thedrifter
09-29-07, 12:40 PM
Tattoo artists miss Marine customers who don't come home
western news
By MARK MUCKENFUSS
The Press-Enterprise
Friday, September 28, 2007
Kyle Stratton was counting on the Marines.
He wasn't counting on the sorrow.
Four years ago, Stratton, 29, moved his business, American Made Tattoo, from Chino, Calif. to this small desert town at the hip of the Marine Corps base, about 80 miles northeast of Riverside.
He expected good business and wasn't disappointed. On pay-day weekends, he says, he often has a line of Marines waiting for his needle and ink. The troops make up 90 percent of his business.
What Stratton didn't anticipate was the casualties. Many of his customers haven't returned from the wars in the Middle East.
"We've lost so many in the last few years, it's insane," Stratton says. "I know there have been 15 that I've had personal relationships with."
Stratton illustrates that loss, literally, almost every day. He says nearly half his work on Marines is memorials to their fallen comrades.
"They have the boots and the rifle and the Kevlar (vest) on the top of it," he says of the most common memorial image.
He flips through one of several photo albums of tattoos he has done and points to a picture. It shows a pair of hands in prayer surrounded by six dog tags, each bearing the name of a fallen Marine. The Marine who got the tattoo recently came in to have a seventh dog tag added, Stratton says.
At the back of his shop, a ceramic dragon head sits on a shelf. It was a gift from a Marine who was later killed.
"Somebody gives you something and the next time they don't come back," he says. "That's happening a lot -- more and more. I try not to dwell on it too much."
Not an easy task when much of his business is centered on that very thing. Other tattoo artists in the half-dozen shops strung out along the main drag of Adobe Avenue say they face the same situation.
Dan and Vicky Kunz own Pair-a-Dice Tatooz. They call the Marines their kids.
Their shop isn't just a place to get a devil dog or a flaming skull with the letters USMC stenciled across young skin, they say. It's a hangout for Marines who are far from home and have few recreational options in the small town.
The soldiers flop across the leather sofa in the reception area, decorated with wooden parrots and elephants, and watch videos on an overhead television. The back room vibrates with the hum of tattooing machines.
The Kunzes say the attachments they form with the young men and women don't end at the walls of their business.
"We have a lot of Marines come and hang out at our house," Vicky Kunz says. "They come over and have barbecues with us. They call us Mom and Pop."
When some of those soldiers don't return from Iraq, it's hard.
"A lot of my close personal friends have lost their lives," Dan Kunz says.
Sometimes the losses are immense.
"We had done a lot of tattoos on this one platoon and only one of them came back," Vicky Kunz says.
Retired Marine Deke Murphy, 45, says getting a tattoo is almost a rite of passage.
"After boot camp, one of the first things a Marine will do is go and get a tattoo," Murphy says, standing at the counter in Stratton's shop.
The former sergeant, who still keeps his hair military short, is a prime example. On his right arm is a "sleeve" tattoo featuring an eagle-clad military knife surrounded by flames. On the back of his right calf is the word "Teufelhund," German for devil dog, written in Old English lettering.
His lower abdomen bears the slogan "First to Fight." Above it are the scars of battle, shrapnel he caught from a roadside bomb during a 2005 tour in Al Anbar province in Iraq.
That experience has him contemplating another tattoo.
"I've thought about getting a band of 50-caliber rounds around one of my legs because there is a strong call to remind yourself that this is what you've been through," he says. "It reminds you that you're OK and that there are guys that didn't make it out."
Reach Mark Muckenfuss at mmuckenfuss(at)PE.com
Ellie
western news
By MARK MUCKENFUSS
The Press-Enterprise
Friday, September 28, 2007
Kyle Stratton was counting on the Marines.
He wasn't counting on the sorrow.
Four years ago, Stratton, 29, moved his business, American Made Tattoo, from Chino, Calif. to this small desert town at the hip of the Marine Corps base, about 80 miles northeast of Riverside.
He expected good business and wasn't disappointed. On pay-day weekends, he says, he often has a line of Marines waiting for his needle and ink. The troops make up 90 percent of his business.
What Stratton didn't anticipate was the casualties. Many of his customers haven't returned from the wars in the Middle East.
"We've lost so many in the last few years, it's insane," Stratton says. "I know there have been 15 that I've had personal relationships with."
Stratton illustrates that loss, literally, almost every day. He says nearly half his work on Marines is memorials to their fallen comrades.
"They have the boots and the rifle and the Kevlar (vest) on the top of it," he says of the most common memorial image.
He flips through one of several photo albums of tattoos he has done and points to a picture. It shows a pair of hands in prayer surrounded by six dog tags, each bearing the name of a fallen Marine. The Marine who got the tattoo recently came in to have a seventh dog tag added, Stratton says.
At the back of his shop, a ceramic dragon head sits on a shelf. It was a gift from a Marine who was later killed.
"Somebody gives you something and the next time they don't come back," he says. "That's happening a lot -- more and more. I try not to dwell on it too much."
Not an easy task when much of his business is centered on that very thing. Other tattoo artists in the half-dozen shops strung out along the main drag of Adobe Avenue say they face the same situation.
Dan and Vicky Kunz own Pair-a-Dice Tatooz. They call the Marines their kids.
Their shop isn't just a place to get a devil dog or a flaming skull with the letters USMC stenciled across young skin, they say. It's a hangout for Marines who are far from home and have few recreational options in the small town.
The soldiers flop across the leather sofa in the reception area, decorated with wooden parrots and elephants, and watch videos on an overhead television. The back room vibrates with the hum of tattooing machines.
The Kunzes say the attachments they form with the young men and women don't end at the walls of their business.
"We have a lot of Marines come and hang out at our house," Vicky Kunz says. "They come over and have barbecues with us. They call us Mom and Pop."
When some of those soldiers don't return from Iraq, it's hard.
"A lot of my close personal friends have lost their lives," Dan Kunz says.
Sometimes the losses are immense.
"We had done a lot of tattoos on this one platoon and only one of them came back," Vicky Kunz says.
Retired Marine Deke Murphy, 45, says getting a tattoo is almost a rite of passage.
"After boot camp, one of the first things a Marine will do is go and get a tattoo," Murphy says, standing at the counter in Stratton's shop.
The former sergeant, who still keeps his hair military short, is a prime example. On his right arm is a "sleeve" tattoo featuring an eagle-clad military knife surrounded by flames. On the back of his right calf is the word "Teufelhund," German for devil dog, written in Old English lettering.
His lower abdomen bears the slogan "First to Fight." Above it are the scars of battle, shrapnel he caught from a roadside bomb during a 2005 tour in Al Anbar province in Iraq.
That experience has him contemplating another tattoo.
"I've thought about getting a band of 50-caliber rounds around one of my legs because there is a strong call to remind yourself that this is what you've been through," he says. "It reminds you that you're OK and that there are guys that didn't make it out."
Reach Mark Muckenfuss at mmuckenfuss(at)PE.com
Ellie