Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz are perhaps one of the most famous couples in television history. Their romance continued off-screen as well. Their marriage was famously tumultuous, and no one knows that better than their daughter Lucie Arnaz.
Keep reading to know more about their daughter and how her life turned out over the years.
Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz were perhaps the most beloved couple on American television at one time. Their show I Love Lucy depicted them as the Ricardos, a middle-class couple that were the ideal nuclear family.
The show had six seasons and ran from 1951 to 1957. It followed Lucille as Lucy Ricardo, a housewife who always gets into hilarious situations. While the couple seemed perfect in their on-screen depiction, in real life, their relationship was quite volatile.
The former Broadway star and the Cuban bandleader met while filming Too Many Girls. Their whirlwind six-month romance led to an elopement and marriage in November 1940.
After over a decade of their marriage, the couple became parents to daughter Lucie Arnaz, born on July 17, 1951. Two years after that, on January 19, 1953, they became parents to their second child, their son Desi Arnaz Jr.
The two children joined their parents in the family business of acting. They starred alongside their mother in the spin-off shows for I Love Lucy. Then in May 1961, after nearly two decades together, the couple filed for divorce.
It took years for Lucie Arnaz to open up about the reality of her parents’ marriage and their subsequent divorce. She revealed in a 2018 interview how “They were fighting all the time when we were growing up. There was a lot of anger and screaming.”
She lamented at her childhood where she had to deal with so many issues, she said, “Their divorce was horrible. And then there was the alcoholism. I had preferred those things had never been there. We didn’t have any abuse, but we did go through some pretty hard stuff, and that’s why my parents didn’t stay together. “
Lucille felt the split even more than perhaps her husband because she felt she had shattered the perception the American public had of her. She remarried soon after to comedian Gary Morton.
In her early twenties in 1971, Lucie Arnaz tied the knot to “The Doctors” actor Philip Vandervort Menegaux. The marriage ended in divorce five years later
But the younger Arnaz’s second try at marriage was much more lasting. She met and married actor and writer Laurence Luckinbill. Now the couple has been together for over four decades.
On June 22, 2023, Lucie celebrated her 43rd wedding anniversary with Luckinbill. She took to Instagram to remember the day many decades ago that she was last single on an apple farm in the coastal city of Kingston, New York.
Their friends and family arrived at the venue in a “big yellow school bus.” She was wearing a “lovely cream crocheted gown” as her father walked her down the aisle. She continued in her post, “…[I] vowed to love Laurence Luckinbill till death us do part. 15,695 days, 5 kids, and three grandchildren later, I am proud to still say,’‘ I do.’”
The Murder, She Wrote actress is still very much in love with her husband. She dedicated a sweet post to him on his 88th birthday late last year in November 2022. She posted a picture of him and wrote how he was “kind, talented, adorable, wise, [and] sexy.”
Luckinbill had two children from a previous marriage; Nicholas Luckinbill and Benjamin Luckinbill. And him and Lucie had three more children together; two sons and a daughter.
Their first child together Simon Thomas Luckinbill was born in December 1980, Joseph Henry Luckinbill was born on New Year’s Eve 1982, and their daughter Katharine Desirée Luckinbill was born on January 11, 1985.
Lucie Arnaz and her husband live in Palm Springs, and their family lives nearby. These days the actress wears her hair in a short pixie cut and spends her time with her beloved grandchildren.
On Grandparents Day in 2019, Arnaz joked about hitting the “jackpot” when the couple welcomed their first two grandchildren just four weeks apart from one another. Since then, they have welcomed many more grandchildren to their brood.
Lucie has been a second-generation actor. She was only 11 years old when she starred alongside her mother in The Lucy Show at 11 opposite her mother, which they then followed up with Here’s Lucy.
She also played the main character in the television movie Who Is the Black Dahlia? and also led in the short-lived comedy The Lucie Arnaz Show in 1985 as psychologist Dr. Jane Lucas.
She has played other roles in guest starring parts in shows such as, Marcus Welby, M.D., Murder, She Wrote, Fantasy Island, Law & Order, and the reboot of Will & Grace.
She has also been credited as a producer in three stories related to her parents. Lucy and Desi: A Home Movie, I Love Lucy’s 50th Anniversary Special, and Being the Ricardos. She also produced the 2003 documentary The Desilu Story.
In June 2023 she revealed that she will be doing an encore of her cabaret act titled I Got The Job! Songs From My Musical Past, at 54 Below in New York City. She had performed the show before the pandemic to a sold-out crowd.
While Lucie is very public about her life, her little brother Desi Arnaz Jr. is quite private about his. When Lucille Ball was pregnant with Arnaz Jr, her pregnancy was written into the show. And as fate would have it, she gave birth to him the same day the episode aired in which her character gave birth to ‘Little Ricky.’
Entitled Customer Threw Fresh Juice at Me – I’m Not a Doormat, So I Taught Her a Lesson She Won’t Forget…
When an entitled customer threw her drink in my face, humiliating me in front of everyone, she assumed I’d just take it quietly. Little did she know, she was in for a surprise—and a lesson she wouldn’t forget.
That morning, I stepped into the health food store, the familiar scent of fresh produce and herbal teas greeting me. It was the start of another day at work, where I’d been earning a living for the past year. As I tied my apron, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different today.
