"You come in here and think you own this place."

These were the first words I heard out of Phil Carey's mouth.

"You mean I don't?" I shot back.

It was the start of something beautiful.

No doubt about it. I have dad issues. I spent many years trying to get my dad to tell me that he loved me. I didn't know what I didn't know. It's not that he didn't want to say the words. He couldn't say the words. As an adult, I have come to understand how transparent and fragile human beings are when it comes to emotions.

When Philly gave me instant disapproval, I was an old hand at it. I knew just how to handle him, and it threw him but good. From that moment on, we were as tight as a father and daughter. Thick as thieves. He loved it when I would walk in a room and shout "lock up your sons!"

I teased him all the time. It only failed me a few times, mostly towards the end of his run as the magnificent Asa Buchanan and he wasn't feeling well.

He was a cantankerous man. But underneath it all was a softie. All you had to do was bring up his wife Colleen, or his kids, and his whole face would change. Mush.

Bob Woods tortured Phil every week with some kind of practical joke. He once got up in the grid which has to be a good 50 feet high and off limits to actors, just to hang a rubber bat on a fishing wire and lower it into Philly's scene right in the middle of it. Phil thought he was hallucinating. There he was in the middle of being Asa Buchanan, in all his glory, and this rubber bat was tickling his head, wings a-flap.

Woods would take a picture of Phil's face, and super-impose it in some embarrassing situation, and then tack it all over the studio and dressing room area. He taped it to every single camera in the studio. It was Philly's nightmare and he couldn't make it go away. Woods did that to him everyday for a solid year.

When he and Clint Ritchie and Woods would get together, it was pure magic. Talk about twinkle! The whole room would light up. The three of them would turn into teenaged boys when they were together. Once, they were horsing around pretty good, and one of the ladies on the show turned and hissed, "how do you people get dates??!" Clint said, "we pay for them!" Philly, Clint and Woods just roared. They were a fearsome three-some.

As gruff as Phil pretended to be, it was all a ruse. He hid his cigarettes from his wife. She was the boss lady and we all knew it. She loved that man. She is the best wife a man could ever hope for, and he knew it. He adored her. I used to call her a Saint. I still think that.

Poor Woods had to make two sad calls to me this week.

I was so sad to learn of his passing. But how perfect that he and Clint went on ahead at the same time.

Philly was a good catholic. He loved the Lord, and I know that he and Bucky went home to be with the Father. That gives me much peace.

In show business, whenever we finish an acting job in the theatre, we say, "I had a good run." That means we did a good job, had fun, made the most of the task at hand, and excelled.

He had a good run.

Who am I kidding? He owned the joint.

Philly, you will ALWAYS be the Big Daddy...

Labels: One Life To Live, Phil Carey