Christine Papajohn

Christine G. Papajohn, age 69, a fearless learner and inspiring teacher, passed away on Monday, January 8, in Tucson, Arizona.

She will be remembered as someone undaunted by barriers, excelling in the masculine world of accounting in the 1970s before switching careers to earn a doctorate in economics, a field she entered with untraditional credentials.

Along the way, she hiked trails, climbed mountains, drove fast cars, rode on horses and swam with dolphins. She gave, according to her great-niece, wonderful hugs.

Born September 3, 1954, Christine was raised in the northern Chicago suburbs of Morton Grove and Glenview by Ethel and Gus Papajohn, who always encouraged their children to strive their best in the classroom. At a young age it was clear that little Chrissy, in addition to possessing enviable smarts, was a force to be reckoned with. Legend has it that she outlasted all the girls (and boys) at Woodrow Wilson Elementary in a push-up contest that went well past the end of the period bell and into lunch.

At Maine East High School, while excelling in the classroom, she performed as a member of the pom-poms dance squad, worked at the school radio station and sewed her own clothes. She finished at the top of her class and then began studying accounting at the University of Illinois. She graduated in 1976 from the Gies College of Business. After college, she worked as an auditor at Arthur Young and then at Baxter Healthcare as assistant to the vice president of engineering.

When she decided to take on a new challenge, she faced a choice. She could aim for an MBA at the University of Chicago or a doctorate in economics at Stanford University. Economics was a field she had never deeply studied; California was a world she had never fully experienced. She chose Stanford, the unknown and the wall that was most difficult to scale.

It turned out that studying economics would be the equivalent of learning a new language from scratch. It took six years but Christine climbed that wall, sometimes battling mysterious and still-undiagnosed illnesses. Despite her academic burdens and the health setbacks, she used her time out West to enhance her mountain-climbing skills and learn how to fly fish.

Christine earned her Ph.D. in 1988, writing her dissertation on the U.S. steel industry. She received the Stanford Economics Department Award for Excellence in Teaching while there, and accepted a position to teach corporate strategy at the University of Michigan’s Ross School of Business.

It was about this time that the cause of her health troubles was clarified: She had multiple sclerosis. Initially, the disease did not impede her ability to teach, and she quickly was embraced by faculty and students at the university. Ann Arbor also was where she made another important connection. She met and married Brian Hungerford, who was working as a waiter in a restaurant.

Brian and Christine shared a love of food, animals, books, music and passionate political debate. With Christine no longer able to work regularly, they moved from Michigan to Tucson. She reveled in the proximity to family there, and this is where she also became known for hugs (as astutely observed by Alice Papajohn).

To be sure, multiple sclerosis robbed Christine of many opportunities in life. It could not, however, steal other intangible qualities. She remained a fighter, someone who hoped for a better America and better world and refused to ever completely give in to the dire medical prognostications she regularly received. She never stopped being the Chrissy who just couldn’t imagine losing the push-up contest.

She is survived by her husband, Brian Hungerford, who took meticulous care of her for many years and helped her find joy in Tucson; her brother, Dean, also of Tucson, and his wife, Bethany, as well as their children, Daniel and Sarah, and Sarah’s daughter, Alice (all of whom also helped Christine enjoy her Arizona days); her brother George and his wife, Karen, and their children, Amelia, Eva and Leo; and her sister, Katherine Sawicz, her husband, Ted, and their daughter, Jennifer. She was preceded in death by Gus and Ethel Papajohn, who supported her ambitions and when she was ill cared for her with infinite love and patience.

Plans for a memorial gathering are pending. Please consider a donation in her name to the National Multiple Sclerosis Society or any charity that benefits animals or the environment.