Linda Gray became a household name thanks to her role as Sue Ellen Ewing on the beloved soap opera Dallas. Over the course of more than 300 episodes, she not only showcased her incredible talent but also faced numerous personal challenges along the way. Today, at 84 years old, Gray continues to shine.
Throughout the history of film and television, we have witnessed remarkable performances by countless actors. Some portrayals resonate so deeply that it’s hard to imagine anyone else in the role. For instance, who could envision Little House on the Prairie without Michael Landon as Charles Ingalls or Mary Poppins without Dick Van Dyke as Bert? Similarly, Linda Gray’s portrayal of Sue Ellen is irreplaceable, and fans of the show are grateful she was cast in such a pivotal role.
Gray’s life has been nothing short of extraordinary, resembling a roller coaster filled with ups and downs. She has confronted life-threatening illnesses, addiction, and a challenging marriage. Despite these adversities, she has always emerged stronger, committed to making the most of her life and career.
Starring alongside Larry Hagman and Patrick Duffy on Dallas, Gray recently opened up about her experiences working with Hagman and the dynamic chemistry they shared on set.
Born on September 12, 1940, in Santa Monica, California, Gray faced a significant challenge in her childhood when she was diagnosed with polio. Her grandfather had also contracted the virus, leaving her family in distress. However, Linda maintained a surprisingly optimistic outlook during her own diagnosis. “They didn’t know what it was when he was 17, and he was always in a wheelchair”, she recalled. “When I was diagnosed, everyone went crazy in my family, but I wasn’t. I thought I could have a wheelchair like Grandpa.”
Growing up in Culver City, California, where her father owned a watchmaker shop, Linda was drawn to the performing arts from a young age. She often entertained her neighbors and even starred as Cinderella in a school production at Notre Dame Academy in Los Angeles.
While her father provided a stable presence, he was emotionally distant. As Gray noted in her 2015 memoir, The Road to Happiness Is Always Under Construction, “He was just kind of there, like a piece of furniture”, and emotional discussions were off-limits. In contrast, her mother, Marge, a former artist and ballerina, struggled with alcoholism, leaving Linda and her sister to take charge of the household. “She wasn’t mean, she was just blurred, in her own world”, Gray wrote. This upbringing inspired Linda to pursue a different path, determined to avoid her mother’s fate.
With dreams of a career in medicine initially, Gray soon shifted her focus to acting, influenced by the Hollywood landscape surrounding her. She spent her teenage years modeling for various companies and airlines.
At 21, Linda married photographer Edward Lee Thrasher, but the marriage became a struggle. Her aspirations took a backseat as she became a wife and mother, welcoming son Jeff in 1960 and daughter Kehly six years later. Linda felt emotionally neglected, describing the marriage as “cold” and ultimately deciding to leave after 21 years.
Despite her husband’s disapproval of her pursuing acting, Gray took the plunge and began landing television commercials. She had minor roles in films like Under the Yum Yum Tree and Palm Springs Weekend but hit the jackpot when, at 27, she became Anne Bancroft’s body double for The Graduate poster (1967). Ironically, she later portrayed Mrs. Robinson in a 2001 stage adaptation of the same film.
In her memoir, Gray also shared a humorous rejection letter from Glamour magazine she received in the early 1960s, which she kept as a reminder of resilience. “It kicked me from behind, and made me want to go and do something”, she said.
Though she loved motherhood, the lack of a fulfilling career frustrated her. When she finally enrolled in acting classes, her husband dismissed the idea, suggesting she wait until their children were older. At 37, she forged ahead and trained alongside younger actors. It wasn’t long before she secured her first significant role as a guest star on Marcus Welby, M.D. in 1974.
The turning point came in 1978 when Gray was cast as Sue Ellen Ewing on Dallas. Initially meant to be a recurring role for just five episodes, her performance resonated with audiences and critics alike, leading to her becoming a series regular and turning her into a star.
Dallas, set against the backdrop of family rivalry and scandal at Southfork Ranch, showcased Gray’s exceptional talent. Her chemistry with Larry Hagman was palpable, but she clarified that it stemmed from a sibling-like bond. “He was the bad big brother that I never had”, she explained. Their dynamic translated beautifully on-screen, captivating both the network executives and viewers alike.
