PART 1: THE OPENING — A PERFECT DAY FOR TROUBLE

It was a beautiful morning on the waterfront, the kind of morning when the sun sparkled across the harbor, the fishing boats rocked gently against the wooden piers, and every respectable gentleman had somewhere important to be. Bud Abbott was certainly one of those gentlemen. Dressed in a perfectly pressed light-colored suit, a dark necktie, and a fashionable fedora, Bud stood beside the harbor with the confident smile of a man who believed everything in life could be controlled with careful planning. Unfortunately, standing beside him was Lou Costello, a shorter, round-faced fellow wearing a checkered jacket, a crooked tie, and a little black bowler hat that seemed to possess more common sense than its owner.

Lou was looking out at the harbor with his mouth open in amazement.

“Hey, Abbott!” Lou exclaimed. “Look at all that water!”

Bud glanced at him. “Yes, Lou. It’s a harbor. Harbors generally have water.”

“Well, I know that! But how come nobody ever puts a roof over it? What happens when it rains?”

Bud closed his eyes for a moment.

“Lou, when it rains, the harbor gets wet.”

Lou stared at him suspiciously. “That’s what I figured. And nobody’s doing anything about it!”

“Will you stop worrying about the water?”

“I’m not worried about the water, Abbott. I’m worried about the fish! They’ve got nowhere to go when it rains!”

Bud straightened his tie and reminded himself that patience was a virtue, although spending an entire morning with Lou Costello might be sufficient evidence that patience had its limits.

They were standing near Pier Seven, where an elegant new passenger ferry called the Harbor Queen was scheduled for its official launching ceremony. Local businessmen, newspaper reporters, city officials, and several hundred curious spectators were expected to attend. The mayor himself would arrive at noon to deliver a speech, cut a ceremonial ribbon, and officially welcome the vessel into service.

Bud had been appointed master of ceremonies.

Lou had been appointed his assistant.

This arrangement worried practically everyone involved, especially Bud.

“Now listen carefully, Lou,” Bud said, producing a folded schedule from his jacket pocket. “Today is a very important day. The mayor is coming, the newspapers will be here, and the Harbor Queen is having her official launch at twelve o’clock sharp.”

Lou nodded enthusiastically.

“That’s wonderful, Abbott! Twelve o’clock is a terrific time!”

“Why?”

“Because by twelve o’clock I’m usually hungry!”

Bud ignored the remark.

“The shipping company has trusted us with the arrangements. Everything must happen precisely on schedule. The photographers must be in position, the ceremonial bell must be ready, the captain must receive his instructions, and the mayor must be welcomed properly.”

Lou placed a hand over his heart.

“Abbott, you can depend on me. When I take responsibility for something, I give it everything I’ve got.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just listen. The most important thing today is the launch.”

Lou’s eyes brightened.

“The lunch?”

“The launch!”

“That’s what I said!”

“No, it isn’t!”

“Well, don’t get excited, Abbott. I haven’t eaten anything yet!”

Bud pointed toward the impressive white ferry floating beyond the pier.

“That vessel is the Harbor Queen. At noon, we’re launching her.”

Lou looked at the vessel, then back at Bud.

“Gee, Abbott, she’s a big girl.”

“She’s a magnificent ship.”

“How much does she weigh?”

“Several hundred tons.”

Lou whistled.

“Boy, I hope she’s got a good appetite!”

Bud frowned.

“What does her appetite have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, Abbott. I’m just thinking ahead.”

“Well, for once in your life, think about what you’re supposed to do.”

“I am!”

“Good. Then go down to the pier, make the necessary arrangements, and see that everything is ready for the launch at twelve.”

Lou snapped to attention.

“Yes, sir! Leave everything to me!”

Bud caught him by the sleeve.

“Wait a minute. Don’t get any strange ideas.”

“Me? Strange ideas?”

“Yes, you.”

“Abbott, I’m insulted! When have I ever had a strange idea?”

Bud looked at him.

Lou thought for a moment.

“All right, don’t answer that.”

Bud released his sleeve.

“Just remember, Lou. The entire ceremony depends on you doing exactly what I say.”

Lou gave him a cheerful salute.

