article

Comedic aCtor, writer, and producer Erik Stolhanske ’91, probably beSt
known for hiS rolE as rabbit in the hit comedy film Super Troopers, has
beEn on a naTional speaking tour since november. he’s appeared aT military
baSes; hospitals; corporationS; wounded warrior, disability, and youthdevelopment organizations; and schools and universitiEs — including
Colgate in early april. in this Colgate-tailorEd adaptation of his speech,
he tellS his poignant and often-humorous sTory of how a little
deTermination — maybe Even Sheer deluSion — helped him ovErcomE
thE oddS staCked againSt him.
It begins in a pretty average middle-class suburb
in Minnesota. But October 1, 1945, has some real
significance for me. It was the day Rod Carew,
the longtime Minnesota Twins’ Hall of Fame first
baseman, was born — into abject poverty, literally on
a train in Panama.
Growing up, all I wanted to be was Rod Carew.
At night, when I shut my eyes to fall asleep,
I could see him stepping into the batter’s box,
cracking a single down the third base line or
spearing a line drive.
Like a lot of other 8-year-old boys, every
waking moment was about baseball. Like any selfrespecting kid would, I nagged the hell out of my
mom until she signed me up for Little League. And
like every other kid on my team, I ran onto the field
and played my heart out. The thing was, as much as I
tried to be like everyone else, I knew deep down that
I was different.
You see, I was born without a fibula in my right
leg. It was just one of those genetic mistakes.
Now, 30 years later, I can lift up the hem of my
pants and show people my prosthetic leg, and when
I see their jaws drop, I’m totally fine with it. But
when I was 8, I wanted to die when I heard names like
“Gimp,” “Woody,” and “Cripple” — and that’s just what
my sister called me!
I could have become introverted and stayed home
playing with Star Wars toys all day. (Not that there’s
anything wrong with that. There are hours of fun to
be had with Boba Fett and Princess Leia dolls.) But
”JUST GET BACK UP!”
IanWhiteforComedyCentral
StarTribune/Minneapolis-St.Paul2012
fashionedlegwassointensethatmyeyeswouldsometimesfillwithtearsasI
sprintedtowardfirstbase.Prosthetictechnologyhasimprovedalot,butback
then,myskinwouldtearfrompistoningasIran,andwhenthathappened,it
wouldtakedaysorevenweekstoheal.
ButIneversawRodCarewmiss
agamebecauseofaninjury,soI’d
putonsomeointment,popsome
Tylenol,andgetbackinthegame.
Now,Iknowyou’reallthinking,
“That’sonebadassdude.”
But,seriously,thepointof
tellingthatstoryisn’tsoyou’ll
beimpressedbyhowtoughofan
8-year-oldIwas.Thepointis,I
justneverboughtintotheconventionalwisdomthatakidwithoneleg
shouldn’tbeoutthere,takinghits
andrunningthebases.
Delusional?Maybe.Butitkept
megoing.
Beingonthatfieldwasastruggleattimes,butmymomconstantly
remindedmethatIwasjustlike
everybodyelse.Shesaiditenough
timesthat,ultimately,Ibelievedit.
Andyet,alltheself-confidence
thatmymominstilledinmeat8
yearsolddisappearedinaflashone
dayinfifthgrade.Itwasduringrecess,andwewereoutintheschoolyardplaying...thatinfamousgame,kickball.
Ihadahugecrushonthiscutefrecklyredhead—youknowthetype.Shewas
outtherewatchingthegame,and,naturally,Iwantedtoimpressher.
Thepitcherrollstheball.
Irevupmylittlefifth-gradebuttandjustcreamtheball.Imean,Ikickit
ashardasIcan.Ilookupandseealltheoutfieldersrunningback.Only,it’snot
becauseI’vekickedtheballsofar.
It’sbecausemylegisflyingendoverendacrossthesky.Itlookslikesomeonehasjustthrownaboomerangintotheair.Alarge,straightboomerangwitha
sockononeend.
Youmayhaveseenthatcoming,butIcertainlydidn’t—andneitherdidthe
cutelittleredhead.Ilookoverather,andshe’sstaringatme...andshestarts
screaming.It’snotasifitwasheadingforherorthatshewasinanydangerof
beingimpaled,butIguesswhensomeboy’sbodypartunexpectedlyfliesthrough
theairlikeatreelimbinatornado,she’dbestartled.AswasI.Andasifher
banshee-worthyscreamsweren’thumiliatingenough,thisgreatwitofourclass,
ScottEngeldorf,runsoutontothefield,picksupmyleg,andstartsswingingit,
threateningthegirlsashechasesthemwithit.
