Our Gal Sal's still standing: Philly's famed TV cowgirl has survived many heartaches

SHE HAS A daytime aide who answers the door to her immaculate, cozy Camden County, N.J., home. Sitting on the sofa in a living room decorated with several colorful pop art portraits from her turn-of-the-1960s, cowgirl-glam heyday, she looks every inch an octogenarian who has known heartaches and setbacks.

But while the decades may have exacted physical and emotional tolls, there's no denying Sally Starr is still "Our Gal Sal," the local baby boomer icon who remains, arguably, the most beloved broadcaster in Philadelphia history.

Starr, 87, was positively glowing in matching pink pants, Western hat and boots - all set off by a sparkly, multicolored jacket - as she greeted a couple of visitors on a recent gray and chilly South Jersey afternoon.

She appeared to revel in discussing her colorful, dramatic life, which she recounted in detail, although she did occasionally trip over specific dates.

While Starr had no time for self-pity, she seemed somewhat dismayed by her current physical condition - something of a shock for anyone who remembers her as the voluptuous TV cowgirl of the 1950s and '60s.

"I weigh 106 pounds. I didn't even weigh 106 pounds when I was born," she said with a sly smile.

Though so much has changed - for her and the world - since she helped raise the region's boomers via her weekday cartoon show on what was then WFIL-TV, there is much about Starr that remains constant.

She still has that trademark blond ponytail and speaks with the same soft Missouri drawl she had when she arrived in Philadelphia from Kansas City in the late 1940s to host a country music program on the old WJMJ-AM.

And, perhaps most important of all, she still exudes that nameless but immediately recognizable quality that separates the truly special from the rest of us.

But her physical condition pretty much defines her life today, she said.

Some of that she attributes to a 2005 car accident she had while driving to do her weekly radio show on Vineland, N.J.'s WVLT-FM (92.1).

According to her lawyer, Starr ran a stop sign and crashed into a car driven by a Camden County woman on Feb. 6, 2005.

The legal case against Starr was resolved when she pleaded guilty to disregarding a stop sign and paid a $156 fine.

A civil suit was later filed by the other driver, and was, according to the woman's attorney, Joseph J. Hoffman Jr., of Woodbury, N.J., settled for an undisclosed sum.

Starr rolled up her sleeve to show her visitors where a metal plate was surgically inserted in her right forearm.

Although pain from the accident continues to plague her, she said, and she has to use a cane to get around, she has hardly called it a day.

She makes as many personal appearances as she can - everywhere from stores to private parties - glorying in the kind of love and adulation today's local media stars can only fantasize about.

Among her upcoming dates is a May 7 meet-and-greet at Harrah's Chester casino.

"Al Alberts' niece books me," she said, referring to the recently deceased former pop singer and host of the kids' talent show "Al Alberts Showcase," which ran on Channel 6 from 1970 to 2001.

"She says to me, 'Sally, can't you do more than two a week?' I don't drive anymore. If they wanna send a car for me, I'll do it."

Starr, who started in show business in Kansas City at age 14 in a singing duo with one of her sisters, also continues to do a country music program, "Suppertime Jamboree," from 5 to 6 p.m. Saturdays on WVLT. She prerecords the show at her house now.

And she's still looking for business opportunities.

Her latest drawing-board project is a South Jersey facility she'd like to turn into a country music nightclub, although "nothing's been signed yet."

It's difficult for younger people and older folks who grew up elsewhere to grasp just how huge Starr was back in the day.

She began her local TV career hosting a Western-themed kids show in 1955, according to the Broadcast Pioneers of Philadelphia archives. Her beloved "Popeye Theater" cartoon show debuted in 1957.

At a time when there were but three commercial television channels, Starr's ratings were astronomical. She was easily the most-in-demand local media personality of her era, and she was a cottage industry unto herself, marketing such items as Sally Starr dolls and annual yearbooks.

But throughout her life, struggle and sorrow were more the norm. One of five daughters of Charles and Bertha Beller (her given name is Alleen Mae Beller), she grew up poor during the Depression.

At one point during the interview, she recalled the red-letter day her father installed her family's first electric lightbulb.

She recalled her first husband, country singer Jesse Rogers, as emotionally abusive and an all-around unpleasant individual.

She has long identified her second husband, Channel 6 cameraman Mark Gray, as "the love of my life." However, he died in 1968 after only eight years of marriage.

When she lost her Channel 6 show in 1971, Starr said she was given one day's notice - and station suits wouldn't let her officially say goodbye to her viewers.

In the early 1970s, she moved to Ft. Lauderdale, Fla. But in 1987 she lost everything, including irreplaceable memorabilia, in a house fire there.

In the late 1990s, she declared bankruptcy when her personal-appearance business dried up after then-New Jersey 101.5 talk-show host Jeff Diminski identified her on the air as a "lesbian cowgirl."

Although her defamation lawsuit was initially rejected by a lower court, the Appellate Division of New Jersey Superior Court ultimately ruled in her favor. According to her attorney, Alexander Wazeter of Millville, N.J., she received an undisclosed amount of money in damages.

But perhaps the cruelest irony of all was that the woman who was beloved by tens of thousands of children could never have any herself, the result of a childhood bout with polio, she said.

So instead, she became a surrogate mom to legions of kids who, to this day, maintain deep affection for her. A recently created "Sally Starr Official Fan Page" on Facebook boasted almost 4,000 fans last week.

The feeling, rest assured, is mutual.

She wanted her fans to know that they were always most important to her. Thanks to them, "I would forget everything bothering me at the stage door [because they] were waiting for me on the other side. I wanna say thank you from the bottom of my heart for being there for me.

"I love my baby boomers."

While many of her earliest viewers are now grandparents, Starr's concern for youngsters has never ebbed. She is especially vexed by the kind of television programming children are exposed to these days. She believes the medium long ago abandoned one of its most important responsibilities, to protect its youngest constituents.

"I think it's lousy," she declared. "I really do believe we need to teach our kids right from wrong."

The first six or so decades of Starr's life are recounted in her 1994 autobiography, "Me, Thee & TV."

She's working on a sequel that she's calling "Out Of the Ashes," a title inspired by the Florida house fire.

"It came from me meditating and thinkin' too much about losing everything I had," she said.

"Out of the ashes came the revelation they were only material things. And I thank God for allowing me to live a long time."

Considering the hard knocks life has dealt her, it would have been easy to understand if Starr had given up years, if not decades ago.

But that, she insisted, was never an option.

"Either you're giving up, or you're saying, 'I'm not finished yet,' " she said. "Even if you make a mistake, at least you tried."

There's no question the memory of Philadelphia's favorite cowgirl will live on well beyond the time she heads off to the final roundup.

So how does she want to be remembered here in the Delaware Valley?

Without hesitation she replied:

"Your Gal Sal. Period."