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So what brought Eric Harrah to State College in the spring of 1997? Simple--Steven Brigham brought him. Brigham himself had tried before and failed to open a clinic there. In fact, no one was able to open a clinic there. Pro-life sentiment was strong in State College, and Eric's assignment would not be easy.
.....First, however, Brigham had to convince Eric. The pair came for a visit in the fall of 1996. They only stayed one night, and Eric decided right then and there he hated State College. It was too small. Too conservative. Too clean. Too wholesome. Besides, there was no Macy's. No Starbucks.
.....But Brigham was convinced that a clinic in State College would make money. It was a university town, so there was bound to be plenty of demand. Even better, there was no competition; the nearest clinic was a good 90 miles away.
.....In the end, Eric agreed to go, but only long enough to get the clinic up and running. On April 9, 1997, Brigham signed a five-year lease for the clinic, to be called State College Medical Services. Brigham set Eric up in an apartment, and Eric began setting up the practice. It was the calm before the storm.
.....It didn't last long. Word of the clinic got out, and the town erupted. There were press conferences and denunciations. The pro-life community found out about Eric's past, about Brigham's past, and they wanted the world to know. Eric, in return, put on his p.r. hat. The proposed clinic was a "family medical practice," he said. He promised free medical care one day a week, then offered to pay for it out of his own pocket. Eric got the media's attention because he demanded it. He would call a press conference if for no other reason than to denounce pro-lifers as "terrorists." He even hired a bodyguard.
.....The building's owners, perhaps wanting to escape the glare, tried to cancel the clinic's lease. Eric, who until now couldn't wait to flee State College, suddenly had a reason to stay. He was in a war, and he loved the smell of napalm in the morning. The fight ended up in court, and Eric's side won.
....."The only way they're going to get rid of me now is if they kill me," Eric told the local newspaper.
.....When pro-life marchers took to the street in prayer and protest, Eric mocked his opposition as "small time." He compared them to a flea--annoying but not threatening.
....."Them coming here and praying isn't going to make a difference," he said. "What's God going to do? Strike me down?"
.....Well, not exactly.
.....Eric may have forgotten God, but God hadn't forgotten Eric. In fact, God seemed to be targeting Eric. His mother and sister had rediscovered the faith of Eric's childhood. They both went back to church, back to the Bible and back to prayer. One guess who they were praying for. And there was always the card with Eric's name on it, the card reminding people to pray for him, the card that for three years resided at Calvary Assembly of God in Dover. Don't put my name there, Eric used to say, but mom wouldn't listen. She couldn't--she loved him too much.
.....In August, during a visit home for his grandfather's birthday, Eric and his relatives went out to eat. At the restaurant, Eric's brother-in-law confronted him about his lifestyle, about homosexuality, about abortion. Things got heated. Eric left.
.....He got in his car and drove back to State College. Sitting in his apartment, Eric did something he hadn't done in years. He prayed.
....."God," he began, "if what I'm doing is so wrong and my life is so terrible, then send somebody to show me the right way."
.....State College Medical Services began offering abortions on Sept. 18, 1997. The clinic had only been open a few days when Steve Stupar drove by for the first time. There was a protest in progress, and yes, there was Eric, standing on the front steps, in all his glory. Lipstick, rouge, fingernail polish. Taunting, threatening, laughing.
.....Steve had never seen anyone--anything--like Eric. He went around the back and parked his truck. By the time he had walked around to the front of the building, the protesters had left, so he picked up a placard and waited. It didn't take long.
The clinic receptionist told Eric that the Penn State football team was picketing the clinic. This, Eric thought, I gotta see. He flew down the steps--bodyguard in tow--and out the clinic door.
.....But there was no team outside, only a clean-cut man wearing a Penn State football sweatshirt and neon blue shorts. Alone or not, Eric figured, this man was still standing on his steps and leaning against his railing. He should have known better.
.....Steve, meet Eric.
....."Get the **** off my steps!" Eric bellowed. "Get off my railing. . . . I'll have you arrested!"
.....Steve didn't budge. "My back is sore," he explained.
