Chad Shank admittedly had become insular and cut off from the world. His four children had grown and set out on their own. Only he and his wife, Jennie, remained in their Bisbee, Ariz., home. Shank, a U.S. Army veteran, had spent most of his adult life hiding the person he was. He was wary to share the mental illnesses he suffered with anyone, but his reason for avoiding disclosure was largely practical and one many with similar issues must regularly face.

“People have to get jobs,” Shank said. “When I had to work, I hid it. I didn’t tell anybody this (stuff) when I had to be in society.”

The “stuff” Shank is referring to is his “total and permanent disability” for bi-polar disorder and borderline personality disorder.

Shank grew up in a small Arizona town and joined the Army at 17, because he didn’t know he had any other choice. He served three years as a mechanic in Fort Wainwright in Alaska and later three more at Fort Lewis in Washington, but his Army days weren’t the cause of his mental illness.

“I never had to go anywhere or shoot anybody or anything like that,” Shank said.

He and his family moved to Bisbee in 2004 in search of better jobs, and he eventually wound up as the circulation manager of two area newspapers. After leaving his newspaper gig, however, he became something of a shut-in. Interacting with society had always brought with it thoughts of violence. But the older he got, the shorter his fuse became. Shank went out less and less.

“I don’t have a consistent day most of the time, ever,” he said. “I think I probably always had the problems, but it wasn’t until I had a family that your personality starts bumping up against other people that close. You start to see things that you didn’t see before. I just thought everybody was violent, I guess.”

Shank made the odd exceptions, though. He still spent time with his kids when they were around, and a chance posting on Facebook led him to Bisbee’s most notorious funnyman.

A FRIENDSHIP IS BORN

Doug Stanhope has lived in Bisbee for the past 11 years. Perched about a dozen miles north of the Mexican border, the historic desert town was once the largest between St. Louis and San Francisco, and it offered Stanhope much of what Los Angeles and bigger cites lacked — anonymity, peace and a safe haven for epic drinking binges, parties and podcasting.

Four years ago, Doug made a post on Facebook asking his fans in the area for help moving his disabled veteran friend. It was one of the few times Shank ventured out of the house, and a friendship was born.

“We hit it off,” Shank said. “And he invited me back for football.”

Stanhope is widely accessible to his fans. If they’re passing through Bisbee and staying at the local vintage Shady Dell trailer park, he even promises to join them for a beer. Stanhope’s Sunday tradition, however, is only for those he’s closest with, and Shank fast became one his best friends.

PODCAST THERAPY

Stanhope’s empathy is largely rooted in his own self-deprecation. As a comedian, he’s constantly making fun of everything and everyone around him, but he’s also continuously making fun of himself. “The Doug Stanhope Podcast” is a revolving door of lovable misfits — Shank, tour manager Greg Chaille, business manager Brian Hennigan, longtime girlfriend Amy “Bingo” Bingaman, fellow comedians Brett Erickson, Andy Andrist, Christine Levine and Junior Stopka, among others, along with Bisbee outcasts including Rev. Derrick, Castle Rock Kenny, Floyd, Washtub Willie and Margo Wollenberg. Each episode features Stanhope and friends recalling stories, talking comedy, promoting Bisbee-related projects and generally commenting on the everyday absurdities of life.

With his deep, perfect-for-radio voice, Shank has become a fixture on the show. He reads the Bisbee police beat. He shares stories of his daily struggles with mental illness and the insane process he must endure to remain on disability. He also often injects perfectly timed, hilarious one liners to whatever the subject the group riffs on. It’s here that Shank can vent safe from judgement in an environment far more suited to therapy than he’s found in any therapist’s office.

“This has been the most therapeutic thing I’ve ever done,” Shank said. “I’ve had to go to a lot of therapists. I’m honest anyway, so Stanhope and I, we would talk about these things off the podcast. He asked if I’d be willing to talk about it on the podcast. He said that people would relate to it, and it’d be alright. I believed him, and it’s worked out that way so far.”

LAUGHING AT MENTAL ILLNESS, DEATH

The most memorable episodes of "The Doug Stanhope Podcast" offer an honest, raw look at very serious issues under the umbrella of comedy. In 2014, Derrick Ross of indie Americana duo Nowhere Man and a Whiskey Girl killed himself in Stanhope’s guest house just hours after his wife and bandmate, Amy, died at a Tuscon hospital of a blood infection. Amy was set for heart surgery, and Ross spoke candidly about her condition on the podcast prior to the procedure. They jokingly called it “The Cliffhanger Podcast,” because there wasn’t any reason to believe Amy would die. She did, and then Ross took his life shortly after.

