This piece appeared in Afternoon TV in November 1981.

AN ATV VIEWPOINT
TONY GEARY--
THE MAN WHO MADE LUKE A LEGEND
by Marilyn Henry

General Hospital's Luke Spencer is, without doubt, one of the most original, most lovable, most unpredictable, most addictive and involving characters to hit the screen since Edison invented the whole gaudy business. While it is true that writers create the roles for actors to play, it is also true that a magical actor can inspire writers to stretch a role to the actor's furthest limits. In the case of Tony Geary, who plays Luke, the actor's range would seem to have no limits.

Creating a good/bad guy character has never been that difficult. In the forties, movie stars like John Garfield and Alan Ladd built high-flying careers out of being stereotyped in such roles. "The trick," a forties' director once remarked, "is that Ladd is never actually shown being as bad as the script tells us he is."

That was the trick in forming the Luke Spencer character. They told us he was a criminal type, a cheap, punk hoodlum with a mob background and they put him in surroundings to substantiate this, but they showed him buying up a poor newsboy's last papers, being loyal and kind to his sister, growing panicked when ordered by his gangster boss to commit a real crime. Most important of all, they let us see that his heart was being purified by love for a beautiful, good girl. This deep, hopeless love made it possible for us to excuse most of his antisocial behavior. Love of Laura motivated everything he did, good or bad. She inspired him to get an education, cut himself free of the mob, seek respectability. She could be wearing a sack, galoshes, and have three zits on her sweet teenaged face and to him she was the epitome of sex appeal.

Unrequited love is always a sure-fire grabber, and seeing this low-life type hungering for a girl he believes to be above him, was enough to tenderize even the toughest heart. The long, lingering looks, the secret pain, the sensitive yearning glimpsed behind the hard, cynical facade, was contrast of an electrifying sort. In the beginning, Geary played a rather quiet, almost mysterious Luke. He was emotional and his frustrations were many, but he was usually soft spoken, with just a thin edge of menace.

Over the two years, Geary has expanded and evolved that original good/bad guy into a kind of modern mixture of Peter Pan, Romeo, Jay Gatsby, Holden Caulfield and Sky Masterson, to name a few of the more irresistible of fictional man-child heroes. Luke is so real by now, we feel we know him thoroughly without ever knowing quite what to expect of him. He is so strong, so cunning, yet so vulnerable, so fallible, that we must tune in every day because we never can be sure from one show to the next if he will win or fail. The suspense is built into the character, regardless of plot.

Geary seems to add new traits to his character constantly, building Luke in small but significant ways no script writer could have the time to devise. He does this by using a combination of facial expression, body language and revealing bits of business. He is pure energy, moving, swaying, gesturing, enticing the eye and the ear with a fascinating array of visual and vocal shadings.

For instance, though no script has said it, Luke is a fanny watcher and a fanny patter. Whenever a pretty girl walks by, his eyes drop just that far. He has Laura's memorized, but he likes to check it out every time he sees her. He has been seen to look at Lesley's, Susan's and even Rose's, and Emma Lutz's wiggle almost had him sliding out of his chair. He has not, however, given Alexandria's more than a cursory glance and thus we know this rather mannish female does not entice him. In fact, his body language tells us he does not like her at all. Whenever Alex touches him, fiddles with his tie, he makes some little readjustment movement, telling us he resents her being that free with him. His posture reinforces this. He leans back, away from her when they talk, while he usually leans forward with people he likes.

Geary has designed several walks for Luke. There is the dejected lope for when things are not going so well, and the sassy, head back, arms swinging bounce for when he is feeling cocky and full of himself. His walk with sister Bobbi [sic], arms entwined, is almost a skip. The tall, lean body is graceful, sensual, especially on the dance floor or when he is exercising his talent for skulking.

