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If you were given a blank diary and told you could record just 35 pages of entries, starting when you were just 22 years of age, with the stipulation that you could only record the next 3 years, what would that look like. Well for Josie, the author of this diary, her 35 handwritten pages would become some of the most pivotal and exciting years of her life. Although Josie had no idea her diary was going to be so limited, her entries are amazing to say the least. And interestingly enough, the entries begin and end with the love of her life, “Charlie.”
Her three year experiences start in 1910 while living in Berkeley California. She then travels to San Rafael to sell books titled “The Self and Sex Series,” but that part of her life doesn’t last long. Josie then begins a very daring adventure and takes a job teaching in a school in the very remote town of Tobar Nevada, a town that had just been established two years earlier in 1908 and is now completely extinct.
She then takes a long train trip to Tillamook Oregon, a booming logging town on the Oregon Coast, first stopping in the bustling city of Portland Oregon where she heads to the “Land Office.”
It is in Tillamook she purchases 160 acres of remote forest land where she soon after begins to build a log cabin. But that’s not before she heads to the rowdy mining town of Goldfield Nevada to teach high school children. Goldfield is a living ghost town now and the hotel Josie staid at and the high school she taught at is said to be now one of the most haunted places in the area. But so much of Josie’s life would change as she would soon marry Charles Harry Nielsen on September 9th, 1913. Welcome to the adventures of Josie Elizabeth Musselman.
(The following link shows a spectacular 3 minute video of a trolley ride through Berkeley California in 1906)
https://www.loc.gov/item/00694420
“May 24th, 1910. 10:15 P.M. Berkeley. This isn’t the 1st of any calendar year, but it is the beginning of a period of time that just now I can hardly bear to think of. Why do we need to be separated anyway? Maybe it is to make us appreciate each other more. Possibly it will make me see more clearly the happiness that would be mine if I but opened my eyes to see it. And I suppose tears are only blinding, but how can I help them? Possibly I can use them as lenses thru which to see father and more clearly, if I resolve to be brave. And I believe I can almost smile when I think of the significance of the “ring” and see a happy picture thru its beautiful little crystal.” (I believe she’s referring to Charlie and how they had to say goodbye)
“June 3rd, 10’ 9:40 P.M. San Rafael, Cal. Well I’ve been trying to sell these books, (The Self and Sex Series) for four days now. It is indeed “trying” in more ways than one. I’m so glad there is a bright side as well as a dark side. I almost believe that the kindness of some people that I have met even outweighs the unkindness of others. I shall always remember Mrs. Moffett, the Korean Missionary (who knows Florence Plummer) and has been exceptionally good to me, even to the extent of driving me out to the west end of town in her buggy, out to where some of her friends live. One of them, a missionary from India, orders six of the books as she herself had. Miss Moffett is such a beautiful appearing character. She told me some about her mission work in Korea. I never can know what is going to happen next in this kind of work. One day a lot of people refuse to let me in, as yesterday – again, as today nobody seems to be at home. I don’t suppose I have any right to be discouraged, my average so far is 13 books a day – $5.20 – for my work. Still I don’t believe I can ever be exactly happy in this kind of work. Yesterday I was clear up in the air when the day was over – tonight I couldn’t do a thing but come in my room and cry. And then Mrs. Smith came and caught me at it and then of course I couldn’t longer hold the tension. But my time is for thirty days and I’ll stick it out if possible, surely I can expect the rest of the time to be as profitable financially as the first four days and much less of a strain. I’ll think of all the good people I’ve met and then I can go to bed and feel happy.
It seems so dreadfully long since Charlie and I bid each other goodbye over at the 16th St. Station in Oakland after our short ride from the pier in the Pullman cars. And I’ve only had one postal and no letters since I’ve been here and that was written the 28th of May. Of course having to be forwarded from Berkeley makes a difference but I do wish a good long letter would come. Good night – now.”
“June 5th, 8:30 Berkeley. I don’t think I ever enjoyed home more than I have since last night. I couldn’t stand it any longer so came home, quit work at two o’clock yesterday afternoon. I guess I was mentally exhausted. I just didn’t have the courage to try to get into another home. Odella is going back with me and I think things will be better – I feel now like I could just go ahead and work indeed “with a vengeance” as Charlie says. How terribly important one’s own feeling is in this work. How glad I was to get those two letters from Charlie today. It was more than worth the trip home to get them this much sooner than I would have and to have time here to read and reread and enjoy them. O! That we both were truly only dreaming and reality would dawn in our being together. Sometime, somewhere we will be together again and then -forever-.
