The old attage, “the black sheep of the herd,” is one comedian Willie Farrel has modified. He’s been the Italian in the middle of the Sooner State.

“I was down in Oklahoma a while back and there were 150 people in the crowd with 12 teeth,” Farrell said from his home in Des Moines. “It was frightening. I’m Italian — I was dressed in a suit and tie and had my hair slicked back, and they had on belt buckles that looked like they could get Direct TV.

“They didn’t laugh for awhile. I was mostly making fun of them anyway,” he continued. “I didn’t give up until I made them laugh. I tap danced as hard as I could. Most people would have given up.”

But quitting isn’t Farrell’s style. If it was, he would have never made it to the stage.

Farrell’s career began during open-mic night at a local Des Moines comedy club in the early ’80s when his friends convinced him to take the stage.

“I thought, ‘It’s only a Monday night. There won’t be many people here,'” Farrell said. But he was in for a surprise — the audience was comprised of 300 people.

“I tried to back out but all of my friends came and paid a cover. They said I’d have to repay them if I didn’t go on. I didn’t have any money, so I had to go on,” Farrell said. “I was either too dense or too scared to know that public speaking is supposed to be scary because it didn’t bother me. I still haven’t learned because it still doesn’t bother me.”

Despite his success around the Des Moines area, Farrell didn’t think he could ever earn a living as a comedian, so he went into “real business.” But he changed his mind once again when he turned on the TV one day and noticed people out in L.A. making a living at comedy. He packed his bags and headed west.

But after a year, Farrell left L.A.

“To be a Jay Leno, you have to suffer,” he said, explaining why L.A. wasn’t the paradise he thought it would be. “You have to be willing to crash on a friend’s couch. Jay Leno said he had to sleep in his car when he first started. I get upset when I’m at a hotel and I can’t take the remote to bed with me.”

Leaving L.A. didn’t mean Farrell was quitting the business. He couldn’t.

In his 10-year stint as a comedian, Farrell has toured throughout the country, including nightclubs, colleges, radio specials, A & E Comedy on the Road, An Evening at the Improv, 48 Hours and ESPN Grand Prix.

“To be honest, I have no other marketable skills,” Farrell said. “If I wasn’t doing this, I’d be leaning on a shovel for the city somewhere. Back here, I’m a big fish in a little pond, but life is good.”

Get in the trunk

In Farrell’s media kit, he plays on his past to sell his act. “Willie Farrell … son of a gangster, has been taking out audiences all over the country for over 10 years.”

Next to this statement, is a caricature of Farrell dressed like an Italian mobster holding a smoking gun. This image is one he is familiar with — he really is the son of a gangster.

“My father did have a reputation for being a hood. He moved from Chicago to Des Moines, which sounds pretty funny, but he was in front of a couple of crime committees,” Farrell said, thinking back to his childhood. “Back in the ’80s, people used to make a big deal about having a Robert Kennedy autograph. I have one — but it’s on a sopenia.

“My dad was always in and out of something, he continued. “But having a gangster as a dad had some advantages.”

For example, Farrell had the opportunity to meet one of the world’s most powerful men and live to tell about it, Jimmy Hoffa. Unfortunately, he was too young to remember the meeting.

“He was probably big and scary just like daddy’s other friends,” Farrell said. “I generally stayed in the other room. There was a general rule that if a man with sunglasses came in and it wasn’t sunny out, to stay away from him.”

There were also other advantages.

“As a kid, all I can remember is never having to wait in line for anything, at the movies or at restaurants, and I thought it was normal to not have to wait in line,” Farrell laughed.

Now Farrell uses his childhood memories as inspiration for his acts.

“It’s become one of my signatures with my Italian heritage,” Farrell commented off-handedly. “People ask me to say something Italian, and I say, ‘get in the trunk.'”

Farrell also draws his inspiration from all facets of his life.

“I don’t just sit down and write stuff — I live life,” he said. “When I was a single crazy guy in the bar scene, I’d talk about being a single crazy guy in the bar scene. Now that I have a two-year-old, that’s what I talk about.”

And he does. Throughout the interview, he kept looking in on her and making off-handed comments.

“She’s sitting in front of the TV watching Little Bear. When that comes on, it’s like magic,” he said, beginning a conversation about today’s cartoons. “I think they’re sending out subliminal messages like, ‘kill your parents.’ I’m sure if you slowed down the tape, that’s what you’d find.

“I hate Barney but now that I have a kid, sometimes I love him because he takes the attention away from me,” he continued. “Right now, she’s staring at the TV. I’m sure they’re saying something.”

Stag parties and churches

“People always expect me to be turned on,” Farrell said. “They come up to me and say, ‘say something funny’ or ‘tell me a joke.’ I usually just blow them off.

“You can’t always be like that,” he continued. “I think I’m clever and upbeat, so hopefully I come off that way. I just sounded like a personals ad.”

Farrell’s biggest pet-peeve is people who try to be too funny or people who want to be funny all of the time but usually come off as non-humorous.

“I hate it when you meet someone at The Funny Bone, and they go into a 20-minute routine,” he said.

Next to his biggest pet peeve, lies his biggest challenge — diversity. Farrell has performed for almost every audience, including stag parties, nightclubs, nursing homes, churches and corporate functions.

“If you’d see me in a nightclub, you wouldn’t think I could do a clergy gig, but I’ve had two shows in one night where you start off at a stag party and end up at St. Pius Church,” Farrell said.

“You have to remind yourself of your surroundings. Sometimes it’s hard to be funny when you have to be clean. You have clean-funny and dirty-funny and sometimes it’s just harder to be clean, but a real comedian will take the challenge.

“Also, when you play a place like The Funny Bone all of the time, you sometimes find yourself into a groove or rut. It’s good to get out of those.”

Farrell will be “getting out of his rut” when he performs at Dew the Rec Friday night. He will be taking the same stage as The Nadas and Kevin Nealon.

“It should be fun, and I promise not to get liquored up. It seems to be a big deal up there this year,” Farrell said. “I’m more excited about my wife and her friends. Now that they’re in their 30s, they’re at that age when they can’t get out and have any fun. They’ll get to go out and relive some college years. I was thinking about having her dress up as a co-ed, maybe a cheerleader, and I could dress up as a football player and, well, I think you get the idea.”