Justlikethat,allthatstorybookconfidencethatmymomhadworkedsohard
andsomanyyearstobuildupinmewasdestroyed.Itcanhappenthatfast.You,
too,canhaveyourlifefallapartduringakickballgame—theyaretreacherous!
Thatafternoon,Ibasicallywentintohiding.NotlikeHoward-Hughes-grow-abeard-and-urinate-into-milk-bottleshiding,butIdidlimitmyselfbyneverwearing
shortsorgoingswimming.Idreadedthearrivalofsummer,becauseallmyfriends
wouldgodowntoLakeCalhounintheirswimsuitsandIthoughtI’dlooklikeanidiot
goingthereinpants.
Myfriendswouldcallmeandsay,“You’vegottocomedown—you’remissingall
thefun.There’slivemusic,everyone’shere,andallthegirlsareinbikinis!”
Now,Ilovebikinis.ButIalwaysstayedaway.
FastforwardtomyfreshmanyearatColgate.Icouldn’thavebeenmoreexcited
toheadofftocollegeandhaveafreshstart.NobodythereknewwhoIwas,andno
oneneededtoknowIhadafakeleg.
AndIcanremember,asifitwereyesterday,theexactmomentthatIfellinlove
withtheplace.Formanystudents,itwasthefirsttimetheydrovethroughHamiltonandsawthebeautifulcampus,thechangingcolorsoftheleavesonCardiacHill,
thepristinechapel.Notforme.
MyloveforColgatestartedthefirstdayoffreshmanyear,whenIdiscovered
thatColgatehadthesethingscalledco-eddorms.
Itwashotoutside,andIwassweatyfrommovingin.SoIgototakeashower,
GRoWiNg
Up, All i
WAnTEd To
Be WaS
Rod CArEw.
StarTribune/Minneapolis-St.Paul2012
myparentsalwaysinsistedthatthebestwaytobelikealltheotherkidswas
togooutanddoallthethingstheotherkidsdid.
BecauseIgrewupinMinnesota,Ialsowantedtoplayhockey.And,no,
skatingwithawoodenlegwasn’texactlyacakewalk.
That’sright:backthen,mylegwasmadeofactualwood.Ol’PegLeg
Stolhanske.WhenIwouldgrowaninchtaller,theywouldaddaninchofwoodto
myankle.Iwasjustlikeatree—youcouldmeasuremygrowthfromtherings
aroundmyankle.IfIgrewjustaquarterofaninch,though,I’dgetawaiterto
shoveamatchbookunderneathituntilIfelteven.
BeforeI’dheaddowntotheicerink,mymomwouldalwayssay,“Sowhatif
yougetknockeddown.Justgetbackup!”Igotknockeddownalotbut,thanksto
mymom’sadvice,Ialwaysgotbackup.Beforelong,itbecameahabit.
BythetimeIhadtakentothefieldinLittleLeague,IreallyfeltlikeIcould
doanythingtheotherkidscoulddo,woodenlegandall.
I’dbelyingifIsaiditwaseasy.Irememberthepainofrunningonthatold-
whenoutfromthewomen’sbathroomwalksthisgirlwearingonlyhertowel.
Now,rememberthatI’mfromMinnesota.Asidefromour5-day-longbikini
season—whichIhadexcludedmyselffromenjoying—theclosestthingagirlever
cametobeingnearlynakedinmypresencewastakingoffoneofherthreewool
sweaters.My18-year-oldbrainjustaboutexploded.Ilookedatthegirl,lookedout
atthecampus,andthoughttomyself,“IthinkI’mreallygoingtolikeithere.”
IthoughtIcouldkeepmylegasecret—thatis,untilImetMeganinPsych
101.(Noticehowmylifeisdefinedbyaseriesofgirls.)Meganwaswayoutofmy
league.Butwestartedwalkingtoclasstogether,eatinglunchtogether,studying,
andbeforeweknewit,weweredating.
Everyoneknowstheworstwaytostartanewrelationshipisbywithholding
importantpersonalinformation,right?Iwantedtobehonest,butthememoriesof
thatdisastrouskickballgamestillhauntedme.Iknewconsciouslythatshewasnot
thecute,frecklyredheadwhoscreamedinhorroratmethatday,butmysubconsciouscouldn’ttellthedifference,andIwasterrified.So,Iconveniently“forgot”to
mentionmylegtoher.
