A Commodore of Errors Read Online Free PDF

conversation back to academy business. Finally, he mentioned the trouble they were having with the Town of Great Neck—the town that neighbored kings Point, home of the United States Merchant Marine Academy.
    â€œGreat Neck?” Johnson said. “Don’t tell me Mogie’s complaining again. I thought we resolved our differences after our last dustup.”
    Mogie Mogelefsky was the mayor of Great Neck. He had been complaining for years about midshipmen from the academy who sometimes made a nuisance of themselves in “his” town. According to Mogie, they drank at Hick’s Lane Bar every weekend, and on the drive back to the academy, they would invariably tear up front lawns, run into trees, or knock down telephone poles. He claimed they drove into fences and gates, parked cars, and front stoops. According to Mogie, the midshipmen were constantly getting stuck in snowbanks in the winter, waking up the neighbors—Mogie’s constituents—when they drunkenly tried to extricate themselves. The unhappy constituents always complained to Mogie first thing in the morning. The rowdy midshipmen evidently also frequented various all-night diners in town after a night of drinking where they would throw up on tables, harass the waitresses, and try to pick up whatever stray girl passed their booth. Of course, Mogie had to hear about that the next day, too. Mogie frequently called the academy and got the same reasonable response, “Boys will be boys.” That did not stop him from calling, though, much to the academy’s chagrin. Indeed, it made him a reliable topic of conversation.
    The commandant looked across the table at the Commodore. “So, Commodore, tell us, what kind of trouble are we in now?”
    â€œWe’re not in trouble,” the Commodore said. “It’s just that the mayor would like us to work on improving our relations with the town of Great Neck. He seems to think that if we had a better image within the community, it would cut down on the number of complaints he’s receiving from his constituents.”
    â€œHis constituents,” Johnson said, “are a bunch of whiners.”
    â€œBe that as it may, sir, it was Mogie who recommended we use Smith and McClellan. He said they were a nice WASPy firm out of Port Washington and that he knew of Miss Conrad personally.”
    â€œOh, shit.” Johnson slammed his fist on the table. “Mogie’s not doing her, too, is he? It’s bad enough he’s banging Mitzi.”
    The others at the table bobbed their heads. Mitzi Paultz was Johnson’s secretary, a forty-ish (on her application she put down that she was thirty-nine) redheaded beauty hired solely for her sultry looks. He doubted she could type a lick, Johnson told his colleagues when he hired her, but what a body! Since she also happened to be Jewish, he figured he would get Mogie, who considered the academy a strange white Anglo-Saxon Protestant enclave, off his back at the same time. He assured his colleagues that hiring Mitzi would be good for business, as it would show Mogie the academy’s diversity. But Johnson was disappointed when his usual moves failed to entice Mitzi into joining him for drinks in the officers’ club. Mitzi said she liked celebrities as much as the next girl but the answer was no. “Besides,” she had said, “Mogie would be furious.” Johnson nearly fainted when he heard that Mogie Mogelefsky was banging his beautiful redheaded secretary.
    â€œI’m not privy to his personal life, sir,” the Commodore said. “I can only assume that his relationship with Miss Conrad is chaste.”
    â€œMogelefsky doesn’t have a chaste bone in his body,” Johnson said, gnashing his teeth.
    The others at the table bobbed their heads in agreement.
    â€œNevertheless,” the Commodore said, “I do agree with the mayor that it couldn’t hurt to hire a PR firm to improve