.....This, Eric decided, was not the correct response. He got in Steve's face. He screamed, he seethed, he swore, and--when that didn't work--he flirted. When all else failed, Eric propositioned opponents with graphic gay sex. For several minutes, Eric verbally tortured his visitor and enjoyed every moment of it.
.....Sure, Steve was embarrassed but-- unlike the others who had come before him-- he didn't flee. Maybe it was because, at six-foot-six and 265 pounds, the former defensive tackle wasn't intimidated by Eric's size.
.....Finally, Eric paused. "Why did you come here?" he asked.
....."Because you prayed for me to come."
.....Eric practically fell over. How could he know?
....."Don't ever come back here again!" Eric yelled as he backed into the clinic. "I never want to see you again!"
....."Jesus loves you and so do I, Eric, and I'll see you tomorrow."
.....Indeed, Steve came back the next day, and the next. Every day Steve would motion to Eric, but Eric wouldn't come out. He was afraid, though of what he wasn't sure. Still, just seeing Steve gave him comfort. At least someone cared.
.....Nearly a week passed before Eric finally stepped outside. That's when it happened. The abortionist and the pro-lifer, the homosexual and the family man, the sinner and the saint, had a civil conversation. Steve offered to take Eric to lunch, and Eric agreed. They went to McDonald's. They ate Extra Value Meals, and Steve listened to Eric rave about the clinic's success. For a half-hour or more, Steve listened--and silently prayed. Finally, he spoke.
....."Listen Eric, God has sent me to you as a prison keeper--to open up your cell and let you out of the personal hell that you've been bound in for years. I can't pull you out or drag you out, but I can open the door and give you the opportunity to walk out."
.....Eric cursed, stood up and left. Steve caught up to him about a half-block from the clinic. They talked, and a friendship was born. They began having lunch together almost every day, sometimes for four or five hours. They talked about life and growing up, about family and the Bible. Eric met Steve's family. They watched TV together. They played games. They went bowling. Eric bought a Bible.
.....Can't you just picture it? The wickedest man in town, cruising the aisles of the local Christian bookstore. The whole place was staring. One guy looked up, spotted Eric, and dropped his coffee mug! Eric picked out a Bible with a green cover--he liked green--but he was so afraid of what the salesman might say that Steve had to buy it for him.
.....It was a strange time for Eric. The clinic was up and running, but he and Brigham were quarreling. Eric wanted to quit, but there was no one to take his place. He had a new friend, but this guy was telling him that he was on his way to hell. Are you kidding, he was even having dreams about hell! He's in this dark, black cloud, and people are moaning, people are screaming. Finally he comes to a transparent wall, and there's a light on the other side. But he can't pass through, can't get around, can't reach the light. Then it hits him--he's not allowed to. Wait, there's Steve, and he's in the light. Help me, Steve! I'm scared, and I want to get out of here! But Steve can't help him. I tried, Steve says. I tried, but you wouldn't listen.
.....One night Eric was sitting in his apartment. He was tired, his joints were aching. He went to the medicine cabinet and got his pain pills. The blue ones. The ones with the thin white bands. He looked at the pills, and he decided that it was a good night to die.
.....A moment later, 100 pills were dancing on a plate. A glass of water in one hand, his life in the other. Roll the credits, 'cause this was Eric Harrah's final performance. Just then, Eric's Chihuahua barked.
.....Eric looked down at Buddy. It was as if the little fella was asking a question: Who's going to take care of me?
.....Eric put the pills away. Death would have to wait.
The clinic had been open less than a month when Steve's 9-year-old son Nathan invited Eric to church. At first he said no, but eventually he agreed. Of course, Eric hadn't been to church in forever, and the Stupars don't attend some laid-back congregation--no, they attend State College Assembly of God, and everybody knows what the Assemblies say about abortion. Ditto for homosexuality.
.....So Eric decided to have some fun, to give them something to really talk about. He dyed his hair bright red. He picked out his most flamboyant silk shirt. And makeup--can't forget the makeup. Foundation, powder, eye shadow, mascara. Eric was ready for church, but was the church ready for Eric?
.....Steve picked him up that morning, took one look at Eric, and said . . . nothing. Not a word.
....."What do you think of the hair?" Eric asked.
....."It's nice."