News and views for the Colgate community
27
MY FRiEnDs
SToPpEd BOtHERinG
To AsK How MY
AUdITIonS WenT.
SometimesIwouldimaginedifferentwaystotell
her.Like,I’dtakeheroutfordinneratTheHorned
DorsetandI’dask,“Whatareyouhaving?Legof
lamb?Speakingoflegs,there’ssomethingI’vebeen
meaningtotellyou.”
Problemwas,shewasavegetarian.
Or,we’dbeinCaseLibraryandI’dsay,“Lookat
thisbeautiful,ornatedesk.Wouldyoustilllikeitifit
wasmissingaleg?”
Subtle,right?
Itwasn’tlongbeforesheforcedtheissue.She
said,“We’vebeendatingfortwomonthsandyou
haven’ttriedtohavesexwithme.We’reincollege.
Areyougay?”
Now,at18,tryingtomakeanydecisionabout
youridentityisdifficult.IthinkifIhadbeengay,she
probablywouldhavetakenitbetter.Becausewhen
Ifinallydecidedtoshowhermyprosthesis,guess
whathappened?Shedidn’thesitate.Shebrokeup
withme.Notbecauseofmyleg,butbecauseIwasn’t
straightforwardwithher.Idecidedthenandthere
thatifIwantedtohaveanykindofdatinglife,Iwould
havetobeopenandhonestrightfromtheget-go.
Acoupleofmonthslater,Imetthiscuteupperclassman,Lyndsey,attheJug.Wewerehavingagood
conversation,laughing,andsuddenlysheputher
handonmyknee.Iknewexactlywhatwascoming:
“Areyouwearingabraceorsomething?”
Iwasallsettotellheraboutthemisfiredgenes.
Then,I’mnotsureifIchickenedoutorhadamoment
ofinspiration,butinsteadoftellingherthetruth,I
lookedherstraightintheeyesandsaid,“Ilostmyleg
inadangerousmotorcyclestunt.”
ThenextthingIknew,weweremakingoutinher
room.AndIrealizedthatthishunkoffirewoodwas
possiblythebestwingmanever!
ThenImetPoppy:“Greenpeace.Iwasswimming
withthewhales,andaJapanesefishingboatcame
outofnowhereandspearedme.”
ThentherewasMaria:“Ilostmylegrunningwith
thebulls.”
Jessica:“Thispapercut?Specialops.Istanbul.”
Theproblemwas,lyingwaslikecracktome.I
couldn’tstop.Infact,mylyingwentonuntilIlearned
oneofthemostimportantlessonsofmylife:women
talktoeachother.
28
scene: Spring 2012
See,IwasatTheBackBacononenightwhen
Iheardfamiliarvoices.Turnsout,twogirlsIhad
datedwerebehindme.Theywerelaughing,having
agoodtime.ThenIheard,“Erikissobrave.Didyou
knowhelosthislegasarodeoclownsavingabull
rider?”Then,“That’sfunny,Eriktoldmeahomeless
guypushedhiminfrontofasubwaycarwhilehewas
tryingtosaveapoorlittleorphangirl!”
Afterthat,Icouldbarelygetagirltospeakto
me.Theentiretime,Ihadbeenworriedaboutbeing
labeledtheguywithafakeleg,onlytobecome
labeledthepathologicalliarwithafakeleg.Somuch
better!
Mydatinglifewasover,butitwasspring,soI
wasfine.Springmeantbaseball.Rememberthose
summersImentionedearlier,whenalltheotherkids
werehangingoutinbathingsuitsatLakeCalhoun?
AndIwasspendingallmytimeinpants—well,those
werebaseballpants.Ihadputallofmypubescent
energyintoplayingbaseball.Intime,itpaidoff.
WhenIgottohighschool,Iwasgoodenoughtoplay
varsity,andbymysenioryear,Iwasvotedcaptainof
theteam.
So,IthoughtIwouldbetheRaiders’nextfreshmanphenom.
Iarrivedatthetryoutsalittleoverconfident.
Guesswhat?Iwasn’tbigenoughor—surprise,
surprise—fastenough,tomaketheteam.Looking
back,Iprobablyshouldhavepreparedmyselfforthe
chancethatmybaseballcareerwouldendsometime
beforemyplaquewasunveiledinCooperstown.
Whenthetimefinallycametohangupmyspikes,I
wasdevastated.
Mydreamcrashedagainstreality.AndIrememberthinkingthatmyleg,whichIhadtriedsohardto
overcome,hadfinallygottenthebestofme.
