by Jeff Dunham
Bree, Ashlyn, and Kenna… I’m sorry Mommy and Daddy didn’t make it through the storms. I love you with all my heart… to the stars and back, times infinity.
CHAPTER TEN
Is This a Hockey Arena?
The purpose of this book is to tell you my journey, from beginning to current day, from childhood dreams to the current fruition. This is a journey full of accomplishments, failures, happiness, and heartbreak. We all, of course, live through this wide range of emotions and experiences, and hopefully for each of us, in the end the positive has outweighed the negative.
At the conclusion of the last chapter, in a few short paragraphs describing my personal life, I quickly took you through most of 2008: from my broken heart to moving out of my house and becoming a divorcing parent. It wasn’t a quick ten months, however. It was rather drawn out, painfully, as if I were slowly pulling an arrow from my chest. My personal life was in ruins, and I hid it from my kids as best I could. But when children are part of the family and thus in the middle, the process is more difficult and confusing, as you must weigh what is best for everyone in the long run.
But this book is not about a broken heart. More than half of all marriages end in divorce these days, so I’m not relating anything that many of us haven’t already been through. Also, I know that my marriage didn’t end after fourteen years because of one issue. I accept plenty of blame, knowing that my wife and I didn’t address and repair problems and disagreements that existed almost from the very beginning. The problems near the end weren’t the cause of the marriage falling apart; they were the symptoms of a marriage that was already in serious trouble.
So while my personal life was taking a nosedive to depths I’d never imagined, my professional life was beginning an ascent on a trajectory that I’d never dreamed possible. It felt like the fabric of all I had become was being torn in two different directions, with threads and strips still connecting the two, but with a tear that was becoming more obviously defined as time progressed.
After canceling five days of shows in late January, I forced myself back on the road to fulfill contracts and show up for performances that had been sold out for weeks. Deep down I knew that everyone has problems, and that mine were very small compared to people who were going through things that were much sadder and dealing with difficulties far more severe than anything that had been dished out to me. I knew that all of us have to push through obstacles in life the best way we know, learning, and living, and moving forward.
Additionally, besides the people that had already paid for tickets, there were also a great number of folks who relied on me for their own income: everyone from my agent to the guys who swept up after the shows. I kept reminding myself that I was living a dream and I had a great deal to be thankful for. At times, I was almost ashamed that I was allowing myself to wallow like this. So I forced myself onstage. In all honesty, my heart wasn’t in it, but I was trying. Jeff Rothpan, my now good friend and opening act, was on the road with me for the first few weekends, and we simply worked.
I never truly knew how much all this affected me until not long ago when Kenna and Ashlyn and I were at Caesar’s Palace during one of my weekends there. Kenna picked up the What’s Happening in Vegas magazine from our hotel room table, and she and Ashlyn looked at my photo on the cover. “Dad, this was taken when you and Mom were splitting up, huh?” Kenna said and asked this, both at the same time. I looked at the cover. It took me a second to examine what I was wearing in the picture and to remember the photo shoot when that particular shot was taken. Sure enough, it was a photo from a shoot right after I knew the marriage would end. “How did you know that?” I asked. Ashlyn replied with Kenna, nodding, “You can see it in your face.”
The size of the theaters we were now in was growing. In February of 2008, we were playing two-thousand- to four-thousand-seat houses regularly. We usually planned the tours in a way that made sense for easy travel. But now the ticket sales were big enough that we could build in a few typical touring amenities—which would eventually become necessities. The first was a tour bus.
I’d never seen inside a tour bus before. I really hadn’t paid much attention or even cared, because who would ever think that a ventriloquist would be on an actual tour? But now we needed reliable and flexible transportation, so we picked out a brand-new one from a company in Nashville (where most U.S. tour buses call home) and had the interior completely customized. Of course we had bunks for me, Robin Tate, Guitar Guy (who was now my permanent opening act), and Jeff Rothpan. But I also needed some work space. And I don’t mean office, though the bus had one of those as well. What I’m talking about was a workshop. Every so often the characters need maintenance, like a lever replaced or some paint touched up… also, I wanted the freedom to be able to build anything new for the act that I might need, so I e-mailed the tour bus company a list of required hand tools, power tools, supplies, and even correct lighting for painting, and a few weeks later, voilà! The bus company had removed eight of the twelve bunks and built me an entire mobile workshop. Next, they added an elliptical machine, a lounge in back, a kitchen and dining area in front with microwave, refrigerator and freezer, a pulldown TV in each of the four bunks, four big flat screen TVs, and even a couple of Xboxes and PlayStations. COOL. They also installed surround sound in both TV areas, plus another smaller flat screen and surround sound at my workbench. Good lord. This was awesome. And yes, this was on-the-road opulence. This bus became my haven for more than half of every month.
Walter: I don’t care if you make the bus look like a rolling palace, it’s still a damn bus.
Jeff: But it’s a tour bus!
Walter: We’re driving around the country in a BUS. The only difference between us and the Beverly Hillbillies is that we forgot the chickens!
Bubba J.: Let’s get chickens!
Walter: I quit.
