Lack of immigrant workers hobbles horse racing at Canterbury Park

Three weeks into the Canterbury Park season, Bob Johnson could tell the numbers were not going to add up. The South Dakota quarter horse trainer already was working to the point of exhaustion, running his busy 24-horse stable with only his wife, Shilo, and three employees to help out.

Johnson originally planned to bring 20 more horses to the Shakopee track. When he couldn't find any additional workers, he decided to increase his stable by just 10 — and earlier this week, he was considering sending some horses back to his ranch. Like dozens of trainers at Canterbury Park, and hundreds around the nation, Johnson is feeling the effects of a labor shortage that has escalated into a full-blown crisis.

The help-wanted ads he placed in two states generated only one response and no hires. When Johnson sought visas to bring in temporary workers from Mexico, he had no better luck, coming up empty after spending $8,800 to apply. That left him no choice but to slash his stable from the 72 horses he brought to Canterbury last year, when he was the track's second-leading quarter horse trainer.

"I've turned clients away, and I'm about to turn some more away, because we can't find enough help," said Johnson, 59. "I'm considering quitting, because I can't operate this way any more. If this doesn't get fixed, the industry will collapse."

In recent years, trainers have found it increasingly difficult to fully staff their racetrack operations. Fewer and fewer Americans are interested in a job that requires rising before dawn, pitching manure and handling high-strung horses.

Most racing stables and farms now depend on the labor of workers from Mexico and other countries. But that pool of employees was reduced last year when a federal rule change cut the number of H-2B visas, which many trainers use to bring in help for the racing season.

Francisco Bravo, who has raced at Canterbury since the track opened in 1985, recalled how groups of high school students used to show up every summer looking for work in the barns. Now, that is a hazy memory. Over the past four years, only one person answered his help-wanted ads.

With fewer visas available, immigration attorney Will Velie said trainers have two choices: downsize their businesses, or break the law by hiring undocumented workers. The solution advocated by horsemen — allowing more non-citizens to work legally in the U.S. — has been complicated by the contentious national debate surrounding immigration.

Horse racing has joined other industries in lobbying the federal government to raise the number of H-2B visas from the current cap of 66,000 per year. While they wait for a resolution, trainers such as Johnson, Bravo and Valorie Lund fear the labor shortage could sink their sport.

"If we can't get enough help, horse racing will die," Lund said. "The people who stomp their feet and say, 'You're hurting the American worker,' show me the American worker we're hurting, and we'll offer them the jobs first. They don't want to do this work. There is no good argument against legally bringing in more people who do want to do it."

Trainer Bernell Rhone applied early for the 10 H-2B visas he needed for the Canterbury meet. That planning paid off when he got them on the last day before the cap was reached on Jan. 10.

The 54 horses in Rhone's barn are cared for by a staff of 12 workers from Mexico and three Americans. That has allowed him to maintain the standard ratio of one groom for every five or six horses. In many Canterbury stables, Rhone said, grooms are handling 10 or 12 horses each; two weeks ago, he loaned a couple of his workers to Johnson to help out on a busy race day.

Only 33,000 H-2B visas, which are used by a wide variety of industries, are issued in each half of the fiscal year. Under previous law, workers who have held an H-2B visa in the past three years were not counted against that quota; when that provision was allowed to expire last fall, it sharply reduced the number of workers the program brought to the U.S.

American employers submitted more than 90,000 applications in the first week of the filing period. Many trainers got fewer workers than they needed, and some, like Johnson, were shut out altogether.

"I had five grooms lined up," Johnson said. "It was $8,800 out of my pocket to start the H-2B process, and I got nothing. And you don't get your money back."

Jesus Escalante Martinez said there was concern on the other side of the border, too. A 20-year veteran of the Rhone stable, his P-1 visa — reserved for professional athletes — assured he could work at Canterbury as an exercise rider this season. But his son Alejandro is among many co-workers who needed an H-2B visa, and they had some anxious moments while waiting for their documents to be approved.

"A lot of people had to stay in Mexico, because they couldn't get an H-2B," Martinez said. "Some of our guys, they were really worried, and a lot of them got here late. But Bernell, he got lucky. We all feel lucky to have jobs here."

With advertising, attorneys' fees and other expenses, Rhone estimated the visas cost him about $1,500 per employee each year. He considers it a good investment in an era with few alternatives.

"Last fall, I decided, 'I'm not going to get left out,' " he said. "Some trainers think it doesn't affect them, until they get to the next track and they can't find help. And then, it's too late."

Grooms at Canterbury typically make between $500 and $750 per week. Many trainers have heard the argument that higher pay would attract more Americans, but they insist that isn't true.

Bravo employs about 28 people at his Canterbury stable and Oklahoma farm. Only two are Americans; the rest hold work visas or are permanent U.S. residents. When he has interviewed Americans for jobs, he said, money isn't their main concern. Rather, it's the early-morning start time, the odd hours and the nature of the work.

"It's a dying art, dealing with livestock," Bravo said. "And a lot of people just don't want to work. You tell somebody they will be subject to drug testing, and they don't call back. It's changed a lot."

Trainers say there are few undocumented workers at Canterbury. Its enforcement and licensing requirements are considered strict; applicants are fingerprinted and undergo criminal background checks. Trainers must certify their employees can legally work in the U.S., and fines for violations are an effective deterrent.

Caring for horses is an admired profession in his country, said groom Alejandro (Alex) Michel, who wondered "who will do the work?" if Mexicans can't get employment visas.

"I've worked here all my life," he said. "I am legal. I'm paying my taxes. I am not a criminal.

"I have a lot of friends picking apples in Washington. When Donald Trump became president, a lot of Mexicans kind of panicked. Too many people went back to Mexico, and the apples don't go to the stores. And some American people, they start to see. We need Mexicans working here."

Johnson, who has been in racing for 40 years, is considering two options: running only enough horses for him and his wife to handle, or running none and staying on his ranch in South Dakota. He isn't the only trainer to downsize because of the labor shortage. At 48 horses, Bravo's stable is smaller than it could be, and he laments how the dearth of workers is affecting the craft of horsemanship.

A federal spending bill passed in May allows the H-2B cap to be raised, but no additional visas have been granted. Bills to restore the returning worker exemption, which would provide some relief, have been introduced in the U.S. House and Senate.

Horse racing is among several industries lobbying for reform. Velie argued that if nothing is done, existing jobs will be lost.

"Trainers are in survival mode right now," said Velie, who specializes in racetrack labor. "Without a workable visa program, it's going to challenge their ability to stay in business."

Rhone's crew is worried about what the future holds, and so is he. The only thing they know for certain is that he, and his horses, will continue to depend on workers from across the southern border.