In League this evening the thot that impressed me most, was Mr. Stanton’s testimony “Our best earthly friendships are made possible because of our friendship with Christ.” The friends I have made because of my connection with the Epworth League are my best and truest friends. How else did I meet that very best of friends, the one that is more than a friend?“
“July 3rd, 1910. Berkeley. Such a multitude of various experiences as have come these past four weeks! With so little time to really know what my thots are. One week at San Rafael with Odella, that wasn’t so good from the point of view of business, as the first week had been. Coming home on the 13th the rest of the week until Saturday, I worked here in Berkeley deciding Saturday morning, after an awful repulsion from, I suppose, a well meaning lady, that I couldn’t keep at the work longer. Turning the question around in every way as I had been almost from the start. I finally decided there couldn’t be no virtue in keeping at it longer. The third week my thots were on quite another theme, sewing, not for immediate need so much as for my “dream box.” I think I was happy planning the pretty things and getting started on some sofa pillows and doilies. This last week I’ve been nurse for the first time ever at mama’s bedside after her awful fall down the back steps last Sunday evening while I was at League. The awfulness of the first hours after I knew about it. The week has been so entirely different from any other in my life. Several times with peculiar force I have felt my responsibility and maturity, as I have never felt them. I expect I am mature and the world looks on me so, but it is hard to fully realize that I must in truth be doing the tasks of mature life. Must begin to “make good” if I’m ever going it.
Perhaps it is a blessing that I haven’t had time to really ponder over my situation. To have cause for anxiety concerning the two persons dearest to me in this world in the same short week, seems almost too much. It was startling to say the least to get that card from Charlie, yesterday, written with his left hand and bearing only the indefinite message, “Will write as soon as I can use my other hand.”
Mama doesn’t improve as rapidly as I wish she did. I must have more patience and bravery.”
“Berkeley, August 6th, 1910. Had I made an entry here three or four weeks ago it should have expressed thots quite the reverse of whose I have tonight. Then I was joyfully planning on taking my post graduate work at college. My former desire to teach seemed to be entirely replaced by the longing to get back to college. Now I’m planning to go away up among the sage brush of Eastern Nevada and teach a district school to get experience and some money, which (if castles in the air ever descend to earth) will help to take mama and me on a trip east next summer. I think it will be worth my while just considering the experience. I know it will be worth my while if our trip east is thereby made possible.
I think my decision to teach is wise from another point of view also. I need to be kept away from home for awhile. I’m sorry it should be so but there is something wrong with my attitude (toward Odella largely), or with something somewhere. I hope to be able to analyze the situation more closely and to realize it, if possible, this next year.”
https://www.gbcnv.edu/howh/Tobar.html
“Tobar, Nevada, September 6th, 1910. Well I’m really here, more than mile above sea level with all the dignity and responsibility of a school teacher thrust upon me. There has been an unreal aspect clinging around all my experiences since leaving Berkeley and the last three days have certainly been as long as three ordinary weeks. But my teaching career has opened now and the first and probably one of the most trying days is over.
I have my work pretty well planned for the nine pupils now enrolled in five grades; the first six excluding the fourth. Possibly when other pupils come in, and I begin to dissolve the “mess” things are now in, I’ll have much of the work to plan over, but it doesn’t pay to borrow trouble and I’m going to bed now to try to sleep off the fatigue and strain of the first day.”
“Tobar. Oct. 3, 1910. The wind has been blowing at a desperate rate and on account of the dust, I think twice (when it is so possible) before I venture out. In the first month of my teaching just past, there weren’t a great many definite experiences, but the ordinary duties of each day so filled the time that the days went almost faster than I could keep track of them. The month closed with a “grand flourish” and a spirit on the part of the children which greatly delighted me. With the heartiest of good wills they all lent helping hands toward what they made a rather thorough house cleaning. Among all I’ve met in this part of the world I’m invariably the “Teacher.” Even a superficial thot on the responsibility there implied, discovers its magnitude and my desire is that I may meet that responsibility in some noble and worthy way. And as the strangeness of things passes away, I trust I shall be more able to think and plan.”