.....When they got to church, people looked--how could they not?--but no one commented. Eric didn't understand; he'd just spent $75 on his hair, and no one seemed to care. Then a man stepped on to the platform, and Eric couldn't believe it. The man's hair was redder than Eric's.
....."Who's that?" he asked Steve.
....."That's the pastor."
.....Pastor Paul Grabill knew Eric was coming; Steve had told him. Paul watched Eric shake and sweat his way through the service. Eric was used to being in control, to being on his turf, but now he was in the enemy's camp. He was afraid. Afraid of what people might say, or do, or maybe what God might do to him. But there was no fire from heaven, and after the service, people actually made him feel welcome. He even met the pastor.
....."Nice hair," Paul said.
.....The next day, Eric wrote a letter to the pastor, thanking him for letting him come to his church. But Eric wasn't ready to do business with God--he was still running the clinic, he was still taunting the pro-lifers and he was still as gay as ever. Steve would listen to Eric and wonder, Have I been wasting my time? Hasn't this guy heard anything I've said?
.....So Steve prayed, and prayed, and God gave him three visions--at least, he thought they were from God. One night, at a local steak and seafood restaurant, he decided to find out.
....."Eric, what does the name John mean to you?" Steve asked.
.....Eric blinked hard. John was the name of his grandfather, a man whom he was very close to and at that moment was dying of cancer. But John was a common name--besides, there aren't many Harrahs in Delaware, and Steve could've simply looked in a phone book.
....."I saw a girl in a plaid outfit. Does this mean anything to you?"
.....Eric started to tear up. He knew it was his sister, wearing her old school uniform. His grandfather even kept her school picture in his house. Still, plenty of people knew he had a sister, so he tried to brush it off as another coincidence.
.....Finally, "I saw a plate full of blue pills with white stripes."
.....Eric had heard enough. He told Steve it didn't mean anything, got up and left the restaurant. But he couldn't deny it for long; he didn't want to deny it. He called Steve and apologized. He had lied about the pills, he said, and he told Steve about that fateful night in his apartment.
.....What did it all mean? Eric had always believed that God was real, but this was amazing. For years he had thought he was out of God's reach--and now this. Not only was God still watching him, but God still cared.
On Friday, Oct. 31--Halloween--State College Assembly of God held an all-night prayer meeting. Two hours were dedicated to Eric Harrah.
.....The next morning at the clinic, Eric personally escorted every patient inside. But there was personal business to attend to; he was having dinner that night with Steve Stupar, Paul Grabill and their wives, and it was time to tone down the hair.
.....He was at the salon when the phone rang. It was the clinic.
....."Eric, you need to get back here right away."
.....A problem with a patient. A supposed first-trimester patient who was actually halfway through her second. A frantic doctor--the head was too big, and he couldn't get it out. A screaming patient--Eric had never heard a woman wail like that. It made his skin crawl. It made him--the invincible, unstoppable Eric Harrah--weep.
.....When it was all over, the room was a mess. It looked like someone had been killed. And there, laid out on the surgical tray, was a human puzzle. Arms, legs, a torso with the spine sticking out and a partially crushed skull. Eric took the remains, rinsed them, weighed them and put them in a container. He cried the whole time. Then Eric did something else he'd never done before. He apologized.
.....To the baby.
.....For perhaps the first time, Eric felt sorry. He felt guilty. He felt unclean. He washed up, grabbed his coat, and said goodbye to the staff. It was the last time he would see some of them. The patient's boyfriend stopped Eric in the hallway and asked, "Is it over?"
....."Yes," Eric replied.
....."Did you get it all, I mean, did everything come out?"
....."Yes, we took everything out."
....."Thanks."
.....Eric did not reply. He headed for the door and out into the rain. As he stood there outside the building, the woman who had paid good money to lay there inside his clinic, the woman whom he had comforted, whose hand he had held and whose screams and moans he had endured, came up to him and said, "It was worth it."
.....No. . . it wasn't.
.....But it wasn't worth it, not for Eric, not anymore. That night, after dinner, Eric and Steve and Paul and their wives went back to the church, to the Assembly of God. There, in the pastor's office, Paul led Eric in a prayer of repentance, a prayer of forgiveness, a prayer of acceptance. And for the first time since he was a child, Eric Harrah felt at peace.