Luke is a case study in insecurities. His slum background is a source of both shame and defiant pride. He wants to rise in the world, be rich and social, but he is always uneasy when he has money and finds careless ways to spend it, thus making himself poor again, which depresses him. When the Quartermaines first invited him to their mansion to discuss his new job, he behaved with an embarrassing self-consciousness, first mocking their expensive artifacts (''Ah--I remember this from that last garage sale,'' he said to himself as he examined a cut-glass bowl), then falling into a noticeable to-the-manor-born air, using big words and elaborate phrasings as he swirled their fine brandy in its snifter. (This act is repeated, in varying degrees, every time he crosses their threshold.) Later he returned to his Aunt Ruby's crumby [sic] apartment to drink her Ripple and make fun of rich people. Real inverted snobbery.

In fact, whenever he finds himself in elegant surroundings, Luke tends to behave badly. He has practically disgraced himself every time he has entered the Versaille [sic] Room restaurant, first by going into a jealous frenzy over Laura's first date with Scorpio (he set suave back ten years that night), next by bringing floozy Emma Lutz in with him, and later by stealing everything but the plates off the table the night of his dinner date with Laura.

He is far more comfortable in the very surroundings he claims he wants to escape--such as Kelly's diner or his own ratty tenement. He has a dog-like need to define his territory. When he works somewhere, he just takes the place over, regardless of who is boss. He is really quite obnoxious about this, making his own hours, doing just as he pleases in Kelly's, the ELQ offices or, in the past, the Campus Disco. He also owns Ruby's flat, the Whittakers' barn and Slick's beat-up cub. He can relax in these places and be himself.

Because Laura belongs to him, he owns her apartment as well, and he is casual about using it for, say, a meeting with Benny, but he bristles if he finds someone there he has not passed, especially someone male. He wants to know about anybody who goes there, including Laura's dad, Rick, and he had a dancing fit when he learned Robert Scorpio had been invited inside. ''Don't ever do that again!" he snarled at Laura unreasonably, during a period when he was trying to convince her they were through.

Watching him bob around like the Muppet's Swedish Chef in Calhoun's diner kitchen, using up about a skillet per egg, dropping hamburgers and then sanitizing them with a quick rerun over the grill, planting gum under the tables, was enough to make one want to call the Beecher's Corners' Board of Health. He has cleaned up his act in Rose's kitchen--unless someone too classy for his taste enters his work area. Then he is apt to dribble soup on Edward Quartermaine's tailor-made suit or shake hands with Scorpio after slicing onions.

Luke also has an affinity for washrooms. Who can ever forget the sight of Luke straddling the seat while decoding the black book on top of the toilet tank in a booth in the washroom of Sally's bar? As Scorpio said when asked where Luke has gone, "Where he always goes when he gets excited--to the men's room." But then, where else can one find complete privacy? Actually, he doesn't mind entertaining in his apartment bathroom, as we saw the morning Laura settled there to watch him shave.

Luke is totally compulsive; he can do nothing by halves. When he sets up a con, he makes it so unnecessarily elaborate, he often gets caught in it himself, On a mission to the airport kennels, using a borrowed mutt as a subterfuge, he gives his dog-owner impersonation an effeminate manner. The woman in charge traps him into revealing his real name and he blames the dug. "See what you've done?!" he hisses as he carries the mutt out, "You've ruined my reputation!"

In his dealings with people, Luke has many faces. He is polite to people he hates and can do nothing about, such as Rick Webber, Lee Baldwin, and last year, Frank Smith. He is volatile, snide and insulting to people he hates and can handle, such as Bill Watson and Alex Quartermaine. He lies easily to anyone he does not value, is honest and straightforward with anyone he does. His charm is enormous, in both its conscious and unconscious forms. He is not above playing on his loved ones' emotions, can sweet talk Bobbi, win Ruby with a wink and he handles Laura better than anyone else could, teasing away her scolds by orchestrating her dialogue like a maestro conducting. He likes to take the curse off his romantic pretentions [sic] by mocking them before anyone else can laugh at them, but the truth is, he is the soul of romance and Laura loves the little fantasies he creates.