“October 10, 1910. Monday. Oh to know the eternal value of a day, the inspiration and influence of actions and works, the worth of thots! But long as I may, I probably shall never in this world, know when nor how, nor in what way, I may be influencing lives. Will just longing to have that influence ennobling and uplifting, blot out the effects of any mistakes or omissions? Our first little Sunday School meeting yesterday afternoon more than fulfilled the highest anticipation that I dared have. The four McNally children, Francis, John, Marcella and little Beatrice, couldn’t have looked more sweetly in accord with the spirit of Sunday, in its ideality; and the Munson boys, Eugene, Lavell, Lenard and Delbert didn’t come in, in their dirty clothes, but even tho they came into a room of their own house, came in their neatest clothes and as if entering a sanctuary.”
What tho’ none of the eight, but Francis, had any conception of what a Sunday School is or can mean, or of the teaching which it aims to give, that deeper spirit, which teaches man that God lives, and that love is supreme, was most truly in evident in all of them and I saw another side of these children that I’ve been learning to know and love in the past five weeks.
I dared not plan on a regular Sunday School, but since our little meeting yesterday, it is at least a possibility that we shall meet every Sunday that the weather permits.
And after a while perhaps they shall all be able to recognize a Bible when they see it and not be in utter ignorance about those things which to me seem to make life worth the living. And maybe they may come to love Truth for Truth’s sake and Right because it is Right, and for it all, Our Father, who art Love and Truth shall we thank Thee.”
(Sally here: I have to share what I found out about those “Munson boys” that Josie talked about above. It was from a book on the web titled, “The First Homesteaders of Tobar Flats, Nevada. By Marshall B. Bowen.”)
“Munson, the first settler of Tobar Flats, and his family did not get along with all of their neighbors, either. Late in life, a woman who had lived three miles from the Munson’s recalled that the family was “a rough bunch” and that the Munson boys, who went to school with her from 1910 to 1913, were “ornery kids” who were frequently in trouble with their teachers. The former mayor of Wells agreed with her assessment. Repeating what he had heard from early residents of Tobar Flat, he declared that the boys were “the worst renegades you ever saw. They would steal anything they could put their hands on.” Munson would literally whip the boys to try to keep them in line, but this type of punishment seemed to have little long‐term effect. It was not just the Munson children who were out of control…..Despite the family’s frequent absences from their land, the homestead was soon recognized as the Munsons’ principal place of residence, which gave them the distinction of being the first inhabitants of what would become known as Tobar Flat”)
“Nov. 9, 1910. Wednesday. I’m writing tonight because of the splendor of this evening’s sunset. Oh, that sunset! That Sunset! There are no words to describe it nor to express the feelings that it aroused in me. The clouds were beautiful in their grayish and slightly tinted hues when Marcella and I were on our way to the station. But they seemed almost too heavy and thick to admit of such a splendid sunset. I was reading my letters on the way home but between 5:30 and 5:50 it seemed as if I was almost transported into the realms of glory. I had to stand right still and sing the chorus to the “Glory Song” then and there. Oh to have been able to keep forever the super abounding glory of it all! When again shall I be so near Heaven?
Things are hardly the same since I’ve returned from the Goldfield Institute. My perspective is somewhat different. It may be truer. Perhaps I see conditions more nearly as they are.” J.E.M.
“Nov. 27, 1910. Sunday. It seems as if I am beginning a new epoch of my sojourn on Tobar Flat. Tho ignorance and misunderstanding, if nothing more unkind, have necessitates the change, perhaps sometime I may be understood truly. Wholly isolated here in my room I’ll have more time to think, much less association with Munson’s but possibly more ultimate happiness if I can bring to the surface all my hermit tendencies. I ought to be glad for the opportunity to board myself since I’ve at times been so anxious for it but I’m sorry it should have come about as the result of hard feelings. But I can but do my best, no more is expected of me by the just Judge, the best of people are misunderstood and “There’s no defense against reproach except obscurity” so I’ve still hope and possibly some grit.
This is the second Sunday without S.S. after the three services, so interesting to me. Have the children come as often as they will without the parental urging that they’ll not get?“
“December 8th, 1910. Thursday. The day that I looked forward to for so long and that I’m no sorry is past! Mr. Anderson spent the afternoon at school and I was so glad to see him! And how gratifying it is to know that he is truly pleased with my work. His kind and encouraging words seemed to make my burden lighter and will long be a comfort to me. “There are noble hearts, there are spirits brave. There are souls that are pure and true.” How can I but think most kindly of him! Someone really, still sees value in my efforts and is large enough souled to be just, and is kind enough to give a word of encouragement where it is needed.
