tattoos

i'll bet none of you has ever tattooed a thoroughbred horse...well, i have.  more than a thousand as a matter of fact.  why would anyone do such a thing you ask?  for identification purposes, that's why.  when i, newly graduated from college with a totally useless degree in english, decided to strike out and seek my fortune i thought it best to start where [i thought] the money was...in those days that would be the race track [horses, of course].  through my teenage years i'd worked at the local track which ran, conveniently, during the summer so i had some connections.  before long i found myself a night watchman's position guarding the preakness cup at pimlico race  track in baltimore maryland - all the while  waiting for the tattoo crew to show  up so i could take on the position of tattoo technician [trainee].  i'll get to the part later why it was so easy to find the latter position - you can guess why the night watchman's job was open - boredom anyone?  after stumbling through my reversed days and nights for two weeks, to my great relief, the crew arrived and i began my new career.

thoroughbred horses - at least those which go to the track - are tattooed on the inside of their upper lips.  that's why if you watch pre-race activity closely you'll see a horse pause before a guy in the paddock who will reach up and roll its upper lip, look down at his program, then nod to the groom and look for the next suspect.  i say suspect because there are multiple reasons to believe the horse before that guy is not the one named in the program...the one being bet on by the public.  what if the groom bridled the wrong horse back at the barn?  what if the horse was shipped in and the trainer didn't bother to check its i.d., i.e. the tattoo?  you get the picture.  anyway, tattooing was fun and simple for a strong young man until i got hurled around a stall by an obstreporous 4 year old which i should have known better than to try and tattoo to start with [most animals are tattooed at 2 or before their first race - this one had escaped that indignity for obvious reasons].  aside from that minor diversion, when asked, i accepted the position of horse identifier [junior] at the chicago circuit of three race courses.

once i got over the excitement of living in cicero [al capone's old hangout], having my one room apartment partially invaded and therefore carrying a gun at all times, watching, amazed, as a small tornado threw a starting gate through a wrought iron fence, and lunching in the jock's room surrounded by big name athletes i settled in  to [junior] identification duties and the odd day of actual tattooing - at $4 a horse - all the while trying to cope with my [senior] identifier's extreme alcoholism.

then one day a groom brought to the paddock a dead horse - at least one whose owner claimed was dead - and the whole business of "horse identifier" came into focus.  before the first race i would write the jockey club registration numbers of each horse on my partner's program.  he would then, as the horses paused before him, roll their lips  and confirm they were who the program said they were.  suddenly one number didn't match...wrong horse.  great consternation...calls to the stewards...scratch...money refunded...steward's hearing...alleged nefarious activity, etc., etc.  great excitement actually.

shortly thereafter i declined an invitation to stay [over an illinois winter season] and "work the standardbreds", having realized the money wasn't where i thought it was, and returned home.

the other day i was visiting a friend's farm and an inquisitive sway-backed old nag wandered up to the fence i was leaning against.  reflexively i reached up and rolled its lip.  there was the tattoo...maybe one of mine?