By Captains' Quarterly

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MY LIFE WITH MANDY

In the beginning there was the voice.

I first heard it at my graduation as a brand new New York City Correction Officer. The man at the microphone, invited because some newly-promoted Correction Captains were also graduating that day, was their President.

Al Mandanici and Pete Meringolo at formal event.

It was a booming, powerful voice, not at all disrespectful, but no one could call it bashful. And this is what the voice was saying, to the Commissioner and the Chief: "You owe me more Captains. You made eight; you owe me four more." Mandy attended every graduation during his years as President, and at every graduation his message was the same: "Thanks. More."

The second time I saw Mandy was soon after graduation. I was assigned to the James A. Thomas Center, and I heard him before I saw him, his voice bellowing through the corridors. Long before he hove into view, word flashed around to every Captain within earshot: "Mandy's in the building." And Mandy made his presence felt: "What have you done to my Captains?"

Those were pioneering years in the CCA. Mandy making site visits on his own time, because he had not yet won released time for CCA officers so they could properly serve their members. Mandy running out to his car, where he kept a trunk-full of insurance forms and other pieces of literature so that he could give the members what they needed on the spot. Despite the gruffness of his delivery, which changed for no one, friend or foe, the affection and respect that existed between Mandy and "his" Captains were palpable.

Al Mandanici and Pete Meringolo at informal event.

"On the spot" sums up Mandy's approach to life, then and now. Do it now; do it right; do it by the book.

After a while I took the promotion exam, and because there were not enough permanent slots available, I was offered a provisional appointment, with assurances that the highest-scoring Captains on provisional appointment would be protected when the permanent promotions were made. I called the president of the CCA to ask his advice about accepting the promotion, and he told me, in his usual unequivocal way, "NO! Don't listen to their promises. You'll be treated badly." Naturally he didn't say "treated badly," but anyone who knows Mandy can fill in the blanks.

Of course, I was a young Correction Officer who knew better; so I took the provisional promotion, and in due course the permanent promotions were made, and I was - ah - treated badly. After a while I was promoted again, to a real Captain as Mandy called it, but it was a very long time before he let me forget what happened when I disregarded his advice. I suspect he has not forgotten it to this day.

Al Mandanici and Pete Meringolo with others in CCA leadership group photo on the Special Issue's back cover.

So the years of Mandy's term in office passed by, Mandy sweet-talking or more often blasting his way to progress, knocking down barriers, building a union that made life better for Mandy's Captains and their families, and for all the Captains and families yet to come. Then at last it was time to retire, and Mandy was succeeded by Donald Cranston who immediately offered him a new role with his beloved CCA: that of retiree consultant, in which he could continue to take care of his Captains.

Then I was elected President, and my first official act was to lay the clamps on Al and not let this walking repository of CCA history get away. I asked him to stay. He did a very Mandy-like thing. He turned me down.

"What are you talking about?" I asked him. "I need you. The members need you. What have you got to do that's better?"

"You're the President now," he replied. "You should have your own man."

Al Mandanici, Irv Mechanic and Pete Meringolo in formal event photo on Special Issue's back cover. The caption expressed appreciation to Irv and Mechanic & Associates "for their generous sponoship of this pictoral celebration."

"You're my man. Please think it over."

So after a little back and forth, he agreed to think it over, and he turned around and walked out. I looked at the second hand on my watch. In 10 seconds the door flew open, and in he came.

"OK, I thought it over. I'll stay."

And so he stayed, keeping me in line, reminding me of deadlines six months in advance, giving me hints on strategy -"Always take them to lunch" was one of my favorites - and always, always, serving his Captains and keeping them in line, too.

And so here we are, commemorating the fiftieth anniversary of this remarkable man. I could go on with pages and pages of Mandy stories, but we chose instead to celebrate the occasion with this collection of photographs. We think of it not as a summary of his career, but as an interim report of a work in progress.

-- Pete Meringolo