Susan Lucci talks about her new memoir "La Lucci" with Mary Calvi
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Susan Lucci left us spellbound for more than 40 years as one of the most famous characters on daytime television, Erica Kane of "All My Children."
Lucci writes about her deeply personal journey of overcoming grief and how she finally found her way into the light in her new memoir "La Lucci."
Lucci talked to Mary Calvi about her friendships and losing the love of her life, her husband Helmut Huber. They were married in 1969 and spent 52 years together until his death in March 2022.
"It's hopeful"
Mary remarked that Lucci is giving readers an intimate look into her life.
"It's a journey I hoped never have to go through, but we all do," Lucci said. "It's part of our common humanity. I write about the most impactful experiences I've had in my life, and the choices that I made. Even when I thought I didn't have any choices. It was those choices that I made that helped me get through my grief. Though it sometimes takes over when you least expect it."
Lucci says that she wanted to write "La Lucci" because many people have love and loss in their lives.
"There were also things that impacted me that did not involve losing my fantastic husband. But it's hopeful. You can get up off the floor and put one foot in front of the other and find your light again," she said.
Lucci felt unsure of her future when her husband died.
"When Helmut passed away I didn't even really think I would go in front of a camera again, or on stage. But I had made a commitment to go on stage to do something called 'Celebrity Autobiography,' which is a comedy. I knew Mario Cantone would be there and I would just giggle automatically. I thought maybe I'm going to do this because I'm so lucky that I have something that I wanted to do since I was a little girl. And I did love it. Let me see if I could love it again. And that was another stepping stone for me to go back on stage to do what I had always loved. And I found that I did love it again," Lucci said.
She almost passed on "All My Children"
Mary asked about the beginning of Lucci's acting career, remarking that many people may not know that she almost didn't take the iconic role of Erica Kane on "All My Children," which made her famous.
"I had to be convinced to sign my three year contract," Lucci said. "I loved the audition scene. I loved the character. I loved her relationship with her mother. I write about my relationship with my mother in the book. [The contract] was for three years. And at that time I was just out of college. So four years of college, four years of high school. That's how I measured my life. So three years was almost the same thing again. I didn't want to do that. My agent said at the time sign it, if you don't like it we'll get you out of it. I signed it and I loved it."
Lucci famously was nominated 18 consecutive times for the Emmy Award for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series before winning on the 19th nomination in 1999.
About all those Emmy nominations (and eventual win)
Mary shared that she remembered watching with her sister the daytime Emmys on television and finding out that Lucci did not win again. Mary says she and her sister yelled at the television. Mary asked if Lucci realized during those 19 nominations that there was a giant hug around her.
"I did feel it as time went on. Even the New York press corps would say 'This is your year' as I would be going in. I would get my hopes up. I felt so lucky that people cared. I knew that my husband and I cared. And my family cared. But to think that other people cared and were behind me was wonderful," she said.
Lucci attended all the Emmy galas, but didn't write a speech for all of them.
"I would put my thoughts together," Lucci remembered. "But after the ninth time that I didn't win, I kind of didn't let myself go there. On the 19th time, it really had been a great year and I thought if the press is right and it would be my year, I should put together some thoughts because I have so many people to thank. I laid in bed the night before and I allowed myself to think that I might actually win."
Garden City through and through
Lucci grew up and currently lives in Garden City, Long Island. Mary shared that she also grew up and lives in her hometown, and she knows that people in your community have your back. Lucci recounts a deli in Garden City which has since closed named a sandwich the "Lucci Panini."
Nowadays, she's partial to the chicken Caeaser wraps at another deli in Garden City. She says she's "there all the time. And everybody who comes to my house loves them. We've told them they have an opportunity to rename their Chicken Caesar Wrap 'All My Chickens.'"
Lucci says she loves what she does and that her career helped her on the journey after grief. She says she is lucky to have her friends, the people, her son, who has been a rock, and her career.