ThiswasanothermomentwhenIcouldhave
memoryisfading,that’showI’lltellittomygrandchildren.
Here’swhatreallyhappened:Iauditionedfor
everyUniversityTheaterproduction—fortwoyears
straight—andnevergotasinglepart.Itgottothe
pointwheremyfriendsstoppedbotheringtoask
howmyauditionswent.
Thensomethingserendipitoushappened.
Inoneofmyactingclasses,Iwasrequiredto
buildtheatersetsonSaturdaymornings.(Cometo
thinkofit,maybethat’swhereallthemisfitactors
whonevergotcastweresent.)Earlyonemorning,I
endedupworkingnexttothistall,skinny,Indiankid.
Aswe’rehammeringawayatsomeset,he
mentionshe’sfromChicago.ItellhimI’mfrom
Minneapolis.
Quickly,ourconversationdeterioratesintoa
contestofone–upmanship:
Indiankid:“Minneapolis?Isn’tthatwherethe
Viqueensplay?”
Me:“Pfft!JimMcMahonridesamoped.”
Indiankid:“AtleasttheBearswonaSuperBowl.
MorethanIcansayaboutyoupansies.”
Thatwasit!
Ipickupmyhammer.“Hey,Chicago,ifyou’reso
tough,canyoudothis?”WHAM!Ismackmyselfin
theankle.
Without missingabeat,Chicagosays,“Oh,you
wannaplaythatgame?Let’sgo.”
Hegrabshishammer,exhales,andWHAM!He
smackshimselfintheankle.
TIMBER!HegoesdownlikeafelledChristmas
tree.Throughclenchedteeth,grunts,“That’snotso
tough.Whatelseyougot?”
“Howaboutthis?”Isay,andIrunuptoacement
wallandkickitashardasIcan.
Chicagoyells,“Screwyou,Minnesota!”
i remember thinking that my lEg..
had finally gotten the bEst of me.
stayedinsideandplayedwithmyStarWarstoys—
butthatwouldhavebeenreallypatheticnowthatI
wasalmost20yearsold.Thistime,mymomwasn’t
theretotellmeto“getbackup,”butI’mgladshehad
toldmethatyearsago,becauseIdidn’tfeelsorry
formyselfforlong.
Justafewweekslater,Iwasschleppingaround
campuswhenIpassedbyBrehmerTheater.The
doorswereopen,andthereshewasonstage.Her
namewas—well,itdoesn’treallymatter.What
mattersisthewayshecarriedherselfonthestage.I
tookaseatinthebackrowandjustwatchedher.
Solong,RodCarew—hello,PaulNewman.
Atthispoint,Ineedtostepbackforasecond.
ItwouldbealittletooconvenientifIsaidthat,just
asthedoorclosedonbaseball,thedoortoacting
swungopen.MaybeonedaywhenI’moldandmy
Herunsandkicksitashardashecan.Again,he
fallstotheground,grabshistoes,androcksback
andforthlikeagiantbaby.Pretendingnottobein
pain:“Thatdidnothurt.”
NowI’mthinkingthatthisgameof“Quien es mas
macho”isfinito,butit’snot.Imustfindsomething
sohorrificthathehastobowout.Ilookaround,and
theresheis…apneumaticstaplegun.Ipickitup.
GiveChicagoasmile.Helaughs.“Haha!Youdon’t
havetheguts!”
Iwinkandsay,“Areyouthistough,Chicago?”And
BAM!Ifirethestapleintomyshin.
Thecolorleaveshisface.He’spacing.Sweating.
Hepullsatmypants,makingsurethestapleactually
puncturedmyleg.
Now,Ihavetogivetheguycredit.He’seither
muchtougherthanIam,orjustplumcrazy.Hepicks
upthestaplegun,searchesforameatypartofhis
leg,andsettlesthegunonthebackofhisthigh.He
isjustabouttopullthetrigger…
“Wait!Ihavetotellyousomething...”
Ipointtomyleg.
“Thispuppy’smadeofwood.”
Silencefillstheroom.I’mthinking,he’sgoing
tokillme.But,instead,heburstsoutlaughing.He
sticksouthishand,“Thatwashysterical.I’mJay.”
Webecameinstantfriends.
I’msureJayrememberedthestaple-gunincident
thefollowingyear,whenheaskedmetoaudition
forCharredGoosebeak,thesketchcomedygroup
hehadstartedoncampus.(Later,ourgroupwould
becomeBrokenLizard—seesidebaronpg.30.)