The show broke numerous viewing records, becoming one of the most-watched television series in history. The iconic episode revealing who shot J.R. Ewing drew an estimated 80 million viewers, a record that stood until surpassed by MASH*.
For her role, Gray received two Golden Globe nominations and an Emmy nomination for Outstanding Lead Actress. After divorcing Ed Thrasher in 1983, her son Jeff pursued a career in directing and earned an Emmy nomination in 2018. Tragically, he passed away in 2020 after battling leukemia. Gray honored him on Instagram, celebrating his life and the love he shared with those around him.
Throughout her tenure on Dallas, Gray appeared in 308 episodes. Following the show’s conclusion, she continued to work in television and reprised her role as Sue Ellen in the 2012 revival of Dallas, which aired for two seasons. She received a Special Award at the 2014 USA Film Festival, further cementing her legacy.
Now, at 84, Linda Gray remains as stunning as ever. She has navigated many challenges, from her childhood struggles to her difficult marriage and the loss of her son. Through it all, she has learned to transform adversity into resilience.
We admire her strength and wish her continued success in the years to come! Feel free to share this inspiring story with your family and friends.
The 18th Birthday Surprise I Planned for My Stepmom Turned Her World Upside Down
My 18th birthday was a day I’ll never forget, not just because it marked my official transition into adulthood, but because it was the day I planned to reveal a surprise for my stepmom — one that I hoped would change her life in a way she never saw coming.
Have you ever felt like life is one long, unscripted drama, where every scene holds the potential to either break you or forge you into something stronger?
My life’s been a bit like that.
Navigating through the choppy waters of loss and new beginnings, I found myself at the helm of a decision that could either be the most heartwarming episode or a plot twist gone wrong.
My name is Sarah and this is the story of how my entry into adulthood became unforgettable for the most surprising reason.
After my mom passed away when I was just 11, life felt like an endless storm. My dad, lost in his own sea of grief, found a beacon of hope in a new woman and eventually remarried.
That’s how my stepmom, Olivia, came into my life, and she would become much more than just a new face in the house. She became a great source of stability for me, always offering love and support when I needed it.
At first, though, I wasn’t ready for her. I was too angry, too wrapped up in my grief to see her for who she was. I remember the day she moved in — I stayed locked in my room, listening to the muffled sounds of her unpacking, refusing to acknowledge that she was now a part of our lives.
I thought, How could my dad move on so quickly? How could he bring someone new into our home?
But contrary to my fears, Olivia never forced her way in. She gave me space, patiently waiting until I was ready to talk. And when I finally did, she was there, listening without judgment. One night, I had a nightmare about my mom. I woke up sobbing, drenched in sweat. Olivia heard me from the hallway and quietly opened my door.
“Sarah, sweetie, it’s okay. You’re safe,” she whispered as she sat beside me, her hand gently rubbing my back. I didn’t push her away. For the first time, I let her comfort me, and as she held me, I felt a small sliver of warmth amid the grief.
And just like that, Olivia and I became close. She never tried to take my mom’s place but filled our home with a light I thought we’d lost forever. “I’m here for you, always,” she’d tell me, her words a soothing balm for my aching heart.
But life had another curveball waiting. When we lost my dad, the silence in our home was deafening. I remember us sitting in the dimly lit living room, the air heavy with fear and uncertainty.
“I can’t imagine how hard this is for you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I want you to know, I’m here for you. We’re family, no matter what.”
Her words were a lifeline in my sea of despair. “But everyone’s saying you’ll leave… go back to your family,” I mumbled, struggling to hold back tears. “Will I…will I go to an orphanage?”
It wasn’t just my fear of losing her. I’d overheard people whispering at the funeral: speculations about how Olivia would pack up and leave, how she had no reason to stay now that my dad was gone. The idea terrified me. I didn’t want to be alone again.
“No, sweetie. You’re not going anywhere and neither am I. Look at me,” she said, her hand finding mine in the darkness. She then cupped my face, planting a tender kiss on my forehead. “We’ll get through this together.”
