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.
At My Grandma’s Funeral, I Saw My Mom Hiding a Package in the Coffin — I Quietly Took It & Was Stunned When I Looked Inside
At my grandmother’s funeral, I saw my mother discreetly slip a mysterious package into the coffin. When I took it later out of curiosity, I didn’t expect it would unravel heartbreaking secrets that would haunt me forever.
They say grief comes in waves, but for me, it strikes like missing stairs in the dark. My grandmother Catherine wasn’t just family; she was my best friend, my universe. She made me feel like the most precious thing in the world, enveloping me in hugs that felt like coming home. Standing beside her coffin last week, I felt untethered, like learning to breathe with only half a lung.
An older woman in a coffin | Source: Midjourney
The funeral home’s soft lighting cast gentle shadows across Grandma’s peaceful face. Her silver hair was arranged just the way she always wore it, and someone had put her favorite pearl necklace around her neck.
My fingers traced the smooth wood of the casket as memories flooded back. Just last month, we’d been sitting in her kitchen, sharing tea and laughter while she taught me her secret sugar cookie recipe.
“Emerald, honey, she’s watching over you now, you know,” Mrs. Anderson, our next-door neighbor, placed a wrinkled hand on my shoulder. Her eyes were red-rimmed behind her glasses. “Your grandmother never stopped talking about her precious grandchild.”
A grieving young woman | Source: Midjourney
I wiped away a stray tear. “Remember how she used to make those incredible apple pies? The whole neighborhood would know it was Sunday just from the smell.”
“Oh, those pies! She’d send you over with slices for us, proud as could be. ‘Emerald helped with this one,’ she’d always say. ‘She has the perfect touch with the cinnamon.’”
“I tried making one last week,” I admitted, my voice catching. “It wasn’t the same. I picked up the phone to ask her what I’d done wrong, and then… the heart attack… the ambulance arrived and—”
“Oh, honey.” Mrs. Anderson pulled me into a tight hug. “She knew how much you loved her. That’s what matters. And look at all these people here… she touched so many lives.”
An emotional, teary-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney
The funeral home was indeed crowded, filled with friends and neighbors sharing stories in hushed voices. I spotted my mother, Victoria, standing off to the side, checking her phone. She hadn’t shed a tear all day.
As Mrs. Anderson and I were talking, I saw my mother approach the casket. She glanced around furtively before leaning over it, her manicured hand slipping something inside. It looked like a small package.
When she straightened, her eyes darted around the room before she walked away, her heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor.
A mature woman at a funeral | Source: Midjourney
“Did you see that?” I whispered, my heart suddenly racing.
“See what, dear?”
“My mom just…” I hesitated, watching my mother disappear into the ladies’ room. “Nothing. Just the grief playing tricks, I guess.”
But the unease settled in my stomach like a cold stone. Mom and Grandma had barely spoken in years. And there was no way my grandma would have asked for something to be put in her casket without my knowledge.
Something felt off.
A grieving woman looking ahead | Source: Midjourney
Evening shadows lengthened across the funeral home’s windows as the last mourners filtered out. The scent of lilies and roses hung heavy in the air, mixing with the lingering perfume of departed guests.
My mother had left an hour ago, claiming a migraine, but her earlier behavior kept nagging at me like a splinter under my skin.
“Ms. Emerald?” The funeral director, Mr. Peters, appeared at my elbow. His kind face reminded me of my grandfather, who we’d lost five years ago. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be in my office whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you. Mr. Peters.”
An older man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
I waited until his footsteps faded before approaching Grandma’s casket again. The room felt different now. Heavier, filled with unspoken words and hidden truths.
In the quiet space, my heartbeat seemed impossibly loud. I leaned closer, examining every detail of Grandma’s peaceful face.
There, barely visible beneath the fold of her favorite blue dress — the one she’d worn to my college graduation — was the corner of something wrapped in blue cloth.
I wrestled with guilt, torn between loyalty to my mom and the need to honor Grandma’s wishes. But my duty to protect Grandma’s legacy outweighed it.
My hands trembled as I carefully reached in, extracted the package, and slipped it into my purse.
A woman holding a brown leather purse | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” I whispered, touching her cold hand one last time. Her wedding ring caught the light, a final sparkle of the warmth she’d always carried.
“But something’s not right here. You taught me to trust my instincts, remember? You always said the truth matters more than comfort.”
Back home, I sat in Grandma’s old reading chair, the one she’d insisted I take when she moved to the smaller apartment last year. The package sat in my lap, wrapped in a familiar blue handkerchief.
I recognized the delicate “C” embroidered in the corner. I’d watched Grandma stitch it decades ago while she told me stories about her childhood.
A woman holding a small blue package | Source: Midjourney
“What secrets are you keeping, Mom?” I murmured, carefully untying the worn twine. My stomach churned at the sight that followed.
Inside were letters, dozens of them, each bearing my mother’s name in Grandma’s distinctive handwriting. The paper was yellowed at the edges, some creased from frequent handling.
A stunned woman holding a stack of old letters | Source: Midjourney
The first letter was dated three years ago. The paper was crisp, as if it had been read many times:
“Victoria,
I know what you did.