You can read an excerpt from "La Lucci" and get the book below.
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"La Lucci" by Susan Lucci with Laura Morton
From the publisher: Emmy Award-winning actress and legendary television icon Susan Lucci-affectionately known as "La Lucci" since her early days on All My Children-is set to captivate audiences once again with her second memoir, entitled La Lucci. This deeply personal and compelling new book explores Susan's journey through love, joy, reinvention, and resilience in the face of profound loss-both personal and professional.
With her signature warmth and honesty, Lucci shares the pivotal moments that have shaped her perspective and ability to move forward with gratitude, hope, and grace. La Lucci is a heartfelt, at times humorous, and always inspiring reflection on strength, perseverance, and the power of embracing life's unexpected turns. In addition to intimate stories from her remarkable career and personal life, the book features a special chapter entitled "Thank You for Asking" where she answers the most frequently asked questions from her devoted fans across the world. La Lucci is a celebration of life, love, and the courage to embrace new beginnings.
Susan Lucci lives in Garden City, New York.
"La Lucci" by Susan Lucci with Laura Morton (ThriftBooks) $23
Excerpt: "La Lucci" by Susan Lucci with Laura Morton
INTRODUCTION
With my success, my first mandate is to entertain and then to inform. —AGNES NIXON
There's a wonderful tradition in the theater where a single light bulb is left glowing when the stage is empty. This light is known as the "ghost light." It remains on for both practical and, sometimes, slightly whimsical reasons.
There's also a touch of mystery to the ghost light. I believe in mystery. I am drawn to it and am comfortable and intrigued by it. Maybe that's one reason why I chose to keep an air of mystery over my own life as I stepped into the limelight.
You see, there is another, almost poetic, reason for the ghost light. For actors like me, standing on that empty stage, with only the ghost light and no one else there, is an irresistible place to be. To dream your dreams. To belt it out. To dance as if everybody is watching you—with a fire in your belly and all your hopes coming to life.
Even when I was a little girl, I was always performing, with or without an audience. I was very big on wrapping my mother's scarves around my head, turning them into different costumes. These were inspired by the old movies I grew up watching on The Early Show, Million Dollar Movie, The Late Show, and, when I would sneak out of my bed at night, The Late, Late Show. Scarves and the sheer white curtains in our upstairs bathroom allowed me to become virtually anyone I wanted to be—a bride, an exotic princess, a first communicant. Sometimes I'd place a tiara on top of my head, pull a pair of my mother's long black or white gloves over my hands, and hold her ivory cigarette holder between my fingers as if I were Ava Gardner or Gene Tierney. My mother never smoked, but her brother-in-law, my uncle Leo, brought the cigarette holder back after World War II as a gift. My mother always encouraged me to play and explore my creativity, inadvertently fostering what would later become my passion and calling in life, while also nurturing her own need for some solitude away from her constantly performing daughter. Could I have been the only child in the world who walked around the house on my knees pretending to be blind while making a pilgrimage to Lourdes? When my mother would see me, usually while vacuuming, she would say, "Susan, stop! God is going to freeze your face like that!"
From the time I performed in West Side Story and other musicals during high school, I wanted to be on stage. I was a drama major in college and could not stay away. I would show up early and leave late, waiting until everybody else left. Then, I'd step on the stage, illuminated only by that magical ghost light, and . . . I'd perform. Alone. For only myself—but with big dreams of the audience I would someday stand in front of. I couldn't help but stand on that stage in the darkness, with just that single light, and perform. I didn't stand there silently, although there was silence all around me. It was such a joy being on that stage and singing lyrics that moved me, that had something to say, that allowed me to feel what it would be like someday when my dreams came true. And I thought they would come true. I believed it in every fiber of my being. It was very exciting—it was thrilling. This was where I belonged.
Being up there alone was also a moment that felt deeply personal, incredibly powerful, and emotional—kind of like writing this book.