“Don’t worry, Abbott! By twelve o’clock, I’ll have everybody taken care of!”

And with that, Lou marched down the pier, his bowler hat tilted proudly over one eye.

Bud watched him disappear among the dockworkers.

For the first time that morning, he felt genuinely hopeful.

That feeling lasted approximately four minutes.

PART 2: THE MISUNDERSTANDING — WHEN A LAUNCH BECOMES LUNCH

By eleven o’clock, the waterfront had become considerably busier. Sailors polished the brass railings of the Harbor Queen, dockworkers carried equipment across the gangway, and newspaper photographers wandered along the pier searching for a good angle.

Meanwhile, Lou Costello was conducting an operation that had absolutely nothing to do with launching a boat.

He had found a nearby restaurant, hired six waiters, ordered enough sandwiches to feed a small army, and arranged for three enormous tables to be carried directly onto the pier.

The restaurant manager, a serious-looking gentleman named Mr. Perkins, followed Lou while examining a handwritten order.

“Mr. Costello, I just want to make certain I understand. You require two hundred sandwiches, eighty bowls of soup, fifty pieces of cake, six gallons of lemonade, and twelve roasted chickens?”

“That’s right!”

“And all of this is for a boat?”

“Exactly!”

Mr. Perkins looked toward the Harbor Queen.

“Isn’t this supposed to be a launching ceremony?”

Lou laughed.

“Of course it is! What did you think it was, a swimming lesson?”

“But why so much food?”

“Because there’ll be important people here! The mayor, the captain, the reporters, the photographers—everybody’s coming!”

“Very well,” the manager said hesitantly. “Where should we put the food?”

Lou looked around thoughtfully.

“Put the sandwiches on the big table, the soup on the smaller table, and the chickens near the gangway.”

“Why near the gangway?”

“So they don’t run away!”

“Mr. Costello, they’re roasted chickens.”

“Well, that ought to slow them down!”

Mr. Perkins decided that asking further questions would be dangerous to his health.

A few minutes later, the captain of the Harbor Queen approached Lou.

“Excuse me, sir. Are you in charge of the preparations?”

Lou puffed out his chest.

“That’s right! I’m the assistant master of ceremonies!”

“Excellent. We’re nearly ready. I need all hands on deck.”

Lou turned toward the waiters.

“Hey, fellas! Everybody put your hands on the deck!”

The waiters stared at him.

The captain blinked.

“No, no. I mean I need the crew aboard the vessel.”

“Oh!” Lou said. “Why didn’t you say so? I thought you wanted them to wash the floor!”

The captain took a deep breath.

“Also, we’ll need to weigh anchor.”

Lou considered this.

“How much does it weigh?”

“What?”

“The anchor!”

“That isn’t important.”

“Well, if you’re gonna weigh it, you ought to know how much it weighs!”

“Weigh anchor means raise the anchor!”

“Then why don’t you say raise the anchor?”

“Because that’s the nautical expression!”

Lou folded his arms.

“Listen, Captain. I’ve been around boats all my life. My uncle owned a rowboat.”

“Really?”

“Yes, sir. Finest rowboat in Brooklyn!”

“What happened to it?”

“It sank.”

The captain looked concerned.

“Was anybody hurt?”

“No, but my uncle was furious!”

“Why?”

“Because he was still making payments!”

Before the captain could respond, one of the sailors called from the ferry.

“Captain! Shall we cast off?”

Lou raised a hand.

“Hold it! Nobody’s casting anybody off until after lunch!”

The captain turned sharply.

“Lunch?”

“That’s right! We got soup, sandwiches, roast chicken, and cake!”

“But we’re launching the ship!”

“Sure we are! That’s why I ordered the food!”

The captain stared at Lou with the expression of a man attempting to understand a foreign language.

“Mr. Costello, I don’t believe we’re discussing the same thing.”

“Well, that’s funny,” Lou replied. “Because everybody keeps saying the same thing to me!”

At that moment, two workers walked past carrying a large wooden sign.

Lou stopped them.

“Hey! What’s that?”

“The official ceremony banner.”

Lou examined the sign. It read:

GRAND LAUNCH OF THE HARBOR QUEEN — NOON TODAY

Lou shook his head.

