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.
My Parents Refused to Attend My Wedding Because My Fiancé Was Poor — We Met 10 Years Later and They Begged to Build a Relationship
When Emma fell in love with a humble teacher, her parents gave her an ultimatum: choose him or them. On her wedding day, their seats sat empty, but her grandpa stood by her side. At his funeral ten years later, her estranged parents begged for her forgiveness, but not for the reasons she thought.
Growing up in our pristine suburban home, my parents had a running joke about how we’d all live in a grand mansion someday.
A mansion with a formal garden | Source: Pexels
“One day, Emma,” my father would say, adjusting his already-perfect tie in the hallway mirror, “we’ll live in a house so big you’ll need a map to find the kitchen.”
My mother would laugh, the sound like crystal glasses clinking, adding, “And you’ll marry someone who’ll help us get there, won’t you, sweetheart?”
“A prince!” I’d reply when I was a kid. “With a big castle! And lots of horses!”
An excited girl with her hands in the air | Source: Midjourney
I thought it was funny throughout my early childhood. I even used to daydream about my future castle. But by high school, I understood there was nothing funny about it at all.
My parents were relentless. Every decision they made, every friendship they had, and every activity we attended had to advance our social climbing somehow.
Mom vetted my friends based on their parents’ tax brackets! I don’t think I’ll ever forget how she sneered when I brought my classmate Bianca over to work on our science project.
A woman with a disapproving look | Source: Midjourney
“You aren’t friends with that girl, are you?” Mom asked at dinner that evening.
I shrugged. “Bianca’s nice, and she’s one of the top students in class.”
“She’s not good enough for you,” Mom replied sternly. “Those cheap clothes and awful haircut says it all, top student or not.”
A strange feeling churned in my gut when Mom said those words. That was when I truly realized how narrow-minded my parents were.
A teen girl seated at a dinner table | Source: Midjourney
Dad was no better. He networked at my school events instead of watching my performances.
I still remember my leading role in “The Glass Menagerie” senior year. Father spent the entire show in the lobby discussing investment opportunities with the parents of my cast mates.
“Did you see me at all?” I asked him afterward, still in my costume.
“Of course, princess,” he replied, not looking up from his phone. “I heard the applause. Must have been wonderful.”
A man using his phone while his sad teen daughter stands nearby | Source: Midjourney
Then came college and Liam.
“A teacher?” My mother had practically choked on her champagne when I told her about him. “Emma, darling, teachers are wonderful people, but they’re not exactly… well, you know.”
She glanced around our country club as if someone might overhear this shameful secret.
I knew exactly what she meant, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t care.
A woman with a determined look on her face | Source: Midjourney
Liam was different from anyone I’d ever met. While other guys tried to impress me with their parents’ vacation homes or luxury cars, he talked about becoming a teacher with such passion it made his whole face light up.
When he proposed, it wasn’t with an enormous diamond in a fancy restaurant. It was with his grandmother’s ring in the community garden where we’d had our first date.
The stone was small but caught the sunlight in a way that made it look like it held all the stars in the universe.
A diamond ring sparkling in sunlight | Source: Midjourney
“I can’t give you a mansion,” he said, his voice shaking slightly, “but I promise to give you a home filled with love.”
I said yes before he could even finish asking.
My parents’ response was arctic.
“Not that teacher!” my father had spat as though he was talking about some criminal. “How will he provide for you? For us? You’ll be throwing your future in the trash if you marry him!”
A man gesturing angrily during dinner | Source: Midjourney
“He already provides everything I need,” I told them. “He’s kind, he makes me laugh, and he—”
“I forbid it!” Dad interrupted. “If you go through with this, if you marry that teacher…”
“Then we’ll cut you off,” Mom finished, her voice sharp as glass. “Call him right this minute and break up with him, or we’ll disown you. We didn’t invest so much time and effort in your upbringing only for you to throw it all away.”
My jaw dropped.
A woman gasping in disbelief during dinner | Source: Midjourney
“You can’t be serious,” I whispered.
“It’s him or us,” Dad replied, his face like stone.
I’d known my parents might have a hard time accepting Liam, but this? I couldn’t believe they’d make such an impossible demand.
But the hard look on their faces made it clear their decision was final. I knew I had to make a choice, and it broke my heart.
A sad but determined woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll send you an invitation to the wedding in case you change your minds,” I said before standing up and walking away.
The wedding was small, intimate, and perfect, except for the two empty seats in the front row. But Grandpa was there, and somehow his presence filled the whole church.
He walked me down the aisle, his steps slow but steady, and his grip on my arm was firm and reassuring.
“You picked the right kind of wealth, kid,” he whispered as he hugged me. “Love matters more than money. Always has, always will.”
A bride hugging her grandfather | Source: Midjourney
Life wasn’t easy after that. Liam’s teaching salary and the money I made from freelancing brought in just enough to make ends meet.
We lived in a tiny apartment where the heat only worked when it felt like it, and the neighbor’s music became our constant soundtrack. But our home was full of laughter, especially after Sophie was born.
She inherited her father’s gentle heart and my stubborn streak, a combination that made me proud daily.
A child looking at a book | Source: Pexels
Grandpa was our rock through it all.
He’d show up with groceries when things were tight, though we never told him about our struggles. He’d sit for hours with Sophie, teaching her card tricks and telling her stories about his childhood.
“You know what real wealth is, sweetheart?” I overheard him telling her once. “It’s having people who love you for exactly who you are.”
An elderly man telling stories to his great-granddaughter | Source: Midjourney
“Like how Mommy and Daddy love me?” Sophie had asked.
“Exactly like that,” he’d replied, his eyes meeting mine across the room. “That’s the kind of rich that lasts forever.”
When Grandpa passed away, it felt like losing my foundation. Standing at his funeral, holding Liam’s hand while Sophie pressed against his leg, I could barely get through the eulogy.
Then I saw them — my parents. They were older but still immaculate and approached me with tears during the reception.
A mature couple at a funeral reception | Source: Midjourney
Mother’s pearls caught the light from the stained glass windows, and Father’s suit probably cost more than our monthly rent.
“Emma, darling,” my mother said, reaching for my hands. “We’ve been such fools. Please, can we try to rebuild our relationship?”
For a moment, my heart soared. Ten years of pain seemed ready to heal until Aunt Claire marched up and pulled me aside.
A woman with a grim look | Source: Midjourney
“Emma, honey, don’t fall for it,” she said, her voice low and urgent as she guided me toward a quiet corner, “your parents’ apology isn’t genuine. They’re only doing it because of the condition in your Grandpa’s will.”
“What condition?”
Aunt Claire pursed her lips. “Dad spent years trying to convince your parents to reconcile with you. They always refused, so he put it in his will. The only way your mom will get her inheritance is if they apologize and make peace with you, otherwise, her share of the money will go to charity.”
A woman whispering to someone | Source: Midjourney
The truth hit me like a physical blow. Even now, after all these years, it is still about the money. The tears in their eyes weren’t for me, or Grandpa. They were for their bank account.
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