How Much Does The Bugler At Churchill Downs Make

You’re standing in the infield at Churchill Downs, the Kentucky Derby crowd buzzing like a beehive on caffeine. Suddenly, a single, clear note cuts through the chaos—a bugle playing the legendary “Call to the Post.” You turn, spot a man in a red coat high above, and think: That guy has the coolest job on earth. How much does he make for that? Buckle up, friend, because the answer is weirder and more delightful than you’d expect.

The Quick and Dirty Number

Let’s cut to the chase: the official bugler at Churchill Downs, a position famously held by Steve Buttleman (yes, that’s his real name), makes roughly $50,000 to $70,000 per year in base salary. But don’t tune out yet—this isn’t just a part-time, blow-a-horn gig. It’s a full-time job with benefits, because at Churchill Downs, the bugle is basically a religion.

Wait, full-time? What else does he do? I hear you asking. Well, besides the iconic Derby calls, he plays for races almost every day during the spring and fall meets. That’s around 100 to 120 racing days a year, each requiring a dozen or so performances—from “Boots and Saddles” to the post parade fanfare.

But Wait—There’s the Derby Bonus

During Kentucky Derby week, the money gets a little juicier. The bugler typically earns overtime or a special event fee for the extra rehearsals, media appearances, and the sheer pressure of hitting that high C in front of millions. I’ve heard whispers of a $5,000 to $10,000 bonus just for Derby weekend alone. Not bad for a few days of making horses twitch their ears.

And let’s not forget the tips. Yes, tips. Wealthy horse owners and trainers sometimes slip the bugler a few hundred bucks to play a specific tune for their horse’s victory. One former bugler told a reporter, “You get a $100 bill in your pocket and a pat on the back—it’s part of the circus.”

The Real Story Behind the Sound

But here’s the ironic part: that bugler isn’t just a random musician plucked from the stands. Churchill Downs employs a full-time brass quintet (yes, five people) to handle different events. The bugler is the star, but he also conducts the ensemble for the Derby’s “My Old Kentucky Home” singalong—where the crowd sobs, and he pretends not to notice.

Important but overlooked: Meet Churchill Downs bugler

Steve Buttleman, the current guy, started as a backup bugler in 2010 and took over the main role in 2013. He’s a trained classical trumpeter who once played with the Louisville Orchestra. You don’t get that job by busking on a street corner, my friend. You need stamina—imagine holding a high note for 45 seconds while 150,000 people scream your name.

But Is It Enough to Live On?

For Louisville, Kentucky, $60k is a solid middle-class salary. You can rent a decent apartment, own a car, and still afford a mint julep or two (at $18 a pop, that’s a big deal). But the bugler also does private events on the side—weddings, corporate parties, and “surprise” performances at bars—where he can earn another $20,000 to $30,000 per year.

I’ll level with you: it’s not a driver’s-seat-of-a-Lamborghini salary. But consider the perks: free admission to every race, a reserved parking spot, and instant celebrity status. When Buttleman goes to the grocery store, strangers ask him to autograph their banana. True story.

Steve Buttleman Photos and Premium High Res Pictures - Getty Images

The Unseen Cost of the Call

There’s a downside, though, and it’s a little dark. Buglers suffer from trumpet player’s lip (yes, that’s a real medical term) and chronic arm fatigue from holding a heavy brass horn for hours. One former Churchill bugler, Bob Roe, told me he had to ice his face between races. Also, you can’t just clear your throat during a performance—every sound carries.

But the biggest cost? Your social life disappears during Derby season. You work 14-hour days, skip the parties, and go to bed at 9 PM while your friends are drunk on bourbon. As Buttleman once joked, “I hear the roar of the crowd, but I don’t get to taste the mint.”

So, Could You Do It?

If you’re thinking, “I could practice a scale and get that gig,” think again. Churchill Downs auditions are legendarily brutal. You have to play “Call to the Post” perfectly in a small, dead-sound room while the track president stares at you. Then they ask you to sight-read an obscure military march. Only one person has applied in the last decade—and it was Buttleman’s understudy.

So how much does the bugler make? Enough to live comfortably, plus the envy of millions. But if you ask me, the real payment isn’t the check—it’s that moment when you are the sound of history, and every horse you’ve never met gallops because of your breath. That, my friend, is priceless. Now go tip your local trumpeter—seriously.