
Ah, June — school’s out, pools are open, and June birthday people are here to remind you that the fun starts now.
These stars are summer’s opening act, kicking off long days, warm nights, and questionable tan lines. Grab a lemonade and join us in celebrating the folks who make June the month of all things bright and loud.
Mark Curry has the rare ability to make you laugh about things you swore you weren’t going to talk about. He’ll tell a story about family, sports, or life’s curveballs—and by the end, you’re laughing so hard you forget you were supposed to be serious. If timing is everything, Curry’s still running the clock like he’s up by two with ten seconds left—and yes, he’s taking the shot.
June 1, 1961, in Oakland, California
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Claire Holt has one of the strangest career résumés imaginable: she started as a mermaid and then became a thousand-year-old vampire. At this rate, her next role will probably be an alien queen or a time-traveling pirate. She’s spent so much time playing supernatural creatures that if someone handed her a script where she just played a regular person with a normal office job, she’d probably flip through it and ask, “So… when do I grow fangs or a tail?”
June 11, 1988, in Brisbane, Australia
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Dr. Ruth proved that you don’t need to be tall to be a giant in your field. At 4 feet 7 inches, she could barely see over some podiums, but she could certainly see right through people’s excuses for poor communication. With her cheerful accent and unstoppable energy, she turned late-night radio into a classroom for grown-ups—and probably made a few listeners blush while she was at it. If confidence were measured in decibels, she’d have been ten feet tall.
June 4, 1928, in Frankfurt, Germany
July 12, 2024, in Manhatten, New York
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Anne Winters may be a rising Hollywood star, but give her a board game and she’ll happily spend the evening arguing over hotel properties and triple-word scores. Somewhere between intense dramatic scenes and red-carpet events, she’s probably plotting a ruthless Monopoly strategy. And if her on-screen characters are any indication, you might want to think twice before agreeing to be the banker.
June 3, 1994, in Dallas, Texas
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Willa Holland has the kind of cool, effortless vibe that makes it look like she just rolled out of bed, grabbed a guitar, fed the dogs, snapped a gorgeous travel photo, and accidentally became a television star before lunch. While other actors are busy perfecting their red-carpet poses, Willa seems more interested in finding the nearest sushi spot or planning her next adventure. She gives off the energy of someone who could save a city in a superhero show at night, then spend the next morning arguing with a barista about whether coffee counts as breakfast. Honestly, if laid-back confidence were a superpower, she’d never even need the costume.
June 18, 1991, in Los Angeles, California
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Luke Youngblood has managed to build a career where he’s best known for either announcing magical sports or yelling “Pop! Pop!” at random intervals, which is honestly a pretty great résumé. Not everyone can say they’ve worked at Hogwarts and a fictional community college without even needing a time-turner. Somewhere out there, there’s probably a crossover universe where Lee Jordan is commentating a Quidditch match while Magnitude runs through the stands shouting his catchphrase. And frankly, that sounds like a show people would absolutely watch.
June 12, 1986, in London, England
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If you survived watching Meet the Parents without cringing at least once, you may be superhuman. Through all that chaos, Teri Polo stood calmly in the middle of it like someone who had already rehearsed every possible awkward family dinner scenario. Meanwhile, most of us panic if our in-laws ask about our five-year plan. She handled De Niro’s interrogation scenes with grace — which frankly deserves its own award category.
June 1st, 1969, in Dover, Delaware
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Paul Schulze has played so many serious, intense characters that you half-expect him to walk into a room and immediately start delivering a speech about life, morality, or a looming federal crisis. He’s been a priest who loved pasta a little too much, a government agent who took his job very seriously, and a pharmacist with a heart bigger than his common sense. If there’s ever a TV show about a deeply conflicted man standing in a dimly lit room, looking worried while holding a cup of coffee, Paul Schulze is probably already cast. And honestly, he’ll probably be the best part of the scene.
June 12, 1962, in New York City
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If you ever met Liza Weil in person, part of your brain might still expect her to start lecturing you about your GPA, your five-year plan, and why you’re already behind schedule. That’s the power of Paris Geller. She played the role so convincingly that an entire generation of viewers still feels slightly nervous around ambitious overachievers. The funny part is, by all accounts, Liza herself is warm, thoughtful, and nothing like her famously intense character—though it might still be wise to have your résumé ready, just in case.
June 5, 1977, in Passaic, New Jersey
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There are two guarantees in life: taxes and someone eventually saying, “This would sound better if Morgan Freeman narrated it.” He could read your grocery list and make it feel like an epic saga. Somewhere right now, he’s probably flying a plane, tending bees, or calmly explaining the mysteries of existence—all before lunch. And honestly, that feels exactly right.
