Lauren Duffee '10

The Invisible Workers

     The three men walk to the stable tents just shy of four in the morning. The blackness of the sky starts to erode but their vision is still obscured by the fog curling up between the green mountains. When they reach their barn's aisles of horses, the horses whinny and snort; their new company surprises them from their sleep. The three men begin emptying, scrubbing, and refilling the horses' water buckets. One man tosses each horse four thick flakes of grassy hay, still a lively green from its time in the hay fields twenty miles away from the horse show.

     "¡Eh! ¡Francisco! ¿Dónde están las tijeras?" calls Carlos. Francisco grabs the scissors from inside the tack room and tosses them over the stall wall to Carlos. Carlos cuts the baling twine on a new bale of hay and continues handing out the morning ration. Manuel starts giving out the pre-measured grain to each horse, complete with joint supplements and cherry-flavored electrolytes.

     At 4:15 the three of them begin prepping four of the horses for the 5 a.m. lesson that the barn trainer has scheduled for some of the teenage girls showing later that day. They groom each horse to a brilliant sheen with curry mitts and soft horse-hair brushes, and put on their saddles. They check that all of the leather attachments are clean and in good condition and then walk the horses a mile down to the warm-up rings. They talk to each other and watch the pink diffuse across the sky.

     At five o'clock sharp the girls arrive at the ring in a golf cart, sleepy-eyed and holding Starbucks cappuccinos for warmth. Dressed in Ralph Lauren polo shirts and Lily Pulitzer ribbon belts, they grab their horses by the reins, lead them to the mounting block, and get on. Within five minutes, the trainer drives up in his golf cart, fully customized with rain guards and the barn's name in stickered lettering, and starts teaching the lesson from his seat at the side of the ring. He dismisses Carlos, Francisco, and Manuel with a hand wave. They walk a mile back to the barns and begin mucking the stalls.

     As a regular competitor on the horse show circuit for over ten years of my life, I have witnessed scenes like that described above thousands of times. I never boarded at a stable that hired professional grooms; therefore, at horse shows, I worked alongside them -mucking my own stalls, feeding my own horses, and cleaning my own equipment. The two times I ever experienced the luxury of having others do this work for me, I felt nearly absent from the horse show; I was not used to arriving after 7 a.m. or handing my horse to another person.

     Within the horse show world, termed the "show circuit," there is always a larger population of Hispanic grooms than of horse owners, riders, and trainers. Nearly all grew up in Mexico, Guatemala, or El Salvador and send their earnings to their families still south of the border. After immigrating to the United States, many find work through friends or family already grooming at a training stable, thus further developing the social network.

     Most large competing stables hire grooms to take care of the horses - both at home and at horse shows. While the horse owner or rider is ultimately accountable for his or her horse, often he or she rarely tends to the horse outside of its athletic training. Riders expect that their horse will be properly prepared for their riding and that they can meet their horse and their groom at the ring. These stable workers perform all the necessary ground work, including, but not limited to, mucking the stalls, cleaning the leather tack, and grooming the horses. While waiting at the show ring, riders will hand the reins to their grooms to hold for hours.

     Understanding the principles of horsemanship used to be a prerequisite for advanced horse back riders. Horsemanship can be defined as the relationship of respect, cooperation, and communication between horse and rider, but also implies a deeper knowledge of horse care. In 2006, when I competed at the ASPCA Maclay finals, the most prestigious year-end championship, George Morris, a prominent rider of the twentieth century and the coach of the U.S. Olympic team, was the judge. He addressed all of us about the importance of horsemanship. In addition to grading the riders' accuracy and performance over the set course of jumps required of each rider, he explained how he would look for signs of an intimate connection between the horse and rider. For example, a horse that trips during the course is demonstrating a minor soreness or lameness and thus would reveal a rider who had overworked his or her horse before the class. He alluded to "old days," before the time of professional stable grooms, when all riders knew the details of their horse's needs, beginning with the basics like how much water, hay, and grain they require. As athletes on the hunter/jumper show circuit, the horses perform at an intense level and therefore deserve the best care possible from their handlers.

     Once a rider progresses into the more challenging divisions, the theory of horse back riding becomes intricate and detailed. For example, trainers must choose, from among hundreds of options, the design of bit, the metal mouthpiece of the horse's bridle, that will work the most effectively for the specific horse. The degree of curvature and flexibility of the bit inside the horse's mouth, and the design of the attachment to the reins and bridle all affect how the horse will react to the action of the rider's aids - the signals available to the rider to communicate with his or her horse.