Their love affair has always been more spice than sugar. Not since Bacall taught Bogie how to whistle has there been such a satisfying--and titillating--case of screen chemistry as the one between Geary and his co-star Genie Francis. When these two get together the tube starts humming with excitement and the underlying sexual tension colors the screen like a red glow. This is made all the more remarkable by the fact that he looks like a long-stemmed dandelion gone to seed, and she looks like a pure little Alice out of Wonderland.

If there is any explanation, it is that they are real. She still gets occasional pimples, he sports shaving nicks; she makes tap-water tea, he trims the burnt edges off fried eggs: she snores and wheezes in her sleep, he keeps his garbage in his closet with his $300 suits; she answers the door to him in jammies and unkempt hair, he shows his face to her bewhiskered; both have to clear off a chair if anyone decides to sit in their abodes, and when it comes to game playing, they mutually hold the five Gold Medals. Actually, they rather appreciate each other's flaws and they can put up with more from each other than anyone else could stand from either of them.

Their love scenes are the hottest on daytime TV, though they are usually played fully clothed. Again, it is that remarkable reality that makes it seem as if the steam is rising off the bodies. Laura's lipstick is kissed off, she gets whisker-burn blush, her hair comes undone, her dress looks explored--and Luke looks in equal deshabille [sic]. The actors forego looking beautiful for the sake of looking human and aroused.

Tony and Genie's professional rapport is awesome. Every line Laura speaks runs across Luke's face and every line Luke speaks runs across Laura's face. The flow between them is like one continuous thread, like a single reading, instead of two separate readings. Their characters' love affair has become among the most convincing in screen history.

Geary has, in fact, brought the leading man business into a whole new era. He is an actor who can make us believe anything and while he isn't regulation handsome, he can be gorgeous if he is concentrating. God gave him all the right actor's tools: a long, dramatically useful nose, a soft, sensuous mouth, and a pair of riveting blue eyes of the kind that used to be called "bedroom" because the pupils are half hooded by the upper lids. The voice itself is not special: his use of it is.

His face is so readable he makes other actors seem blank. That expressive face is interpreting the entire storyline for us, thus creating a dependency in the viewer. He is listening, absorbing, reacting, and we must watch him all the time if we are to understand what is going on in a scene. We are afraid to look away, we might miss something.

As Geary has lightened his character, the show has lightened as well. The show now has the feel of improvisational theatre, has opened up to comedy and multi-level character development. The traditional hand-wringing, domestic and medical agonies that used to be the familiar fodder of GH are gone. Geary's presence has been felt on all fronts.

Of course, there is danger in allowing an actor to swallow a show, even a magnificent actor. Geary is given so much screen time that the other storylines are rather sketchily developed and on his days off, the show practically stops breathing. Also, the actor is so inventive, so incredibly gifted, that it does seem at times the directors may be a bit in awe of him and do not hold him down as they should. He is no under-player--and his upfront technique can slip into hamminess on a loose day. Still, even when he overdoes it, he is endearing about it and the next scene may be so touching, so exactly right, that you quickly forgive his excesses.

Geary's Luke Spencer, unlike many leading men on soaps, is a strong man who dominates his own storyline and has never been manipulated or easily deceived, nor is he hampered by a tedious nobility. As long as Tony Geary can find fresh things to say about him, Luke and General Hospital seem destined to remain the fans' number one favorites.

Here's Tony pre-perm back in 1975, when he played a cold-blooded rapist on Young and Restless. His first soap, below, was Bright Promise in 1970 with Colleen Gray.

Tony and Genie hit it off way back when they first met, but it was many months before Luke and Laura became daytime's hottest on-screen couple.

Luke's incredible notoriety led Tony to make many public appearances this past year. He, along with Norma Connolly and Jackie Zeman, accepted the Hasty Pudding Award at Harvard (left), held a heavily attended press conference in New York, along with Genie (center) and kicked up his heels at a Chicago talk show, (right).