*All In The Family* was one of the greatest shows ever, and I believe its lessons are still relevant today. It made several actors famous – and Sally Struthers was one of them.
Today, the beautiful woman with her iconic blonde hair looks quite different – but she’s still working in the industry…
**A Precocious Talent**
For many of us, Sally Struthers will always be remembered for her role as Gloria Stivic in the ’70s sitcom *All In The Family*. The iconic show was about a working-class white family living in Queens, New York, and it received an incredible 73 award nominations and won 42 times during its run.
However, I wonder if people born after the show ended can really understand how groundbreaking it was. There had been funny sitcoms before, but they rarely addressed social issues and taboos. *All In The Family* took many of these topics and made them funny, heartbreaking, or sometimes both.
Watching old episodes of the show on YouTube really makes you feel young again. It makes you laugh and helps you forget about today’s problems. Many of the issues back then are still the same ones we face today, just presented in a comical way.
The main characters in *All In The Family* are Archie Bunker (Carroll O’Connor), Edith Bunker (Jean Stapleton), Gloria Bunker-Stivic (Sally Struthers), Michael Stivic (Rob Reiner), and Stephanie Mills (Danielle Brisebois). They all had great chemistry together.
In my opinion, Sally Struthers was very talented and often underrated as an actress. She even sang in some episodes of *All In The Family*, and I could see how she grew as a performer throughout the series.
“At first, I behaved like an idiot on the set. I thought that was how to get people to like me. I’ve learned to be myself, and now they respect me,” she told *Longview Daily News* in 1973.
When the series premiered in January 1971, Sally was a 22-year-old unknown with little TV experience. Producer Norman Lear, who Sally called the “father of us all,” discovered her while she was dancing on *The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour*.
Despite her lack of experience, Sally did a fantastic job, just like the rest of the cast. Six months after the premiere, she was a certified star as *All In The Family* became the No. 1 show on television.
At the peak of her fame, she could hardly walk outside or go to dinner without being swarmed by fans. For an innocent 22-year-old, it was a very challenging experience.
During the first seasons of the show, Sally was happy playing Gloria Stivic. However, she was rarely given a chance to fully develop her character or showcase her acting skills. During a break from *All In The Family*, she told producers that she wanted to try a more dramatic role.
“When we go on hiatus, I want to do something different,” she said.
“There are so many ways to represent a woman. I would like to play a murderess, an unwed mother, a nun, and an old Jewish mother. At the end of my career, I’d like people to say that I am as funny as Judy Holliday and as respected as Ruth Gordon.”
Unfortunately, typecasting can hurt a career – how often do we see someone become famous from an iconic show, only to struggle afterward?
Sadly, that was somewhat true for Sally.
She won two Emmy Awards for her role as Gloria and was given leading parts in a few other shows after leaving *All In The Family*. But the reality was that she didn’t receive many offers, and work soon began to slow down for her.
In the 1990s, Sally was a semi-regular panelist on the game show *Match Game*. Others might recognize her as Babette Dell in *Gilmore Girls*.
Today, she has been a regular at the Ogunquit Playhouse since the early 2000s. This regional theater is located in Ogunquit, Maine, and produces four or more shows each season.
In 2022, she starred alongside AJ Holmes as Frau Blucher in Mel Brooks’ *Young Frankenstein* at La Mirada Theatre for the Performing Arts.
The *All In The Family* star has also worked hard to advocate for impoverished children in developing countries. Sally has been a spokesperson for the Christian Children’s Fund for many years and has appeared in their well-known TV commercials.
**Sally Struthers’ Daughter**
Many might not know this, but Sally is a mother of one, even though she never really wanted a child at first. After meeting famous psychiatrist William C. Rader, she changed her mind. The couple married in 1977, and two years later, they welcomed a daughter named Samantha.
Over the years, Sally has had her ups and downs. She lost her mother to Alzheimer’s in 1996; her mother passed away in Sally’s arms just two days before Christmas. Sally has also faced mean comments about her looks and weight over the years, mostly from random people on social media.
But the actress has handled all these challenges with charm, integrity, and a sense of humor.
“From the time I was able to walk and say a few words, my whole aim in life was to make people laugh,” she told *Spectrum News* in 2022.
“And when I hear other people laugh, and I know that some silly face I’ve made or some line reading has made them double over, I’m transported to heaven. That’s my thing. Laughter.”
After I restored the motorcycle my father had gifted me, he took it back — so I found a way to get my revenge
I caught them effortlessly, but I was confused.
“What’s this for?” I asked. They didn’t look like car keys, and I already had my mom’s old car anyway.
My dad nodded toward a dusty tarp in the corner of the garage. It had been there for as long as I could remember, covering up something that I was told not to touch.
When I pulled the tarp off, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was my dad’s old Harley, a ’73 Shovelhead. It was the stuff of my childhood dreams, the bike that had always seemed just out of reach.
All I had wanted to do when I was younger was steal my dad’s leather jacket and sit on the motorcycle. But he always shouted at me whenever I tried to touch it.
“If there’s one scratch on it, Seth,” he would say, “I’ll take all your spending money away.”
That was enough to keep me away from the dream bike.
“You’re giving me the Harley?” I asked, my voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.
My father shrugged it off like it was nothing.