June 1, 1937, in Memphis, Tennessee
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Landing a starring role on a hit television series is impressive enough. Doing it almost immediately after graduating from drama school is the sort of thing that makes aspiring actors stare at their résumés and sigh dramatically. Fortunately for Camila Mendes, talent, timing, and plenty of determination all arrived at the audition together.
June 29, 1994, in Charlottesville, Virginia
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Karl Urban has one of those faces that looks equally at home in medieval armor, a futuristic space uniform, or a long leather coat while threatening corrupt superheroes. He’s spent so much time fighting orcs, criminals, aliens, and super-powered maniacs that you get the feeling he probably checks under the bed at night just in case there’s a rogue villain hiding there. And yet, off-screen, he’s the kind of laid-back New Zealander who’d probably rather be surfing than saving the galaxy. It’s comforting to know that if the world ever does end, there’s a decent chance Karl Urban will show up wearing the right costume for the situation.
June 7, 1972, in Wellington, New Zealand
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James Callis has the rare talent of making genius-level intelligence look both impressive and slightly dangerous. As Gaius Baltar, he could deliver a speech about theology, quantum physics, and his own innocence—all in the same breath—and somehow make it sound convincing. If there were an award for “Most Likely to Accidentally Doom Humanity While Explaining Why It Wasn’t His Fault,” he’d win it every time. Fortunately for the rest of us, off-screen he seems far more interested in piano, painting, and raising his kids than triggering any robotic uprisings.
June 4, 1971, in Hampstead, England
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Some people are born into a family business. June Carter Cash was born into a family that practically invented country music. While most children grow up hearing bedtime stories, June grew up surrounded by songs, stages, instruments, and enough musical talent to fill several generations. She spent a lifetime making audiences laugh, sing along, and occasionally reach for a handkerchief. Along the way, she became a country music star, songwriter, actress, comedian, and one-half of one of the most famous partnerships in music history. Not bad for someone who could steal the spotlight simply by walking on stage with an autoharp and a grin.
June 23, 1929, in Maces Spring, Virginia
May 15, 2003, in Nashville, Tennessee
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Justin Long has built an entire career on looking slightly confused while chaos unfolds around him. Whether he’s dodging dodgeballs, battling hackers, or facing off against something truly horrifying, his expression usually says, “I did not sign up for this.” If there were an award for Most Likely to Survive a Disaster by Accident, Justin would probably win it—mostly because he’d be too busy apologizing to the monster to realize he escaped.
June 2, 1978, in Fairfield, Connecticut
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If you only knew Theo Rossi from his toughest roles, you’d assume he spends his free time glowering in dark corners and delivering intense monologues to passing strangers. In reality, he’s more likely to be out running a charity race, helping a nonprofit, or wrangling kids at home. It’s the classic actor’s paradox: the man who plays some of television’s most troubled characters is probably the one at the neighborhood barbecue reminding everyone to drink water and stretch before the softball game.
June 4, 1975, in Staten Island, New York
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Ryan McCartan has the kind of career that makes you wonder if he secretly spins a giant “talent wheel” every morning. Acting? Sure. Singing? Of course. Broadway? Why not. One day he’s on a Disney set, the next he’s belting out show tunes in front of a packed theater, and somewhere in between he’s probably doing push-ups and scouting the nearest taco truck. If multitasking were an Olympic sport, Ryan would already have a gold medal—and he’d be celebrating it with extra salsa.
June 14, 1993, in Excelsior, Minnesota
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Paul McCartney has reached that rare level of fame where he can walk into a room, hum a random tune, and there’s a good chance it will turn into a classic. Most people spend years trying to write one decent song, while Paul casually stacked up hits like he was collecting coupons. Somewhere in the world, there’s probably a notebook he forgot about in 1965 that contains three melodies good enough to top the charts today. And while the rest of us complain about standing too long at the grocery store, he’s still out there performing three-hour concerts, waving to the crowd like, “Alright, just one more before tea.”
June 18, 1942, in Liverpool, England
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Dave Navarro looks like the kind of guy who could either headline a rock festival or quietly run a very stylish haunted bookstore. With his tattoos, dark clothing, and ever-present guitar, he gives off the vibe of someone who definitely knows a few secret chords that shouldn’t be played after midnight. Yet, despite the mysterious rock-star aura, he often comes across as surprisingly calm and thoughtful—like the cool older cousin who shows up at family gatherings, brings the best music, and somehow makes even the potato salad seem a little more rebellious.