So,Ishowedupattheaudition,andthistime,
Incollege,mydreamofplayingbaseballended,
Ididn’tgetcastinanyUniversityTheaterproduction,andIwaslabeledalyinglunatic.ButIalso
discoveredwhatItrulylovedandwhatIwasgoodat
—comedyandacting.
Maybemyfoolishperseveranceandsheer
delusionthatakidwithafakelegcouldbeanactor
waspayingoff.Icertainlytookalotofswingsand
missestogetwhereIwas,butIwasn’tdonewhiffing
yet.
WhenIgraduatedfromColgate,Ilookedforward
tostartingthenextphaseofmylife,butIhadmany
fearsaswell.Firstofall,Iknewthetimewascoming
whenI’dhavetoexplaintomyverytraditionaldad
thatIwasabouttotrymyluckasacomedian.
ThereIwas,sittingamongmyclassmatesat
voice,“followyourdreams.”But,thetruthis,hewas
nothappywithmydecision,andthingsgotpretty
roughbetweenusforawhile.Anditdidn’thelpwhen
IannouncedthatIwasmovingtoNewYorkCity.
TheotherBrokenLizardguysandIhaddecided
thatifwereallywantedtopursueourcomedyand
actingcareers,wehadtodoitfullsteamahead.I
packedupallmypossessionsintwoduffelbags,and
with$200inmywallet,Isaidgood-byetofamilyand
friendsandsetoffforthebigcity.
Now,there’sthisromanticnotionofanaspiring
actorwaitingtables,scrapingmoneytogetheruntil
that“bigbreak”happens.Letmetellyou,therewas
nothingromanticaboutit.
Weworkedminimum-wagejobs,doingwhatever
wecouldjusttocovertherent.Allsowecoulddo
JohnD.Hubbard
BrokenLizardonstage,
1992:Stolhanskeasa
condemnedmanforced
toexistbetweengame
showcontestants,played
byLaurenBright’90and
PaulSoter’91.
thingsweredifferent.Insteadofhearingsome
stuffytheaterprofessorshout,“Thankyou.Next!”I
gotcast!
Good-bye,PaulNewman—hello,BillMurray!
Forayearandahalf,wewroteandperformed
livesketch-comedyshows.Weparodiedmovies,
currentevents,andevenrealpeoplefromcampus.
Noonewassafe.Notprofessors,notfraternities,
andnoteventheCatholicpriest,FatherTom—we
transformedhimintoacampuscrimefighter.
Ilovedbeingonstage.That’swhenIrealizedthat
makingpeoplelaughwasmuchmorefunthanbeing
laughedat.
commencement,waitingtoacceptmydiploma,
thinkingabouthowmostofthemwerefulfillingtheir
parents’dreamsbyheadingofftolawschoolormed
school—somethingnoble,oratleastprofitable!
Throughtheseaofproudparents,Icouldonly
makeoutthetopofmydad’shead.Iwasenvisioning
howhewouldreactwhenItriedtoconvincehimthat
his$100,000investmentinmyeducationwasgoing
topayoffbigtimenowthatIhaddecidedtobecome
anactor.Acomedicactor.
Mydadhasalwaysbeensupportive,andIwish
Icouldtellyouthathetookthenewswell—thathe
pattedmeontheshoulderandsaid,“Son,”inthatdad
comedyontheweekends,fornopay.
Youknowtheexpression,“Ittakes10yearstobe
anovernightsuccess?”Well,thatwasus.
Afterseveralyearsofsluggingitoutinthecity,
wehappenedtobookashowoutsideofNewYork.So
wepiledintoJay’sbeat-upoldSaabandhittheroad.
YourememberJay—thestaple-gunguy?
Wewerecruisingalongwhenour“bigbreak”
cametousinamostunexpectedway—wewere
pulledoverforspeeding.
Jaywasdriving,sohegotstuckwiththeticket.
Naturally,wemadefunofhimforturningintoawimp
whentheofficercametothewindow.
News and views for the Colgate community
29
Broken Lizard
The creators of the cult hit comedy Super Troopers, this group of friends got their start in comedy with
the founding of improv group Charred Goosebeak at Colgate.
After graduation, they reassembled in New York City as the Broken Lizard comedy troupe and set out
to make it as entertainers on the club scene. In 1996, the writers, actors, producers, and directors
turned to filmmaking. Their first movie, Puddle Cruiser, which they filmed at Colgate, became an official
selection at the 1997 Sundance Film Festival and won the Hamptons Film Festival Grand Prize Golden
Starfish Award.