Travel was pretty simple now. We would jump on a commercial flight, land at the first city of that particular run, find the bus, and be taken to the theater. Then after the show, we’d pack up the dummies, jump on the bus, and head overnight to the next town.
At first I thought this was going to be easy, with luxury and plenty of time to kick back and enjoy. What I didn’t consider was that this schedule made every day a travel day. We never slowed down. While we were setting up for the show and then performing, the bus driver was at the hotel sleeping those six or seven hours. Then he’d wake up after we’d packed and take us to the next town. Honestly, I was working harder than I ever had. But, no complaints! On the contrary—the work had never been this rewarding, and the fans were awesome.
As many miles as we were putting on planes and on the bus, we were bound to have our share of unexpected moments and maybe some unwanted excitement. At the very opening of the book, I mentioned being rescued by a terrorist. Let me tell you exactly how that went…
Every so often our travel needs to get from gig to gig wouldn’t match up with commercial flight schedules, so we’d have to rough it and get on a private jet. Not too shabby, but we were still subject to… well… fate.
One evening after a show in New York, Brian and I had to fly all the way back across the country to Medford, Oregon, for a show the next afternoon at an Indian casino. Well, after the six-hour flight, it was now about one A.M., and we were coming in for a landing at the Medford airport. In the last moments, our pilots decided to abort the landing due to heavy fog, and we had to divert. So we turned toward a place called Klamath Falls, Oregon. The pilots hadn’t done much research on this particular destination, and upon landing at the not-so-large Klamath Falls airport, we taxied to a halt on the tarmac, and the pilots informed us that since the tower was closed, and no one was on the radio, they were going to pick a far corner of the airport next to the biggest hangar and just sit there until either the fog cleared in Medford, or we got ground transportation.
After parking the plane and as they were shutting down the engines, suddenly four military Humvees came roa
ring up and surrounded our plane. Flood lights ablaze, we then heard a very commanding voice over an incredibly loud PA announce, “ALL OCCUPANTS OF THE AIRCRAFT: YOU MUST EXIT THE AIRCRAFT IMMEDIATELY WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR, FIFTY METERS APART, ONE AT A TIME.”
What the—? Honestly, my first thought was that we were being punked. I thought any minute, Ashton Kutcher was going to jump out of the bushes, laughing. Wrong. This was legit because as we looked down the aisle, our pilot was scrambling out of his seat, trying to get the door opened and the stairs down, all while shaking like a leaf. He then went down the stairs and outside with his hands up.… As he got there, I swear I could see him shaking more as he looked around. The copilot then made his way to the steps, and he too looked like he was about to cry.
Side note: Our captain, the first guy… he knew who I was, what I did for a living, and he knew the characters. The copilot?… New guy. Didn’t know anything about me. Keep that in mind.
I then said good-bye to Brian and made my way down the steps, hands in the air. As I got outside, I then saw why there was even more panic on the pilots’ faces. No joke: Surrounding us, about twenty-five U.S. Marines, all with M4 rifles pointed straight at us.
I turned to look, and now Brian was gingerly making his way down the stairs. The difference was, while the pilots and I had our hands straight up in the air, Brian looked experienced at this, because he had his hands on the back of his head. The pilots and I looked like we were in a Western; Brian was on Cops.
Standing side by side, hands in the air, the guy got back on the horn and bellowed, “WHO’S IN COMMAND HERE?” The captain of our plane went forward, and now it’s just the three of us left standing there. As we stood there I thought, “This is just a horrible misunderstanding.… What can I do to get out of this quickly?” No joke. Without moving my lips, I whispered to Brian, “I’m going to try something.” Then Brian started making unintelligible noises, without moving his lips, but he wasn’t very good at it. All I heard was, “MMmmmmnnnnmmnnnnuhhhuhnmmnnn!” Then just to mock Brian, once again without moving my lips I said, “Ha ha, you can’t do it!” Remember the copilot? He has NO IDEA what’s going on. So now I’m thinking, okay, this has to work.… So I raised my voice pretty loudly and bellowed, “EXCUSE ME, GENTLEMEN?” A few more rifles suddenly came around, right in my direction, pretty much pointed at my head.
“Uh… DO YOU GUYS KNOW ACHMED THE TERRORIST?” That’s about the time the copilot pissed in his pants and Brian about fell over.
There were a few beats of silence, then one Marine yelled, “YEAH, WE WATCHED HIM ON TV LAST WEEK; HE’S FUNNIER THAN HELL.”
I said, “You guys!… that’s me!”
Another beat of silence, and then a second marine, “HEY! WE BAGGED ACHMED THE DEAD TERRORIST!” About then the copilot fainted, we all shook hands and took pictures with each other, and were off on our merry way.
Achmed: You’re welcome, infidels!
Jeff: Thank you, Achmed.
Walter: I thought this was comedy. It would have been funnier if they’d shot your ass.
Thanks to the success of “Jingle Bombs,” we decided that a holiday special made a lot of sense. Again, the wheels of business started to turn. Comedy Central was on board, and I started working on Christmas material and a brand-new show.