“Fellas, you’ve made a mistake.”

The workers exchanged puzzled glances.

“What mistake?”

“You left out the food!”

“The food?”

“Yeah! How’s anybody supposed to know we’re serving lunch?”

Before they could protest, Lou borrowed a paintbrush and carefully altered the banner.

Several minutes later, it proudly announced:

GRAND LUNCH OF THE HARBOR QUEEN — NOON TODAY

Lou stepped backward to admire his work.

“Perfect!”

Mr. Perkins reappeared.

“Mr. Costello, should we begin setting the tables?”

“Absolutely! Put flowers in the middle, silverware on both sides, and make sure the mayor gets the biggest piece of chicken.”

“What about the captain?”

“Give him a drumstick!”

“Why?”

“Because he’s gotta keep the beat!”

Lou laughed so hard at his own joke that his bowler hat slipped over his eyes.

By eleven-thirty, the ceremony had begun transforming into something resembling a wedding reception held in the middle of a shipping yard.

White tablecloths fluttered in the breeze. Waiters arranged plates beside the gangway. A large soup pot stood dangerously close to a coil of rope. A bright banner stretched across the entrance, and an enormous cake decorated with a miniature sugar boat occupied the center of the main table.

Everything looked magnificent.

Everything was completely wrong.

And Bud Abbott was just about to discover it.

PART 3: THE CORRECTION — ABBOTT TRIES TO EXPLAIN

At precisely eleven-forty, Bud returned to Pier Seven after meeting with the mayor’s secretary.

He was smiling.

He had been informed that the mayor was delighted with the arrangements and that several newspapers intended to feature photographs of the ceremony on their front pages.

Bud imagined himself standing proudly beside the mayor as the Harbor Queen slipped gracefully into the water.

Then he rounded the corner.

He stopped.

He stared.

His smile vanished.

Before him stood six waiters, three decorated tables, a towering cake, and Lou Costello wearing a white napkin around his neck while sampling a sandwich.

“LLOOOOU!”

Lou jumped.

The sandwich flew from his hand and landed directly inside his bowler hat.

“Oh! Hello, Abbott!”

Bud marched toward him.

“What is all this?”

Lou smiled proudly.

“The arrangements!”

“What arrangements?”

“The lunch arrangements!”

Bud slowly removed his hat.

“Lou.”

“Yes, Abbott?”

“I told you to prepare for the launch.”

“That’s right!”

“The LAUNCH!”

“That’s what I did!”

“No, you prepared LUNCH!”

Lou looked around at the tables.

“Well, sure! You can’t have lunch without preparing it!”

Bud pointed toward the harbor.

“LOU! We are launching a BOAT!”

Lou pointed toward the food.

“And I’m feeding the PEOPLE!”

“The launch is a ceremony!”

“That’s right!”

“It means we’re putting the ship into service!”

“Sure!”

“It has nothing to do with eating!”

Lou froze.

His eyes widened.

His mouth slowly fell open.

“Nothing to do with eating?”

“NOTHING!”

Lou looked at the sandwiches, the soup, the chickens, and the enormous cake.

Then he looked back at Bud.

“Abbott, I think we got a problem.”

“You THINK we have a problem?”

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“I ordered lunch for two hundred people, and apparently nobody’s hungry!”

Bud began pacing.

“Lou, listen very carefully. A launch is when a vessel officially begins its service. Lunch is a meal eaten around midday. They are two entirely different things!”

Lou nodded thoughtfully.

“All right, Abbott. I understand.”

“Good.”

“A launch is a boat.”

“Not exactly.”

“And lunch is a sandwich.”

“More or less.”

“So if I eat a sandwich on a boat—”

“Don’t!”

“—am I having lunch on a launch?”

Bud grabbed Lou by the shoulders.

“YES!”

“Well, then what’s the problem?”

Bud stared silently at the sky, perhaps hoping divine intervention might arrive before the mayor.

Then he began again.

“Forget the food. Forget the tables. Forget everything you’ve done this morning.”

Lou frowned.

“Forget the food?”

“Yes!”

“But I paid for it!”

“That doesn’t matter!”

“It matters to me! I borrowed thirty dollars from my brother!”

