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4.14 LOUISVILLE MAGAZINE 9 7 the racing season at Churchill Downs, one that's been on hiatus dur- ing winter months. Te 56-year-old with a gray, well-trimmed goatee and dark gray hair parted down the middle opens the door to the security shack at Gate 5. His left hand clutches what looks like a CB radio transceiver; his right holds a few notes. He digs for his reading glasses, unfolding them onto his nose. "Good morning, horsemen. It's Chaplain Ken with our minute with God," he begins, his voice crackling through loudspeakers. "Today's our frst minute with God back for the spring meet." Every morning, as machines rake the track and morning workouts pause, Boehm preaches. It's just a quick spiritual hit — one piece of scripture and a few thoughts. Devotional books on his desk help inspire the message. Occasionally events dictate the tone. If a jockey's been critically hurt in a race, Boehm might opt to speak on hope. In 2012, after a backside worker was murdered in the hours after the Derby race, Boehm refected on healing. "Tis morning's word is from the 37th Psalm. It says commit your way to the Lord and trust also in Him," he says. He casually crosses his feet as he talks, steadying himself by leaning on the shack's green door frame. "We can fnd peace even in the midst of turmoil." His words echo. In compact ofces dotted around the backside, ears perk up. With a view of the frozen track from her window, Linda Do- ane, a tall, striking middle-aged woman with shoulder-length straight blond hair, pours a cup of cofee and welcomes Boehm's familiar voice. She helps backside workers through alcohol and other addictions, like gambling, a fairly common struggle among those who dedicate their days to this industry, often leaving family for months or years on end. Since racing ended here after Tanksgiving, Doane's ofce has been a solitary place. In the winter, some of the men and women she works with move to a horse-training facility in La Grange, Ky. Others head for the racing seasons in Arkansas, Louisiana and Florida. She keeps in contact with clients over the phone. "Kind of like checking in with Mom," she jokes. Like Boehm, she's looking forward to the continued arrival of the backside's nomadic residents. Before signing of, Boehm ends his message with a nudge: "Just a reminder, horsemen, worship tonight at 7 at the chapel. Dinner at 8. Te dinner is free." Click. Te speakers go silent. It's not back to his ofce yet. From March through November, Boehm walks the barns, hoping to connect to the hundreds of workers who care for about 1,400 Toroughbreds. Today's jaunt will be short. Only 47 horses have arrived, maybe a few dozen grooms, foremen and exercise riders. Boehm leaves his chapel behind and buries his hands, a chilly shade of reddish-purple, into his pockets. A white mattress tied to the roof of a car. On the backside, that's a sign of spring. "Tat will go in here," Boehm says, pointing frst to the mattress and then up at a room upstairs in a barn. Many backside workers live in small units — above the horse stalls — as well as in surrounding dorms and equipment rooms. "Te mattress will go from track to track to track," says Boehm. He peers inside the barns, a hive of moving day labor. Scattered among straw and alfalfa lies proof that young horses demand high maintenance: black wash basins, white and yellow feed buckets, towels, red basketball-sized balls for play, grooming brushes, bandages. A simple wood desk also awaits its place in a yet-to-be-assembled barn ofce. Strips of red tape hang limp at the side of each drawer, presum- ably an attempt to hold contents, like an equine veterinary book, inside during the drive. "Where do you all come from?" Boehm asks an English-speaking worker manning a drill at an iron gate. "Tampa," he responds as he wrestles to afx the gate to a stall. "Oh! My old stomping grounds," Boehm says, smiling. For 13 years he worked as a chaplain at a racetrack there. "Did you have a good meet?" "Yeah." Te crew left Tampa at 2:30 Sunday afternoon, arriving in Lou- isville at 7 on this Monday morning. Horseracing doesn't pause for transitions. When one meet ends, it's on to the next. North to Louis- ville, the trucks and trailers charge, transporting precious cargo with names like "Bubbles and Babies." "Mucho frio," Boehm says to two men holding the gate in place. Both are originally from Mexico. Te taller of the two, wearing a baseball cap, nods. "Cold," he says. Continued on page 158 "Good morning, horsemen. It's Chaplain Ken (pictured lef) with our minute with God. Today's our frst min- ute with God back for the spring meet." 82-97.indd 97 3/20/14 10:37 AM