So on I shall strive and continue to do my best – tho my efforts be not appreciated in the light of the present. Perhaps the light of another day will bring to sight some deed well done.”
“January 1st, Sunday 1911. Berkeley Cal. The year that I had looked forward to for several years past – a year of more experiences than any previous one – and a year that in some particulars at least, has been a pivotal one, has gone; and I look backward with a sense of longing as for a departed friend. But I must look forward and may I remember the vital things: character, improvement of opportunity, obedience to duty, service. This first day of the year has been splendid! With an extra service this afternoon at the dedication of the Y.M.C.A. building when Dr. Fry spoke so powerfully of “The Value of a Man.” All the days of the past, nearly, two weeks since I left Tobar, have been happy, fine ones – in most particular as happy as I had been anticipating for so long. Of course Charlie’s place wasn’t filled, had he been here perhaps ideality would too nearly have taken the place of reality. Tomorrow, I leave again for Tobar.”
“March 20th, 1912. The recollections of the last two months at Tobar and of the four following delightful months in Ruby Valley are indelible in my memory. A written record would be superfluous.”
“March 20, 1912. Berkeley California. Wednesday afternoon. Notes on my trip to Tillamook resulting in my filing on a homestead described as follows: S1/2 SW1/4, NW1/4 SW1/4 and SW1/4 NW1/4. Section 34, Township 1 North Range 9 West, Willamette Meridian–“
“Cutting short my seminar in education with Prof. Lang Tuesday evening March 12, 1912. Ely and I took the 9:20 S.P. Local for Oakland Pier leaving there at 10:15 for Portland on S.P. No. 14 – “Portland Express”. We left in stormy weather here and seemed to keep in more or less storm all the way. It was snowing in the Mt. Shasta region so we failed to see that mountain. Of course we improved our ten minutes at Shasta Springs getting a drink of the famous soda water. It was owing too, on the Siskiyous and we enjoyed the snow thoroughly. My hope to accomplish great things on my education report due Tues. March 26th kept fading gradually as I realized the futility of trying to study on the train, and found that reading, while riding, was going to be disastrous to my inner well being. So Wednesday passed and we were still only in Southern Oregon, but waking up after our second night we were near to Portland and arrived there shortly after eight o’clock and so happy to be met by Charles Thomas who relieved all our worries and troubles about getting around by ushering us where ever we wished to go.“
“We thot first to find Uncle George’s but after walking from the depot to 305 – 11th St. we found they were not there, and got no satisfying information from a gentleman who lived there. But they had been there, for according to the unknown gentleman, letters to that address were sometimes returned to the P.O. We knew not how we could find them but on our way down town again to meet Marian Thomas, (ie Marian Humbel), I returned to ask at the P.O. and being so advised, wrote a special delivery postal to Uncle asking him to phone to the No. Charles and Marian use.
Then Chas. took Eby and me to the U.S. land office, after we had met Marian and left her with our grips at the waiting station – on 1st Alders I believe. At the land office we looked at maps and I took down No. S. or descriptions of vacant lands in the vicinity – of Mrs. Thomas homestead. (Twas Mrs. Thomas who was responsible for all our information in regard to the land in Tillamook Co. Ore. and it was her interest and perhaps urging that was in part responsible for our trip.)
Chas. and Marian then took us home with them – out to Marian’s mother’s new home away to the outskirts of town in S. East Portland, if I have my directions. How we did enjoy our visit and lunch with them. About four o’clock a message came from the neighbor who owned the phone – giving Uncle’s address and phone No: 256 11th St. Phone A4493 and indicating his desire to see us. So we left almost as soon as we could. Chas. went with us to the car. How thankful we were continually to Chas. and Marian! We went as we were told and found Uncle’s without trouble. Aunt Mary and Gertrude were home. Auntie immediately prepared us supper, as they had finished theirs. Uncle George came in, in a few minutes and Harry came before to very long, about seven possibly. He had just that morning come to Portland from Salem, on business. I was so glad we happened to find him there. I greatly enjoyed meeting Uncle, Auntie and Gertrude and seeing my beloved Harry again. I love them all and feel so very sorry for them now in their dire business trouble that is weighing on them so. The evening was all too short. Harry had to leave to attend the meeting he had come from Salem for so I had but a few minutes to talk with him.
After we had all gone to bed Auntie told me somewhat of their condition – but it need not be written here.
