‘I grew up in the Depression and appreciate having a lot of jobs.’

Milton Lawrence retired in March as a member of the Veterans Administration medical rating board, on which he judged the merits of veterans’ pension and compensation claims. But Lawrence had been leading a double life. Every week night and weekend he was at the race track. Lawrence is not a gambler. He’s a waiter. He lives in Granada Hills with his wife, Helen.

I came to California in a car that cost $30. It was some kind of Plymouth, but it was a lemon. I had a taxi driver with me, and he was very efficient at repairing anything and changing tires. I didn’t charge him for gas or oil. He was sorry he rode out with me.

Someone told me that if I went to Santa Anita just before Christmas I’d have a good chance of getting a job, because it opens one day after Christmas. So I went there and saw this man, Nat Goldenberg. Everyone called him Goldie. He was the maitre d’ there for about 20 years.

I said, “Goldie, I’m a pretty good waiter. When I was going to law school, I worked at Cookie’s restaurant in Flatbush 45 hours a week, and during the summer vacation I worked 15 hours a day, seven days a week, but I don’t know anything about horses.” He said, “You’re better off. We don’t want you to know anything about horses. Just be a waiter.”

Law clerking was at a very low salary, and I had already started working at the race track, so I just neglected to take the Bar exam. I worked steadily as a waiter at Santa Anita, Hollywood Park and Del Mar for about 12 years. At the same time I worked for about five years at the Seville nightclub after finishing the shift at the races. A lot of roughnecks there. One time I almost got killed trying to collect a check in the parking lot. They almost ran me over with a car.

In 1962 I had an operation on my ankle and couldn’t work as a waiter. I walked into the regional office of the V.A. because I saw a help-wanted sign. I took a three-hour exam, and the man said, “I’ve never seen a score this high. If you want this job, please come to work Monday.” And I did.

Later I got caught in this stock swindle and had to increase my income in order to make a $1,000-a-month interest payment. So I went back to work at the race track. After working from 7 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. at the V.A., I would drive to Long Beach and work six o’clock to midnight at the Los Alamitos race track five nights a week.

It was 52 miles from the track to my home. I got stopped about 15 times by the police for erratic driving. I only got three tickets, and most of the time they would tell me to get off the freeway and have some coffee. But I had to get out of bed at 5:30, and it was already 1:30. There was no time to get off the road and drink coffee. I was also working 12 hours a day on Saturday and Sunday at Santa Anita or Hollywood Park. At the V.A. I told them, “If I don’t say hello in the morning it’s not because I don’t like you.”

I paid off my debt, but once I got started on this mad schedule I just didn’t want to stop. I grew up in the Depression, and I appreciate having a lot of jobs and being able to make money. It made a lot of difference. We could buy cars, live at a good level and buy this house.

I rarely if ever gamble, but I’m a pretty good handicapper. Some newspapers run the lineup of the horses from the top horse, say at two to one, all the way down to the bottom horse. What I do, instead of the common-sense way of starting at the top, I start at the bottom and never go above the middle.

I restrict my choice to the long-shot horses. I have 10 to 20 people who always ask for them. I don’t charge them, and I don’t expect any return. Instead of living in a vacuum, this way I know that some people are investing money in my idea, and I know that they are good because they tell me when they win. Most of the time they just congratulate me. “I followed your advice and made $2,000.”

This job I have at tracks is very strenuous physically. In the summer it gets to be a hundred degrees out there. If I’m lucky I should reach 68 in a couple of months. One of these days I may give up being a waiter.