Bud sighed.

“We’ll deal with that later. Right now, I want you to help me get this ceremony back on schedule.”

“Okay, Abbott. What do I do?”

Bud unfolded his schedule.

“First, remove those tables from the gangway.”

“Right!”

“Second, make sure the ceremonial bell is ready.”

“Right!”

“Third, give the captain permission to release the forward mooring line when I signal.”

“Right!”

“And finally, bring me the ceremonial bottle for the mayor.”

Lou blinked.

“Bottle?”

“Yes. The mayor is going to christen the ship.”

Lou looked horrified.

“He’s gonna WHAT?”

“Christen the ship!”

“Why? What religion is it now?”

Bud nearly dropped the schedule.

“LOU!”

“I’m just asking!”

“Christening is the traditional ceremony of naming a vessel!”

“Oh! Well, why didn’t you say that?”

“I DID!”

Lou scratched his head.

“And what’s the bottle for?”

“Traditionally, a bottle of champagne is broken against the bow.”

Lou’s jaw dropped.

“You’re gonna break a perfectly good bottle of champagne?”

“It’s tradition!”

“That’s a terrible tradition!”

“Why?”

“Because then you got broken glass and no champagne!”

Bud clenched his fists.

“LOU, JUST DO WHAT I TOLD YOU!”

Lou straightened.

“Yes, sir!”

“And one more thing.”

“What?”

“Do not ring that bell until I give the signal.”

Lou nodded.

“Right. No bell until the signal.”

“Exactly.”

“And no boat until the bell?”

“Correct.”

“And no lunch until the boat?”

“LOU!”

“Okay, okay!”

Bud pointed toward the captain.

“Go help him!”

Lou hurried away.

Bud took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead.

He had corrected the misunderstanding.

At least, he believed he had.

Unfortunately, correcting Lou Costello was rather like repairing an umbrella in a hurricane. Every time one problem disappeared, three others appeared in its place.

And noon was rapidly approaching.

PART 4: THE ESCALATION — THE HARBOR QUEEN GOES COMPLETELY WRONG

By eleven-fifty, the crowd had grown considerably. Families gathered along the railings. Newspaper photographers arranged their cameras. The mayor’s black automobile appeared at the far end of the waterfront, accompanied by several city officials.

Bud was directing the final preparations when he noticed Lou carrying a large brass bell toward the tables.

“LOU! Where are you taking that bell?”

Lou stopped.

“Over here!”

“WHY?”

“Because the waiter asked when to serve the food!”

“What does that have to do with the bell?”

Lou looked surprised.

“Abbott, how do you expect people to know when lunch is ready?”

Bud rushed toward him.

“That bell is for the ship!”

“Well, I know that!”

“Then give it to the captain!”

Lou shrugged.

“Okay, but I think he’s gonna have trouble eating soup with it!”

He handed the bell to a sailor standing beside the gangway.

“Here you go, pal. Don’t ring it until Abbott gives the signal.”

The sailor nodded.

“Understood.”

Lou turned away.

Immediately, Mr. Perkins approached him.

“Mr. Costello, the soup is getting cold.”

“Well, heat it up!”

“We’ve already heated it three times!”

“Then heat it four times!”

“The chickens are drying out!”

“Give ’em some lemonade!”

Mr. Perkins was beginning to regret every professional decision he had ever made.

Meanwhile, a dockworker approached Lou carrying a heavy length of rope.

“Excuse me, Mr. Costello. The captain wants this mooring line cleared.”

Lou looked at the rope.

“Cleared?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s holding the ship to the pier.”

Lou considered this carefully.

“Well, that sounds important.”

“It is.”

“So why does the captain want it cleared?”

“Because we’re getting ready to leave.”

Lou shook his head.

“Not yet!”

“Why not?”

“Abbott says nothing moves until he gives the signal!”

The dockworker nodded.

“Then where should I put the line?”

Lou glanced around.

He spotted a wooden post beside the buffet.

“Tie it there for now!”

The worker hesitated.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure! That’s a strong-looking post!”

Unfortunately, the post was actually part of a temporary wooden frame supporting the luncheon decorations.

The worker tied the rope.

Lou smiled.

“See? Perfect!”

