Leslie Uggams is an actor who has a fascinating career in theater and movies.
The Harlem-born singer and actress has a remarkable seven-decade career, but her role in the Deadpool series has garnered the most attention.
However, her story might be the topic of a private film because her 1965 marriage to White Australian Grahame Pratt exceeded all expectations for an interracial couple.
Leslie, a gifted vocalist, recorded a song for MGM in 1953 at the age of ten. Soprano Eloise Uggams, her aunt, suggested that she enroll in the Professional Children’s School of New York and the esteemed Julliard School of Music in New York.
Though she had achieved success in music, her career was far from done; in 1969, she became the first Black person to anchor a network variety show since “The Nat King Cole Show,” when she hosted “The Leslie Uggams Show.”
But it was behind the scenes that she got to know and fell in love with actor Grahame Pratt. After meeting as pupils at Professional Children’s School in New York, the two met in Sydney on one of Leslie’s well-known tours in Australia.
Leslie knew the bad things that came with dating a white man because she had dated one in her childhood and her aunt had told her not to think about a future with him.
“I remember the shock I felt once when I was dating a white boy,” Leslie recalled to Ebony in 1967.
He e-mailed me a color photo of himself. It was shown to my aunt. He was a young, good-looking man with amazing hair. I thought he was really handsome. But my aunt just looked at me and began scolding. She said, “Well, I guess he’s alright, but only on dates, huh, honey?” You will marry a nice [Black] fella when you’re ready to settle down for good, won’t you?
Leslie stated that she continued to visit Grahame after their fortunate encounter.
“It was unexpected that I fell in love with him at the age of 21.”
After she left Australia, it would be a full year before she saw him again.
Despite her worries, Leslie and Grahame had fallen in love. Leslie was concerned about her family’s reaction and what would happen to them if Grahame had to travel to the US for work. Grahame visited her in New York after they had been engaged for five months.
“Knowing my family’s opinions on mixed marriages, I wanted to know if they would really accept Grahame and not just tolerate him,” the woman stated.
Leslie, on the other hand, didn’t have to worry because Grahame was Australian.
“He didn’t feel self-conscious about his circumstances, in contrast to many white Americans.” He fit in with my friends effortlessly since he liked them. And he was well-liked by both men and women.
Even though they didn’t face the same racial challenges as the rest of the country, Leslie claimed she got hate mail while living in New York as a result of their marriage.
Leslie stated about her marriage in an interview with PEOPLE, “It wasn’t as difficult as I anticipated.” “I believe it’s because Grahame wasn’t an American white man.” But of course, we received mail.
Leslie stated, “When I go on tour in the United States, I sometimes get anonymous letters about being married to a white man.” “I recall getting one in Detroit, of all places.” It was addressed to “The Little Negro Entertainer” when it arrived at the club. They are uncomfortable to read and are talked about in that manner a lot.
Grahame took up the role of manager for Leslie, and the couple had two daughters: Danielle in 1970 and Justice in 1976.
A year following the birth of their second child, in 1977, Leslie secured the main part in the miniseries “Roots.” She received an Emmy nomination for the series in which she played Kizzy.
Two years later, she played Lillian Rogers Parks in the miniseries “Backstairs at the White House,” for which she received an Emmy nomination in the Best Actress category.
Her hosting of the NBC game program “Fantasy” earned her a Daytime Emmy Award in 1983. She also as Rose Keefer on “All My Children” in 1996.
She has appeared in TV shows in her own right, including Magnum P.I., Hollywood Squares, The Muppet Show, Family Guy, and I Spy.
Leslie and Grahame are blissfully married after 55 years of marriage and have a granddaughter named Cassidy.
Leslie said of her happy marriage, “We have a lot of fun together, but it’s not always sunshine and roses.” When we’re together, we enjoy ourselves.
The love between these two has withstood the test of time and beyond all expectations. Because they have always supported one another and are loyal to one another, they encourage one another.