For a moment, the heaviness in my chest lifted. Olivia’s presence had always been steady, like an anchor in the storm. She stayed by my side through every awkward family gathering where people looked at us with pity and through every sleepless night where grief threatened to swallow me whole. And slowly, I began to trust that she meant it when she said she wasn’t going anywhere.
And she was right. Despite the whispers and sideways glances from others, she stayed, proving that the bonds of the family we choose are as strong as those we are born into.
On the morning of my 18th birthday, the air was thick with anticipation, not just for the usual celebrations but for a surprise I had been planning for years.
Olivia greeted me with her warm, comforting smile, one that had often brightened my mood since the day she stepped into our lives.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” she said, handing me a small, beautifully wrapped box. Her eyes sparkled with the love and care that had become her trademark.
I took the box, my hands shaking slightly. I wasn’t nervous about the gift inside — it was the gift I had for her that had my heart racing.
“Thank you,” I replied, my heart swelling with gratitude for this woman who had chosen to stand by me through everything. “I have a surprise for you too, but… you’ll need to pack your things.”
The look of confusion on her face was immediate. “Pack my things?” she echoed, the joy of the moment fading into uncertainty. “Are you… Are you serious?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “I want you to pack your things in the next hour. You’re leaving this house.”
Her laughter, light and disbelieving at first, died down as she saw the seriousness in my eyes. “But why, dear? I thought we were a family…” Her voice trailed off, a hint of despair creeping in.
I could feel my resolve wavering. The way her voice cracked, the pain in her eyes — it was more than I had anticipated. But I couldn’t back down. Not now. Not yet.
“It’s time,” I began, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. “I’ve been planning this since the day Dad died. You are going to another city.”
She sat down at the kitchen table, her hands shaking as she reached for something to steady herself, but her fingers grasped at nothing. Her breath hitched as she whispered, “I don’t understand. What did I do? Why are you sending me away?”
In a moment that felt more like a scene from a movie, I loaded her sparse belongings into the car and drove her to a new destination, all while she sat beside me in a silence that was heavy with confusion and sorrow.
The drive was a long and silent one, filled with unspoken questions and tension. I was the first to talk.
“You didn’t know that my father opened an account in my name when I was a child, where he saved money for my education. Since his death, I’ve also put all my money, from my part-time jobs and gifts, into this account. Now, there’s a large sum.”
Olivia turned to me, a mixture of pain and understanding in her eyes. “I understand. You’re an adult now, you have money and you don’t need me anymore. But why are you sending me so far away? You don’t want to see me at all?”
Her voice cracked, and the words felt like daggers in my chest. I had never imagined this moment would hurt so much.
As we pulled up in front of a quaint, beautiful house, the surprise I had been harboring was finally ready to be unveiled.
“I will be spending some of this money on education,” I continued, pointing to the house. “At an Ivy League university in the city, we’re in now, where I have already been accepted. Do you see this house?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice laden with confusion and a trace of hope.
“I bought this house for you,” I revealed, the tension finally breaking. “There was enough money for everything. Now I will study here and you will live next door. We won’t have to be apart, and if you want, you can go back to our old house at any time, or we can return together after I finish my studies.”
She sat in stunned silence for a long moment, her eyes locked on the house. “You… you bought this for me?” she whispered, her voice shaking.
The tears came then, unbidden and free, marking the moment with an emotional intensity that words could hardly capture. We hugged, our tears mingling, a testament to the depth of our bond and the love that had grown between us over the years.
“I love you, Sarah,” said Olivia, her voice barely a whisper but still audible.
“I love you, too,” I replied, reaching for the house keys in my bag and placing them in her hand.
It was a birthday unlike any other, marked not just by the receiving of gifts, but by the giving of a future, a home, and a promise of continued family, no matter what life might bring.
This was our story, a stepdaughter and her stepmom, navigating the complexities of life together, proving that love, indeed, knows no bounds.
As we stood there, holding onto each other in front of her new home, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I had done it: I had given back to the woman who had given me so much.
For the first time in years, I felt like I could truly breathe, knowing that we had a future, together.
Do you think my surprise was a good one?
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