(Photo Credits: Photographer-Alexander Bender, New York, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

Hollywood and television fans are mourning the loss of June Lockhart, the beloved actress best known for her maternal roles in Lassie and Lost in Space. She passed away on October 23, 2025, at her home in Santa Monica of natural causes at the age of 100, AP News reports.

Lockhart was born on June 25, 1925 in New York City to actor parents Gene and Kathleen Lockhart. She made her stage debut at age 8 in a Metropolitan Opera production, and her first film role came alongside her parents in the 1938 adaptation of A Christmas Carol. Over her long career, she worked in film, Broadway, and television, including films such as Meet Me in St. Louis and She-Wolf of London.

On television, Lockhart won acclaim for her role as Ruth Martin in Lassie (1958–1964), raising orphan Timmy with warmth and dignity. Later, she joined Lost in Space (1965–1968) as Maureen Robinson, anchoring her sci-fi family with a grounded, human presence. She also appeared on Petticoat Junction, General Hospital, and many guest roles over the decades.

Beyond her acting, Lockhart was known for her curiosity, public engagement, and even political access. She held a lifetime White House press pass, a rare privilege granted by President Eisenhower’s press secretary, allowing her to attend briefings over decades. She remained sharp and active well into her later years, reportedly reading multiple newspapers daily.

One fascinating and lesser-known moment showcases Lockhart’s willingness to push back against homophobia — even in an era when it was still socially risky. In a 1970 appearance on The Virginia Graham Show, she joined Reverend Troy Perry, a pioneering LGBTQ+ cleric, and gently challenged Virginia Graham’s moralizing tone toward gay people. In a clip from that show, Lockhart made a rare public stand in 1970 for someone of her stature.

That moment carries extra significance when seen against the times: in 1970, LGBTQ+ rights were barely on the mainstream radar, and many public figures avoided addressing such issues. For a respected TV mother figure to rebut homophobic commentary gave the topic a legitimacy it rarely received on daytime television. It may not have been grand activism, but it was a crack in the facade of silence. During that moment, her readiness to speak softly but firmly matters. In Hollywood’s long history of closeted lives, even small public acts of support can ripple out more than we often credit.

June Lockhart leaves behind a legacy not only as a comforting television presence but also as someone who, in her own quiet way, believed that compassion and inclusion matter. In an era when many hid, she spoke. May we remember her both for the millions she raised in our living rooms, and for the courage it took to raise her voice.

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