“Hey, Grace! Ready for another thrilling day of juice-making?” my coworker Ally joked from behind the counter.
I laughed, shaking my head. “Yep, gotta keep those entitled customers happy, right?”
But the knot in my stomach told me otherwise. There was one customer who made our jobs miserable every time she came in.
We had dubbed her “Miss Pompous,” and it was a fitting name. She walked in like she owned the place, treating us like we were beneath her.
As I began my shift, I tried to put her out of my mind. I needed this job. It wasn’t just about me—it was about my family. My mom’s medical bills were piling up, and my younger sister was counting on me to help with college expenses. Quitting wasn’t an option.
A few minutes later, Ally leaned in close. “Heads up,” she whispered. “Miss Pompous just pulled into the parking lot.”
My stomach dropped. “Great,” I muttered. “Just what I needed to start my day.”
The bell above the door chimed, and in she walked, her designer heels clicking like a countdown to disaster. Without even acknowledging me, she strutted up to the counter and barked her order.
“Carrot juice. Now.”
I forced a smile. “Of course, ma’am. Coming right up.”
As I worked, I could feel her eyes on me, scrutinizing my every move. My hands began to shake under the pressure. Finally, I handed her the juice.
She took one sip and her face twisted in disgust. “What is this watered-down garbage?” she screeched. Before I could react, she hurled the entire drink at my face.
The cold juice splashed across my cheeks, dripping down my chin. I stood there, stunned, as she continued to rant. “Are you trying to poison me?” she demanded.
I blinked, wiping juice from my eyes. “It’s the same recipe we always use,” I stammered.
“Make it again,” she snapped. “And this time, use your brain.”
My face burned with humiliation as everyone in the store turned to watch. Tears threatened to spill, but I refused to let her see me cry.
Just then, my manager, Mr. Weatherbee, appeared. “Is there a problem here?” he asked, though his concern seemed more for the loss of a customer than for me.
Miss Pompous turned on him. “Your employee can’t even make a simple juice! I demand a refund and a replacement.”
To my disbelief, Mr. Weatherbee began apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. We’ll remake your juice immediately, free of charge.” Then he turned to me. “Grace, be more careful next time.”
I stood there, dumbfounded. My jaw dropped. “But sir, I—”
“Just get the carrots, Grace,” he interrupted, “and remake the juice.”
Miss Pompous smirked at me, clearly enjoying my humiliation. I felt a surge of anger. For a split second, I wanted to throw my apron down and walk out. But then I thought of my mom and sister—I couldn’t afford to lose this job.
So, I took a deep breath and made a decision. I wasn’t going to let her win.
I met Miss Pompous’s gaze, refusing to be intimidated. She thought she could buy respect with her money, that she could trample over people without consequences. Well, not this time.
As Mr. Weatherbee walked away, I reached into the fridge, bypassing the usual carrots. Instead, I grabbed the biggest, gnarliest one I could find. It was tough and unwieldy, perfect for what I had in mind.
“Just a moment,” I said, sweetly, as I fed the oversized carrot into the juicer. The machine groaned in protest before spraying juice everywhere—across the counter, the floor, and best of all, onto Miss Pompous’s designer handbag.
She shrieked, snatching her bag and frantically trying to wipe off the bright orange juice. “My bag!” she cried. “You stupid girl! Look what you’ve done!”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry, ma’am,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face. “It was an accident, I swear.”
Her face turned beet red. “You ruined my three-thousand-dollar purse! I want your manager!”
Trying not to laugh, I gestured vaguely toward the store. “I think he’s helping a customer over there.”
As she stomped off in search of Mr. Weatherbee, I ducked into the stockroom to hide my smile. From my hiding spot, I watched as she stormed out, still clutching her dripping bag, leaving a trail of carrot juice in her wake.
I thought it was over, but I knew Miss Pompous wasn’t the type to let things go.
Sure enough, the next morning, she burst into the store, demanding to see the owner. When Mr. Larson, the kind, older man who owned the store, came out, she launched into a tirade, insisting I be fired and demanding compensation for her ruined purse.
Calmly, Mr. Larson replied, “Let’s check the security footage.”
My heart skipped a beat. I had completely forgotten about the cameras.
We gathered around the monitor as the footage played, showing Miss Pompous throwing juice in my face and the “accident” with her purse. The room fell silent.
Mr. Larson turned to her. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you any compensation. What I see here is an assault on my employee. If anyone should be considering legal action, it’s us.”
Miss Pompous sputtered in disbelief. “But… my purse!”
“I suggest you leave,” Mr. Larson said firmly. “And don’t come back.”
With one final glare, Miss Pompous stormed out.
Once she was gone, Mr. Larson turned to me, his eyes twinkling. “That was just an accident, right, Grace?”
“Of course, sir,” I said with a grin. “Why would I intentionally ruin a customer’s belongings?”
He chuckled and walked away. Ally gave me a high five. “You stood up to her, Grace! You showed her who’s boss.”
That night, as I shared the story with my mom and sister, I realized something important: standing up for myself hadn’t just put Miss Pompous in her place—it reminded me of my own worth.
Have you ever had to deal with someone like Miss Pompous? Share your stories in the comments. Together, we can take on the “Karens” of the world!
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