going to believe this, sir, but Mrs. Tannenbaume just called. She's on her way over. I tried to tell her that now was not a good time but she wouldn't listen.”

The Commodore's fist clenched the phone. Mitzi, bless her, remained calm.

“We gotta get Mogie the hell out of here,” Mitzi said. “I'm coming in.”

“Very well,” the Commodore managed to say.

Mitzi walked into the office carrying a clipboard. She walked up to the Commodore all business. “You asked me to help keep you on schedule, Commodore. Well, we have a meeting with the dean. It's time to go.”

The Commodore had not even hung up the phone yet. Mitzi walked over and took the phone out of his hand. She opened his drawer and took out the Commodore's sheaf of phony papers. Then Mitzi took the Commodore by the hand and said, “Let's go.”

The Commodore got to his feet and allowed Mitzi to lead him out of the office.

Mitzi said to Mogie on the way out, “Sorry to end your meeting so fast, but we gotta go see the dean.”

Mogie jumped to his feet. “You didn't end the meeting, Mitz. The meeting was already over.” He followed right behind Mitzi. “The Commodore and I are going to be partners. We found ourselves a Jew captain.” Mogie's words came out in a rush, without belligerence.

“Good for you, Moges.”

“But, Mitz.” Mogie grabbed Mitzi's arm to stop her. Mitzi stopped, but she continued to hold the Commodore by the hand.

“But what?” Mitzi said.

“Don't you see? I told you there was a Jew out there who knew how to drive a boat. We got what we wanted.”

“No, Moges.
You
got what you wanted. You and I are no longer a ‘we.'” Mitzi shook Mogie off. “We got a meeting with the dean. It's time for you to go. You know the way out.”

A SUPERNUMERARY
AND A CADET

“Y
our son did what?”

The Commodore was back at his desk with his sheaf of papers spread out before him. Mitzi stood at the side of his desk with both arms wrapped around her clipboard. She looked down at Mrs. Tannenbaume who sat in the chair in front of the Commodore's desk.

“He went and married a Thai bar girl,” Mrs. Tannenbaume said.

“He told you she was a bar girl?” Mitzi said.

“Well, he didn't come right out and say it, but who's kidding whom? She's nineteen years old and living on her own in—”

“She's nineteen?” The Commodore and Mitzi responded in unison.

“I know—it's a shock to the system. That's why I wanted you should know.”

The Commodore felt his chest tighten. He was meeting with the Board of Governors tomorrow to submit Johnson's resignation letter. What would he tell the board now? That the man he found to replace Johnson was a well- regarded ship's captain who happened to have a teenager for a wife?
My god, the graduating seniors would be older than the superintendent's wife! Do I now have to tell the board that the June Ball would now be presided over by a bar girl? And what of Tannenbaume? The man's morals were flabbier than I had previously surmised.

“And to think she has the same name as me. Whoever heard of a Thai girl named Sylvia?”

The Commodore snapped out of his stupor. “Her name is Sylvia?”

“I'll never call her that. My name is Sylvia Tannenbaume, not hers.”

“You'd think her name would be Joom-Nee or something,” Mitzi said.

“I'm not suprised her name is Sylvia,” the Commodore said.

Mitzi and Mrs. Tannenbaume looked at each other.

“A Thai girl named Sylvia?” they chorused.

“Um, well, not a Thai girl. A Thai working girl. All ladies of the night in the seaports of the world take on an alias. A
nom de guerre
. Anglo names that the seafarers of the world can pronounce. The name Sylvia is one of the more common.

This changed things considerably. With a name like Sylvia, the Commodore could easily hide from the board the fact that Captain Tannenbaume's wife was Thai. He would merely say that Captain Tannenbaume and his wife, Sylvia, would arrive sometime in mid-October to begin their tenure as First Couple of the Merchant Marine Academy. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more the Commodore liked the idea of Captain Tannenbaume's Thai wife. Springing a nineteen-year-old Thai working girl on the board immediately before the unveiling of the Mariners Monument would make his task of scuttling Captain Tannenbaume that much easier. How could the academy unveil a hero's monument with an impostor for a superintendent and a teenage wife by his side? The Commodore felt much better.