Nothing General About It

by Maurice Benard

  The table reading with the cast, Victoria and the other producers, and Catherine was nerve-racking because I was wondering how much accent I should use, and on top of that one producer was very cold to me. It didn’t help that the first day of shooting I couldn’t get the accent right, but thank God they weren’t covering me and the camera was on Chelsea. I could feel the mood in the room and the producer wasn’t happy, so I was petrified because my close-up was next. Mercifully, we broke for lunch and I sat in the car with Paula, quiet for a few minutes, until finally I said, “I don’t know, baby, I can’t get it.”

  But Paula knew I could and took me to the trailer, running lines over and over and over until finally something clicked, and when we returned to the set after lunch break to shoot my close-up the accent was there. Catherine gave me a thumbs-up and we continued to the next scene, where Gotti and his wife are fighting in front of the kids and she comes at him with a knife. I remember when I first yelled at her everyone jumped and it got quiet, and I knew in that moment I had it.

  The following day we shot the last scene of the film, a terribly touching and sad scene between Gotti and his daughter. In it, Victoria visits Gotti in prison to find he is dying of cancer, and all the things they’ve never said to each other sit between them like a huge wall. It was draining emotionally because I was thinking of my own daughter Cailey and wishing I could have told her more that I was proud of her for going to college.

  The same producer always talking to Paula or the director to complain, however, was upset that I wasn’t playing Gotti like Tony Soprano. It was exhausting and confusing because there were two different mindsets about this character, but Victoria seemed like the honest authority on the subject to me, so I followed her lead. She told me countless stories about her dad, and seeing him through her eyes informed my performance.

  In the first couple of scenes I had ignored the dialect coach and the accent was okay, but after five days off I called the dialect coach. “Help!” I pleaded, and the coach did; after that, the accent got better.

  But the real problem was the producer who clearly didn’t want me in the role and made it miserable for me. Thank God for Victoria, and my brilliant director, Catherine, who communicated with me, believed in me, and balanced it out. At least three times I told Paula, “Put me on a plane; I’m outta here,” but Paula always talked me down and I got through it, although it was unpleasant. In a way, I believe all that negativity from the producer ignited me to perform better. In every scene there was so much angst inside me I channeled Gotti’s rage more because of how I was feeling.

  Gotti was the hardest thing I had to do in my career, because I have never wanted to quit a film and I wanted to quit that one. But I didn’t. I worked my ass off, listening to “Gives You Hell” by the All-American Rejects every day, and pushing through.

  My psychiatrist, Dr. Schaub, took one look at me over Skype and said, “You’re calm, you’re level, and I think this experience has changed you.”

  I think he was right. I think after everything that had happened the past several years, Gotti should have been the breaking point, but it wasn’t, because each tragedy had changed me, little by little. I had learned, really learned, to use all the tools I had been gathering all these years. Paula always told me I could overcome anything, and for the first time I thought she was right.

  But it took a lot out of me. When we finished shooting, I was spent. Sonny is like being in first gear and Gotti was like being in third gear and I couldn’t wait to get back and see everyone at General Hospital. We left at one o’clock in the morning and flew to Los Angeles, and when we landed I drove straight from LAX to the set to do a scene with Steve.

  “Take that John Gotti out of here,” he said in the middle of the scene, because I was still doing the damn accent.

  It was also good to be back because Frank had planned a twenty-fifth anniversary tribute show for Sonny and me. The episode was really something special, entitled “What If?”—what would have happened if Sonny had never killed anyone as a young boy and gotten trapped in the mob? It felt like a huge movie set with all the extra bells and whistles they brought in for the shoot that examines Sonny’s life choices. Dominic had been off the show a little while but came back for that episode, and that meant a lot to me. I also knew the brilliant director Phideaux Xavier would make it special.

  This tribute show was extra-special because it was also a family affair. What better child to capture the inner turmoil of Sonny (and me) than my own incredibly talented son? Although he had been in our film The Ghost and the Whale in flashbacks, he’d had no lines or scenes interacting with other actors. I knew he thought it was fun, but I had no idea he wanted to act until one day when I was working at the house with Franky Cammarata, the brother of Cassidy’s boyfriend, an actor who at the time was a model just starting out. He wanted help for an audition, and Joshua, thirteen, was watching. Franky tried but just couldn’t get it.

  “Hey, Dad, let me try it,” Joshua said.

  “Okay, go for it.”

  I really had no expectations, but I was stunned at how good he was. He came at the scene from a totally different direction, without any coaching, and it was raw and instinctual. He also really got into it and I could see him light up. That look was familiar. It reminded me of how I felt when I discovered what I wanted to be in life.

  “I want to act, Dad,” he announced on the spot.

  Of course I felt a burst of pride that my boy wanted to follow in my footsteps. “Okay,” I said. “But you have to be grateful, buddy. God gave you a talent for so many things—acting, piano, boxing—but if you don’t have the drive to back it up, it won’t matter. Determination outweighs talent. So thank God every day for yours and don’t waste it.”

  He’s got more talent than me; thank God I have the drive and will to make it happen.

