John Callahan: Back to the Drawing Board!

by Lori A. Wood

In one of John Callahan’s cartoons, a man with prosthetic arms is sitting in a bar, staring longingly at his drink. Noticing this, the bartender says, “Sorry, Mike, you just can’t hold your liquor!”

With just the right blend of sarcasm and silliness, Callahan gets to the heart of a matter, f ree from the restraints imposed by an inhibited society. While others prefer to cloak the subject of disability in vague euphemisms and speak of it in hushed tones, he faces it head-on, unafraid to speak his mind. Critics may find this sort of humor blunt-even sick-but fans of his work are attracted to its honesty, which is re f reshing in today’s climate of political correctness. It is what it is, and Callahan makes no apologies for it. Upon hearing his story, one gets the sense that he’s lived his life in much the same way-on his own terms.

Light and Shadow

Born in Portland, Oregon, in 1951, Callahan’s outlook was influenced by his Irish Catholic upbringing. “In our house, we had an illuminated portrait of Jesus, and containers of holy water,” he explains. “We attended Mass every Sunday.”

As a baby, John was adopted by Dave and Rosemary Callahan. The couple thought that they were infertile, but subsequently had five kids of their own. “I was the only redheaded kid in the bunch,” he states.

Callahan traces his first artistic stirrings to the fourth grade at St. Mary’s Academy. “I started drawing cartoons of rodents to amuse my friends in class,” he says. He also sketched Sister Joseph of Mary, a nun who liked to isolate him from other kids. “While they played at recess, I had to sit on a bench with her,” he remembers.

At the age of 8, he was sexually molested by a female teacher. To deal with the trauma, John began drinking at the age of 14. “I used the alcohol to hide the pain of the abuse,” he says. “I felt like an outsider in my family,” John recalls .

“It was a circumstantial thing. The relations with that nun really messed things up.”

Upon graduating from St. Mary’s Academy in 1965, John went to public school. “Catholic school was much more strict than public. In comparison, public school was boring.” As a result, John often skipped classes to drink with friends.

Gradually, his dependence on alcohol increased. “My philosophy was drink and live for the day,” he says. “On any given day, I’d have maybe twelve beers, wine, and whiskey.” He also experimented with other drugs, including marijuana and LSD. “LSD scared me, and pot made me paranoid,” John explains. Still, alcohol was his drug of choice, and would play a significant role in the event that would change his life forever.

The Profane and the Profound

At the age of 20, John moved to Los Angeles. A year later, he was confronted with a life-altering twist of fate.

“I was simply riding with a friend,” he recalls. “I got too sleepy and too drunk, so I let my friend drive the car. He passed out at the wheel, and crashed into a signpost at 90 miles per hour. After that, I just remember a lot of lights and sirens.”

Although his friend was not hurt that badly, John’s spinal cord was severed, leaving him a C5-6 quadriplegic.

John spent much of his recovery at Harbor General Hospital, where he was confined to a circle electric bed. “I would lie flat, and, suspended between two wheels, it flipped me end over end. Each rotation was painful.”

At the time, he received much-needed emotional support. “My family wasn’t able to be around that much,” he says, “but a volunteer visited me every day.” This woman was just what he needed most-someone to listen. “It made me feel relieved,” he remembers. “I’ve often wondered if she was real, or if she was an angel.”

After several weeks, John was transferred to Rancho Los Amigos Hospital, where he underwent a procedure called an anterior fusion. “They fused the bones in my neck to help stabilize my spine,” he explains. While the procedure could not restore lost spinal cord function, it was performed in order to prevent further damage to the area.

Once his rehabilitation was complete, John decided to go back to Portland. For such an independent spirit, the newfound limitations imposed by SCI were hard to take. “The dependency on other people was the hardest to adjust to,” he says. “Disability gives you a perception of powerlessness.”

In 1975, John was ready to live independently. “Emotionally, the biggest challenge was trying to keep it together. It was difficult logistically, too.” he admits. “I had a hard time finding accessible stairways, cupboards, and sinks, and I had to widen my doorway. I had to adapt things my own way.”