.....Paul announced Eric's conversion at church the next morning. Eric just sat there, embarrassed, while the whole congregation stood up and applauded. It didn't take long before word got around. By Tuesday night, the local TV trucks were parked outside his apartment. Eric and Paul conferred, and on Wednesday Eric issued a statement:
....."On Saturday, November 1, 1997, I made a deeply personal choice to commit my life to Jesus Christ and to take a new direction in my life. I have resigned my position as director of State College Medical Services, effective immediately. . . ."
.....Yeah, Eric knew what he was doing. He knew that becoming a Christian meant no more drag, no more clinics, no more men. Somehow he knew that God wanted him to simply walk away. So he did. He walked away from everything: his career, his partner, his lover, his lifestyle. What he got in return was a second family and the father he always wanted. Paul offered to let Eric stay at his house "as long as he wanted," and Eric accepted. He had no car, no job and few possessions, but he did get his own room, three meals a day and a pastor he calls "pop."
.....Of course, he still had his family back in Dover; a mother and sister who loved him, who prayed for him, who held out hope that Eric would one day turn his life around. Sure, his mom cried when she heard the news. At first she didn't believe him--he was kidding, right?--but he assured her it was true, he insisted it was true, and then she believed. The prodigal had come home. When his sister heard the news, she fell to her knees and cried, over and over, "My God is awesome!"
Eric went home for Christmas, back to Dover, and the family could see that it was true. The edginess, the defensiveness--gone, vanished, replaced with a peace they had never seen before.
.....But it was only a visit, because State College is Eric's home now. The town he hated, the town he couldn't wait to escape, is where he wants to stay, maybe for the rest of his life. He still lives with the Grabills, sharing duties with their two teen-age sons. Yes, he's new to the faith, but he reads his Bible every day, and he's in church--sitting right up front--every Sunday.
.....Eric's pain is fading, replaced by joy. He smiles a lot now, and he loves to laugh--hearty, gut-busting laughs. He cries a lot more, too. Simply gazing at the heavens will get him started. And babies--just seeing them, alive and in one piece, will summon up tears. Yeah, Eric has changed a whole lot.
.....He's still Eric, of course. He's still a bit flamboyant, he still loves attention and he still gets a kick out of teasing people. But you won't find him outside the clinic on Saturday mornings, and for that alone, the pro-life community is grateful. Sure, there were doubts about his sincerity, and some still remain. You have to remember that a lot of things were said over the years, both by Eric and about him. But there have also been apologies and acceptance, and a church full of people who love and embrace him. As Eric likes to say, "God is good."
.....Yes, he opposes abortion. To him, the term "pro-life" is too narrow--he'd rather be known as "pro-human." He's also completely forsaken the gay lifestyle. Still, reminders of his past are everywhere. Every time he looks in the mirror, he sees the eyeliner and eyebrow color that were permanently tattooed on so many years ago. And when he rides through town, there is still the clinic, the clinic that only Eric Harrah could open. He hasn't stepped foot inside since the day he cleaned out his office, yet the clinic remains one of the most successful he ever started. Turns out the numbers were good.
.....Eric says the clinics he ran were responsible for thousands--perhaps hundreds of thousands--of abortions, but he's not going to spend his days wallowing in guilt. He believes he's been forgiven, if not by all his former enemies, then by God.
.....Those who hear his story, whether at a church or at a crisis pregnancy center fund-raiser, are often moved to tears. They are reminded that no one is beyond hope, no one beyond forgiveness. After all, if God can forgive Eric Harrah, then maybe there's hope for Uncle Harry. Loved ones thought too far gone are once again the subject of renewed prayer.
.....Eric was baptized on April 26, 1998. It was his 30th birthday, nearly six months after his conversion. There was no mention of abortion or homosexuality, of clinics or cross-dressing. But before his new dad lowered him into the water, before he bathed in the symbolic blood of his Savior, Eric paused to thank everyone at the church who loved and supported him, and who made him feel like one of the family.
....."I have to say, my worst day as a Christian is still better than my best day when I wasn't saved by Jesus Christ. And I want everyone to know that God is good."