Following Super Troopers in 2001 (voted #2 by Huffington Post readers in their Funniest Movies of the
Decade poll, and considered a must-watch-before-graduation rite by Colgate students), Broken Lizard
went on to make Club Dread, Beerfest, and The Slammin’ Salmon. They also appeared in The Dukes of
Hazzard (based on the 1970s television series), which founder Jay Chandrasekhar ’90 directed. They still
perform sketch and stand-up comedy together regularly — including several shows in Brea, Calif., this
past February — but each also has his own independent projects, as well.
Erik gave us the inside scoop on what he and his buddies are up to these days.
Jay ChandrasEkhar ’90
SaysErik:“Nicknamed
‘TheBrownClown,’‘Wheels,’
‘Steam,’‘Dr.Nifty’—the
truthis...Jayhasalways
triedtogivehimselfa
nickname,butnothinghas
everstuck”
-Directedepisodesfor
varioushittelevisionshows,
includingChuck, Happy Endings,Up All Night, Psych,
Arrested Development,
Cracking Up,Oliver Beene,
Andy Richter Controls the
Universe,andUndeclared.
-NominatedfortheNAACP
ImageAwardforOutstandingDirectorofaComedy
SeriesforABC’s Happy
Endings —“TheGirlwiththe
DavidTattoo”
Kevin heffErnan ’90*
SaysErik:“Kevinpassed
thebarinbothNewYork
andConnecticut.Byfar
themostorganizedofthe
group.Hehasaclipboard
foreverything.”
-AppearedinthefamilyadventureSky High,starringKurtRussellandKelly
Preston
-Co-starredwithSteve
Zahn,JonahHill,andJustin
directedDark Circles(starringPellJamesandJohnathonSchaech)forAfter
DarkFilms.He’sunderway
onthedarksatireA Nasty
Piece of Work,andazombie
deconstructioncalledunHUMANandisdevelopingthe
horror-thrillerTVproject
Rapid FallswithNewWave
Entertainment.
The Super Troopers (L to R): Jay Chandrasekhar, Paul Soter, Steve
Lemme, Erik Stolhanske, and Kevin Heffernan
LonginStrange Wilderness
-Co-wrotethecomedy
Preaching to the Choir,starringPattiLabelle,Tichina
Arnold,andEarthaKitt
*LemmeandHeffernan
haverecentlyembarkedona
two-mancomedytour.Check
outheffernanlemme.comfor
moreinformationandatour
schedule.
Erik Stolhanske ’91
-Recentlywrappedup
productionasthelead—a
narcissisticself-helpguru—
intheindependentcomedy
RockBarnes:TheEmperor
inYou
Steve lemme ’91*
SaysErik:“Stevehasmore
than250pairsofdress
shoes.He’stheImeldaMarcosofthegroup.”
-Wroteahalf-hourcomedy
pilotscriptwithFoxcalled
Green Card,basedonhis
ludicrous,real-life,green
cardmarriagetoaSwedish
woman
-StarswithBeverley
D’AngeloandSteveGuttenberginthefamilyfilmI
Heart Shakey,currentlyin
post-production
Soter and Stolhanske as Brothers Jan and Todd Wolfhouse, Beerfest
Stolhanske, Lemme, Heffernan, Chandrasekhar, and Soter in
a scene from Beerfest
paul Soter ’91
-FeaturedinthePlyometrics
workoutontheP90Xvideo
SaysErik:“Paulhasgigantic
serieswithTonyHorton
calves.Rumoris,hestores
-HeandSoterarecurrently
corninthem.”
writingascriptwithNFL
-Hisdirectorialdebut,
superstarJaredAllen—a
Watching the Detectives
comedylooselybased
starringCillianMurphyand
onAllen’slifecalledPlus One
LucyLiu,wasanofficial
-Learnmoreabouthis
2007TribecaFilmFestival
speakingtourathiswebsite,
selection.
erikstolhanske.net
-Sinceembracinghis
bizarrefascinationwith
horror,hehaswrittenand
Thenwewonderediftheseofficers,whoseemso
toughallthetime,haveasenseofhumor,because
wethoughtitmustbesoboringwaitingaroundina
cruiseralldayjusttopullpeopleover.Howdidthey
passthetime?Whatiftheyinventedgamestoplay
onspeederstoentertainthemselves?
Well,that’showtheseedforourmovieSuper
Trooperswasplanted.
Westartedwriting,andrewriting,untilwehada
script.WeshoppedSuper Troopersaroundtoallthe
majorstudios,andtheylovedit—untilwetoldthem
thatwewantedtostarinit.