“Yeah, why not, son?” he declared. “It hasn’t run in years, to be honest, so good luck with that. Consider it a late birthday gift, Seth.”
I could barely believe it.
I was finally going to ride that bike, and feel the engine roaring beneath me, the wind in my hair. It was going to be everything I had dreamt of and more. I was finally going to be like my dad.
I ran my hand over the cracked leather seat, taking in the gift.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I promise I’ll take good care of her.”
The moment those keys were in my hand, that motorcycle became my new obsession.
“Jeez, son,” the mechanic said when I took the Harley over in a friend’s old pickup truck. “There’s a lot to be done here. But I can do the big things for you, and you’ll be able to sort out the smaller things if you’re confident enough.”
I saved every penny from my barista role at the café. I was extra polite to all my customers, hoping for large tips, ready to go straight into the motorcycle restoration fund.
Soon, my nights, weekends, and any and all free time I had were spent outside with the motorcycle. I tore it down and put it back together, better than ever, restoring old parts. I watched countless YouTube tutorials and read every manual I could find.
“What are you doing now?” my roommate, Brett, asked when I was hunched over my laptop on the couch.
“I’m looking at forums online for tips about the motorcycle,” I said.
“That’s all you do these days, buddy,” he said, chuckling.
Fourteen months later, the day finally came. I polished the last piece of chrome, stood back, and admired my work. The Harley gleamed under the garage lights, looking like it had just rolled off the assembly line.
“Good job, Seth,” I muttered to myself.
I could hardly contain my excitement as I thought about showing it to my parents, especially my dad. I imagined the pride on his face, the way his eyes would light up when he saw what I’d done.
I hoped that he would finally be proud of something I had done. But nothing prepared me for what was to come next.
I rode it over to my parents’ house, the engine purring beneath my legs like a big cat. As I parked in the driveway, I felt a rush of nerves. I hadn’t felt this anxious since I was waiting for my acceptance letter for college.
“Mom? Dad?” I called, walking into the hallway.
“We’re in the kitchen,” my mom called.
I walked into the kitchen, and there they were. My dad was drinking a cup of tea, and Mom was busy putting together a lasagna.
“I’ve got something to show you!” I said. “It’s outside.”
They followed me outside, their eyes going wide when they saw the motorcycle.
“Oh my gosh, Seth,” my dad exclaimed. “Is that the Harley? My old Harley? She looks beautiful!”
“Yes,” I said, grinning. “I’ve spent the last year working on it. What do you think?”
Before they could answer, my dad moved closer to the motorcycle. His eyes narrowed as he took it in. He ran his hands along the chrome as though he couldn’t believe his own eyes.
“You did all this?” he asked, his voice tight.
“I did!” I said, beaming proudly. “Every spare moment and extra cash went into this project. And now she’s perfect.”
For a second, I thought I saw pride flicker in his eyes, but then his expression changed. His face darkened, and I felt something change in me.
“You know, Seth,” he said slowly, “this bike is worth a hell of a lot more now. I think I was too generous when I gave it to you.”
I blinked, not understanding.
“What do you mean, Dad?”
My father cleared his throat, not meeting my eyes.
“I’m going to take it back,” he said, his tone final. “And I’ll give you $1,000 for your trouble.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, barely containing my anger.
He nodded.
“It’s only fair, Seth.”
I wanted to yell, to tell him how unfair he was being, how much time and money I’d poured into that bike. But I knew that arguing wouldn’t get me anywhere. My father was too stubborn.
“Sure,” I said. “Whatever you think is fair.”
He looked surprised that I didn’t fight him on it, but I wasn’t done with my revenge. If he wanted to play dirty, then fine. I could play that game too. I just needed to be smarter about it.
A few days later, I saw my father posting on social media about his “newly restored” motorcycle and that he was taking the Harley to an upcoming bike meet with his old biking buddies.
“Now it’s on,” I said to myself.
When the day of the meet arrived, I watched from a distance as my father rolled up on the Harley, looking every bit the proud owner of a beautiful bike. He revved the engine, drawing the attention of everyone in the parking lot.
But what he didn’t know was that I’d made a little modification of my own.
Under the seat, I’d installed a small switch—it was nothing fancy. But it was a precaution in case the Harley was ever stolen. The switch, when accessed, would cut off the fuel line with a quick flick of the remote, which was firmly planted in my hand.
I waited until he was right in the middle of the crowd, basking in the admiration, and then, from a distance, I pressed the button.
The Harley sputtered, the engine dying with a weak cough. Soon, my father’s smug grin disappeared as he tried to restart it, but the engine wouldn’t give.
The murmurs began, making their way through the crowd, and a few of his buddies laughed under their breath.
“Need a hand, Dad?” I asked when I made my way over to him.
He glared at me, but I could see the desperation in his eyes. He nodded, too embarrassed to say anything. I knelt down, pretending to fiddle with the bike for a moment before “fixing” the problem by turning off the switch.
The engine roared back to life, but by then, the damage was done.
The look of embarrassment on my dad’s face was worth every second of the work I had put into the Harley.
He handed me the keys, his jaw clenched tightly.
“It’s yours,” he said, walking away.
I smiled, knowing the Harley was mine, and so was my father’s respect, even if he couldn’t say it.
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