Okay, so I'll admit that writing this time around has challenged me in ways I never expected. Early on, before the first word was written, I knew this book would be different from my first. It's a profound expe-rience to dig deep and share your experiences with others. You start to ask all sorts of questions while examining yourself and your motives.
Will anyone care? Are my stories interesting? What if I share too much—or not enough?
In the past, I believe I was more reserved and cautious about ex-posing my emotions. But writing and editing at the same time as I was grieving the loss of my husband brought a ferocious river—make that a flood—of emotions running toward me that I never expected to ex-perience, let alone share.
There were many days and nights during this writing process when I sat with my thoughts inviting reflection. This didn't come easily or without angst. I don't really see myself as a writer, but I am a storyteller, usually through performing, playing a part, or singing a song. In fact, the creative people I admire most are the writers, composers, and lyri-cists of the world.
Having said that, I have been so blessed to be surrounded by superb writers my entire career, starting with Agnes Nixon. Even as I write this, Agnes's words, which I shared with you at the top of this chapter, keep ringing in my ears. First, entertain—second, inform.
So, with that mantra as my North Star, I hope my collection of stories here—stories of my life experiences, both professional and personal—will fit the bill for you. Some offer a peek at my encounters backstage while waiting for the curtain to come up on me, while others pull back the curtain to share the raw truth about one of the most awful experiences in my private life. This wasn't easy; however, it is part of my story.
So why would I do this?
Good question.
I have asked myself that many, many times. I've come up with two reasons. First, gratitude. It has played such a big part in getting me to where I am now. My second reason is this: to have the opportunity and joy of taking my experiences and what I've learned from them and passing them forward.
Of course, with life being what it is, not all of my experiences have been filled with joy and light. As mentioned, I have always had a love of performing, singing, dancing, and theater. But the reality of loss that we, as human beings, all experience doesn't always get tied up in a neat little bow. Sometimes . . . life is just not a musical.
I always felt there was light within me, but the truth is, when I lost my husband, Helmut Huber, on March 28, 2022, I felt that light had gone out forever. I believed I had lost my light. There are no words to say how much I was missing him. And with that came a feeling of complete hopelessness. The encouragement to remain hopeful was shared with me so many times, but the only thing I truly hoped for was for Helmut to come walking through the door.
We all want to have light. And when I thought I had lost it—well, it was crippling.
Without Helmut, I felt like half a person.
When I think of Helmut, I think of light. He was the love of my life. He lit up every room he was in. And he understood the ups and downs of existence and a life lived in the spotlight. We learned that together. He was so generous and had such a big gregarious spirit. He touched everyone around him, leaving a lasting glow of love and laughter.
After he passed, I thought I'd never get my light back again. But I also knew I had to make a choice and somehow find the courage to put one foot in front of the other. It was better than lying on the floor in a puddle, completely destroyed. And for a while there, that is exactly how I felt. For a long time, nothing mattered.
After my mom lost my dad, she lived another nineteen years, all the while missing him very much. For many years, I didn't understand the look on her face as she navigated through life—that is, until I saw it on my own. That's when I realized my mother had been walking around in pain yet still putting on a happy face. She was trying to look pleas-ant, and I admired her for that. And I understood that need. Even so, I wanted to get to a place where I wasn't putting on the face. I actually wanted to be happy again. Or at least happier.
It took some time after Helmut passed, and then I noticed there were more happy days than sad. I began taking better care of myself, my health, and my surroundings. And when I did, I started to see a glim-mer of hope that maybe someday I'd once again find my light. And it became my quest.
"Maybe" slowly turned into "possibly." "Possibly" became "probably." And that made me very happy. I began to feel a freedom of spirit—and a new understanding of who I am. Of who I've always been.
From La Lucci by Susan Lucci with Laura Morton. Used with the permission of the publisher, Blackstone Publishing. Copyright © 2026 by SL Enterprises of New York, Ltd.