Linda Gray, who pIayed the legendary role of Sue Ellen Ewing in the hit show Dallas, had a life filled with excitement and a number of obstacles.
Recalling her childhood in Culver City, CaIifornia, she says how being given the chance to hang out with her friends around the filming studios triggered something in her that made her fall in love with acting. Her father, whom she describes as a rather cold person was always supportive of her career. Her mother used to be a heavy alcoholic while Linda and her sister were growing up so they had to take care of the house for long.
“She wasn’t falling down drunk, there was never any yeIIing,” Linda wrote in her book The Path to Happiness is Always Under Construction. “She wasn’t mean – she was just blurred, in her own world, she would forget to buy food so I started doing the cooking. My sister and I didn’t like her.”
Linda married her first and only husband, whom she separated with in 1983, photographer Edward Lee Thrasher, when she was 21. They had two children together, and although she enjoyed being a mother, it was her husband who somehow stood in her way of making a career in acting.
Although she was part of many commercials, it took Linda quite some time to finally gather the courage to attend acting classes.
In 1967, Linda was paid $25 to be Anne Bancroft’s body double in the poster for the film The Graduate not knowing that years later, or in 2001 to be exact, she would end up playing Mrs Robinson in the West End State production of The Graduate.
During the 1960s, she got a rejection letter from the Glamour Magazine, but that only made her more determined to succeed. “It was so funny that I kept that letter,” she wrote. “I kept the letter because I realized that we all have rejections, and it was her opinion when I was 20 years old. I could have had it devastate my life. But, I didn’t. This feisty streak came out – ‘Oh, yeah? I’m gonna show you!’ With great love and a lot of humor, I kept that letter. It kicked me from behind, and made me want to go and do something.”
After playing small roles, Linda finaIIy got the one that marked her career, that of Sue Ellen Ewing. She appeared in total of 308 episodes on Dallas and played alongside Larry Hagman and Patrick Duffy.
Speaking of her relationship with Hagman, Linda told CM Chat Live: “He was the bad big brother that I never had. He was always doing something in my mind wrong – he was drinking too much, or whatever, and I would reprimand him, he loved that, he loved to do something just to make me crazy. I’d say ‘Don’t eat that. You don’t need that much sugar, and stop drinking.’”
In fact, when Linda was briefly fired from the show for asking for a higher pay, it was Hagman who demanded she gets back.
For her legendary performance in Dallas, Linda received numerous awards, including two Golden Globe Awards for Best Actress – TeIevision Series Drama, as well as a Primetime Emmy Award for Outstanding Lead Actress.
Her son, Jeff Thrasher, followed into her footsteps and worked as a director. Sadly, he was diagnosed with leukemia and passed away in 2020. Linda was devastated. She had a hard time coping with the loss. Recently, she paid tribute to Jeff writing: “A celebration of my son Jeff’s life. He was the kindest, funniest, sweetest human being….. he brought the world such love and was loved by everyone! May his journey be a magicaI one.”https://www.instagram.com/p/CICmEWyrPUt/embed/captioned/?cr=1&v=14&wp=675&rd=https%3A%2F%2Fbengalimedia24.com&rp=%2Fheartbreaking-update-on-dallas-actress-linda-grey%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR2dgWz6EFpC6RtaLAWwCBgR-BcaAhAdm0FRg147EhNfvC0WfZ9fCh18Swk#%7B%22ci%22%3A0%2C%22os%22%3A1751%2C%22ls%22%3A1148.4000000059605%2C%22le%22%3A1748.4000000059605%7D
We are very sorry for her loss. Linda is doing her best to live her life without her son. She is 82 years old and is looking as stunningly beautiful as always
My Neighbor Kept Hanging out Her Panties Right in Front of My Son’s Window, So I Taught Her a Real Lesson
My neighbor’s undergarments became the unlikely stars of a suburban show, taking center stage right outside my 8-year-old son’s window. When Jake innocently asked if her thongs were some kind of slingshots, I knew the “panty parade” had to stop, and it was time for a lesson in laundry discretion.
Ah, suburbia—where the lawns are pristine, the air smells of fresh-cut grass, and life rolls along smoothly until someone comes along to shake things up. That’s when Lisa, our new neighbor, arrived. Life had been relatively peaceful until laundry day revealed something I wasn’t prepared for: a rainbow of her underwear flapping outside Jake’s window like flags at a questionable parade.One afternoon, I was folding Jake’s superhero underwear when I glanced out the window and almost choked on my coffee. There they were: hot pink, lacy, and very much on display. My son, ever curious, peered over my shoulder and asked the dreaded question, “Mom, why does Mrs. Lisa have her underwear outside? And why do some of them have strings? Are they for her pet hamster?”
Between stifled laughter and mortified disbelief, I did my best to explain. But Jake’s imagination was running wild, wondering if Mrs. Lisa was secretly a superhero,with underwear designed for aerodynamics. He even wanted to join in, suggesting his Captain America boxers could hang next to her “crime-fighting gear.” It became a daily routine—Lisa’s laundry would wave in the breeze, and Jake’s curiosity would stir. But when he asked if he could hang his own underwear next to hers, I knew it was time to put an end to this spectacle. So, I marched over to her house, ready to resolve the situation diplomatically. Lisa answered the door, and before I could say much, she made it clear she wasn’t about to change her laundry habits for anyone. She laughed off my concerns, suggesting I “loosen up” and even offered me advice on spicing up my own wardrobe. Frustrated but determined, I came up with a plan—a brilliantly petty one. That evening, I created the world’s largest, most garish pair of granny panties out of the brightest fabric I could find. The next day, when Lisa left, I hung my masterpiece right in front of her window. When she returned, the sight of the massive flamingo-patterned undergarments nearly knocked her off her feet. Watching her fume while trying to yank down my prank was worth every stitch. She eventually caved, agreeing to move her laundry somewhere less visible—while I quietly relished my victory. From then on, Lisa’s laundry vanished from our shared view, and peace was restored. As for me? I ended up with a pair of flamingo-themed curtains, a daily reminder of the day I won the great laundry war of suburbia.
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