The podcasts that followed were somber yet funny. Stanhope told the story of how he jokingly called his house-sitter Rev. Derrick and told him to slowly start hammering a “For Rent” sign on the front yard with police still there. They didn’t actually do it, but it highlighted the brand of humor that would become a staple of the show. When it seems there is absolutely no humor in a situation, Stanhope and friends find it.

More recently, Doug and Bingo went through a temporary split and discussed the days that led to the end of their relationship in great detail. Bingo talked openly about falling for another man, anonymously dubbed “Washtub Willie” because of his limited-plumbing living situation. Bingo also candidly discussed suicide and the suicidal thoughts she sometimes experiences because of her mental illness. It opened the curtain to her bi-polar schizoaffective disorder, a condition characterized by abnormal thought processes and deregulated emotions.

Stanhope admits, the path of the podcast wasn’t readily planned, but he’s pleased with the ground it has covered.

“It’s a happy accident, absolutely, but I love the focus,” Stanhope said. “It has to be organic. Where there’s dark (stuff). The suicide. The death. Cancer and mental health issues that people generally don’t joke about. That’s the first thing we joke about to the point where it’s absolutely natural for us. Chaille’s mother just died. 'Let’s jam him up about that on the podcast. Don’t make fun of his dead mother until we’re on the air!' "

It’s Stanhope’s own comedy hospice, and his fans love the unfiltered look and access the podcast provides.

“That’s what people really respond to,” he said. “If I didn’t read my email, I wouldn’t know. That’s an actual release for people. Everyone on this podcast has demons, but we don’t talk to regular people. We never leave this fence. You forget that there’s real people that don’t ever get to meet us that never have this sense of relief.”

In a way, however, through the podcast, they do.

“Anytime you can have some weird (stuff), and you can go, ‘Hey, we can make this funny.’ That is the most beautiful thing in the world,” Stanhope said.

SHANK’S SUDDEN CELEBRITY

Since he first appeared on the podcast, Shank’s profile and mental health have both been steadily on the rise. Stanhope took Shank out on tour before fans were familiar with him, and because of his imposing build, he was often mistaken for a bodyguard. Now that fans know him, they’re asking for his autograph. They’re even sending him fan mail at Stanhope’s address.

“I’m surprised every day,” Shank said of the positive reaction he’s received. “All of this stuff is just therapeutic. I feel I learn a little more about people as it goes, and I’m doing alright so far.”

Shank paused and considered his progress. “I haven’t murdered anybody,” he said, drawing laughter from a room full of friends and podcast guests.

In Shank, Stanhope has found a kindred spirit and close friend.

“Chad is a brilliant talent,” Stanhope said. “I have the same lack of confidence he has. We wake up with the same, ‘Oh, no one really liked me, I was just drunk,’ kind of fears. We have the same psychotic tendencies, only he’s more physically able to carry them out. I consider him one of my best friends.”

The pair is also planning a trip to Los Angeles, where they’ll edit a recent television pilot that Stanhope shot with Johnny Depp. Along with a recent trip to Daytona, Shank has been busier and more active than he’s been in years, and it all stems from that chance Facebook post four years ago.

“It’s all been memorable, except for the parts I don’t remember,” Shank said with a laugh.

He knows he’s come a long way since that first meeting, and while he’s pleased with his fortunes, Shank is wary to get too far ahead of himself. It’s simply the byproduct of his mental illness.

“I’m not looking at the future,” he said. “I’m just going day by day. But Stanhope has asked me to do these things, and I’m just trying to make it over here on the days he asks me to be here. That’s my main goal right now.”

Stanhope is happy that the podcast has served not only as a vehicle for the benefit of his fans, but also as a project that Shank has taken a liking to.

“I remember a day where Chad Shank actually called us to see if we were doing anything and he could come over,” Stanhope said of his friend’s progress. “Fans will send packages to Chad Shank care of my address, and I won’t open it and tell him what it is. I make him come here to find out, because we want him here. Chad Shank makes everything fun.”

Reach B.J. at 330-580-8314 or bj.lisko@cantonrep.com

On Twitter: @BLiskoREP

MORE INFO

- www.dougstanhope.com

- The Doug Stanhope Podcast is available via iTunes.