  Talk about being proud when Frank hired him. That was a special moment and it was pretty cool to perform with Joshua, particularly watching him as a younger version of my character. Max Gail was also in the scenes, and he and Joshua and I were all soaking wet from a rain machine making the soundstage feel very much like a cold, dreary day in upper New York. Joshua held his own and was amazed that he got to shoot a prop gun in the scene. Ironically, he also had to be soaking wet most of the day, just as in his last acting job on our film The Ghost and the Whale, because in the episode Sonny sees his younger self standing outside his window in a rainstorm. But again, Joshua didn’t complain about being cold even though he walked around wrapped in a blanket between scenes.

  My daughter Heather was sitting on a barstool in one scene and Cailey and Cassidy’s pictures were framed on Sonny’s mantel as his children in his alternate life. Paula, Cassidy, and my parents were all watching from behind the camera and I felt so blessed. It was one of those magic days.

  Meanwhile, I continued to talk to my own father about selling their house in Martinez and suggested they come live with us. Simultaneously, Paula also started looking for another house for us that would accommodate my parents as well.

  We searched for months and we finally found a beautiful house outside Temecula. The first thing I saw was a large pond against a backdrop of huge boulders with a perfect view of serene trees and hills stretching for miles, with plenty of land for our horses. The massive stone fireplace, high ceilings, and natural light flooding the interior of the house also won me over.

  We purchased the house and finally convinced my parents to sell theirs. We built a separate wing for my parents and they made that their own home. Just as when I was little, everything is beautiful and always perfectly in its place. My mother keeps every piece of memorabilia from our lives and has bookcases of scrapbooks to prove it, and the guest room in their wing has framed photographs of me and my brother from floor to ceiling. It’s a constant reminder to me how much she loves me and my brother and how much she supported me every step of the way on the path toward achieving my dream of acting.

  It’s
like everything has come full circle. Dad and I sit on the couch and watch the 49ers and boxing like we did when I was growing up, but of course things are different now; all of my anger at him has faded away. Even in his eighties, he goes to my appearances at clubs and gets up onstage with me to sing to the crowd, like I used to sing to his guests at parties. My fans love that as much in real life as they do on my Instagram.

  The older I get, the more perspective I have, and now I’m grateful for every day I have with my parents and for every day they are healthy. My mother and father helped me when I was at my lowest, my darkest, my worst, and didn’t stop loving me. They did the hardest thing a parent can do and committed me to an institution to get help. They found Dr. Noonan for me, and the lithium that saved me.

  Because of their belief in me and their help, I was now equipped to help my mother when she decided to confront her own anxiety and depression.

  We had never discussed it all these years I had been dealing with my own. I had never thought about it when I was younger, but as I got older and went through therapy, I thought back over the years to how anxious she was when I went to school the first time, and how anxious she was when I was involved in sports matches, and so many other situations. I just hadn’t put two and two together until we were living in the same house again and I saw her every day.

  I started noticing that anxious, dark energy more and more, so I went to my dad and told him I thought she was going through something and we had to help her. He agreed, and one day we all sat down together.

  “Mom, it seems like there’s something inside you that’s dark and ugly, I think you’re depressed and suffer from anxiety. I’m telling you this because I love you and want to help you,” I said gently but firmly.

  I was surprised when my mother suddenly opened up.

  “Hijo, I’m tired of living like this, I’m tired of living with nerves all the time. I hate the way I feel inside,” she blurted out bluntly.

  My mother is smart and intuitive and I think all these years she knew she was dealing with depression and anxiety but she didn’t feel like she could say anything. That’s generational and cultural, just like her response to my dad’s affairs, which luckily they worked through.

  I took her hand and led her outside and we sat meditating and breathing in the peaceful surroundings.

  As I talked about the importance of therapy and how much it would help, she listened and the tears started forming. “I want to feel better, hijo,” she finally said with conviction.

  I’m so proud of her. It’s a beautiful thing to be able to better yourself and change, and when you’re in your eighties, it’s downright amazing. She’s starting her own journey to her own self-discoveries and I’m right there for her, just like she was there for me as I went on my long dark journey.

  There was much to be thankful for. As the fall arrived, we planned a huge Thanksgiving feast at the new house and invited friends and family.

  If family is God’s best gift, true friends are a close second. Even though the house was still under construction—the kitchen floor hadn’t even been finished—no one cared. Friend after friend only seemed to see the food and wine and enjoy laughing and catching up. They were also thrilled to meet my new animals. Since I still missed Cain so much, as always Paula knew an animal would help heal me. That’s how Buddy the Goat, another Instagram star, came to live with us, along with three alpacas, two more horses, and two maremmas. I spend my mornings with my coffee outside with them.

  Paula and my dad and Cassidy cooked all day and my father was the bartender as people began arriving. After it got dark, the guests sat at long tables hugging the walls of the circular turret-esque room in the center of the house under its vaulted ceiling, with dish after dish of delicious food Paula had prepared on a table in the center of the room. While everyone piled food on their plates and laughed, I looked at all the people who were in my life, gathered to celebrate the amazing gift of friendship. I was moved and grateful, and I stood on my chair to tell everyone there how much they meant to me and my family.

