Black, White & Gold

To ensure military security, every letter intended to leave the ship first had to be censored. All mail was unsealed when delivered to the wardroom at least a day before a port call so that information which might compromise military security could be removed with a razor blade by the ship’s officers. Only after that was the letter sealed, stamped and initialed by the censor and delivered to the ship’s postman. Having given LT Fellender assurances that he would not write anything not permitted, Muggsy said he gave his letters to him already sealed. The acting stores officer stamped and wrote his initials indicating that the message inside had been censored. Letter writing and censoring was a forthcoming landfall ship ritual, just like the anchor pool.

In the meantime, if Tiny and Muggsy believed their assaults on Shadow would chill his desire to continue a competing anchor pool, they were sadly mistaken. Shadotini appeared at the office door and asked Jim Beanz and Pete if we wished to enter his Guam dollar anchor pool, which they both gladly did. He offhandedly mentioned because more sailors were buying in, it appeared as though the lucky winner would get more money than he did in Hawaii.

As a relatively newcomer aboard, Neader did not realize until later that when Muggsy took on Shadotini, he grappled with one of the most popular sailors on the ship. Beside standing radio shack watches around the clock, Shadow gladly gave his shipmates haircuts, inasmuch as the ship neither had a barbershop (available on larger vessels) nor members of the supply department trained to cut hair. He simply placed a chair on the   lee side of the open main deck, wrapped a modified bunk mattress envelope sheet known as a fart sack around the customer’s neck and trimmed his hair. His dad owned a two-chair shop in the Charleston section of Boston, a stone’s throw from the naval yard and not only taught his son, but also permitted him to fill-in for his partner when the latter was ill or wished to take an  afternoon off to see the Boston Red Sox or Braves play baseball.

Although Shadow did not have much barbering experience before he enlisted in the Navy, he managed to give each sailor the type of hair style he wished, from the boot camp cut to what he called a “Hollywood Trim,” which barely seemed to shed any hair at all.  He notified everybody the hours he would be available and subject to unexpected GQ’s, drills, or ship’s activities, he came with a chair and worked at least three hours. He did not charge for his work, but sailors always tipped him, for they appreciated that he performed a much needed service. Prior to his coming aboard about two months ago, some white hats tried their hand at barbering, but when anything but a boot camp cut was requested, a shaggy dog trim resulted. The amateurs gladly stepped aside when Shadotini displayed his skill.

In fact, it was through this much-appreciated lucrative sideline that led Shadow to challenge Muggsy’s anchor pool monopoly. As barbershop customers all over the states seem to do while having their hair trimmed, the sailors in the chair always conversed with Shadow. Furthermore he was a good listener. Aside from the usual post-war plans his customers always disclosed to him, one common theme came to his attention. Though the commissary chief was credited with running a fine mess and was deemed competent, because he controlled food and coffee (two items much in demand and consumed around the clock) he rewarded or punished people who agreed or refused to do his bidding. Many aboard did not care for his dictatorial ways, especially the large cut he took from the anchor pool he ran. After hearing that complaint voiced frequently, Shadow realized there was not only an opportunity to make a buck or two for himself but also do right by the crew. As far as he could determine, he had nothing to lose. He had never before had any conflict with Muggsy, had not been subjected to the latter’s wrath when his perks were threatened. So Shadotini blithely began the competing anchor pool, something no other sailor had dared or cared to try.

Seasoned white hats knew there would be consequences. They assumed that the exec might either ban all anchor pools or continue to pretend that none existed and let the sailors below decks sort out the matter among themselves, as he knew they eventually would. When the dual pools continued, the old salts sat back to observe developments unfold.

Whatever were the reasons, Shadow’s anchor pool grew while Muggy’s languished. Knowing which side of their bread was buttered, Beanz and Pete dutifully paid their dollar and selected the anchor drop time when Tiny solicited them. His dour demeanor and Muggsy’s earlier curt responses to supply questions Pete asked him with respect to procurement in Guam, reflected their disappointment. When Neader inquired how things were going, Tiny confessed that inducing shipmates now was like pulling teeth. Almost to a man, those who refused said they felt Shadow’s lottery was better and fairer. When Muggsy asked Tiny about his progress and the recruiter disclosed its sorry nature, he chewed Tiny out big time, accused him of gold bricking and threatened to drop his forthcoming performance grade to 3.0, a mark which would deliver a death knell to Tiny’s hopes of earning a first class cook rating. When Tiny said he suggested that McGorrky take only a five percent cut, because that was the number one complaint he had heard, Muggsy hit the overhead and said that he wanted the names of those who were the leading agitators of what he called the anchor pool revolt. Tiny said he was unable to ascertain any specific agitators, because it seemed to him that most sailors came to their own conclusion that Shadow’s alternative lottery was better. Upon hearing that candid comment, Muggsy cursed, turned and walked off mumbling to himself about showing upstart snots, probably Shadow among them, a thing or two.

His rage escalated to the point where he became confrontational with everybody who had business with him that day. Later that very morning, Tiny heard Chief Steward Crofton and Muggsy having a terrific argument during which he heard Muggsy tell the steward that from now on either the latter’s cook or Crofton himself would have to bake pies for the officers. No longer would the wardroom brass be able to purchase pies from the general mess that its bakers made. According to McGorrky, as a favor to the stewards and “their lords,” as he called the officers when he was in a huff, he had kindly permitted the pie purchases. The argument reached a climax when Crofton called Muggsy a “Cracker” and the latter answered racially in kind. Had not LT Fellender providentially come upon the would-be combatants, they either might have fought then and there or, as swabbies often did, arranged to meet each other and fight it out on the beach on their next liberty. As they parted, Muggsy shouted over his shoulder to the lanky steward that Crofton was no longer welcome to the chief’s poker club in the personnel office, which McGorrky not