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 Mom Told Me Not to Visit for 3 Months Due to ‘Renovations’ — When I Decided to Surprise Her, I Discovered the Gory Truth She Was Hiding
For three months, Mia’s mom insisted she stay away while her house was being renovated. But something didn’t sit right. When Mia arrives unannounced, she finds the door unlocked, the house eerily pristine, and a strange smell in the air. Mia is about to stumble upon a devastating secret.
The city was just waking up as I drove through its empty streets. Early morning light painted everything in soft hues, but I couldn’t shake this gnawing feeling in my gut. Something was wrong.
A woman driving | Source: Midjourney
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white. Mom’s voice echoed in my head as my memory replayed all those hurried phone calls and weird excuses. “Oh, honey, I can’t have you over. The house is a mess with all these renovations.”
But three months without seeing her? That wasn’t like us. We used to be thick as thieves, her and me.
I worried about what had changed as I waited at an intersection. Mom had always been house-proud, constantly tweaking and updating our home. But this felt different.
An intersection | Source: Pexels
Her voice on the phone lately… she always sounded so tired. Sad, even. And every time I’d try to press her on it, she’d brush me off. “Don’t worry about me, Mia. How’s that big project at work going? Have you gotten that promotion yet?”
I knew she was keeping something from me, and I’d let it slide for far too long.
A woman driving | Source: Midjourney
So here I was, way too early on a Saturday morning, driving across town because I couldn’t shake this feeling that something was terribly wrong.
As I pulled up to Mom’s house, my heart sank. The garden, usually Mom’s pride and joy, was overgrown and neglected. Weeds poked through the flower beds, and the rosebushes looked like they hadn’t seen pruning shears in months.
“What the hell?” I muttered. I killed the engine and rushed to the gate.
A woman walking up a front path | Source: Midjourney
I walked up to the front door, my footsteps echoing in the quiet morning. When I tried the handle, it turned easily. Unlocked. That wasn’t like Mom at all.
Fear prickled across my skin as I stepped inside. There was no dust, or building materials in sight. No sign of a drop cloth or any paint cans either. And what was that smell? Sharp and citrusy. The place was too clean, too sterile. Like a hospital.
“Mom?” I called out.
No answer.
A woman standing in a hallway | Source: Midjourney
My eyes swept the entryway, landing on a familiar photo on the side table. It was us at the beach when I was maybe seven or eight. I was grinning at the camera, gap-toothed and sunburned, while Mom hugged me from behind, laughing.
The glass was smudged with fingerprints, mostly over my face. That was weird. Mom was always wiping things down, keeping everything spotless. But this… it looked like someone had been touching the photo a lot, almost frantically.
A chill ran down my spine.
A woman holding a framed photo | Source: Midjourney
“Mom?” I called again, louder this time. “You here?”
That’s when I heard it. A faint creaking came from upstairs.
My heart raced as I climbed the stairs. The quiet felt heavy, pressing in on me from all sides. I tried to steady my breathing as I walked down the hallway toward Mom’s room.
“Mom?” My voice came out as a whisper now. “It’s me. It’s Mia.”
I pushed open her bedroom door, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis.
A bedroom door | Source: Unsplash
There she was, struggling to sit up in bed. But this… this couldn’t be my mother. The woman before me was frail and gaunt, her skin sallow against the white sheets. And her hair… oh God, her beautiful hair was gone, replaced by a scarf wrapped around her head.
“Mia?” Her voice was weak, barely above a whisper. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”
I stood frozen in the doorway, my mind refusing to process what I was seeing.
A woman standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
“Mom? What… what happened to you?”
She looked at me with those familiar brown eyes, now sunken in her pale face. “Oh, honey,” she sighed. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
I stumbled to her bedside, dropping to my knees. “Find out what? Mom, please, tell me what’s going on.”
She reached out a thin hand, and I clasped it in both of mine. It felt so fragile, like a bird’s bones.
“I have cancer, Mia,” she said softly.
