Seattle Road Trip

(Left to right) Greg Irons, Danny Danzl, Pete Stephens, 1980s

By Mr. G

Early in my career, over twenty years ago, I took my first tattoo road trip to a familiar city, Seattle, Washington. In the mid-1980s, tattooists still guarded the secrets of their trade. Tattoo shops were few and far between. Seattle, like most major cities had only two or three shops. In that era, there were no tattoo reality shows. There were only a few books or magazines on the subject. It is hard to imagine but, back then, there were only a couple conventions a year in the whole world.

Traveling to distant, established shops by introduction and through invitation was a way to gain valuable experience. It was a great honor to call upon the owner of The Seattle Tattoo Emporium, Danny Danzl. Danny had been tattooing since the 1930s. My teacher, Bert Rodriquez, had worked with him in the past and recommended I call on the famous Tattoo Man.

Danny welcomed me into the shop like I was one of the family. I was introduced to his partner, P.A. Stephens, whom I had met at a National Convention in 1987. I was also happy to greet Sailor Cam Cook, who was working there. I knew Cam from his days at Henry Goldfield’s Tattoo in San Francisco. This was indeed a crew of topnotch professionals, and I was excited to gain any knowledge that I could from my visit.

I was in the shop for only a short time before I put my foot into my rookie mouth. Behind the dummy wall, at the far side of the shop, I saw a rack of custom machines. As I approached to get a closer look, I spewed the unspeakable: “Do you mind if I look at your tat guns?”

Everyone and everything in the shop became deadly quiet. I may as well have addressed a room full of church ladies with my usual four-letter words. I knew I had screwed up. I could easily have been told to get the hell out, and never come back. Worse yet, I could have been physically thrown out, which was not unusual treatment for dumb fucks back then. Instead, I was lucky. I was about to learn a very important lesson at a painless price.

Danny Danzl looked straight at me with his stern, dark eyes. His ’30s, pencil mustache seemed as sharp as the razor that created it. His signature green-painted straw fedora gave off a wizard illumination above my head, as I shrank like a fool. Just like a car wreck, everything moved in slow, psycho-motion. Everywhere I looked there was flash on the wall staring at me. My adrenaline rush seemed to intensify the smell of fresh waxed floors, alcohol and green soap. From under his paisley silk ascot the surreal electric voice box slowly ground out like a Tom Waits’ Song. The words are forever etched in my memory. “Kid. Never call a machine a gun!”

Danny Danzl tattooing his wife

This awkward moment became a major lesson in my early journey as a tattooist. These intense words came from a well-respected master. I was the traveling student of a secret art, trying to get my foot in the door with a man who had tattooed for over fifty years. I had said something very stupid. I already knew it was incorrect, but the words “tat gun” had just slipped out.

I immediately apologized and promised never to use the “tat gun” phrase again, as long as I lived. I was sincere and Danny was a gentleman. He knew I had heard him loud and clear. Lesson learned. Apology accepted. I believe that the humility to stand corrected and the desire to go past that moment, even though I felt like a dummy, was an important step forward in my tattoo career.

Danny led Chinchilla and I into the backroom. We passed through the dummy wall and into the secret inner sanctum of tattooing. We spent a couple afternoons behind the curtain of earned privilege, feasting on any information we could soak up. In that short visit other guidelines from Danny were etched into my memory and became gospel in my own practice.

Does it really make a difference what word you use to describe the tools used in this ancient trade? It does if you are serious and want to learn from experienced tattooists. Professionals who have been in this business a credible amount of time screen what information they are willing to share by how honorable or deserving the inquirer is. As a great tattoo legend once told me, “Why cast pearls before swine?”

Danny Danzl in front of his 1940's tattoo shop

If you are reading Tattoo Art 101, then I’ll bet that you are trying to learn something from these pages. To expand your horizons. The best way to learn anything is to respect the people who have had the knowledge handed down from generation to generation and to seek out advise from tattooists with many years of experience.

Calling the tattoo machine a “gun” is a remark that will make a bad first impression on many veteran tattooists. If I hear that remark, then I know someone has no respectable experience. Little or poor training. No roots in the business. The term “tat gun” or “gun” usually comes from prison tattooing or backstreet non-professionals. It indicates to me that the person using phrase hasn’t been around the scene long enough to know any better or that they are too bullheaded to be corrected.

To use the word “gun” instead of machine once or twice out of ignorance is part of the learning curve. I have met some rookies that think it is funny to challenge an old timer by spouting out “gun.” After a few years under their belts, the tat gun crew may realize that by being ill spoken they have alienated some pros. They may have missed a valuable opportunity to learn so much more.

Tattooing; as ancient as time, as modern as tomorrow.

—Mr. G

g@triangletattoo.com

www.triangletattoo.com