  I also thought about all the people who weren’t there, but one person in particular was on my mind. Donna had been sick and hadn’t been at work for weeks. I didn’t realize how long she’d been sick. Looking back, it’s clear she had known when I talked to her on my cell phone at the airport waiting to board my flight to Canada for the Gotti film.

  “How are you feeling, Donna?” I asked.

  “Oh, my stomach’s bothering me, so the doctor’s doing some tests. But it’s nothing. Now, don’t you be nervous, you are going to kill this role,” she said.

  Some friends stayed overnight and helped me feed Buddy the Goat in the morning. As we hung out in the kitchen drinking coffee and swapping stories, I got a text that Donna, my dear friend, was not doing well. It turned out that when we last talked, she was aware she had bile duct cancer but didn’t want to worry me because she knew I was nervous. That was typical Donna.

  She hung on for another week, and on December 6 we got a call that Donna was gone. Donna and I were as close as could be, and receiving that call was like a family member had been taken. As with all my other friends I’d lost before her, I didn’t get to say goodbye to Donna. She didn’t want me to see her that way; she was protecting everyone to the very end.

  It was strange to think Donna wasn’t at home or coming back someday for just one more irritating hug. But this time when tragedy struck, the darkness didn’t come for me and I didn’t go into a spin. It was almost as if Donna were out there, like an angel, wrapping me in that calm. Paula and I attended a memorial for Donna at her church in Los Angeles and everyone from General Hospital showed up, and it was clear by the packed church that she was loved by so many people. Her send-off was touching, peaceful, and beautiful, and I could feel her spirit present all around us.

  At the studio, Frank unveiled a bench with a plaque lovingly dedicated to Donna in her memory. It sits just outside the set where she always took her breaks to soak up some sun, and her husband Nick and I were the first to sit there that day. Nancy Lee Grahn and the wonderful Jane Elliot, who has played Tracy Quartermaine for decades, joined others in creating a GoFundMe page for Donna’s sons Nick, Jr., Vito, and Antonio in honor of our beloved Donna. The new story line after she passed also honored her: Sonny and Carly’s new baby is named Donna Courtney Corinthos (Courtney after Sonny’s deceased sister). I had to give a long speech about the “girl from the neighborhood” who inspired the name, and it was one of the hardest monologues I’ve ever had to do. As I described Donna to a T it was emotional for everyone in the scene and on set. I know that Donna is smiling at that namesake.

  A week after Donna died, her son Nick, Jr., came to the studio to see me. He had always suffered from anxiety and Donna discussed that many times with me, and whenever she asked me to reach out and talk to him, I did. She was always so strong for everyone.

  When he walked in, I asked him how he was and he said he felt a peace, and I told him I felt it, too, for the first time in my life.

  “I think it’s your mom giving us this gift,” I said.

  He nodded in agreement. “I think so, too.”

  Not long after, Donna’s husband, Nick, Sr., came out to the house and hung out with the goats and we talked about Donna for hours. The thing that sticks with me most is that Nick kept saying he didn’t know how he was going to live without her. He knew he had to be there for his three boys or Donna would “kick my butt from heaven,” but he was having a hard time with it, and just six months later he passed away. I hope Donna’s not too mad at Nick because he couldn’t be there for the boys. I think he needed her more and I understand how he felt. I also know Donna made sure she gave her boys the strength they needed to handle this; I think that’s a fact.

  The last time Nick, Sr., and Donna had been at our new house together was right before Donna got sick. He loved the pond and kept teasing that he was going to fill it with fish. It was a beautiful day and after w
e hung out awhile we went out to dinner. We laughed and had a great time. I had no idea that was the last time I’d be together with them, or the last happy memory I’d create with them. I will always treasure it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Future’s So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades

  I haven’t cried yet for Donna, but I still feel her around. She radiated a sense of peace and calm, and dealing with the grief of losing her in a healthy way is proof of the gift she gave me. That peace I felt after the funeral followed me into the new year, and all the demands of my schedule didn’t affect it.

  In January I had a big personal appearance facing me and had to get on a plane to Memphis. In the winter. Usually that could have been a big problem for me and caused a lot of stress and anxiety, but although the weather was bad and caused terrible turbulence during the flight, somehow I wasn’t terrified like many of the other passengers.

  The General Hospital fan event at Graceland was probably the biggest event we’d ever had and was also the first time the cast had stayed at the same hotel with all the fans. The new hotel Priscilla Presley meticulously designed and decorated was really stunning. Paula is a huge Elvis fan, so she was thrilled to go, and Cassidy was with us, as well as a few friends who ended up helping me sneak to the restaurant or the gym or to get in and out of the hotel without getting mobbed by the fans.

  It always amazes me that fans are willing to travel some distance to attend such events—sometimes, for the international travelers, thousands of miles. I talked to people who were there because the trip was an anniversary gift, or it was a birthday wish, or groups of girlfriends had planned it as their ultimate girls’ weekend out. No matter who I talked to, there were interesting stories from all over the country, and even a few international travelers.