Aspiring comedian Erik Volk entertains the crowd during a recent appearance at Twin River’s Catch a Rising Star.

The Providence Journal / Ruben W. Perez

Except for staff, the room is empty as Erik Volk awaits his turn on stage. He reviews his notes and prays he won’t bomb. He is 41 years old, a corporate executive who dreams of becoming a professional standup comic.

Walking on water might be easier, since for every Chris Rock, there are a thousand Bob Smiths. Bob Smith? Exactly. But this does not deter Volk, who, for now at least, is driven by an immediate reward: making people laugh. When he doesn’t bomb, they laugh, which makes him laugh.

He grew up in Warwick, son of a mother who worked three jobs to support her four children, a childhood with unfunny episodes he incorporates into his act.

“My friends always told me I was funny,” he says. “I’ve always liked to make people laugh and smile.”

This is a friendly philosophy for someone in such a tough business. Volk is at Catch a Rising Star at Twin River in Lincoln tonight, a place that has been good to him in his new vocation, but the memory of a gig one recent night in another club is fresh. And excruciating, like a needle in the eye.

“Not only was no one laughing –– no one was paying any attention at all to what I was saying. And that was really painful. I was down one end of the building almost, and people were sitting at the bar at the far end, and that was difficult. When the show’s bombing, when nobody’s laughing, five minutes seems like an absolute eternity.”

Tonight’s goal?

“I hope I don’t suck,” he says, laughing. Unlike stand-ups whose humor keeps demons at bay, Volk amuses himself.

The hour approaches. Host Frank O’Donnell summons tonight’s comedians, a woman and six men, to a corner of the club by the sound booth. O’Donnell teaches the popular Comedy Boot Camp, which Volk attended this year.

“I do need somebody to volunteer to go first,” O’Donnell says.

An older man from Springfield, Mass., offers himself up.

“We’re not strict on the time,” O’Donnell says. “If you’re on a roll and go a little over, I don’t really care –– unless seven minutes is a little over, ’cause then, not so good. Let’s have fun. We actually have a crowd.”

The club is half-full, not bad for a Wednesday night in a recession.

ANTHROPOLOGISTS tell us that laughter probably predates civilization.

Which means that ancient ancestors told jokes? Perhaps. So why did the Neanderthal cross the cave? To get to the other side. Badda-bing, badda-bang.

There is a serious purpose to laughter, scientists say, which is why pleasing response to funny is wired into our brains (most of ours, anyway). Gelotologists, scientists who study humor, say that laughing has a physically beneficial effect. If not the best medicine, it’s a darn good one.

“Laughter is one of the best ways to cause positive emotions in a negative situation,” says Dr. Machelle Seibel, a professor at the University of Massachusetts Medical School.

“Laughing releases endorphins — hormones that act as natural painkillers and make us feel good –– and helps improve the immune system. These hormones stay elevated for a while after we quit laughing. Laughing also lowers our blood pressure and slows down our heart rate. That is exactly the opposite of how stress affects our bodies. Researchers believe that laughing 100 times is as healthy as exercising for 10 to 15 minutes.”

Even animals laugh, as Science News reported on July 28, 2001. According to the publication, Brian Knutson of the National Institutes of Health recorded ultrasonic chirps from rats before they received morphine or had sex. (No jokes, please.) His conclusion: rodent “laughter” indicated that “the rat expects something rewarding.”

Another scientist, Jaak Panksepp of Bowling Green (Ohio) University, recorded happy squeaks when he tickled his animals. “Of course, you have to know the rat,” he told the publication. Yes, Jaak, you do.

VOLK, a senior learning consultant at Boston Financial Data Services in Quincy, Mass., took a comedy course years ago when he lived in Seattle. He did one show. In April, having settled in Attleboro, he resumed the quest.

“I made a commitment to myself that I was really going to try and follow through on it this time.”

Volk admires Chevy Chase, Eddie Murphy, Kathy Griffin, Ellen DeGeneres and lesser-known comics. He writes his own material, carrying a tape recorder with him to capture moments of inspiration. He practices with a karaoke machine in his basement. He strives for two live performances a week, at bookings and open-mike nights, when anyone can go on.

“A good show is when the audience is very responsive and very into what you’re talking about and people are paying attention,” he says. “The best shows are when you have two or three people that just have unbelievable laughs. Because the laughter from other people just makes other people laugh.”

Some day, he would like to support himself with his comedy.

“Do I see it in my near future? Probably not. It’s a long trail.”

Which tonight winds through Lincoln, R.I.

“Really, what’s in it for me is the same thing that I started doing it for: I just love to see people laugh. If that means that I’m famous in Rhode Island, if that means I’m famous in Massachusetts and not beyond, that would be great.”

O’DONNELL warms up the crowd with a joke about the economy and then introduces the Springfield man, who tells old-people sex jokes. Not funny. The night rolls on. Maya Manion, a mother from Middletown, and Mike Hanley, a Cumberland native now living in Mansfield, Mass., draw the biggest laughs. They have the gift. They set endorphins in motion.

“On this show,” O’Donnell says, “we determine our headliner by the comedian who brings the most people. And tonight this is the guy who is responsible for the biggest part of our audience. You guys are going to clap, you’re going to scream and you’re going to welcome, starting now, ladies and gentlemen, Erik Volk!”

Volk takes the microphone and shields his eyes from the lights.

“All right!” Volk says. “How you all doing? I can’t see all of you, but I know there’s a lot of ladies out there, right?”

Women clap.

“I don’t have very good luck with the ladies,” Volk begins. “Never have. Matter of fact, when I was in college, it was such a problem for me I went to see the school psychologist. And they diagnosed me with a clinical condition. I don’t know if you’ve heard of this. It’s called: You’re a great big old homosexual.”

The crowd loves him. Volk, who is openly gay, moves deeper into his act, much of it too off-color to relate here. But this one, drawn from his childhood, can be. It’s about Volk’s parents: an absent father and a hard-working mother.

“She’d come home and she liked to play this game with us. It was kind of like a scavenger hunt. Have you ever played scavenger hunt –– where you go around the neighborhood and look for stuff? Yeah? She called it ‘find your goddamn father.’ But that was better than other families in the neighborhood. Their game was called: Who’s your goddamn father?”

The crowd laughs. Volk laughs.

Eight minutes, 10 seconds after he began, Volk closes.

“OK, that’s my time folks! Thank you so much. My name’s Erik Volk.”

The lights go down. Volk drinks a beer with congratulating friends.

“I think I did OK,” he says. “I think I said ‘ah’ a lot. Other than that, the time went by very fast. I had some other material I was going to end with, but I saw the light go solid, which means your time’s up.”

Erik Volk’s Web site is: www.myspace.com/erikvolk

Frank O’Donnell’s site is: www.frankocomedy.com/default.html

gwmiller@projo.com