Eby and I left Uncle’s early Friday morning and get the Tillamook train. Uncle walked down to the depot with us. The train was scheduled to leave at 8:45 but after boarding it we waited wearily until 9:30 for it to start. It was storming all the way to Tillamook, snowing great on the summit that we crossed and it was cold. We make the trip of one hundred and twelve miles from Portland to Tillamook thru that grand mountainous timbered country in about seven hours arriving in Tillamook about 4:00. It was pleasant to see the cordiality of the people as they got on the train at the little station along the way as we neared Tillamook. I relished the wholesome, friendly atmosphere – and felt that would be an interesting people to live among. We found our way to Mr. Bewley’s as soon as we arrived in Tillamook. (Mrs. Bewley is the old cruiser with whom Mrs. Thomas did business and to whom we had a letter of introduction from her.) Mr. Bewley was very gracious and kind, giving us some necessary information and going with us to find lodging conveniences. The first place we went to, “The Watchtower,” was entirely filled so we inquired next at the “Todd House” and were there accommodated. It is a country tavern with the usual characteristics of the class to which it belonged. We had supper, wrote some necessary letters and then retired expecting to be ready to go out to see the vacant land by about eight o’clock Saturday morning.“
“Saturday morning came, I awoke early, saw that it had snowed and was stormy still, but hoped that we might get out on the land. Mr. Bewley came down over to the hotel before we had breakfast and gave us little encouragement but invited us to his home when we should finish breakfast. We decided after we got there to brave the rain storm (because I was in such a hurry I suppose). Mr. Bewley got “Dot” and a singled covered rig, while I was attiring myself in “Boss of the Roads” and other suitable garments and Eby was getting ready. It was about ten fifteen when we left and it rained almost incessantly until we got to the Kilchis River when it conveniently cleared some what. The far bank of the river had washed so that we couldn’t ford, but after surveying the situation finally rode across horseback two at a time. I don’t suppose “Dot” was used to such things but she took it splendidly and made us a fine ferry.
We tied “Dot” securely and then for nearly four hours we traveled perhaps a little more than two miles thru that thick forest jungle, under brush, over logs, around stumps, between trees, thru ferns, now stooping, now climbing, now dodging, now pulling, now slipping or tripping, or stumbling, getting wetter and wetter each minute from the dripping boughs, soaked moss, and saturated leaf mold, thru the Whitney Co.’s land and over the vacant strip until our leader thot we had been on all forties. Then down the hillside we fell, or slid, or tumbled to the creek – Clear Creek – and along its bank we made our way back to where “Dot” was tied and pawed the ground with joy for seeing us. And our joy at seeing her was no slight joy either. Across the Kilchis we “ferried again” unharmed seriously from our trip but soaked, at least in part.
We were cold before getting to town but a warm fire at Bewley’s soon made us comfortable. I hastened to see Mr. Buel, the Co. Supt. Of Schools for on him, or in his information I thot lay my fate for the coming months. My visit with him was very pleasant indeed, and his encouragement seemed largely to banish my fears. He practically assured me of a school for fall, gave me large hopes for a summer school at Bay Ocean and gave me a most favorable impression of himself.
Supper at Bewley’s was good and homelike and the evening spent getting and giving information.
Sunday – how cheerful the church-bells, how remindful of years long ago! But I was stiff and sore and wished I need not move. But I did so that we got to church, where a two weeks evangelistic campaign was being started by two So. Cal. women, Miss Gleason and a singer – and where I was impressed by the earnestness of the people and by the large congregation for such a small town with half a dozen other churches. I felt that I would love to mingle with such a people.
Bewley’s took us home with them from church, for dinner and to spend the afternoon. Mr. Fred Minich, an agreeable, kindly person, carpenter and builder, was also a guest – and we spent a very enjoyable day.
Evening church service was interesting and helpful.
Monday morning saw me ready to take the 7 o’clock train for Portland – leaving Eby because the weather made it so uncertain when he could get on to the land and I could not spare the time to wait when it wasn’t absolutely necessary.
The trip was uneventful and somewhat dreary. The traffic on a new road in that part of the country surprised me. The train was late in Portland, so that I had little more than time enough to get to the U.S. Land Office before its closing time: 4:30 – Before leaving the depot I bought my ticket to relieve the rush in the evening.
Found the Land Office, paid my $16 and got my papers and now I have 160 acres all my own.
Failed to phone Marian and Charles because of my rushing.
I greatly appreciated the two hours I had at Uncle’s but was sorry I needed to hurry away. Harry walked down to the depot with me. We started early and had a little time to talk.