     Riders should learn how to properly manage their horses so that the horses can compete in their best condition. Through the use of muscle relaxants, pain relievers, and mild sedatives, a rider can alleviate minor aches or anxiety that may limit his or her horse's performance. In terms of care after showing, a rider needs to know how to avoid any injuries or unnecessary stress to the horse's body. Riders often use support bandages after an intense ride to minimize any associated pain. Knowing how to wrap a horse's leg without causing problems like a bowed tendon, resulting in a lame horse, or fungal growth, caused by wrapping the leg before the hair has dried completely, is imperative to maintaining a horse in its peak condition. Before riders depended on hired grooms to provide care to their horses, they all studied these intricacies to maximize their performance in the show ring.

     In the modern era, where many competition horses are cared for exclusively by hired grooms, most riders do not understand the fine details that surround the care of the horse. At the New England Equitation Championships, in the fall of my last year as a junior rider, I took a written test that evaluated my knowledge of horsemanship. My score placed me among the top twelve competitors from a group of about two hundred others, and thus qualified me for the practical exam, where I needed to demonstrate my comfort around horses and my familiarity with their daily care. The morning of the practicum, I sat in the coliseum watching the other riders compete in the arena, and reviewed different aspects of horsemanship with trainers and friends. We discussed how to check the age of a horse (by examining the slant of its teeth), the names and functions of many bits, and the different types and uses of grain, while we munched on candied apples.

     At one point, I sat down among some friends who rode at a very successful training stable, whose horses I had always noticed were beautifully groomed for the show ring. Before the exam, the officials announced that I would need to bring a tote bag of grooming tools that I would normally use at the show ring. When I asked the girls for their opinion on what specifically I should include, they could not tell me what items their grooms used. My friends felt comfortable assuming their grooms would always clean their horses well and therefore never felt the need to question their techniques. In their opinion, it was more important to know how to ride, as this is what is judged inside the show ring, than how to groom.

     My family could never afford the full-time grooming services offered at many top-level training stables. My parents expected my sister and me to hold our own horses and muck our own stalls. Since my family purchased our first horse, my dad impressed on my sister and me his fastidious work ethic around horse care. He worked on a large horse farm growing up and taught us the techniques he had learned. One time when my sister said her horse's water bucket was clean enough and did not need to be scrubbed, he walked out to his truck and returned with a drinking straw. If it was clean enough for the horse to drink from, it was clean enough for us. We learned never to compromise the needs of our horses.

     At horse shows, my mom helped me only with final touch-ups just before I walked into the show ring. Besides my parents' financial support, the care of my horse rested completely in my control. Although growing up I was embarrassed that I did not have a groom to do it all for me, I realize now the value in managing one's own show horse.

     While at horse shows, the stable hands follow the program as outlined on the whiteboard in the barn aisle for each horse. At the end of the show day, it's common for the trainers and riders to sit in the front display and develop the plan for the next day. The trainer's assistant later translates the key details to the whiteboard, such as when horses will be ridden, what divisions they are showing in, and which bit the rider will use. The whiteboard is the ultimate guide for the horse owners, riders, and grooms. Large show stables can coordinate the schedules of many horses and riders only with exceptional organization.

     The whiteboard holds different significance for different groups of people. The horse show moms use the information to know when to arrive at the show grounds in time for their daughters' class in the show ring. The riders use the information to know when to arrive at the ring for lessons or for their classes. The grooms use the information to coordinate barn chores with the show schedules of their assigned horses. (Generally each groom is responsible for three or four horses).

     Unfortunately for many grooms, the instructions on the whiteboard are always written in English. Most learn to identify particular words that are pivotal in preparing the horses, like "lesson," "braid," and "pelham" (a type of bit). There is usually one groom who can read English to some degree, and thus he acts as the translator for the entire group. His ability to understand written English and communicate with riders and trainers establishes him as a local leader. Literacy is power.

     The teenage girls who compete on the show circuit often hang around the stalls while they wait for their time to show. The grooms blast Mariachi mix tapes on dusty boom boxes, while towel drying the horses' legs and washing the leather tack with glycerin soap. The girls talk amongst themselves, laughing loudly and occasionally engaging some of the men in conversation. They make a half-hearted attempt to talk in Spanish, amusing themselves by sprinkling basic words into their sentences. The teenage grooms, excited to be included, pretend to follow their chatter. They respond with words weighted by thick accents, missing vocabulary, and unconjugated verbs.

     The language barrier divides the riders from the Hispanic men like a giant fissure. Most riders with grooms belong to white families and all come from wealthy backgrounds. Besides the color of their skin - the men's tanned even darker by long hours in the horse show sun - language is the most obvious difference between these social groups. In the world of the equestrian show circuit, a person's language decides his placement among the elite society or the untouchables.