Did you think I wouldn’t notice the missing money? That I wouldn’t check my accounts? Month after month, I watched small amounts disappear. At first, I told myself there must be some mistake. That my own daughter wouldn’t steal from me. But we both know the truth, don’t we?
Your gambling has to stop. You’re destroying yourself and this family. I’ve tried to help you, to understand, but you keep lying to my face while taking more. Remember last Christmas when you swore you’d changed? When you cried and promised to get help? A week later, another $5,000 was gone.
I’m not writing this to shame you. I’m writing because it breaks my heart to watch you spiral like this.
Please, Victoria. Let me help you… really help you this time.
Mom”
A shocked woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
My hands shook as I read letter after letter. Each one revealed more of the story I’d never known, painting a picture of betrayal that made my stomach turn.
The dates spread across years, the tone shifting from concern to anger to resignation.
One letter mentioned a family dinner where Mom had sworn she was done gambling.
I remembered that night — she’d seemed so sincere, tears streaming down her face as she hugged Grandma. Now I wondered if those tears had been real or just another performance.
A startled woman covering her mouth | Source: Midjourney
The final letter from Grandma made me catch my breath:
“Victoria,
You’ve made your choices. I’ve made mine. Everything I own will go to Emerald — the only person who’s shown me real love, not just used me as a personal bank. You may think you’ve gotten away with it all, but I promise you haven’t. The truth always comes to light.
Remember when Emerald was little, and you accused me of playing favorites? You said I loved her more than I loved you. The truth is, I loved you both differently but equally. The difference was that she loved me back without conditions, without wanting anything in return.
I still love you. I’ll always love you. But I cannot trust you.
Mom”
A surprised woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
My hands were shaking as I unfolded the last letter. This one was from my mother to Grandma, dated just two days ago, after Grandma’s death. The handwriting was sharp, angry strokes across the page:
“Mom,
Fine. You win. I admit it. I took the money. I needed it. You never understood what it’s like to feel that rush, that need. But guess what? Your clever little plan won’t work. Emerald adores me. She’ll give me whatever I ask for. Including her inheritance. Because she loves me. So in the end, I still win.
Maybe now you can stop trying to control everyone from beyond the grave. Goodbye.
Victoria”
A teary-eyed woman reading a letter | Source: Midjourney
Sleep eluded me that night. I paced my apartment, memories shifting and realigning with this new reality.
The Christmas gifts that always seemed too expensive. The times Mom had asked to “borrow” my credit card for emergencies. All those casual conversations about Grandma’s finances, disguised as daughter’s concern.
“Have you talked to Mom about getting power of attorney?” she’d asked one day. “You know how forgetful she’s getting.”
“She seems fine to me,” I’d replied.
“Just thinking ahead, sweetie. We need to protect her assets.”
My mother, driven solely by greed, had betrayed my grandmother and now, me.
A teary-eyed woman standing near the window | Source: Midjourney
By morning, my eyes were burning but my mind was clear. I called her, keeping my voice steady:
“Mom? Can we meet for coffee? There’s something important I need to give you.”
“What is it, sweetie?” Her voice dripped with honey-sweet concern. “Are you okay? You sound tired.”
“I’m fine. It’s about Grandma. She left a package for you. Said I should give it to you ‘when the time was right.’”
A mature woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Oh!” The eagerness in her voice made me wince. “Of course, darling. Where should we meet?”
“The coffee shop on Mill Street? The quiet one?”
“Perfect. You’re such a thoughtful daughter, Emerald. So different from how I was with my mother.”
The irony of her words was a dagger to my heart. “See you at two, Mom.” I then hung up.
A woman holding a smartphone | Source: Midjourney
The bell above the door chimed as my mother entered the coffee shop that afternoon, her eyes immediately finding my purse on the table.
She was wearing her favorite red blazer — the one she always wore to important meetings.
She sat down, reaching for my hand across the worn wooden surface. “You look exhausted, sweetheart. This has all been so hard on you, hasn’t it? You and your grandmother were so close.”
I just nodded and placed a wrapped bundle on the table. Inside were blank pages with just two letters on top — Grandma’s “I know what you did” one, and one I’d written myself.
A mature woman holding a small gift-wrapped package | Source: Midjourney
“What’s this?” she asked, her perfectly manicured nails breaking the seal on the first envelope. I watched as the color completely drained from her face when she opened the second one, her fingers gripping the paper so tightly that it crumpled at the edges.
My letter was simple:
“Mom,
I have the rest of the letters. If you ever try to manipulate me or come after what Grandma left me, everyone will know the truth. All of it.
Emerald”
A mature woman gaping in shock while holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
“Emerald, honey, I—”
I rose before she could finish, watching years of deception dissolve in her tears. “I love you, Mom. But that doesn’t mean you can manipulate me. You lost my trust. Forever.”
With that, I turned around and stormed out, leaving her alone with the weight of her lies and the ghost of Grandma’s truth. I realized some lies can’t stay buried forever, no matter how hard you try.
A young woman in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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