USS MULLINNIX DD-944

Recife, Brazil 1962

Excerpt from "The Last Gun Ship - History of USS Mullinnix DD-944"
A Historical Novel By Frank A. Wood

Mullinnix Recife Brazil Vistor's Guide (PDF)

Recife is the capital of the state of Pernambuco in northeastern Brazil, and center of an area that includes several industrial towns. It is located at the confluence of the Capibaribe and Beberibe rivers. Recife has been called the Venice of Brazil because the city is crossed by waterways and its component parts are linked by numerous bridges.

It is a blend of old and new. The architecture was modernistic in some parts of the city while other parts sported animals picking through garbage. The big question for most Mux sailors was which part of town to pull liberty in? A tough question that was somewhat answers as a horse carcass floated alongside the hull. They would head to the horse’s part of town.

The beaches were beautiful. They were a white hard pack similar to the sand at Daytona Beach. At many beaches, the crew hung out in palapas, thatched roof bars, drinking, dancing, and listening to fado -- a form of music characterized by mournful tunes and lyrics, often about the sea or the life of the poor, and infused with a characteristic sentiment of resignation, fatefulness and melancholia.

Recife was a sailor's sailor town. Prostitution was legal, so there was no need to carry out business in dark sleazy hideaways. Hence, brothels were nice looking, usually large, and located in clean residential areas. Inside they were well-decorated and usually had a large sitting room where the resident "talent" congregated. The first thing the shipmates saw were men scurrying out of the brothels as they approached. They found out later they were Brazilian or British sailors who were welcome only when the Americans were out to sea, unless they were willing to pay the price set for Americans. Most of them couldn't afford it, so out they went.

The streets were filled with street musicians playing "Down Hearted Blues" and "Gulf Coast Blues" by Bessie Smith; Louis Armstrong, Jelly Roll Morton, and Duke Ellington, and a blur of countless vertical signs, brightly lit from within, blazing into infinity.

Brian Smythe and Howard "Rock" Rocker had become fast friends. Nothing like a good fight and good whiskey to accelerate the bounding of two sailors.

Jonathan Kramer, ole' 'drink and dial' or 'DD' for short, had been promoted to BM2. And yes, his nickname was still valid. Every time he'd get drunk and could find a phone, he still called home and talked to Diane.

Much to the delight of Kramer, John "Duke" Adams from the Southside of Chicago, and Bob "Bobby" McCoy, Lanny "Lack-a-nookey" Landowsky, after successfully striking for Sonarman and making 3rd class while on board the USS Davis, had been transferred back to Mullinnix after two of her Sonarman had completed their tour of duty.

All that was missing was Doc. Good old Doc - Walter Higgins Holliday, nicknamed 'Doc', due to his Dodge City mentality and view of the world. Damn did they miss him. But, liberty must go on. The foursome had begun running around with Brian Smythe and Rock. This combined six-pack was a force to be reckoned with.

Inside the casino, the ceiling lights were muted, allowing the luminosity of a thousand glowing slot machines to fill the room. As they moved deeper in, the sounds of gambling drew them in. The place is filled with color, and a constant undertone of the slot machines - not musical yet not noise, either. It's more of a robotic background; tinkles, clanks, and the occasional beep or brief snatch of melody - the sound of a thousand slot machines in action.

There are crap tables, poker, blackjack and roulette. The players talk not stop, but the language is abbreviated. , "Gimme another," “stand," and the patter of the dealer as he rakes the chips and deals the cards.

They walked past banks of slot machines that rippled with color and rang with the sound of coins cascading into metal trays. Near the rows of slots were dozens of poker-tables, each seating seven players. While the crew waited for a vacancy, they fed the slots. When they got tired of waiting, they had another drink on the house and fed the slots some more.

"This food looks like a cesspool," said 'Bobby' McCoy.

"Goat rope," offered 'Duke' Adams.

"What-t'-hell does that mean?" asked Rock.

"Look it up in the dictionary. It'll say 'see circle-jerk and cluster-fuck'," answered Duke.

Carrying a bucket of ice, a bottle of tequila, and 3 limes, "I'm going to attack the bastards from the inside, too," Landowsky said. Meaning the bacteria.

"What the fuck is that you're drinking Duke?" asked Brian Smythe.

"Dark & Stormy," answered Adams.

"Come again dipshit?" said McCoy.

"It's dark rum & ginger beer, responded Adams.

"Fuck me!" said Kramer.

"I'm with Bobby, let's get out of this place. I'm ready for the kingdom of the dream cum true," Landowsky added.

So, they head to a brothel, even Landowsky got his way every now and then.

The madam of the exclusive Recife bordello was seated in a tall rattan chair on the generous veranda, enjoying the sea view while drinking local rum mixed with Coca-Cola from 8 oz glass bottles and broken ice chips from a 2" thick slab.

The place was dark, their faces cut by bars of shadow and light. The room was full of breasts and buttocks. It was no cooler inside, of course. Just a different heat, with beer smell and cigarette smoke mixed with the distinct odor of sex. A moth had fluttered into a lamp on the bar and stubbornly insisted on colliding repeatedly with the light.

They were three-deep at the bar, talking and yelling over each other, a party roar of indistinct voices - most in uniform. Air bubbling like the tonic in a drink. They'd agreed, that the five would wait at the bar for Landowsky, waiting so they could get on with the rest of their liberty night.

"Hey, Landowsky, there is nothing here except ancient whores with waxwork faces," laughed Smythe.

