Words can't describe my feelings for your wonderful article on Lucille Ball (PEOPLE, May 8). We all have special memories of Lucy; mine is of each morning, at the age of 6, having my grandmother prepare my lunch and bring it to me in front of our television so that the two of us could watch I Love Lucy together. My mom would often let me stay up to watch Here's Lucy. Today I have a little girl with whom I hope to share these Lucy memories. That makes four generations that Lucy touched in our household—and counting.
My first recollection of Lucy was at the age of 9 back in 1967, the year I came to this country from Cuba. In no time I was hooked on her wild antics. Although I didn't understand what she was saying, I knew what she was up to and that made me laugh hysterically. The day she died, millions around the world mourned the loss of a brilliant, lovable clown. But she was more than that to me. She was also my English teacher, my baby-sitter, my companion, my sweetheart and my inspiration.
Alex J. Escarano
In September I wrote Lucille Ball and asked if she would send my brother George an autographed picture for his birthday. Like millions of others, he loved Lucy as a child and even more as an adult. I wanted to make this birthday memorable for him. Well, it was. It was Sept. 15, and I was at home while Houston waited for Hurricane Gilbert. The hurricane never got there, but the mail did, and there wasn't anything from Lucy. I was disappointed but decided I would try again next year. About an hour later the phone rang. It was Lucy! She was calling to wish George a happy birthday. She made a total of four calls until she finally reached him. We are still overwhelmed. Your story about Lucy is an appreciated tribute. Thank you.
Bibi Lynn Druck
I was appalled and incensed with your "tribute" to Lucille Ball. To describe her as a "career-obsessed control freak" and imply that she was a Joan Crawford clone was insulting to Miss Ball, her family and all of her fans worldwide. Lucy was a hard-working, gutsy and accomplished businesswoman, wife and mother. While most women of her generation were baking cookies and passing neighborhood gossip over the backyard fence, Miss Ball raised two children, ran the world's largest production company and entertained the world with the magical gift of laughter. I always thought that PEOPLE had more integrity than was evident in your smear of Lucy.
Cathy M. Johnson
While reading your tribute to Lucille Ball, I experienced the strangest sense of déjà vu, as though I knew what the next word would be before I read it. It wasn't a newly acquired psychic gift, just a good memory. After all, I had read essentially all this same article only last week in your special Television's 50th Anniversary issue. Just because I Love Lucy is the most widely syndicated show is no reason for a rerun article on this great lady. She deserved better.
As the author of The I Love Lucy Book, I noted one serious error that has Lucy lovers tearing their hair out. Lucy and Ethel never tried to install a shower. In fact, in all 179 episodes we saw the Ricardo bathroom (never the toilet) only twice, once in 1951 and again in 1956. The shower installation referred to in your piece occurred on Lucille Ball's second TV series, The Lucy Show. Lucy Carmichael and her roommate, Vivian Bagley (Vivian Vance), were the amateur plumbers. Lucy fans are a fierce lot. We know our trivia.
We regret the error.—ED.
My initial thought upon reading the excerpts from The Andy Warhol Diaries was, "What a waste of time." However, on second thought, it was probably useful if only to show us what really silly, stupid lives celebrities live. Why do we idolize these people?
I had always felt that Andy Warhol was a disgusting person. After reading the excerpts from his diaries, my feeling was confirmed. I feel sorry for the people he has mentioned in the book. With friends like him, they don't need enemies.
Beverly A. Dwight
PEOPLE has been my favorite magazine because it provides a source of gentle entertainment and heartwarming stories. I was horrified to find the picture of the Sheffield soccer tragedy in the last issue. Most horrifying of all to me is that someone actually stood in front of those suffering, dying people and took their photograph. I feel sorry for the families who must feel the pain as the photograph lives on.