Tom Arnold is among the rarest of Iowans, having survived both the Razzie Awards and the kill floor at Hormel.
There’s a generation of us who may have first met him via Roseanne, but the man has spent decades showing up in wonderful places: Austin Powers, True Lies, The Simpsons, The Best Damn Sports Show Period. He’s the chili dog of famous people; you may not see him everywhere, but you’re damn glad when you do.
Fans will get a chance to see him live on Friday, Feb. 6 when Arnold takes the stage at the Englert Theatre. This homecoming show marks the midpoint of a rigorous tour for America’s uncle, who bares his soul on everything from sobriety to Sons of Anarchy. The guy is notorious for sticking around post-show to connect with his people, so prepare for after-hangs.
To gear up for the ’Glert, we sat down on Zoom to talk about fatherhood, Trump Tapes and detasseling corn.
How is the tour going so far?
It’s going very well. It’s been hectic, sometimes I’ll be in one state one night, then another state the next night, so there’s a lot of traveling. Sometimes you’re back in the car because there’s no airport between shows.
Max Meisel, who opens up for me and is a trainer, put this all together. He opened for me in San Diego a year ago and said, “How do I get on more shows for you?” I told him to book a tour, line up all of the travel and take care of all of the money. Three or four days later, he had us booked on a bunch of nights. It went so well that a big agency saw this and got involved. So now Max and I are out here because of what he started.
There seems to be more of a storytelling element to this tour, more like a one-man show.
I wanted to figure out a way to talk about my life now with sobriety and being a single dad with a 12-year-old, a 10-year-old and four ex-wives.
This is my chance to talk about trying to be a great father, for other great fathers out there. It doesn’t get talked about much, especially by men. It’s OK to talk about. My dad was a single father, too. There are a lot of shit fathers taking us down, too, but this is for the good ones.
This tour is called “My Crazy X-Wife.” You’ve been divorced four times. Are you just talking about one?
Most people think that’s about Roseanne, but she’s not even close to being my craziest ex-wife because we didn’t have kids together. That last one was a doozy; she SWAT-ed us five times. We went into court 30-some times. It’s painful to hear and it’s all public record. To make that funny, it took a couple years of going out to the Comedy Store and the Improv to workshop it.
We did a show at the Improv! Do you remember doing the Green Gravel show? [Full disclosure: I once booked Tom as the headliner on an all-Iowa comedy night at the Hollywood Improv in 2015.]
That was such a fun night. There’s just a shorthand if you tell someone you’re from Iowa.
Hey, detasseling was my first job.
How old were you?
I was 14.
It’s amazing. You go down to the church parking lot and get on a bus with adult drifters, basically, who travel the country doing this. And your parents don’t think that’s a problem. You get out in the field, and if you’re 14, your boss is 16. And older boys are a-holes, so they might just fire your whole crew and you have to hitchhike home 20 miles. It’s hot, it’s sweaty. I remember the crop duster came over and sometimes they just left us in the field. I’m sure it was toxic stuff.
Yeah, I don’t remember Curry Seed following child labor laws to the letter.
But you got paid and that felt good. I’m glad I did it. I don’t want to do it anymore, but we can always tell people that we know what a real job is.
It seems like being a dad is your favorite job. Any tips for new fathers?
Get satisfied. I’ve done a lot of fun things. Travel. Drugs, booze, sex. Now that’s all over. Now it’s all about the kids and I genuinely get more satisfaction out of being a father to them. And shockingly, I make good decisions. And I make mistakes, but I don’t do them again and again. To see your kids have success, academically, with sports, is very satisfying.
I had a friend tell me you were a coach on his kid’s flag football team.
I love coaching. My kids have always played team sports. I played football when I grew up, but I never pushed them into it. So my son cycled through all of the sports: tee ball, soccer, football and then basketball. Now he’s 6-foot-2, weighs 245, size 14 shoe in the sixth grade.
Woah!
He loves getting chesty with dad. It reminded me of the time I got chesty with my own dad when I was 15. I’d had it because he had so many rules about cutting my hair and working in the field for free. So finally I said, “Me and you are gonna go out back and settle this man to man.” He said, “OK, Tommy. I just gotta do this one thing first,” and he slowwwwly extended his arm until his knuckle was just barely touching my chin. And I remember how just the texture of the skin on his knuckle hurt, it was so rough. I said, “We’ll take a raincheck.”
You didn’t become a dad until you were what, 54?
That was the right time. I thought I was going to become a father at 18 when I worked at Hormel. My girlfriend told me that she was pregnant and I was trying to figure out how to make that work. I could see people around me at work who had figured this out: Hormel was their job, it wasn’t their life. So I just said, “Forget about my dreams of Hollywood, this is it.” And I went down to Queen City, Missouri, and her dad was this 6-foot-6 farmer who hated me already, and I had to ask him if I could have Tammy’s hand in marriage.
He wanted to murder me, but he gave me permission. But then I found out that she was lying. And I thanked God that it wasn’t true, and kept thinking, I’ve got another chance.
And now you’re one of the Hollywood Squares.
[Laughs.] Yes. The only time we ever heard our dad laugh, I mean really laugh, was when there was a Bob Hope special on. He’d have beautiful women with him and tell double entendre jokes, which he loved. And I remember thinking, “Whatever Bob Hope does, that’s what I want to do.” So one of the first things I did when I worked in Hollywood was get on a Bob Hope special. Couldn’t have been nicer. And my dad, sitting in the same chair, watching on the same TV, got to see Bob Hope standing next to his son.
You once had a show called The Hunt for the Trump Tapes, trying to expose the racist outtakes of the president when he was on The Apprentice. Do you still believe those tapes exist?
I know they’re out there, and I know they’ve done everything they can to protect him. Early on, I saw Mark Burnett and he said, “I’m not gonna give those tapes to anyone,” then he showed me a picture of his son as Trump’s ringbearer at his wedding.
By this point, it seems like it wouldn’t matter if they came out.
You might be right. I think I could’ve been in Trump’s cabinet, or at least been an ambassador. I still knew Trump by the start of the first time around. But then I would have sold my soul.
Any rituals when you come back to Iowa?
I’m a loyal Hawkeye. When Caitlin Clark was playing for the team, I stayed with the coach [Lisa Bluder]. She’d make me waffles, I’d give a pep talk to the team, then I’d go to a football game, see those guys. I love being there.
I also go back to Ottumwa. There’s not a lot to do, but there’s a restaurant called The Canteen that does loose-meat sandwiches. They were there before Maid-Rite and it’s about 30 feet by 40 feet. And the same women are working there, stirring the meat. I only eat three now, but I used to eat eight. It’s so good. I had Roseanne’s character work in a loose-meat place because of that spot.
You said online that your old friends are coming to the Englert show.
I have to see my friends who I went through school with. It’s good for people to have some old friends because you need someone to bail you out of jail naked, no questions asked.
Wait, did that actually happen?
[Laughs] Oh yeah!
Upcoming event:
Tom Arnold, Friday, Feb. 6, 7:30 p.m., Englert Theatre, Iowa City
This article was originally published in Little Village’s February 2026 issue.