"Shut the fuck up, I’m staying," answered Landowsky.

Although it was still afternoon, friendly woman in tight bright clothing stood smoking near the doorways of every inside door.

"How much?" ask Landowsky.

The girl raised dark eyebrows and placed an unlit cigarette in the center of her red lips. Without a word, she took Landowsky by the hand and led him through the bead curtain that hung across the doorway.

"Well fuck, do we wait for him or find a cold beer?" complained Rock.

The mirror on the ceiling threw back the image of the devastated bed, sodden and twisted and wrecked. Stains and the smell of sweat were everywhere. Handcuffs, lined with soothing foam were attached to the bedposts. Three discarded, half-full rubbers lay like squashed snakes on the fifthly floor. Landowsky thought he might puke.

"Let me check you out honey". Over the sink, she checked Landowsky out and washed him off.

Her name was Maria Luiza. She was very good looking, although a trifle witchlike. She was dressed in black, with a long-sleeved jacket of some sequined material. Her hair was black, turned under slightly. She had water color blue eyes that reminded him of the Mediterranean.

In decent English, Maria Luiza said, "You cannot live without me, you know it. I will love you a hundred times. I will make life wonderful for you. There is no one like Maria Luiza, I'm a dancer."

You had to be careful with these women. They weren't greedy. Greedy people just want to get away. Would-be-lovers wanted revenge, or blood.

"Let's get to it, Maria Luiza," said Landowsky.

Kramer felt the mixture of homemade hooch, tequila, and beer take hold in his nervous system, and not in a good way. His stomach was sour, and pinpoints of moisture broke on his temples.

"I'll be dead before Landowsky finishes," complained Kramer.

An escort of the 'house' approached Duke, his zippo flared. The yellow flame flared under his chin, a jack-o’-lantern grimace, the face shrewd and hard in the flickering light. Pointing to the girl a few feet away, "You want to lift her skirt?"

"Get lost asshole," said Duke, "where the fuck is Landowsky?"

A girl approached Bobby McCoy. At first glance, she was so ugly she'd make a train take a dirt road. McCoy had his eye on someone else. He slipped into the chair next to her like he was made of hot butter. She was wearing tight shorts that started low and finished high. The money vibe came off her like heat.

Another girl walked up next to Kramer. She was so ugly that when he bent down to pet her cat it turned out to be the hair on her legs.

"Landowsky is buying for the rest of the fucking night," announced Kramer.

"That's a big 10-4," agreed Duke, "this is getting fucking ridiculous."

The madam stood. Even from across the room Duke could appreciate the beautiful line of her firm, slim legs beneath the very short mini-shirt. He could see her breasts tensing & protruding as she swung her arms and shoulders to the beat of the loud music. She stopped when she saw him and smiled, as if to herself.

"Hi sailor," blowing smoke in a razor thin stream.

Nodding, "mam."

"You, buy me a drink?" asked madam.

Laughing, "sweetheart, you should buy me drink for your girl taking so damn long with Landowsky," quipped Duke.

"He must be enjoying himself sailorman."

"I'm sure."

Laughing, she splashed around behind the bar with such abandon, she might have been swimming through it.

Maria Luiza and Landowsky's lips touched, not just touched, not just kissed, but clung, as if, in the act of drowning, they were buoying each other up. Her arms locked around his neck. He marveled at the way clothes could fall away, as if they were blown off by the wind coming through a porthole. Then they were on the bed, and whatever had seemed so urgent was forgotten.

"I'm close to having enough of this shit," announced Smythe to Rock and Kramer. Duke and Bobby were too busy to hear.

Duke noticed that many of the girls tied their long black hair into pony tails by ripping the rings off condoms and using them as heavy-duty elastic bands. Classy place Landowsky, really fucking classy.

"Buy me drink handsome man?" Her voice could crack glass. Her breath the odor like soiled kitty litter.

Looking at Bobby, "Bobby, is there something wrong with me? Do I smell? Do I look like I want to be fucked with by these --- these girls?"

"Duke, you just got it man, you just got it," laughed Bobby.

"Got what?"

"Ask the girls, The Duke-man," said Bobby, "Personally, I don't see it."

Bobby watched the foam gather atop his glass. Guinness foam being like no other in the way it perfected itself. The bartender, having sliced the foam from the pint with a knife and served it to him. Landowsky - that son of a bitch. What the fuck was he doing?

"Hey boys, why the long faces?" asked Landowsky.

"You mother fucker, where in the fuck have you been for so fucking long?" demanded Kramer.

"Yeah, dickhead, we've been sitting here for fucking hours," added Duke.

"Shit guys, stop complaining. You know what I was doing."

"Stop right there Landowsky. Those two like you. Me and Rock don't, you sorry fuck."

"Can I buy you guys around?" ask Landowsky.

"Around all fucking night you mean," Bobby said.

After several rounds and after the sailors finally grew tired of giving Landowsky shit, they decided to head back to the ship. They walked through the streets, listening to the distant music of clinking glasses in the cantinas. The tall waving palms were black sentinels against the clear night sky. The heat was intense and the humidity could only be higher if they were actually underwater.

"Hey Landowsky, I hope you had a really good time, because that is that last fucking time you get to pick what we do on liberty."

"Agreed. Next port is Rio. I know exactly where to go," smiled Kramer.

To be continued...


1962 Brazil Brochure (Cover on of 48 Pages)


1962 Brazil Embasy Brochure


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