Emily Quartermaine Returns to General Hospital (sort of) to Celebrate a Cultural Milestone

A trip back to my acting roots on the set of the iconic daytime TV show for its 60th anniversary.

I began my acting career young, like Young-Sheldon-level young, and appeared as an uncredited background actor in a few small films before landing a leading role on the iconic soap opera General Hospital at the age of ten. I remember walking into the casting building located at the ABC Studios lot in Los Angeles for my first audition to play Emily Bowen Quartermaine surrounded by young girls who looked similar to me, also waiting to audition. Longtime casting director Mark Teschner played my scene partner during the audition reading, and though I had no experience, he loved my performance enough to have me come back and read again (in the business this is referred to as a “callback”) for the brilliant and lovely Wendy Rich, who was showrunner of GH at the time.

As Wendy and Mark tell it, I won their hearts—and the role—not just with my young acting chops, but by ending the audition by reading a poem I had written. I’m not sure why I decided to read a poem that day, and even though it was definitely a precocious move on my part, I love so much that I did it, unprompted—that even at that tender age, I knew exactly the kind of dimension and depth I held and wanted to share that with the world. I was so proud of my writing as a young poet, not a drop of fear or hesitation in me, as if to say to these two titans of daytime television: Yes, I can cry on cue, but also, get a load of this adolescent feminist iambic pentameter! (I must make it clear, dear reader, that I did not, in fact, say these words for real . . . I wasn’t that precocious.)

A scene with Leslie Charleson and the late Stuart Damon who played my adoptive parents on General Hospital.

It was that lack of fear or hesitation as a young actor that would turn what was originally supposed to be a three-month recurring role on General Hospital into a seven-year, full-time gig and one of the best acting experiences I have ever had in my career. The actors I worked with, or even didn’t work with but knew from set, were all like extended family to me, and I cherished my time working there through the turmoil of my preteens and teenage years. They took care of me, on set and off. They let me have sleepovers at their houses and took me to see my favorite bands at The Roxy to give my parents a break. (Here’s looking at you, Kimberly McCullough!) They were my teachers, my friends, and when needed, my authority figures. So when, at the end of 2023—more than two decades after I had left the show to pursue other acting opportunities—Mark Teschner emailed me to see if I wanted to be a part of the 60^th anniversary special celebrating the show’s legacy, the answer was a resounding YES. 

Soap operas are a beloved cultural staple in the United States, just as the telenovela is in Latin America. If you’re a millennial or older, it’s extremely likely you grew up with a family member that watched their favorite soap opera in the afternoons, and therefore, so did you. You may have watched your mom or grandma’s favorite soap opera with them when you were young or when you were home sick from school and the high drama of a soap storyline felt as healing as chicken soup. Or it may have been completely by accident as an adult, sitting in a doctor’s office waiting room when the mesmerizingly handsome and emotionally powerful Maurice Benard (Sonny Corinthos on GH) was either killing someone or kissing someone, and you were immediately hooked for life. We love soap operas because they are a form of entertainment that promise long-term consistency and a form of intimacy with characters in a world (and television landscape) that often feels unstable and disconnected. We can count on soap operas to give us exactly what we want: our favorite characters and their wild, crazy, jaw-dropping lives five days a week at the exact same time every day, with storylines that unfold not in disjointed seasons or after lengthy hiatuses, but in continuous, year round arcs, just like real life. 

We grow up with our favorite soap opera characters; we get married just as they are getting divorced; we lose loved ones at the same time. We’ve been there with them—or rather, they’ve been there with us, right in our living rooms—as the most heart-wrenching and/or outlandish things have happened in their lives: affairs, murders, drug addictions, ALIEN ABDUCTIONS! We love soaps and the characters that exist on them because, even in the most melodramatic of ways, their struggles are our struggles, their wins are our wins, their grief is our grief, and together we share in all of it, year in and year out, for as long as we want to. You don’t have to be gutted that your favorite soap is going to get canceled like your favorite show was after just one season (Y:The Last Man, anyone?) or have to wait another year until you find out what happened to that one character after an evil presence starts haunting her dreams throughout multiple episodes. (She levitates while being possessed by Satan, of course!) Soap operas are reliable, wild fun, giving us everything we need that real life sometimes cannot: closure from a shocking death, revenge against a sworn enemy, and the hottest of affairs or gossip. 

Zander Smith (played by Chad Brannon) and Emily Quartermaine on the cover of Soap Opera Weekly in 2001

When I entered the General Hospital building at the end of last year, I ran into so many actors and old friends I hadn’t seen in years and was reminded of the ones who had passed away—their smiling faces on the posters that lined the hallways. I met up with Mark Teschner in his office where he pointed to the seat across from his office desk and said, “Right there! Right there, sitting in that seat, is where you stole my heart.” (Referring to where I was seated when I did my audition for him all those years before.) He took me over to meet showrunner Frank Valentini before leading me to the same hair and makeup room where I had gotten dolled up and ready to shoot my scenes for so many years as a teen. It still looked just like it did when I was younger—the mirrors lined with holiday cards from cast members, the day’s call sheet with all the scenes marked up with notes, and enough curling irons, round brushes, and blow dryers to make Drybar look like an amateur operation. From there, Mark and I went up to the stage, my old stomping ground, and I watched a Christmas scene being shot with Genie Francis, Maurice Benard, Rebecca Herbst, and Jon Lindstrom, all of whom I had known so well so long ago. Even the stage manager, Craig McManus, was still there wearing his classic denim jeans and big, joyous smile. I hugged and talked with each of them, and it felt like not a day had gone by since I had last been there. 

After they finished the Christmas scene, it was my turn to record a little something special for the 60^th anniversary tribute, which airs tonight, January 4 at 10pm ET on ABC and will be streaming on Hulu tomorrow. For my cameo in the anniversary special, Frank kindly wrote a short speech for me and asked that I come through the doors of the hospital set, walk to my mark (a point on the ground where an actor stands), and read from the teleprompter. So I made my way to the back of the set and stood behind the big General Hospital automatic doors, preparing to walk through them once again. The familiar voice of stage manager Craig called out to the crew that we were rolling (meaning the camera had started to film and everyone should get quiet).Then he did the countdown to action that I had heard for so many years when I was a kid: “In, 5, 4, 3, 2 . . .”

On 1, the doors opened and I walked slowly through the hospital set, taking it all in. This wonderful place—this specific television set where my TV dad and mom played the head doctors of this particular TV hospital—carried so many good memories for me in a business that often created bad ones, especially for young performers. Becky Herbst stood to the right of the camera, and I could feel her smiling in my periphery in the way only a big sister could. We did just two takes before Craig called “Cut!” followed by “Moving on!” which indicated they got what they needed and were ready to move to the next setup. It was quiet for a moment, and then I heard Becky’s voice beaming from behind the camera: “You still got it, kid.”

As I pulled my car off the ABC lot at the end of the day, I was overwhelmed with a sense of love and gratitude and a pride in my work and my part in the legacy of the show and all that I’ve been able to accomplish so far in my life. Still got it, and still gettin’ it. How lucky am I? I’ve thought since then, To live this wildly creative, unique life that contains multitudes: to love how far I’ve come and love even more the experience of returning to where I came from.

Happy 60th to my whole General Hospital cast and crew! What an honor it was to be on a stage with all of you. 

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Do you have a favorite soap opera you grew up with that carries nostalgia or a special connection for you? Share them in the comments with us!

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