June Krickhan Moulthrop

June Krickhan Moulthrop, 92, passed away November 11, 2017 at her home in Catonsville, in the presence of family and in the arms of her sons.

June was born in Baltimore to Richard Krickhan and Mary Krickhan nee Wagner.  She had three sisters, Ruth, Carolyn, and Ann.  Her father, a long-time administrative worker for the B&O Railroad, was one of the “South Baltimore boys,” the cohort of German-American Baltimoreans that included H.L. Mencken.  While keeping house and raising her daughters, her mother volunteered at the Enoch Pratt Free Library.

“Pop” Krickhan was a semi-professional ballplayer and avid fan of the game who had a small ownership stake in the minor-league Orioles of 1916-53.  He conveyed his passion for baseball especially to June, whom he taught the mysteries of his arcane technique for box scores.  June’s sons grew up with stories of the diamond and its devotees.  They heard about the taunts their grandfather would call out to opposing hitters, including one fellow with an odd stance whom Pop named “Old Foot-in-the-Bucket.”

During World War II June worked in defense plants, including an assembly line for the Bendix company where she soldered parts for “hearing aids.”  She was a proficient worker, producing hundreds of units in a shift.  When her sons later asked her if all those “hearing aids” might have been war materiel, June stuck to her story.   Millions of hearing-impaired Americans -- or thousands of military pilots – have her to thank.

June matriculated on a scholarship to Goucher College, where she majored in History, played a lot of bridge, and sometimes cut classes to hear debates in Congress.  Along the way, she conceived a lifelong interest in politics, philosophy, and social justice, which she would later pass on to her sons.  She received her B.A. in 1947.

Around this time June met, through her sister, a transplanted New York teenager named Dick Moulthrop, whose brother Albert had just been discharged from the Navy.  Weighing in at a bit more than 90 pounds after a bout with malaria, Al may not have seemed the most eligible bachelor, but he and June soon fell headfirst in love, her spark and urbanity a fine match for his gentleness and quiet charm.  Meanwhile Ann and Dick grew similarly involved, and eventually each brother would marry one of the sisters, producing four double-cousins, Sandra Ann Moulthrop, Stuart Allison Moulthrop, Richard George Moulthrop, and Andrew George Moulthrop.

Al and June moved to the western suburbs of Baltimore in the early fifties, where June found work as an executive secretary at the Calvert Distillery in Relay.  This stretch as a career woman was a highlight of her life, the source of many lasting friendships and a fount of wild stories she would later tell her sons, at least one of whom also became a storyteller.  Company policy did not allow married women to hold secretarial posts, but June was so well liked that her bosses suspended the rule for her, on condition nobody be told.  Employees mistakenly referring to “Mrs. Moulthrop” were redirected to “Miss Krickhan.”  This idyllic situation ended in 1956 when June became pregnant with her first son.

June raised Stuart and Andy in a small house in Catonsville while Al went on to supervise production in the bottle shop at National Brewing.  He often worked the four-to-twelve shift.  When he got home the couple would eat Chinese food and watch old movies on TV – nights June would recall as some of the best in her life.  Her sons attended the Catonsville public schools.  Stuart became a prominent high school debater and Andy a star shortstop for Catonsville Little League.  The family vacationed in Ocean City, kept a small boat on the Magothy, and lived with a pair of legendary beagles.

In 1977-78, June’s sister Ann was taken by cancer.  Eight months later Al died suddenly from a heart attack.  These losses overturned June’s world.  At 52, she learned to drive and re-entered the labor force, eventually becoming Assistant Registrar at UMBC, a position she held until age 70.  Once more an independent, self-supporting woman, June again found joy in her work, making a new set of friends and layering up more stories.  Her strength and self-confidence gave her sons wherewithal and inspiration to launch their careers.  Stuart earned a doctorate at Yale and Andy went on to important work for the Department of Defense.

Andy married Lucy Ann Brunson in 1992.  The two would eventually settle in Catonsville, where June’s grandson Matthew would spend several hours each weekday at Nana’s until his dad picked him up.  Following in his father and great-grandfather’s tracks, Matthew played shortstop for Catonsville High and a succession of travel teams.  He was selected for the Maryland Baseball Coaches’ Association state teams in his junior and senior years.  June attended as many of his games as she could manage.

In 1994 Stuart and his partner Nancy Kaplan were offered faculty positions at the University of Baltimore, re-uniting the Moulthrop family and adding Nancy’s daughters, Erica and Eva, who became elective Baltimoreans.  Devoted to her daughters-in-law, June shared with them meals, holidays, and many hours rooting for the Orioles and Ravens.  In Lucy Ann she saw a working mother like herself; in Nancy, a fighter for equality and women’s rights.  In 2016 June watched her daughter-in-law on television, serving as a delegate to the Democratic National Convention.

Nancy’s daughter Eva Farrell and her husband Paul David Dudich extended the clan to a third generation later that year, bringing into the world Robert Stuart Sparks Dudich-Farrell, more conveniently known as Rory.  Though Rory’s first year was to be June’s last, she spent many happy hours with her great-grandchild.

Having lived in her home for 64 years, June had no greater wish than to stay in that house until the end.  With the help of her physician, Dr. Scott Poulton, and the marvelous support of the Stella Maris Hospice nurses, she achieved this goal.  When the end came it was after many good days in which June shared time with friends and loved ones, some living and some already gone.  In the presence of the living she defied her illness.  With the dead, perhaps, she arranged to go in her own sweet time.  Her   passing leaves a rift we can never close, though somehow from that space there radiates for all her children an equally unquenchable love.