A Commodore of Errors

by John Jacobson

  Mrs. Tannenbaume remembered the three long years of preparation for her Bat Mitzvah, three years in her father’s tailor shop while her friends played at the seaside where it was cool and breezy. When Mrs. Tannenbaume’s big day arrived, her mother refused to attend, and when Mrs. Tannenbaume came home, her mother ignored her beaming daughter and didn’t offer so much as a Mazel Tov to the family’s new Jewess.

  Mrs. Tannenbaume teetered on the top step of the ladder. The lock would not open. She tried to pull the key out but it was stuck. Mrs. Tannenbaume climbed down the ladder and went downstairs to get some WD-40. She was on the ladder spraying the lubricant into the lock when she heard Midshipman Jones. “Up here, love,” she called.

  When Midshipman Jones came upstairs and saw Mrs. Tannenbaume sitting on the top step, he grabbed the ladder with both hands.

  “What are you doing up there with no one holding the ladder? Why didn’t you wait for me?”

  “I got tired of waiting, love. I’m anxious to get inside of this attic again. You know I think it may have been sixty years since I last opened this lock?”

  “I believe it, by the looks of it.”

  Mrs. Tannenbaume fiddled with the key.

  “Why don’t you let me give it a try?” Midshipman Jones said.

  When Midshipman Jones inspected the lock, he said, “I better be careful with—oh shoot.” He held the key up. It had broken off in his hand. “The other half of the key is stuck in the lock. Sorry about that, Mrs. Tannenbaume. I can run back to the academy and get some tools to pry it off.”

  Mrs. Tannenbaume sat down on a chair and looked up at Midshipman Jones on the ladder. She sighed. Suddenly, she was very tired.

  “Oh the heck with it,” she said. “Some other time. I just wanted to look at some old stuff I have up there. We don’t have to do it today.”

  “What kind of stuff do you keep up there anyway?”

  The phone rang before Mrs. Tannenbaume had a chance to answer him. She stood up and asked Midshipman Jones to take the ladder back down to the garage for her. She said that she would call him when she felt like getting up there again.

  Mrs. Tannenbaume reached the phone on its fifth ring. Most people didn’t wait that long these days. She wondered who could be calling.

  “Yello?”

  “Hello, Mother?”

  “Hello, love!”

  “Mother, I’m calling on the SATCOM from the ship, so we can’t talk long, it’s godawful expensive.”

  “You could afford to call your mother if you didn’t carry on the way you do.”

  “Yes, well, be that as it may, I won’t be carrying on anymore. Mother, I got married in Singapore.”

  Even though Mrs. Tannenbaume had already heard the news from Flo, it still felt like she was hearing it for the first time.

  “Mother? Are you there?”

  Mrs. Tannenbaume’s throat went dry.

  “Mother?”

  “Yes, love.”

  “Did you hear what I said? I got married.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “You know? Who told you?”

  “The gal from your office called. Flo.”

  “Who told her to call?”

  “I figured you did. I figured you were ashamed to call me yourself.”

  “Ashamed, Mother? I’ve got nothing to be ashamed about. Sylvia’s a nice girl.”

  “Her name is really Sylvia? A Thai girl named Sylvia?”

  “That’s what she likes to be called, Mother. You should be flattered she picked the same name as yours.”

  “I’ll never call her Sylvia. Sylvia Tannenbaume is my name. She can’t have my name.”

  They were silent for a few seconds. It was Captain Tannenbaume who spoke up again.

  “I thought you would be happy for me, Mother. I know how much you’ve hated my carrying-on.”

  “I wait sixty years for you to find your Carmen and you bring me this? A nineteen-year-old Thai girl?”

  “She comes from a fine family.”

  “The same fine family she sends money home to? And exactly how does she earn this money, may I ask?”

  Another pause.

  “Mother, this call is expensive. I just wanted you to know.”

  “I have some news as well.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “They want to make you superintendent of the academy.”

  “What academy?”

  “The Merchant Marine Academy.”

  “Kings Point? You must be joking. Who told you this?”

  “The Commodore told me himself.”

  “The Commodore? You act like you know him.”

  “He comes into the dry cleaners. He likes the way we do his shirts.”

  Mrs. Tannenbaume sat on the couch and curled her feet under her legs. “Sonny, how can you do this to me?”

  “Oh, Mother.”

  “Don’t Oh Mother me. What am I going to tell the Commodore now? That my sonny boy would love to be the superintendent but that he wants to bring his Thai whore with him.”

  “Mother, don’t ever call Sylvia that again. She’s my wife.”

  “What do I tell the Commodore?”

  “Tell him anything you like. I don’t want to be superintendent anyway. I like being captain.”

  Mrs. Tannenbaume uncrossed her legs and got up off the couch. “Are you meshuggener? Nobody in their right mind would turn down the job. Think of it. The same school that turned you down now wants you to be the head honcho. Why would you say no?”

  “I don’t know, Mother, I’ll have to think about it. I’ve been on these ships for a long time. It might be nice to get a shoreside gig, come to think of it.”

  “You call it a gig? Superintendent of the United States Merchant Marine Academy? Please, sonny, please say you’ll take the job.”

  “I’ll think about it, Mother. I’ll have to talk it over with my wife.”