My Husband Made a Schedule to ‘Improve’ Me as a Wife — I Taught Him a Valuable Lesson Instead
I was stunned when my husband, Jake, handed me a schedule to help me “become a better wife.” But instead of blowing up, I played along. Little did Jake know, I was about to teach him a lesson that would make him rethink his newfound approach to marriage.
I’ve always prided myself on being the level-headed one in our marriage. Jake, bless his heart, could get swept up in things pretty easily, whether it was a new hobby, or some random YouTube video that promised to change his life in three easy steps.
But we were solid until Jake met Steve. Steve was the type of guy who thought being loudly opinionated made him right, the type that talks right over you when you try to correct him.
He was also a perpetually single guy (who could have guessed?), who graciously dispensed relationship advice to all his married colleagues, Jake included. Jake should’ve known better, but my darling husband was positively smitten with Steve’s confidence.
I didn’t think much of it until Jake started making some noxious comments.
“Steve says relationships work best when the wife takes charge of the household,” he’d say. Or “Steve thinks it’s important for women to look good for their husbands, no matter how long they’ve been married.”
I’d roll my eyes and reply with some sarcastic remark, but it was getting under my skin. Jake was changing. He’d arch his eyebrows if I ordered takeout instead of cooking, and sigh when I let the laundry pile up because, God forbid, I had my own full-time job.
And then it happened. One night, he came home with The List.
He sat me down at the kitchen table, unfolded a piece of paper, and slid it across to me.
“I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice dripping with a condescending tone I hadn’t heard from him before. “You’re a great wife, Lisa. But there’s room for improvement.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Oh really?”
He nodded, oblivious to the danger zone he was entering. “Yeah. Steve helped me realize that our marriage could be even better if you, you know, stepped up a bit.”
I stared at the paper in front of me. It was a schedule… and he’d written “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife” at the top in bold.
This guy had actually sat down and mapped out my entire week based on what Steve — a single guy with zero relationship experience — thought I should do to “improve” myself as a wife.
I was supposed to wake up at 5 a.m. every day to make Jake a gourmet breakfast. Then I’d hit the gym for an hour to “stay in shape.”
After that? A delightful lineup of chores: cleaning, laundry, ironing. And that was all before I left for work. I was supposed to cook a meal from scratch every evening and make fancy snacks for Jake and his friends when they came over to hang out at our place.
The whole thing was sexist and insulting on so many levels I didn’t even know where to start. I ended up staring at him, wondering if my husband had lost his mind.
“This will be great for you, and us,” he continued, oblivious.
“Steve says it’s important to maintain structure, and I think you could benefit from —”
“I could benefit from what?” I interrupted, my voice dangerously calm. Jake blinked, caught off guard by the interruption, but he recovered quickly.
“Well, you know, from having some guidance and a schedule.”
I wanted to throw that paper in his face and ask him if he’d developed a death wish. Instead, I did something that surprised even me: I smiled.
“You’re right, Jake,” I said sweetly. “I’m so lucky that you made me this schedule. I’ll start tomorrow.”
The relief on his face was instant. I almost felt sorry for him as I got up and stuck the list on the fridge. Almost. He had no idea what was coming.
The next day, I couldn’t help but smirk as I studied the ridiculous schedule again. If Jake thought he could hand me a list of “improvements,” then he was about to find out just how much structure our life could really handle.
I pulled out my laptop, opened up a fresh document, and titled it, “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.” He wanted a perfect wife? Fine. But there was a cost to perfection.
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I began by listing all the things he had suggested for me, starting with the gym membership he was so keen on. It was laughable, really.
“$1,200 for a personal trainer.” I typed, barely containing my giggle.
Next came the food. If Jake wanted to eat like a king, that wasn’t happening on our current grocery budget. Organic, non-GMO, free-range everything? That stuff didn’t come cheap.