Onestudioexecutivesaid,“IfyougetMattDamonandBenAfflecktostarinit,you’vegotadeal.”
Theydidn’tcarethatwewantedtobelikeKidsinthe
HallorMontyPython.Super Trooperswasourbaby!
Wewantedtobestars!Andwebelievedwecould
pullitoff!
Wedidn’tgiveup.Forthenextyear,wewentback
toourmenialjobsandreworkedthescript,rewriting
nearly20drafts.
FinallyourfriendRobBarocci’90calledtoletus
knowhehadmetaretiredinvestmentbanker,Peter
Lengyel,whowasinterestedingettingintothefilm
businessandwaslookingforscripts.
But,wewondered,whatwerethechancesthata
retiredbankerinhis60swouldappreciateascript
aboutabunchofcopswhopullpranksonthepeople
theypullover?Whataretheoddsofhimlaughingat
all?
That’swhywewereblownawaywhenhetoldus
heloveditandwaswillingtoinvest$1.5millionto
makethemovieindependently.
Now,$1.5millionsoundslikealotofmoney,and
itis,butitallwentintogettingthemovieuponthe
screen.Notapennywentintoouralreadythreadbareandemptypockets.
Betweenactingschool,rent,travel,andthetime
ItookofffromworktofilmSuper Troopers,Ihad
accruedsomeseriousdebt.TheonlywayIcould
paymyrentwastotakeoutcashadvancesfrommy
creditcardsuntilIhadmaxedthemallout.
IstoppedansweringthephonebecauseIknewit
wouldbealawyer,debtcollector,ortheIRS.Itgot
tothepointwhereIcouldn’tcoverallmybills,andI
becamepracticallyhomeless.Allofmypossessions
werepackedinthebackofmyoldbeat-upVolvo.
Forawhile,Icrashedonafriend’scouchinhis
smallbungalow.Heandhiswifewereincredibly
generous,becausetheredefinitelywasnotenough
roomforme,buttheywelcomedmeintotheirhome
anyway.
Oneevening,heaskedifIcouldfindsomewhere
elsetosleepforthenight.Itwastheirone-year
anniversaryandtheywantedsomealonetime.Ifelt
terribleforbeingsuchanimposition,soofcourseI
toldhimI’dfindsomewhereelsetosleep.
Eventhoughitwasgettinglate,Iwentouttomy
oldcarandstartedcallingfriends.WhatchoicedidI
have?
EverynumberIdialedwentstraighttovoicemail.
Istartedpanicking,whenoutoftheblue,Igotacall
fromoneofmyclosestfriendsfromhighschool,
Robert.Hewasintownonbusinessandwantedto
slamminginourfaceswhenwetriedtosellour
script.
AndIthinkaboutpackingallmythingsintothat
broken-downoldcarwithoutaplacetosleepora
dollarinmypocket.
Yet,despiteallthosesetbacks,Ihadforged
ahead.
ThereisonerulethatI’vealwaystriedtoapplyto
mylife.You’veallheardtheexpression,“Thegrass
isalwaysgreenerontheotherside.”Thepointof
thatsayingisthatyoushouldbehappywiththeside
you’reon.
Idisagree.
Howdoyouknowunlessyoujumpoverthefence
andcheckitoutforyourself?Youmaygettothe
othersideandfindthatyou’restandinginmuckand
dirtanddustanddon’tlikeitthereatall.Or,maybeit
isgreener,butit’sthatcheapAstroturfthatisreally
shinyandplasticanduncomfortableandallyouwant
todoistogobacktoyourside.
Somyruleisthis:alwaysjumpthefence.Atleast
you’llknowyouwenttoseewhatitlookedlike.
InevergottoplayfortheMinnesotaTwins,and
ifyouwereexpectingmyfinalmessagetobe,“You
candoanythingyousetyourmindto,”I’msorryto
disappointyou.Youcan’t—andanyonewhotellsyou
differentlyisabiggerliarthanIwasduringmyfreshmanyearatColgate.Ifitweretrue,I’dbewrapping
upahalloffamecareerrightaboutnow.
ButbecauseIfoundsomethingelsethatIloved—
makingmovies—andstuckwithit,thispastAugust,
IgotasclosetomychildhooddreamasI’lleverget.
how do yoU know unlEss
you jump over the fEnce And
check iT out for yoUrself?
watchinglarger-than-lifemeonthescreen.The
moviestarted.Peoplewerelaughing.