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June 7, 1967, in Santa Monica, California
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Isabella Rossellini has the rare ability to glide into a room looking like she just stepped off a Renaissance painting, then casually start explaining the mating habits of snails with the enthusiasm of a science teacher on double espresso. One minute she’s the elegant daughter of Hollywood royalty, the next she’s in a short film dressed as an insect, proving that true sophistication includes a healthy sense of humor—and possibly antennae. It’s hard to say what’s more impressive: her film career, her fashion history, or the fact that she can make the love life of a beetle sound like a romantic epic.
June 18, 1952, in Rome, Italy
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On September 14, 1814, lawyer Francis Scott Key was inspired to write the poem that eventually became the lyrics of the United States national anthem, “The Star-Spangled Banner.” During the War of 1812, British forces had captured Washington, D.C., and burned several major public buildings before turning their attention toward Baltimore. Key became involved after his friend, physician William Beanes, was taken prisoner by the British. He helped negotiate Beanes' release, but because the Americans had learned details of the planned attack, they were required to remain with the British fleet until the assault on Baltimore was completed.
From aboard a vessel in the Patapsco River, Key watched as British ships bombarded Fort McHenry through the night of September 13 and into the morning of September 14. When daylight came, the enormous American flag flying above the fort was still visible, showing that the defenders had held their position and the British attack had failed. Moved by the sight, Key began writing verses that became a four-stanza poem titled “Defence of Fort M'Henry.” It was soon published and sung to the melody of “To Anacreon in Heaven,” a British song composed by John Stafford Smith. Over time, Key's poem became better known by the title of its opening imagery, “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
Key, born August 1, 1779, in Maryland, was a prominent lawyer who later served as U.S. attorney for the District of Columbia. His song became increasingly associated with patriotic and official occasions, and President Woodrow Wilson directed that it be played at appropriate military and naval ceremonies in 1916. Congress formally designated “The Star-Spangled Banner” as the national anthem, with President Herbert Hoover signing the measure into law on March 3, 1931. Key did not live to see what became of his composition; he died on January 11, 1843, decades before his hastily written verses became the official musical symbol of the United States.
On September 14, 1964, Kellogg's introduced the toaster pastry that would become Pop-Tarts, although the company was not the first to announce the idea. Rival Post had already publicized plans for a shelf-stable, fruit-filled pastry called Country Squares but revealed the concept before the product was ready for widespread sale. Kellogg's recognized the opportunity and moved quickly, turning to William “Bill” Post, then working at the Hekman Biscuit Company in Michigan, to help develop a pastry that could survive both the supermarket shelf and a trip through the family toaster. Post and his team experimented with dough, fillings and production methods, with his children reportedly serving as enthusiastic taste testers along the way.
Kellogg's initially considered calling its creation Fruit Scones before settling on the far more memorable Pop-Tarts, a name that played nicely with the popularity of Pop Art during the 1960s. The original unfrosted pastries appeared in four flavors—strawberry, blueberry, brown sugar cinnamon and apple currant—and the early test market was enormously successful. Demand quickly outran supply, forcing Kellogg's to publish advertisements apologizing to customers because it had run out. Frosting arrived a few years later after the company developed a version capable of surviving toaster temperatures without melting into a sugary disaster, followed by sprinkles, additional flavors and Milton the Toaster, an animated mascot who helped promote the increasingly popular breakfast treat.
What began as a hurried response to a competitor became one of Kellogg's most recognizable products. William Post is frequently described as the inventor of Pop-Tarts, although he always emphasized that their creation was a team effort, and Kellogg's has also credited company executive William “Doc” Thompson and the people involved in developing the product. Over the following decades, Pop-Tarts expanded far beyond those original four flavors and became as much a snack as a breakfast food. Billions are now sold annually—a remarkable outcome for something that began with a few people looking at two pieces of dough with filling between them and essentially asking, “Do you reckon we can put this in a toaster?”
On September 14, 1974, Eric Clapton reached No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 with “I Shot the Sheriff,” a song written and recorded the previous year by Bob Marley and the Wailers for their album Burnin'. It became the only No. 1 single of Clapton's career in the United States, but the man singing it had been surprisingly uncomfortable about releasing it. Clapton admired Marley's original and understood reggae well enough to worry that his own recording didn't capture what made the music special. He later recalled thinking that his version shouldn't even be included on his album 461 Ocean Boulevard, much less released as a single, because he felt it wasn't fair to Marley and that his interpretation had given the song too much of a white rock feel. His American bandmates were considerably more enthusiastic, and eventually Clapton allowed himself to be persuaded.
His concern became even more understandable when the record took off. Marley's version had already been released, but Clapton's recording suddenly carried the song onto mainstream American radio and all the way to the top of the chart. Clapton subsequently spoke with Marley and was relieved to discover that the songwriter appeared pleased with what he had done. Marley later recalled that Clapton had asked him about the meaning of the song, while Clapton remembered struggling to understand parts of Marley's explanation. Whatever uncertainty remained about the interpretation, there seemed to be no lasting uncertainty about Marley's acceptance of the cover.
