Dom: Welcome to You're From Where?—the podcast where stars of Hollywood meet the heart of the desert. People have heard of the Imperial Valley, but most aren't sure where El Centro is. If you ask someone from San Diego, they've seen the signs but haven't been here. If you ask someone from L.A., they might think it's somewhere in L.A. County or maybe near the Bay Area. Few of them know where Salton City is, but it's a border town that's below sea level and has the brutal summers we all know.
We are your hosts, Dom, Felipe, and Evan, and each week we spotlight celebrities who started their journey right here in California's Imperial Valley. From sun-scorched small towns to the bright lights of fame, these stories prove that even in the quiet corners of the map, big dreams can take root. Stay tuned as we explore the hometown roots, early struggles, and breakout moments of some of your favorite stars—straight out of the Valley.
Dom: I want to start this off by saying thank you so much for doing this for us. We really appreciate it. It’s nice to meet you.
Samantha: Yeah, very nice to meet you too.
Donal Logue: You're so welcome
Sam: and also, happy birthday.
Dom: Thank you!
Evan: Thank you!
Evan: Thank you! So, um, let's start this off. Yeah, so we have some questions prepared for you that we’d just like to ask you about.
Donal: Okay, great. Yeah—sounds great.
Sam: So, tell us about what you were involved in throughout your high school years. Whether it was extracurricular activities, sports—what were you doing?
Donal: Absolutely. And I’ll back it up a tiny bit. We moved to Calexico, California, when I was 10 years old—from Nogales, Arizona. So, another border town. Before that, we had lived in Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Canada, and spent some time in England and Ireland, where my parents are from. Which I think is important because even in Nogales and Calexico, I was fortunate to have a sense that there was a really big world out there. I had been to a lot of places. I was very used to, at a young age, showing up in a new place, going to elementary school, meeting new kids. And as all of us here understand, it’s difficult—socially—meeting new groups and wondering where you’ll fit into the mix.
My father, who had run the Boston Marathon in 1973, got me started running when I was really young—seriously. I was running five miles a day in Nogales when I was eight years old. And then, when I got to the Valley, I kept doing it. We moved to El Centro, and I went to Hedrick Elementary School.
So, I met this girl named Sharon O'Brien, who was a really serious and fantastic runner. And she told me about this club called the Imperial Valley Suns that a guy named Pat Behringer started—it was a running team. So I joined that.
In junior high, I went to Wilson. I ran in this thing called the Christmas Mile. I won it. Then I got hit by a car days later and spent seven months in traction. That was a huge thing in my life because I had been an all-star in soccer, I played tennis, I was a runner. Then, I spent seven months stuck in a bed. I went into my mind a lot—it was a really important time for personal growth, despite the fact that athletics had been taken away from me.
I was lucky—I was in the GATE program in Hendrick, Wilson, and then at Central. I was exposed to phenomenal teachers at every level—elementary, junior high, and high school. When I started at Central, I had barely started walking again, but I went out for the cross-country team. My freshman year, I won the JV cross-country race and got bumped to varsity. That might have been the biggest thing in my whole life at that point—coming back from something so profoundly difficult.
Then I got super involved in high school. And I tell this to kids all the time—those are the decisions that really change the path of your life. All of us have excuses—especially now with the internet—we all have an excuse not to get outside and be part of something. But doing those things that I sometimes jokingly refer to as “the nerdly pursuits”: I did mock trial, Academic Decathlon, speech and debate team, ASB student government. I did sports every year in school. I got super, super involved.
I remember sophomore year, going to the state championships and really feeling something that I think everyone in this Zoom can appreciate. I felt like, “Look, I’m from the Imperial Valley. These kids from Los Angeles and San Francisco and prep schools in San Diego—they drink different water. They eat different food. They just level up beyond where I’m at.” And it’s okay to go and participate, but don’t expect to do well.
Then something happened. I went to school in England—and got kicked out at the beginning of junior year. I came back, and I made this decision not to party anymore. It was the first time in my on-again/off-again struggle with myself that I really cut off the concrete blocks that were dragging me down. And amazing things happened.
We won Academic Decathlon. I won the state speech championships. I went to Boise State for the American Legion program. I went to Sacramento, then Washington, D.C., as one of two representatives from California. I became president of that. And suddenly, the world was weirdly very open to me as a 17-year-old who wanted to go to college.
I realized I could go to any college I wanted to, based on my extracurricular pursuits. I got into every college I applied to. I came here—I'm actually here right now, working on a book. I’m in Harvard Square using an alumni ID at the library. It brings me back to when I was 18, a freshman, and first showed up in the Yard.
It was there that I was introduced to theater—something I had started at Central. There was a woman named Mary Johnson who ran the drama department—she was amazing. And when I talk about Central and these people, I’m talking about your instructors—adults who took the time to help you tend the garden of your young self—who you wanted to be.
There was Steve Maddox, Joel and Judy Jaclich, Joe Evangelisti—the principal at the time—Mr. John Leyton, Mr. Dormer. My cross-country coach John Leyton had a big part in my life. Sports played a part in my life. Being on a team, not wanting to let your teammates down. All these things were critical parts of my development and prepared me for whatever I had to deal with as an adult.