The true genesis for the Jeff Dunham’s Very Special Christmas Special came many years before, when a parent at our daughter’s school invited the Dunham family to her annual (and fabulous) Christmas party. Jacquie Boggs had two sons, both near the ages of my kids, and with a few other school families, we became a pretty tight-knit group, taking trips and vacations together. But back in the very early years, when the girls were teeny tiny, Jacquie asked my wife if I could pull out one of the characters during the party and “do a little something” for everyone. Ugh. I’d always dreaded performing for friends and family, because they know you too well and it usually felt more like work than fun!
But I thought about it for a while on a long plane ride across the country. I recalled some discussions with my old friend David Erskine many years before regarding Bergen and Charlie reading a short piece of The Night Before Christmas together in one of their radio broadcasts. Erskine sent me an audiotape of the show, and I remembered Charlie messing up the story a bit to big laughs, and how funny that seemed to me, even fifty years later. So I thought, why not do the same thing with Peanut, but put a really twisted take on it with contemporary references and jokes? You hear of hit songs being written on cocktail napkins in a matter of minutes, and that’s exactly what happened with my version of this Christmas classic. Twenty minutes after I’d started, I was pretty proud of what was later to become a big part of my act. It certainly wasn’t a unique idea, as every holiday season, multiple TV shows, musical artists, and comics come up with a satirical take on that old story, but I made my own version, and it was vintage Peanut.
Peanut: Everything I do is vintage Peanut. Even the new stuff.
When I started performing it, I realized how much cooler it would be if Brian the Guitar Guy came out and played a Christmas song on electric guitar while Peanut and I read. And, without any rehearsal, we did it onstage. Pretty soon it was a great bit.
We couldn’t of course leave out Achmed and “Jingle Bombs,” so that became a highlight in the show. Brian wrote “Roadkill Christmas” for Bubba J., and now the special was really coming together. Rothpan and I wrote Christmas and holiday jokes for all the characters, and every night, during every show, we began to turn my regular stage show into the Christmas special. Granted, this was the spring of 2008, and we were doing almost 90 percent Christmas material. But God bless the fans: They loved it. I’ve found over the years that audiences love being a part of the process, and if they know that they’re getting a peek inside what few other people get to see, it makes the process almost a game. That’s also one reason I don’t mind screw-ups now and then. As a comic, if you can roll with a mistake or misspoken word, not let it throw you, and then acknowledge to the audience that you’re okay playing the fool, the crowd loves it all the more. So every night I would tell the audience that we were practicing for our upcoming Comedy Central Christmas special, and they would go nuts.
It was now June of 2008. Yes, June. Granted, a strange time to be pretending it’s Christmas, but that was the latest we could shoot to have the special ready to air by Thanksgiving and have the DVDs in stores at the same time. We were in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, at the Pabst Theatre… the beautiful Pabst Theatre. We were set to tape two shows that night as usual, but unbeknownst to the audience and me, a couple of big disturbances were heading our way.
Violent and threatening storms accompanied by tornadoes and green skies had put Milwaukee under a blanket of heavy rain and lightning, plus tornado warnings. Thirty minutes before curtain, parts of the theater were flooding, and a critical electrical grid went out moments before cameras were to roll. I tried to push all those distractions and concerns out of my head and simply do my best to concentrate on doing the show that I’d done so many times the past few months. What was weighing on me much more heavily than weather and technical difficulties, however, was my precious family, which was in the midst of falling apart. And it wasn’t as if that was a problem two thousand miles away that I could just put out of my mind for a couple hours. Quite the opposite.
Ever since I first performed The Night Before Christmas with Peanut at our friend Jacquie’s party, my wife had encouraged me to put the bit on tape somewhere and sell it. I had resisted for many years, wanting to wait until there was a true demand for it. I thought it was too good to waste on a cheap production, to then be used as a small moneymaker, hawking the homemade DVDs at comedy clubs. I knew it could be big if I just waited for the right time and place. And now we were there.
My family had meant everything to me. I married my wife when I was thirty-two years old, and along with her came two-year-old Bree, her daughter from an earlier relationship. Bree became my daughter when I a
dopted her not long after the marriage, so my family started to grow very quickly. But as an adopted child myself, I had never known anyone who was related to me by blood, and the first time I held and looked into the eyes of Ashlyn and Kenna, I felt a lifelong isolation slip and melt away. The career was simply a dream and a driving force behind achievement… my three children and my wife were my world.
In my first three DVDs, you can hear all five of us woven throughout the material, especially in my stand-up. For the Christmas special taping that weekend, my wife and my two youngest were there. It had been decided almost at the last minute for all of them to be there, and I had agreed to it because Christmas had always been the biggest of all holidays for us as a family, and this taping was a significant part of our past because of the Peanut story.
As a marriage comes to an end, I think most couples go through the last throes of existence, trying to either sustain matrimonial life, or rid themselves of unwanted encumbrances. I also think that many of these moments can’t be defined as to which type they are—is it a fight to push away or to pull together, or a confusion and convolution of both? While in Milwaukee, though we tried to hide them from the kids, a couple of the arguments were huge and heated. One was even in front of crew and some of the public.