One might think that living with SCI would convince a person to stop drinking, but for John, this was not the case. However, at the age of 27, he had an epiphany. “One day, I was alone and had been drinking. I was frustrated after spending an hour trying to open the bottle with my teeth. Half-drunk, I ended up dropping the bottle. I got increasingly worked up, and eventually broke down.”

After an hour of crying, he felt a comforting sensation, like a hand soothing him. In that moment, John came to accept his new life, and made the decision to give up alcohol. “When I quit drinking, I learned that life was not about manipulation. It’s more about letting go of the need to control things,” he says.

Luck of the Draw

In 1979, John enrolled in Portland State University, where he earned a bachelor’s degree in English. In 1981, he started drawing cartoons again. “When I did it as a kid, I only showed them to a few friends. In college, I started showing them to everybody.” In spite of stiff fingers that make it hard for him to steady a writing utensil, John’s cartoons earned him a job with the university’s newspaper, the Vanguard. While his childhood artwork inspired laughter, his more mature cartoons, which featured people with disabilities in humorous situations, drew criticism. “I got my first pieces of hate mail there,” he recalls. “I was called everything from a racist to a sexist.”

After graduating in 1983, Callahan put his drawings on the national stage in publications ranging from Penthouse to The New Yorker. He soon became well-acquainted with the disapproval of others. Still, such negative reactions to his work do not bother him. “It doesn’t affect me at all,” he insists.

John of All Trades

In 1987, Callahan started writing his autobiography, Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far On Foot. “I thought it was a good story to share with people,” John explains. In 1989, William Morrow published the book. Since then Robin Williams has purchased the rights to it, and will star in the biopic-if it ever gets made. “I’m not sure it’s going to happen,” John says. “He [Williams] never quite gets around to it.” In addition to the possibility of a feature film, John has had 12 collections of his cartoons published, including Freaks of Nature and his newest, Levels of Insanity, which was released in August 2004.

He has had success in television, as well. “Four or five years ago, I was approached by a Canadian production company. They said, ‘Please invent something. We like your cartoons.’” John created Quads, an animated series that features Reilly O’Reilly, a foulmouthed drunk who is rendered quadriplegic after being run over by a millionaire. Wracked with guilt, the millionaire gives him a mansion, where Reilly lives with his disabled friends.

John also created Pelswick, which ran on Nickelodeon and Nick on CBS from 2000 to 2002. The series was developed for children, in hopes of making the subject of disability less intimidating. “It’s just a perspective change,” John explains. The show’s main character, Pelswick Eggert, is a paralyzed teenager. In one episode, Pelswick is forbidden from going on a class camping trip, out of concern for his safety. In response, he says, “I’m the only kid who can’t get accidentally paralyzed!”

John also enjoys writing songs; he took up the hobby in 1991. “I can just barely play the piano and guitar,” he admits, “but I’d be happy just to sit on a street corner and sing my songs.” Still, he confesses, “I’d like to get some more famous people to sing them.”

The Magic and the Mystery

Presently, John embraces a much simpler version of the philosophy of life that defined his youth: live for the day. Sober for 26 years, he has adopted a new attitude toward his disability, as well. “Disability can help you, spiritually, to gain some new insights,” he says. For John, a greater appreciation for the miracles present in everyday life is one of these revelations. “The magical stuff that comes and goes through my life is very mysterious,” he says.

He still lives in Portland, and requires the assistance of three attendants to dress and get out of bed in the morning. Otherwise, John is able to live alone. He enjoys the company of a large circle of friends, and sees his membership in United Spinal as an opportunity to make new ones. “I think that United Spinal will help me to establish a sense of connectedness with others who have SCI,” he says.

It’s clear that John Callahan’s sense of humor has gotten him through many tough times in his life. Regardless of the form it takes, his work shows people with disabilities that, as long as they remain true to themselves, there’s nothing they can’t do.

Lori A. Wood writes frequently for Orbit. She lives in Council Bluffs, Iowa.