Then he noticed the long ribbon stretching across the gangway.

“Hey, what’s this?”

“The ceremonial ribbon,” the worker explained.

“Oh, sure!”

Lou examined it.

“What’s it for?”

“The mayor cuts it before the boat departs.”

Lou nodded.

“Well, we can’t have anybody cutting it until Abbott says so!”

“Of course.”

Lou looked at the ribbon again.

Then at the buffet.

Then at the enormous cake.

A terrible idea entered his mind.

“Hey, I got it! Let’s move the table closer to the ship! That way the mayor can cut the ribbon and grab himself a piece of cake without walking so far!”

Within minutes, the cake table had been pushed against the entrance to the gangway.

The mooring rope now passed beneath one of its legs.

Nobody noticed.

Nobody, that is, except a small white seagull perched on a nearby railing.

The seagull watched the entire arrangement with considerable interest.

At eleven-fifty-eight, the mayor arrived.

Bud greeted him enthusiastically.

“Your Honor! Welcome! We’re delighted to have you with us!”

The mayor shook his hand.

“Splendid morning, Abbott! Everything appears to be running smoothly.”

Bud glanced nervously toward Lou.

“Yes, Your Honor. Smoothly. Very smoothly.”

The mayor noticed the decorated tables.

“Are we having refreshments?”

Bud smiled weakly.

“A few light refreshments, sir.”

“A few? Good heavens, Abbott! That’s enough food for the entire city council!”

Lou appeared beside them.

“Don’t worry, Your Honor! If the council shows up, we got extra sandwiches!”

The mayor laughed.

“Wonderful! And you must be Mr. Costello.”

Lou bowed dramatically.

“At your service, Mr. Mayor!”

The mayor extended his hand.

Lou shook it so vigorously that the mayor’s hat nearly fell off.

“Pleasure to meet you, young man.”

“Likewise!”

“Are you enjoying the ceremony?”

“Oh, sure!” Lou replied. “Only trouble is, nobody’ll let me eat!”

The mayor chuckled.

Bud did not.

“Your Honor,” Bud said quickly, “if you’ll come this way, the photographers are ready.”

They moved toward the decorated platform.

The photographer lifted his camera.

“All right, gentlemen! Just stand together, please!”

Bud stood tall and composed, smiling confidently beneath his fedora.

Lou stood beside him, straightening his checkered jacket.

“Smile, Mr. Costello!” the photographer called.

Lou opened his mouth.

“Hey, Abbott, you know something?”

“Not now, Lou!”

“But Abbott—”

“Just smile!”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because I think something’s moving!”

Bud’s smile froze.

“What?”

Lou pointed behind them.

“The boat!”

At that precise moment, the clock above the harbor office began striking twelve.

One.

Two.

Three.

The sailor holding the ceremonial bell looked toward Bud.

Bud, occupied with the photographer, raised one hand to adjust his hat.

The sailor mistook the gesture for the signal.

DING!

The bell rang.

The captain heard it.

“All right, men! Cast off!”

Several sailors sprang into action.

The Harbor Queen’s engines rumbled.

A great cloud of white steam rose above the funnel.

The ship’s horn sounded across the harbor.

BWOOOOOOOOOO!

Lou jumped nearly a foot into the air.

“ABBOTT! THE BOAT’S HONKING AT ME!”

Bud spun around.

“LOU! WHO RANG THAT BELL?”

“The sailor!”

“WHY?”

“Because you waved at him!”

“I WAS FIXING MY HAT!”

“Well, he thought you were fixing the boat!”

Before Bud could answer, the forward mooring line tightened.

The ship began to move gently away from the pier.

The rope stretched.

The temporary wooden frame creaked.

And the great cake table began sliding slowly toward the gangway.

Lou stared in horror.

“ABBOTT!”

“What NOW?”

“THE CAKE’S GOING ON A TRIP!”

Bud turned just in time to see the enormous cake rolling across the pier.

“STOP THAT TABLE!”

Lou ran after it.

He grabbed the edge.

For one glorious second, he appeared to have everything under control.

Then the rope pulled again.

The table lurched.

Lou slid several feet across the wooden boards, still clutching its edge.

“ABBOTT! HELP!”

