Marked For Life; The story of blood, sweat, tears and tattoo needles! Part 3

American Tattoo, 1989-90 continued?

I hung out with Mick for about three months. In that time, I also met Jason, Mr. Buzz's son. He kind of kept the same attitude towards me that his dad did. They acknowledged that I was there, but they didn't pay me a whole lot of attention. At least, that's what I thought at the time. The first chance that I really got to talk to Buzz was when I decided to get a tattoo from him. I decided to get an old nickname tattooed over the top of my right shoulder. I was sitting in the shop and talked to him about it, and he told me to draw it up. I wanted it in the same style of lettering as was used on Motley Crue's album, "Dr. Feelgood". I drew it up and he got all excited about the little skulls and crossbones on each end of it. In the end, he made some changes to it and I was actually glad he did. He made it his own. He wasn't so open about his methods of tattooing as Mick was, but I could see and feel the difference. It hurt more, but I preferred his style. Something about his old school biker demeanor just made you respect him as well. 

Shortly after that, he opened another shop in Mississippi which was 2 hours away. He and Jason spent most of their time there and then came another artist known as "The Baron" or just Baron as we called him. He was from New York, he was big, he was loud, and for me, he was downright intimidating. I spent some time talking to him here and there and still doing a lot of drawing for him and Mick when I could be there. But at this point, I was getting quite a reputation for myself as a "tattooist?". I was tattooing my friends on my days off and they were out showing off my work, which in turn, brought more people to my door.

Keep in mind that this was over 20 years ago, and at that time, tattoo artists and shops were few and far between. Also at that time, tattooing was not near as socially accepted as it is today. In fact, there were still a lot of tattooists that thought latex gloves were cool just because they didn't have to wash the colors off their hands when they were done (never mind all the other funky shit they got on them).

In the meantime, I realized that tattooing was something that I wanted to take seriously, so I quit my job on the boats and looked for something a little more "inland". In the end, I found a job at Wal-Mart, of all places. I was basically a janitor... cleaning floors and doing maintenance work from 10 at night til 7 in the morning. Around 1 in the afternoon, it was time to sling some ink. Within 6 months, I was stressing to get done with the last tattoo so I wouldn't be late for "work".

Just about the time I was starting to rethink my situation of working in some form or another for 15 to 17 hours a day, I got a phone call from Jason. His dad was offering me a "learn as you work" apprenticeship.

Well... he didn't have to ask me twice! I went to Wal-Mart that evening and told them that it was my last night working for them. The next day, without sleeping, I took the hour drive to Houma to talk to Buzz. When I got there, I found out that both Mick and Baron had quit and the shop was closed for almost a week. Incidentally, Mick called me 3 days later to tell me that he and Baron had opened a shop in Cut Off... across the bayou from my mother's house (practically across the street).

One day when I had some time off, my younger brother and I decided to go in and say hello to them. By this time, they had heard that I was working for Buzz and both of them basically started dogging me for it. They were pissed because I didn't drop everything and come and work for them. But as I told them, I was grateful for what they've helped me with, but at the same time, it was Buzz's shop that I learned it in. Not to mention, all the work I had done for them in drawing designs, cleaning up the shop for them sometimes... and nearly getting my nose broke once. As an argument was getting started, I looked down at a portfolio of artwork on the table in front of me. It was Baron's and there was the sailor's crucifix that I drew up for Mick's customer a few months earlier. It was near identical to the first that I drew and signed by Baron. When I called him on it, he said, "What? I added a rope to the anchor!" Then he went into a fit and started yelling at me... "You think you're somebody, you little bastard, but you ain't shit! Maybe in 5 years you'll learn something, but maybe you can get a job cutting hair!" I thought to myself, "Where the hell did that come from? Cutting hair?". Then my brother, who was 15 at the time, cut in... "Quentin's already better than you, so maybe you can learn something from him in 5 years!" I started to laugh! It didn't go over too well. Baron retaliated with, "This is my shop, and it's my bayou now, so both of you get the hell out of here and don't ever come back!" As we left, I told him, "You might think it's your bayou, but I'm local and we'll see how far that New York attitude gets you, down here! Good F#cking luck, pal!" Mick never said a word... which seemed odd to me, but on the other hand, that was Mick. 

The next day at work, I was sitting with Jason and telling him about what happened. Suddenly, four bikers came pulling up at the front door of the shop. Two of the men waited outside in front of the door while the other two came in. One of them was a man we knew as "Pumpkin" or "Pun'kin" as we said it. He was huge and made a full size Harley Davidson look like a Honda rebel 250 when he sat on it... and trust me, that wasn't his scariest quality. He got in an argument with someone and the man pulled out a 357 magnum and shot him in the face. He was missing an eye and half his nose and the fact that he survived from it, told you that he was one tough fothermucker! And he just walked through the door and asked for me... by name. Somehow, I knew they weren't here to invite me to dinner.     As I stood up and introduced myself, he poked his finger in my chest and said, "Who the hell do you think you are, walking into my tattoo shop and saying that you own the bayou?"

Hmm... What goes through your mind when this happens? To be honest... there's not much that doesn't go through your mind. I figured an ass-whoopin' was coming one way or the other, so I might as well speak my piece and take it like a man. And I told him that. Then, I basically explained it just like I wrote it a few lines back. He just stared at me... for a minute... through his one eye... then he said, "Let's get one thing straight... It's my bayou and my tattoo shop, and I don't wanna hear about you setting foot in that place again. You got that?" Well, I'd pretty much made up my mind on that the day before... But I wasn't gonna tell him that. So I just said, "Easy enough!"

Let's face it, if the president of the local bike club is pissed at you and he claims he owns the whole damned world... you can safely assume that he does. But when someone else "stretched the truth" (about 28 miles (which was the distance he had to drive to whip my ass... in which he was either disappointed or relieved that he didn't (more about that later...), I'm sure somebody is going to hear it in the end!

At any rate, when it was said and done, Jason and I just stared at each other... Both of us were a little shocked at what just happened. He called his dad and told him about it. Buzz's reply: "Did anyone get hurt or shot?... Nope...? There's probably nothing to worry about, then! Just try to avoid this sort of thing in the future!" 

Let's just say that "avoiding this sort of thing" was going to be a challenge due to upcoming events? :P

Until next time... May the force be with you... :P

Q :)



P.s. Here's a pic of me and my younger brother... This was taken right about the time we visited that tattoo shop... :P