  It sounded funny to hear her sonny boy refer to his “wife.”

  “I won’t call her Sylvia,” Mrs. Tannenbaume said.

  “Okay, Mother, this call has cost enough. My ship gets into New York in mid-October. I’ll see you then. We sail from Singapore in a few days. Bye, please.”

  Mrs. Tannenbaume fell onto the couch. She had been hoping all along that somehow Flo was wrong. What wishful thinking that was. Mrs. Tannenbaume was sick. Sick at the thought of this turn of events. What on earth would the Commodore say when he heard the news? Mrs. Tannenbaume had to tell him. She couldn’t just let her sonny boy show up as the next superintendent of the academy with a teenager on his arm.

  A HANDSHAKE DEAL

  The Commodore was practicing his breathing when Mogie burst into his office. The Commodore preferred to meditate standing up in front of the big mirror, and the unexpected sight of Mogie in the mirror made the Commodore choke on his own Infinity breath, upsetting his whole chakra. Mogie ran up to the Commodore and stopped directly behind him, glaring at him in the mirror.

  “Where the hell is Mitzi?” Mogie said.

  The Commodore felt dizzy. Too dizzy to respond.

  “I looked for her in her office and some librarian was sitting at her desk. She told me Mitzi works for you now. Where the hell is she?”

  The Commodore’s head reeled. “My chakra!”

  “Your what?”

  “You’ve upset my chakra!”

  Mogie whirled in place and looked at the floor around him.

  “Who’s Chakra? Your dog?”

  Mogie got on all fours and looked under the Commodore’s desk. “Here, Chakra. Come here, girl.”

  The Commodore saw Mitzi enter the office. They locked eyes in the mirror.

  “Am I hearing things?” she said. “I thought I just heard Mogie’s voice.”

  “Come here, Chakra. Where are you, girl?” Mitzi looked under the Commodore’s desk and saw Mogie on his hands and knees. When Mogie crawled out from under the desk, Mitzi stood over him.

  “What the hell are you doing dow
n there?”

  Mogie looked up at Mitzi. “I’m looking for the Commodore’s dog. He says I upset her.”

  “The Commodore ain’t got a dog. What the hell are you talking about, Moges?”

  Mogie stood up and brushed off his pants. “He said I upset his Chakra.”

  “His Chak—” Mitzi slapped Mogie in the back of the head. “He’s talking about his chakra, you dope. You interrupted him while he was meditating.”

  “But I found him standing in front of the mirror.” Mogie looked at Mitzi and then at the Commodore in the mirror. “Who the hell meditates standing in front of the mirror?”

  Mitzi walked over to the Commodore and caressed his face. “Poor, baby. Why don’t you finish your breathing here at your desk? It’ll be safer.”

  “Maybe I should.” The Commodore glared at Mogie. “But he has to leave.”

  Mitzi turned around and grabbed Mogie by the elbow. “Come on. The Commodore has to finish his Infinity breath.”

  “What the hell is an Infinity breath?”

  “He learned it in yoga,” Mitzi said. “Let’s go.”

  Mogie looked over his shoulder at the Commodore as Mitzi dragged him out of the room. “Sorry to interrupt your yoga breath, Commodore.”

  Mitzi closed the door behind her. When they were alone in the outer office, Mogie broke free of her grasp.

  “What the hell are you doing putting words in Jane’s mouth? She says she never said anything about the holocaust.”

  “Well that’s what I heard,” Mitzi said.

  “Who the hell told you that?”

  “None of your business. Besides, if she didn’t say it, she easily could have, the Nazi bitch.”

  “Hey, Jane may be a Catholic, but she’s no Nazi.”

  “Oh yeah? Then why’s she got that little fish on the back of her car?”

  “What little fish?”

  “That little fish symbol on her rear bumper. It’s like a modern-day swastika.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Don’t be so naïve, Mog—wait a sec, hold on, I think I hear the Commodore.”

  The Commodore poked his head around his office door. “Mitzi. Let’s do the Toe Hang now.”

  His Toe Hang. Right. The Commodore used to practice his Toe Hang on the stage in the auditorium until Mitzi suggested he do it in the privacy of his office. The loony bastard loved the idea. Mitzi snickered to herself. She had brought in her aerobic stepper—Mogie wasn’t using it and Putzie never did get the hang of it—so that he could stand on it in front of the mirror and hang his toes over the edge and really become one with his imaginary audience. Mitzi sat at his desk and critiqued him. What a cake job that was.

  She glanced at Mogie. What if Mogie were to hear her critiquing the Commodore on his Toe Hang? This could be fun . . .

  “What the hell is a Toe Hang?”

  Mitzi didn’t answer Mogie. Instead, she closed the door in his face. Then she went and sat on the edge of the Commodore’s desk while he set up the stepper.

  “A little bit to the side, Commodore,” she said, louder than usual.

  “How’s that?”

  “A little louder, Commodore,” Mitzi whispered.

  “I said how’s that?”

  “That’s it. Right there. No, in a little more. That’s it.”

  “That feels good right there,” the Commodore said.

  “That’s it, baby, right there. You’ve got my attention now.”

  “We truly are one, now, are we not, Miss Paultz?”

  Mitzi cooed.

  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 t
hat 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.”