Bud rushed forward and grabbed Lou by the back of his jacket.

The two men struggled against the moving table.

The crowd gasped.

The photographers began snapping pictures as fast as possible.

“LET GO OF THE TABLE, LOU!” Bud shouted.

“I CAN’T!”

“WHY NOT?”

“BECAUSE I’M HOLDING IT!”

“THEN STOP HOLDING IT!”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M TRYING TO DO!”

A sailor hurried over and released the rope.

The table stopped.

Bud stumbled backward.

Lou collapsed onto the pier.

The enormous cake trembled.

For a moment, it appeared that disaster had been prevented.

Then the seagull landed directly on top of the cake.

Lou sat upright.

“HEY! GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

The seagull snatched a large piece of frosting.

Lou waved his bowler hat.

“THAT’S NOT FOR YOU!”

The bird flew upward.

Its wings caught the edge of the decorative ribbon.

The ribbon pulled loose.

A shower of paper flowers tumbled from the wooden arch.

One flower landed in the mayor’s hat.

Another landed on Bud’s shoulder.

A third fell directly into Lou’s mouth.

Lou spat it out.

“ABBOTT! EVEN THE FLOWERS ARE EATING!”

At that moment, the captain leaned over the ferry’s railing.

“Mr. Abbott! Are we proceeding with the launch?”

Bud looked toward the mayor.

The mayor looked toward the cake.

The cake looked as though it had survived a small earthquake.

Bud forced a smile.

“Yes, Captain! Proceed!”

The captain gave the order.

The Harbor Queen moved slowly away from the pier.

The crowd began applauding.

The ship’s horn sounded again.

For a few seconds, it seemed the situation might actually be saved.

Then Lou noticed something.

“Hey, Abbott!”

“What?”

“Where’s the champagne?”

Bud froze.

“The champagne?”

“Yeah! You said the mayor was supposed to break the bottle!”

Bud looked toward the ceremonial stand.

There was no bottle.

“LOU! WHERE IS IT?”

Lou pointed toward the refreshment table.

“Over there!”

“WHY?”

“Because it was getting warm!”

“So?”

“So I put it in the ice!”

Bud hurried toward the table.

He opened the ice chest.

Inside were six bottles of lemonade.

And one bottle of champagne.

He grabbed the champagne triumphantly.

“Here it is!”

Lou smiled.

“See? I took good care of it!”

Bud turned toward the mayor.

“Your Honor! The ceremonial bottle!”

The mayor accepted it graciously.

“Excellent!”

He approached the railing as the Harbor Queen slowed near the pier.

Bud looked to the photographer.

“Ready?”

The photographer nodded.

“Ready!”

The mayor raised the bottle.

“Ladies and gentlemen! It gives me great pleasure to officially welcome the Harbor Queen!”

The crowd cheered.

He swung the bottle toward the bow.

But before it could strike, Lou suddenly shouted:

“WAIT!”

Everyone froze.

Bud stared at him.

“WHAT?”

Lou looked genuinely concerned.

“Who’s gonna clean up the glass?”

Bud’s expression was indescribable.

“LOU!”

“I’m just saying, Abbott! You can’t have a brand-new boat with broken glass all over it!”

The mayor began laughing.

The photographers laughed.

Even the captain smiled.

Bud took Lou by the arm and pulled him aside.

“Lou, will you please let the mayor finish the ceremony?”

“Okay, Abbott.”

“Without interrupting?”

“Yes, Abbott.”

“Without shouting?”

“Yes, Abbott.”

“Without asking another ridiculous question?”

Lou nodded solemnly.

“Yes, Abbott.”

Bud released him.

The mayor once again raised the bottle.

The crowd waited.

The photographer focused his camera.

And then Lou whispered:

“Hey, Abbott?”

Bud slowly turned.

“What?”

“Is that bottle insured?”

Bud made a sound that no dictionary could adequately describe.

The mayor laughed so hard that he nearly dropped the bottle.

Finally, the bottle struck the bow, the crowd erupted in applause, and the Harbor Queen officially began her new life as a passenger ferry.

Somehow, despite everything, the ceremony had succeeded.

But Lou Costello was not finished.

Not even close.