Night on the train.
A weary day on the train, brighten only by Mt. Shasta and made a little interesting in the evening by short conversation with Mr. Hannaford, the professed champion one hundred mile walker, and a Mr. Gregg, a professional base-ball player – young, fine appearing, wasting a life.“
“Another night on the train.
Wednesday morning – in the familiar Sacramento Valley. How beautiful the sunshine! How delightful the home feeling!
In Berkeley again before 9 o’clock after the longest single trip of my later life – four days and four nights on the train, three days and five nights off it. And I’ve done what some smile at, what many think interesting (Prof. Hart’s smile of interest (?) is worth remembering) and what I hope will lead to a happy and profitable fourteen months.
To be resumed when I take up my residence eight miles north east of Tillamook on my homestead when things will be, maybe, somewhat interesting.”
https://westernmininghistory.com/gallery/687/historical/towns/
“R. 445. Goldfield Hotel. April 10th, 1913. Thursday eve. O, Muse, why silent this year and more? Is it a wise, all seeing Providence or Fate? This my quarter centennial finds me again on Nevada’s boundless fascinating desert in this world famous mining camp, a teacher of English history and American history and civics in the high school and physical education teacher for the high school girls, who elect the work, and for all the grades, nine classes once a week which with the five periods with the high school girls and the supervision of the after school play two evenings a week, leaves me scarcely more time than I need for daily preparation. By no means the least of the advantages of being here is the $140.00 every four weeks as regularly as they pass. The $40 I live on, the $100 I send away. Tis joyous to owe no man anything and to be able to load to others.“
Above is the Goldfield Hotel – Then and Now. Taken from “Travel Nevada” Website.
Below is the Goldfield High School – Then and Now. Taken from “Travel Nevada” Website.
“Why here and when? Since the 4th of January last, because last December when in Tillamook, the telegraphed information of the vacancy here, from Mrs. Cheney reached me and my telegraph application was, in the emergency, accepted. Just previous to the time the telegram reached me but in the same ten minutes I had found out finally that an Oregon grad certificate would not (could not?) be granted upon my University-of-California work and credentials so that there was no possibility of my teaching longer the sixth grade of the Tillamook Public school since I had refused to take the county (state?) examinations for a certificate to supplant my permit. How important, how full of results that ten minutes! A “tide in the affairs of men” – one of the points of time upon which all future events were founded – perhaps not for me only, but certainly for me.
Those six months in that rainy timbered North land taught me unnumbered lessons. Forget them I cannot but tell about them – no, they’re learned. Many were the pleasures and delightful experiences but what if weighed against the sorrows and difficulties?
The three months with the sixth graders of whom several won my heart completely, were worth while if only for the joy that came to me from knowing them. Of the older friends made while there I hope I shall not forget the Rev. Jas. T. Moon, Methodist minister and valued friend until October when he was transferred to Cottage Grove. Nor prim, little Miss (Laura) Smith, high school English teacher and one whom I thoroughly enjoyed. Surely I never can forget Max B. Hermann whose friendship, devotion, for two months meant such a very great deal. But to all others, let memory, if she will, refuse a place.
What about the homestead? That delightful piece of forest wilderness is doubtless still there. On Dec. 21st I was enraptured while I bounded up the familiar trail on Clear Creek bank and spent a few minutes on my building spot where my log cabin had been started – looking forward to my return to drink in again those indescribable joys of a primeval nature undefiled. But I shall not return, that chapter in my life I hope and believe is closed. Never to be reopened.
There are other plans, for again, Charlie has the place in my life which no other can fill, the place from which I tired to thrust him but could not. Now, I would forget this past and with doubts vanquished, hope for the future.”
“September 9, 1913.
Charlie Harry Nielsen
Josie E. Musselman
Married in Berkeley, Cal. 5 P.M. June 28, 1913 by Rev. C. M. Warner. Spent summer at Berkeley attending N. C. Summer School. First night in our own bungalow, Aug. 16, 1913. A perfect night with a full moon.
Home – Newmark Ave. near Orange St. Ramona Acres. Address San Gabriel, Cal. R. F. D. No. II Box 363.”
Josie Elizabeth Musselman Nielsen and Charles “Charlie” Harry Nielsen
Following are links to my Sally’s Diaries Website and or Diary Discoveries Podcast Website. https://www.sallysdiaries.com/
Sallys Diaries Private Collection 