Ican’tbelieveI’madmittingthis,butI’mman
enough.Istartedtocry.IcriedbecauseIimagined
thelaughterinthetheaterthatnightmusthave
hadthesameeffectonmethatthecheersfromthe
crowdhadonRodCarewmanyyearsbeforeashe
roundedthebases,scoringawinningrun.
I’vebeenthroughalotofupsanddownsthrough
theyears.Thereweremanytimeswhentheworld
kepttellingme“no,”butIrefusedtoaccept“no”asan
answer.
Ithinkaboutbleedingthroughthosegymsocks
ontheLittleLeaguefield,orallthosetimesIgot
turneddownatauditionsincollege.
Ithinkaboutdoorafterdoorofmajorstudios
ItturnsoutthattheMinnesotaTwins’firstbaseman,
JustinMorneau,isafanofSuper Troopers.Heasked
metothrowouttheceremonialfirstpitchataTwins
game.[Youcanwatchitat:tinyurl.com/stolhanske
twinspitch]
AsIlefttheballpark,smilingfromeartoear,I
spottedthebronzestatueofnoneotherthannumber29,Mr.RodCarew.
Iwondered,whatifRodCarewhadnever
botheredtotakeanychancesinhislife?Whatifhe
believedthatjustbecausehewasapoorkidborn
onatraininPanamahecouldn’tplayprofessional
baseball?Somethingtellsmehelookedatthegrass
ontheothersideofthefenceandjumpedrightover.
Or,whatifI,akidwithawoodenleg,hadbelieved
thatitwasimpossibleformetobecomethecaptain
As i LefT ThE
BAlLpArk, smiling
FroM ear to ear,
i SpottEd the
bronze StatuE
of none other
than number 29,
mr. rod carew.
MinnesotaTwins
meetupforabeer.WemetatChezJay,anoldbar
famousforbeingthehauntwhereMarlonBrando
usedtohangout.
RobertandIweresittingatthislegendarybar
filledwiththeghostsofHollywoodpast.Andhewas
tellingmeabouthowgreathiscareeris,thathewas
happilymarried,howtheyhadjustboughtanew
home,andtheywerelookingforwardtostartinga
family.Ourlivescouldnothavebeenmoredifferent!
Iwasjobless,penniless,homeless,andalone.
Iwashappyformyfriend—Ireallywas,butmore
thananything,atthatmoment,Irealizedthataslow
asIhadgotten,Iwasstillnotwillingtogiveuponmy
dreamofmakingmovies.
FranklinRooseveltsaid,“Whenyoucometothe
endofyourrope,tieaknotandhangon.”
Andthat’swhatIdid,hoveringjustaboverock
bottom.
It’sagoodthingthatIdid,becausethenextdayI
got“thecall”—Super Troopershadmadeitintothe
SundanceFilmFestival!IgotintomyVolvo,spent
everylastdimeIhadongasmoney,anddroveto
ParkCity,Utah.
Thenightourmoviewassettopremiere,Ipaced
outsidethetheater.Thiswastheculminationof10
yearsofhardwork,theembodimentofalifetimeof
hopesanddreams.
Iwastooscaredtogoin.
Iwasscarednoonewouldshowup.Iwasscared
noonewouldlaugh.Iwasscaredthey’dallwalkout.
Finally,Iforcedmyselftowalkin.Istoodatthe
backofthedarkenedtheater—regular-sizedme
ofmyhighschoolbaseballteamorstarinamajor
motionpicture?
IthinkthebestadviceIcanshareisthis:Bea
littledelusional.Pursueyourdreamsstubbornly.
Allowyourself togetknockeddown—thendust
yourselfoffandgetbackupagain,andagain,and
again.Inmyexperience,it’sinthemomentswhen
you’remostwillingtofailthatsuccesshasawayof
findingyou.
And,althoughyoumaynothaveprostheticbody
parts,everyonehasa“woodenleg”ofsomekind.I’m
livingproofthatonceyourealizethatyour“wooden
leg,”whateveritmaybe,isreallyjustinyourhead,
that’swhenyoucanstaytruetoyourself,pursueyour
dreamswithfoolishperseverance,andtrulyachieve
successinlife—whateverthatmaymeantoyou.
Onelastthought.Ifyouactuallydohavea
woodenleg…don’tplaykickball.
©ErikStolhanske.Allrightsreserved.
*DISCLAIMER: My story is mostly based on actual events; however,
certain names and details have been changed to protect the guilty.
I am a comedian, after all.
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