I’ve felt like I was trained really well because of my childhood in the Imperial Valley. And that includes the rougher stuff. There used to be things that happened near Der Wienerschnitzel, next to the Hamburger Stand. Some hard things happened in that parking lot that built your soul. You know the tests and challenges.
I love the Imperial Valley. I stay in touch with so many of my friends from childhood—the ones who knew you when you were just kids. That’s real friendship.
I had a job at Driscoll Sports Headquarters. My PE coach, Mike Driscoll, hired me. He sponsored my Over-the-Line team for tournaments in San Diego. It was a mixture of sports, work, school, and learning responsibility—learning how to show up and do your best.
Dom: Another question we wanted to ask you—how did growing up in the Imperial Valley prepare you for life after high school?
Donal: Oh my gosh—of course.
There’s something kind of crazy about it. Part of what fueled me as a high school student was this fear of—and intimidation by—wealthier kids. If we played Palm Springs or Calabasas, or in speech and debate, and then when I went to college with those kinds of kids, I realized—they're just kids too. A lot of them are very cool.
That archetype I had built in my mind wasn’t necessarily true. But I do think effort and application translate anywhere. The Imperial Valley—it prepares you. What I say to kids is: whatever your dream job is, someone’s going to have it at some point. Why can’t it be you?
You have your story. It’s interesting. You’re enough. Self-doubt—imposter syndrome—is often our biggest enemy. But why not you?
I love that about the Valley. It’s a harder place than others, so in a way, we’re training double-time. It’s physically demanding, brutally hot—it’s tough for animals, for humans. But it makes us tough.
That translates everywhere. There are things that scare me in life—but nothing like riding into that Circle K parking lot that day.
There are so many great people in the Valley. We’re a special group. Those of us who actually grew up there—who walked and biked to school—we know something about life there that outsiders never will. Even if someone makes a documentary, they won’t know it like we do.
And one cool thing about Central—it’s changed a bit with Southwest High now—but at the time, every kid in town went to the same high school. Every socioeconomic class. We were all just there. It was great training for the world.
Felipe: So let’s dial it back a bit—you said you got expelled in England. What happened?
Donal: Yeah, my parents sent me to a Jesuit college in North London called Saint Ignatius. Let’s just say it was a mutually agreed-upon outcome.
And I’ll be bold and honest. I had already done four years in GATE—reading the classics, Greek tragedies, Shakespeare, etc. In England, at the start of junior year, you begin A-levels. One of mine was Classics.
First day, the teacher asked the class to define “tragedy.” He went around the room. Then he asked me. Straight from Chuck Talley—one of Central’s great teachers—I said, “A tragedy is defined in Poetics. It involves the fall of a great man due to hubris—pride in the face of the gods.”
He shut me down. Said, “We had an American like you before.” And I was like—oh man, I’ve already made enemies.
My classmates were great. But I think some of the teachers and admin didn’t like that I was prepared academically. They wanted me to just be dumb.
One day, at PE, we had a substitute. There was a 3-mile cross-country loop in the woods. I ran it. He said I lied—I hadn’t run it. I told him I’d do it again right then. Two kids came in after me, confirmed I’d run it. They wanted me to race for the team.
But it kept building. I believe great teachers can make or break you. Some want to help; others try to break your spirit. It’s dark. You can’t break a kid to fit your mold.
At that point, I wanted to go back to Central.
There were difficulties in the California system, sure—but through extracurriculars, you could test yourself against kids across the country. I loved that about Central. And while being expelled is a bit shameful, it worked out perfectly. God’s plan, maybe.
Felipe: That’s amazing. Final question—any last words or advice for the people of the Imperial Valley?
Donal: Tend the good garden of your soul. For me—being Irish, coming from a certain background—“partying” was more of an obstacle than a help. I liked waking up with a clear mind and purpose.
Through that, I met my best friend—Danny Trejo. I met Danny in 1991. Years later, I wrote his autobiography. It was on the New York Times bestseller list. He always says, “Isn’t it crazy how God works?” He’d say, “This guy’s from El Centro. He knows exactly where I’m from.”
One time, Danny came to speak at Southwest. That meant so much to me—and to the community.
I felt so lucky to grow up in a beautiful, unique mix. My dad always said—there’s something about Irish and Mexican people that just clicks. There’s a shared history, a shared heart. And growing up on the border—it felt like home.
And when I drive past Central and see kids, I think—I was once there. If I can do it, anybody can.
This podcast—what you’re doing—it’s the new world. These are the skills that go worldwide. It’s how we communicate now.
Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen—it’s such a powerful time. You never know what door will open. No way I’d ever be in Ireland, biking as an actor, if I hadn’t done that play in the multi-purpose room with Mary Johnson.
You’re starting now. You’re doing it. Right on. Thank you.
Dom: And that’s a wrap on today’s episode! A huge thanks to Donal Logue for joining us. From his unique experiences growing up in California’s Imperial Valley to his rich acting career—it’s been an incredible conversation. Until next time, I'm your host Felipe—
Evan: Dom—
Felipe: And Evan—and this is You’re From Where?