“$700 per month for groceries,” I wrote. He’d probably need to chip in for a cooking class too. Those were pricey, but hey, perfection wasn’t free.
I leaned back in my chair, laughing to myself as I imagined Jake’s face when he saw this. But I wasn’t done. Oh no, the pièce de résistance was still to come.
See, there was no way I could juggle all these expectations while holding down my job. If Jake wanted me to dedicate myself full-time to his absurd routine, then he’d have to compensate for the loss of my income.
I pulled up a calculator, estimating the value of my salary. Then, I added it to the list, complete with a little note: “$75,000 per year to replace Lisa’s salary since she will now be your full-time personal assistant, maid, and chef.”
My stomach hurt from laughing at this point.
And just for good measure, I threw in a suggestion about him needing to expand the house. After all, if he was going to have his friends over regularly, they’d need a dedicated space that wouldn’t intrude on my newly organized, impossibly structured life.
“$50,000 to build a separate ‘man cave’ so Jake and his friends don’t disrupt Lisa’s schedule.”
By the time I was done, the list was a masterpiece. A financial and logistical nightmare, sure, but a masterpiece nonetheless. It wasn’t just a counterattack — it was a wake-up call.
I printed it out, set it neatly on the kitchen counter, and waited for Jake to come home. When he finally walked through the door that evening, he was in a good mood.
“Hey, babe,” he called out, dropping his keys on the counter. He spotted the paper almost immediately. “What’s this?”
I kept my face neutral, fighting the urge to laugh as I watched him pick it up. “Oh, it’s just a little list I put together for you,” I said sweetly, “to help you become the best husband ever.”
Jake chuckled, thinking I was playing along with his little game. But as he scanned the first few lines, the grin started to fade. I could see the wheels turning in his head, the slow realization that this wasn’t the lighthearted joke he thought it was.
“Wait… what is all this?” He squinted at the numbers, his eyes widening as he saw the total costs. “$1,200 for a personal trainer? $700 a month for groceries? What the hell, Lisa?”
I leaned against the kitchen island, crossing my arms.
“Well, you want me to wake up at 5 a.m., hit the gym, make gourmet breakfasts, clean the house, cook dinner, and host your friends. I figured we should budget for all of that, don’t you think?”
His face turned pale as he flipped through the pages. “$75,000 a year? You’re quitting your job?!”
I shrugged. “How else am I supposed to follow your plan? I can’t work and be the perfect wife, right?”
He stared at the paper, dumbfounded.
The numbers, the absurdity of his own demands, it all hit him at once. His smugness evaporated, replaced by a dawning realization that he had seriously, seriously messed up.
“I… I didn’t mean…” Jake stammered, looking at me with wide eyes. “Lisa, I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just thought —”
“You thought what? That I could ‘improve’ myself like some project?” My voice was calm, but the hurt behind it was real. “Jake, marriage isn’t about lists or routines. It’s about respect. And if you ever try to ‘fix’ me like this again, you’ll be paying a hell of a lot more than what’s on that paper.”
Silence hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Jake’s face softened, his shoulders slumping as he let out a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t realize how ridiculous it was. Steve made it sound sensible, but now I see it’s… it’s toxic. Oh God, I’ve been such a fool.”
I nodded, watching him carefully. “Yes, you have. Honestly, have you looked at Steve’s life? What makes you think he has the life experience to give you advice about marriage? Or anything else?”
The look on his face as my words hit home was priceless.
“You’re right. And he could never afford to live like this.” He slapped the list with the back of his hand. “He… he has no idea about the costs involved, or how demeaning this is. Oh, Lisa, I got carried away again, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but we’ll recover. Now, let’s tear that paper up and go back to being equals.”
He smiled weakly, the tension breaking just a little. “Yeah… let’s do that.”
We ripped up the list together, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like we were back on the same team.
Maybe this was what we needed, a reminder that marriage isn’t about one person being “better” than the other. It’s about being better together.
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