People holding hands | Source: Pexels
Time stopped and my world narrowed down to how dry her lips looked as she spoke and the hollow feeling in my chest. I couldn’t breathe.
“… undergoing chemotherapy for the past few months,” she finished.
“Cancer? But… but why didn’t you tell me? Why did you keep this from me?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “I didn’t want to burden you, sweetheart. You’ve been working so hard for that promotion. I thought… I thought I could handle this on my own.”
A woman sitting in bed | Source: Midjourney
Anger flared up inside me, hot and sudden. “Handle it on your own? Mom, I’m your daughter! I should have been here! I should have known!”
“Mia, please,” she pleaded. “I was trying to protect you. I didn’t want you to see me like this, so weak and…”
“Protect me?” I cut her off, my voice rising as tears blurred my vision. “By lying to me? By keeping me away when you needed me most? How could you do that?”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
Mom’s face crumpled, and she started to cry, too. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Mia. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to be a burden.”
I climbed onto the bed beside her, careful not to jostle her too much, and pulled her into my arms.
“Oh, Mom,” I whispered. “You could never be a burden to me. Never.”
We sat there for a long time, just holding each other and crying. All the fear and pain of the past few months came pouring out.
A sad woman | Source: Midjourney
When we finally calmed down, I helped Mom get more comfortable, propping her up with pillows. Then I went downstairs and made us both some tea, my mind reeling with everything I’d learned.
Back in her room, I perched on the edge of the bed, handing her a steaming mug. “So,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Tell me everything. From the beginning.”
And she did. She told me about the diagnosis, the shock, and the fear. How she’d started treatment right away, hoping to beat it before I even knew something was wrong.
A woman lying in bed | Source: Midjourney
“But it spread so fast,” she said, her voice trembling. “By the time I realized how bad it was, I was already so sick.”
I took her hand again, squeezing gently. “Mom, don’t you get it? I love you. All of you. Even the sick parts, even the scared parts. Especially those parts. That’s what family is for.”
She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and regret. “I just… I’ve always been the strong one, you know? Your rock. I didn’t know how to be anything else.”
A woman glancing to one side | Source: Midjourney
I smiled through my tears. “Well, now it’s my turn to be the rock. I’m not going anywhere, Mom. We’re in this together, okay?”
She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay.”
I moved back in with Mom later that week. I also took time off work and called in every favor I could to get Mom the best care possible, even if all we could do was keep her as comfortable as possible.
We spent her final days together, sharing stories and memories, laughing and crying together. And when the end came, I was right there beside her.
A woman lying beside her mother | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry, Mia,” she whispered. “I wanted… I never took you to Disneyland… I promised to take you camping in the mountains… so many promises I’ve broken…”
“It’s not important.” I moved closer to her on the bed. “What matters is that you were always there for me when I needed you. You always knew how to make me smile when I was sad, or make everything better when I messed something up.” I sniffed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, Mom.”
Her eyes cracked open, and she smiled faintly at me.
Close up of a woman’s eyes | Source: Midjourney
“You’re going to be okay, Mia. You’re so strong… my amazing daughter. I love you so much.”
I put my arms around her and hugged her as tightly as I dared. I’m not sure exactly when she slipped away, but when I eventually pulled back, Mom was gone.
I stayed there for a long time, trying to hold onto the warmth of our last hug as sobs racked my body, replaying her last words in my mind. Trying to keep her with me, no matter how impossible that was.
A woman grieving | Source: Midjourney
Saying goodbye to Mom was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I wouldn’t trade those moments I spent with her for anything in the world.
Because in the end, that’s what love is. It’s showing up, even when it’s hard. It’s being there, even in the darkest moments. It’s holding on tight and never letting go.
Here’s another story: My name is Larissa, and I’m just a regular woman trying to keep up with the demands of life. Between work and everything else, I sometimes forget to slow down and focus on what really matters. But nothing could have prepared me for the day I returned to my childhood home, only to find it reduced to rubble and my mother missing.
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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