     Jessica Springsteen, the daughter of Bruce Springsteen; Paige Johnson, the daughter of the owner of Black Entertainment Television; and Georgina Bloomberg, the daughter of the mayor of New York City, are among the riders on the elite show circuit. Sarah Willaman, another heiress, owns a fifty-two stall barn filled with her own horses, all of which start at one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Some variance exists in the affluence of all horse-back riders but many show circuit riders are exceptionally wealthy.

     To compete on the hunter/jumper show circuit, horseback riders (or in reality, their parents) are financially responsible for stall rental fees, entry fees, and hotel room fees. Trainers bill riders for the costs of their time at the horse show. For example, each rider pays his or her share of the trainer's RV parking space or hotel room, the grooms' salaries and housing, coaching fees, etc. During the winter, when show stables trailer over four thousand horses to the Florida horse shows from the day after Christmas until mid-March, many riders, who are still in high school, hire private tutors to continue their education. Some riders fly back and forth between the horse show and their home every weekend.

     In contrast to the excessive wealth of the horse owners and riders, hired grooms are held to an opposite standard of living. Their low status in a private and elite industry allows for their effective exclusion from OSHA regulations. Officers do not visit horse shows to monitor the treatment of these employees. The public remains unaware of the equestrian world and the social issues permeating the business. Training barns will often fit five or six men into small motel rooms for the entire summer along with a meager daily wage. One year at a horse show in Lake Placid, many of the grooms stayed in rooms that did not have hot water.

     Most grooms are paid in cash to eliminate a paper trail. The experienced earn about one hundred dollars per day plus tip although they often send much of their money to their families and survive on a miserable stipend. Many others are illegal aliens who arrive in search of a haven from the economic stress in their home country.

     It is unspoken knowledge that some of the grooms do not have valid work visas or green cards. In talking to various trainers who show on the circuit, it is clear that many are aware of this issue but do not have the explicit numbers of legal versus illegal workers. Frank Perla, a trainer and barn owner, speculates that approximately twenty percent are undocumented, though barns rarely discuss such scandalous details.

     These illegal immigrants serve as a pool of cheap labor that helps meet the demands of the elite equestrian social circle. Trainers and grooms must constantly look out for US Immigrant agents. A small editorial column in Today's Equestrian, a magazine that chronicles horse show news, describes how the number of illegal grooms may diminish in coming years after immigration officials visited the Lake Placid horse show grounds this past August. When they descended upon the show, the alien workers hid in horse trailers, stalls, and even port-a-potties. In Susan Nusser's book In Service to the Horse: Chronicles of a Labor of Love, she discloses how a show announcer in Wellington, Florida, whose job is to name the riders as they enter the competition ring, would call out, "Dr. Warren to the show office," a special code word to warn trainers that Immigration Officers had arrived at the horse shows. Upon hearing it over the loud speakers, every illegal groom scattered into the surrounding woods.

     In Thermal, California, Jorge Rodríguez-Ramírez, forty-seven years old, and Armando Sanchez Gallardo, twenty-one years old, finish filling the horses' water buckets and throw each of them an extra couple flakes of hay. Although the show grounds is located only eighty-five miles away from the Mexican border, the air is near freezing, revealing each breath as it leaves their mouths. They wear tattered sweatshirts and wool hats. I imagine the two men pick out the largest piles from the horses' stalls, to make the morning muck easier the next day, measure out the morning grain, and rake the dirt aisle free of stray hay and shavings.

     They probably sit with grooms from other barns, drinking Coronas with juicy slices of lime. Now free from the scrutiny by English speakers, they take turns driving the golf carts, speeding around the stable tents and making sharp donuts. They know that one key works for every golf cart. Perhaps sometime around one in the morning, the grooms begin stumbling towards their old compact cars. They pack seven men into each car and drive back to their motel rooms. Jorge and Armando do not drive with them. They walk together to the parked trailers.

     At this point, they have memorized the location of their barn's trailer among the three hundred in the parking lot, but they use a faint flash light to help guide the way. Inside the aluminum trailer, on top of the yellow wood shavings and other remnants of the traveling horses, they lay their sleeping bags. In the middle of the four-horse trailer, they set up a portable gas generator to help fight the cool draft flowing through the plexiglass windows. "Buenas noches," they whisper as they lie down, still wearing their sweatshirts and dirty denim jeans.

     The next morning, Armando and Jorge did not show up to work on time. Around eight o' clock, the trainer drove her truck to the trailer parking, opened the door to the trailer, and found both men still inside their sleeping bags. Dead.

     The sheriff arrived soon after and declared the deaths a result of accidental carbon monoxide poisoning. Armando and Jorge had closed the doors and windows, locking themselves inside with the deadly fumes. The Los Angeles Times quotes Sergeant Dennis Gutierrez, "Unfortunately, it happens quite a lot when it gets cold. It's tragic. But it's not a crime."