Joyce R. Bauerle, grassroots Locust Point activist, dies

Joyce R. Bauerle, a lifelong Locust Point resident and grassroots activist who helped keep Interstate 95 out of the neighborhood, died of heart failure Sept. 24 at her Andre Street home. She was 82.

“That group was absolutely amazing; they’d go to any length to protect Locust Point,” said former City Councilman George W. Della Jr., who later became a state senator. “And when Joyce got involved in something, she got involved.”

Joyce Roberta Acton, daughter of George Acton, a Bethlehem Steel Corp. steelworker, and Bessie E. Acton, a homemaker, was born in Baltimore and spent her entire life in her Andre Street home.

She was valedictorian and a 1960 graduate of the old Southern High School in Federal Hill. In 1963 she married John C. Bauerle, an efficiency engineer for the U.S. Postal Service.

Mrs. Bauerle worked for more than 20 years as an administrator for Southern States Cooperative in Locust Point, which supplied agricultural products to farmers, until her retirement in 1989.

In 1972, the proposed final interstate link of I-95 between Washington and Delaware, an elevated highway that would have sliced through Locust Point and included a bridge over historic Fort McHenry, prompted Ann Shirley Doda and her husband, Victor, to organize the Locust Point Community Association.

Mrs. Bauerle quickly joined the effort, which often meant 3 a.m. meetings in Mrs. Doda’s funeral home, where strategy and demonstrations were planned and signs painted.

“Frankly, I’m not sure when the women slept,” Mrs. Bauerle told The Sun for Mrs. Doda’s obituary in 2007. “I never had picketed in my life until I got involved with Shirley. My mother thought I had lost my mind.”

From 1972 to 1975, the association attended every Monday City Council meeting, becoming a thorn in the side of Mayor William Donald Schaefer.

“It was amazing. They’d go to City Hall every Monday night and didn’t have a second thought about talking to William Donald Schaefer,” Mr. Della said.

“Every community should have a group like that, and we’d be a far better city,” he said.

He added that Mayor Schaefer was “scared” of the group.

The thought of a bridge over Fort McHenry sparked the patriotism of the women, who wore red, white and blue headbands. They paid for a billboard that read: “Fort McHenry … Is Baltimore’s Watergate,” and even marched around the White House.

After years of protest and wrangling with Mayor Schaefer, he finally gave in. The $878 million, 1.7-mile, eight-lane highway went under rather than over the national historic landmark and opened for traffic in 1986.

“Who would ever imagine they could energize and change the mind of Mayor Schaefer, but they did,” Mr. Della said.

When Mrs. Doda died , Mrs. Bauerle became head of the association, a position she held for two decades.

“Joyce looked forward to the meetings, which were always well-attended,” Mr. Della said. “It was always a wonderful experience working with Joyce. She was a real community leader who knew all the ins and outs of Locust Point.”

Mrs. Bauerle was named an honorary colonel at Fort McHenry, family members said.

She and her husband, who died in 2020, enjoyed taking cruises and traveling, with New Orleans and Scottsdale, Arizona, being two of the couple’s favorite destinations.

She was a longtime communicant and Sunday school teacher at the Episcopal Church of the Redemption in Locust Point, where funeral services were held Saturday.

She is survived by her brother, George J. Acton, of Odenton; four nephews; and a niece.