Farrier extraordinaire, Jack Greeno of Findlay, Ohio, passed away last night at the age of 79. Jack was my all-time favorite horseshoer. For about ten years, I took most of Don Irvine Jr's horses down to Jack in the afternoons, long after the normal grooms had gone home.
I would lead 5 horses down to Jack's shop at Northfield on many afternoons. Jack used to park his camper right next to the blacksmith shops and would stay there through the week. He always came with a fridge full of food, and generally went back to Findlay on Fridays with no food….thanks to an ever-hungry young Gary D.
I would often help Jack by pulling the horses' shoes while he made the new shoes. Once the two of us shod a horse all the way around with new shoes and leather rim pads in 18 minutes-usually at least an hour-long job in those days.
He never bet horses very often, but when Jack (or as the Amish folks called him, Chack), told you to go to the windows, you knew you should come back with a lot of extra money. Once in a while, I even replenished his refrigerator with some good Amish ham and cheese, or some trail bologna with my winnings. More often than not, Jack fed me. He always said, "My food is your food," and anyone who knows my appetite knows that might not have been the wisest thing anyone ever said to me.
He worked wonders on new acquisitions to the Irvine barn. Jack would look at the horse's shoes and grumble, "Who in the hell shod this son of a bitch???" When he got done, the horse was usually much better on the track. He was fond of saying, "Let the vets work on the horse, but never let a vet touch the horses' feet! They will always say the horse is sore in the feet, the stoooopid sons of bitches. Any horse will jerk their foot if you squeeze it hard enough with hoof testers." And if a horse did not stand still while he was shoeing them, they got a rasp in the belly.
Sadly, Jack is one of many friends that I just never seemed to call very often after he retired. We talked every year or so, but I never made it to Findlay to visit him. Sadly, I did not call my buddy the last couple of years-mainly because Jack was one of those guys that could never die.
Never was last night.