The irony was that the recording Clapton worried might unfairly overshadow Bob Marley ultimately helped bring enormous attention to him. Island Records founder Chris Blackwell later described Clapton's cover as a major breakthrough for Marley, because one of rock's biggest stars had effectively pointed his enormous audience toward the Jamaican songwriter whose work he admired. The official Bob Marley history similarly credits Clapton's recording with significantly increasing Marley's international profile. So while September 14, 1974, marks Eric Clapton reaching No. 1, the longer story belongs to both musicians: Clapton received the biggest American single of his career from a Bob Marley song, while millions of listeners who heard Clapton's version were given a reason to discover the man who had written it in the first place.
On September 14, 1982, Princess Grace of Monaco died at the age of 52, one day after suffering serious injuries when the car she was driving left a steep mountain road above Monaco. Her youngest daughter, Princess Stéphanie, was traveling with her and survived. Before becoming European royalty, Princess Grace had been Grace Kelly of Philadelphia, one of Hollywood's most celebrated stars of the 1950s. In a remarkably brief film career, she became known for an elegant screen presence that made her particularly memorable in Alfred Hitchcock's Dial M for Murder, Rear Window and To Catch a Thief. She also starred opposite Gary Cooper in High Noon and won the Academy Award for Best Actress for her performance alongside Bing Crosby in The Country Girl.
Born in Philadelphia on November 12, 1929, Kelly studied acting at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York and supported herself through modeling and television work while pursuing stage roles. After appearing on Broadway and making her way into motion pictures, her rise was extraordinarily rapid. By the middle of the 1950s she was one of Hollywood's leading actresses, working with stars including James Stewart, Cary Grant, Clark Gable, Ava Gardner and Frank Sinatra. Yet at the height of that success, Kelly walked away from Hollywood. After meeting Prince Rainier III of Monaco in 1955, she married him in an elaborate ceremony the following April and became Princess Grace. Her final feature film, the musical High Society, was released in 1956, bringing an acting career of only a few years to a close.
Princess Grace and Prince Rainier had three children—Caroline, Albert and Stéphanie—and she spent the remainder of her life carrying out royal and charitable duties in Monaco. On September 13, 1982, while driving home with Stéphanie, Grace lost control of her Rover on the winding road near Monaco and the vehicle plunged down a steep slope. Early reports attributed the crash to a stroke suffered while she was driving, although the precise circumstances surrounding the accident have remained the subject of discussion. Stéphanie escaped with injuries, but Grace suffered devastating trauma and died the following day. Her death prompted mourning far beyond the tiny principality she had made her home, closing an extraordinary life that had taken her from Philadelphia to Broadway, from Hollywood stardom and an Academy Award to becoming one of the world's most recognizable princesses.
On September 14, 1994, Major League Baseball officially canceled the remainder of its season, including the postseason and World Series, after a players' strike that had begun on August 12 showed no sign of ending. It was an extraordinary moment for America's pastime: for the first time since 1904, there would be no World Series, and for the first time since the championship series began in 1903, its cancellation resulted from a labor dispute. At the center of the conflict were long-running disagreements between team owners and the Major League Baseball Players Association over salaries, revenue sharing, free agency and the owners' desire for a salary cap. Acting commissioner Bud Selig finally called off the remainder of the season with hundreds of regular-season games already lost.
The cancellation was particularly painful because the 1994 season had been producing some remarkable baseball. The Montreal Expos owned the best record in the majors at 74–40 and appeared capable of making the deepest postseason run in franchise history, while the New York Yankees led the American League East at 70–43. Individual achievements disappeared with the schedule as well. San Francisco's Matt Williams had already hit 43 home runs and Seattle's Ken Griffey Jr. had 40, giving both a chance to challenge Roger Maris' then-record of 61 in a season. Perhaps the most tantalizing unfinished story belonged to San Diego Padres great Tony Gwynn, who was batting .394 when play stopped and pursuing something no major leaguer had accomplished since Ted Williams hit .406 in 1941.
The dispute continued through the winter and into the following spring, with replacement players even appearing during 1995 spring training before a federal court injunction helped bring the strike to an end on April 2. Regular major-league players returned and the 1995 season eventually began, but the damage was considerable. Attendance suffered, fans expressed anger at both players and owners, and many people within baseball later described the canceled World Series as a lasting scar on the sport. There was no champion, no postseason heroics and no opportunity to discover whether Montreal could complete its remarkable season, whether Gwynn could reach .400, or whether Williams or Griffey could catch Maris. The 1994 season simply stopped—and baseball was left forever wondering how one of its most promising years might have ended.