Marge Milazzo Oral History

Dublin Core


Marge Milazzo Oral History


Marge Milazzo Oral History


Churchill County Museum Association


Churchill County Museum Association


March 4, 1998


Analog Cassette Tape, Text File, Mp3 Audio



Oral History Item Type Metadata






1017 Paiute Drive, Fallon, Nevada


Churchill County Oral History Project
an interview with
Fallon, Nevada
conducted by
March 4, 1998
This interview was transcribed by Glenda Price; edited by Norma Morgan; final by Pat Boden; index by Gracie Viera; supervised by Myrl Nygren, Director of the Oral History Project, Churchill County Museum.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this interview are those of the interviewer and interviewee and do not necessarily reflect the views and opinions of Churchill County Museum or any of its employees.

Marge Milazzo whose Paiute name is Kobbe Toona, loosely translates as "pour coffee," is a 76-year old Paiute woman whose stories about growing up in northern Nevada demonstrate pride and contentment with her life. Born in Stillwater in 1921, Marge's vivid descriptions of daily life afford her listeners with a broad view of life as a Paiute female living in both the Old Way and the White Man's Way at the same time.
Marge's warmth and easy going personality inspired her willingness to share her story and the ease with which she did it. It is very easy to imagine Marge as a small child scampering about after her beloved grandfather who seems to be the one who has had the greatest influence in her life.
Living out her life as a caregiver and comforter, Marge has had a great deal of both happy and solemn memories. She has experienced illness, death, and prejudice alongside love, companionship, and childlike freedom. As we sat, surrounded by Paiute artifacts, in her uncle's home, it was clear that Marge's positive outlook has made her thankful and respectful of each and every memory and that she fully intends to impart these memories onto the next generation.

Interview with Marge Milazzo

PETERSON: This is Marianne Peterson of the Churchill County Museum Oral Project interviewing Marge Milazzo at her uncle's home, 1017 Paiute Drive, Fallon, Nevada. The date is March 4, 1998.
PETERSON: Good morning, Marge.
MILAZZO: Good morning.
PETERSON: I'm very happy to be doing I'm excited. Is your full Marjorie? this interview with you. name Marge, or is it
MILAZZO: Actually, it's Margaret. There was another girl with the same name at our school in Stewart, so they get us all mixed up. From then on I went as Marge. They called me Little Marge, Big Marge.
PETERSON: Where were you born?
MILAZZO: I was born in Stillwater Reservation, Fallon, Nevada.
PETERSON: And what year was this?
MILAZZO: 1921.
PETERSON: And that was in June?
MILAZZO: That was in June. [June 8]
PETERSON: Were you born at a home in Stillwater?
MILAZZO: I was born right where my folks lived on a ranch on 1355 Agency Road.
PETERSON: What was your full name at birth?
MILAZZO: My full name to begin with is Margaret Street, named after my grandfather, and then it changed to Margaret Jack. And then the Street name, I married into a Street family. A different Street, and then now it's Milazzo.
PETERSON: Were there any interesting circumstances surrounding your birth?
MILAZZO: Surrounding my birth? You want to know about my birth? You might not believe it! (laughing) From the very beginning all I remembered I was by myself, and I was coming through all that space, I guess, and I was scared. I was really scared, and I say, "Well, where am I going to land?" Of course, I was coming in on a cloud, with a cloud and a light around about me. That's all I remembered, but I remember landing safely 'cause I was scared. (laughing)
PETERSON: I've never heard that before. That's great.
MILAZZO: Oh, really. Even my mom didn't believe me. Sometimes she gets scared, and I say, "You don't have to be scared. I remember this that I remembered."
PETERSON: Oh, wow! What stories has she told you about your birth? Has she told you anything?
MILAZZO: No, I hardly ever explain that to hardly anybody. I've kept it to myself unless it's real important.
PETERSON: What was your mother's name?
MILAZZO: My mother's name was Iowa Street, and then in later years she spelled it I-o-l-a.
PETERSON: Did she want to change her name, or did somebody else decide that she would have a different name?
MILAZZO: She got married twice which was John Jack. Then the next one was Charles Birchum. He was a Shoshone Indian. My stepfather.
PETERSON: As far as her name, her original name was Iowa?
PETERSON: And what was the reason why it was changed to Iola?
MILAZZO: I don't know that. Maybe because it was easier to write, and they called her Iowa for a while, and then they changed it to Iola. In Indian it's EyeYou. So that's just like Iowa.
PETERSON: What was your father's name?
MILAZZO: My father's name was John Jack. My, I guess, stepfather, whatever he is, adopted father.
PETERSON: But, you don't know anything about your birth father?
MILAZZO: No, I don't know too much about him or his family. I met his dad who was Strong Jack, they called him, and I seen him and his wife, Susie. They died here in Fallon.
PETERSON: And both of your parents were Paiute?
MILAZZO: Yes, I'm sure.
PETERSON: Can you tell me anything about your grandparents?
MILAZZO: Oh, my grandparents. That's a long story. To begin with they came from a little town near Aurora, Bodie, California. There was a lot of Indians there in them days, I guess, and they were real poor. It was just the beginning of when the whites came, so there was a story going on that the world was going to end. They heard that, and they listened to it, and then they said, "Well, we better leave this place." (laughing) So they left, and they came to Virginia City, and that's where they spent their time. I don't how many years, and then they came into Schurz, Nevada. Of course, they left a lot of relatives down towards that way in California, and so I have relatives way back in Bishop or Bridgeport, or wherever, Lee Vining. That was on my grandmother's side.
MILAZZO: So then after that they had a relation here that was lonesome. He came from back there, and he was lonely, and he told them to come and visit him. So, they came on horses and wagon and walked. My grandfather was born on the way between Schurz, Nevada, and Fallon. They made it over here, I guess. In them days they called each other brothers, so it was from Charlie Allen, I believe it's who it was, so their relatives were the Aliens here in Fallon. Then they made their home here, and my grandfather was from Wadsworth, Nevada, or Pyramid Lake, so he was from there, but he left when he was young and came to Fallon. He worked real hard around the ranches around here for some white folks named Mr. and Mrs. Smart and Whitey Harrigan. That's all I remember, but I know he worked different places. Oh, and Arthur Thompson. But, he stayed home to take care of his family. My grandma and grandfather had eight children. They're all deceased now except my uncle, and he's seventy-seven. He will be seventy-eight in May.
PETERSON: What is your uncle's name?
MILAZZO: Raymond Street.
PETERSON: What was your grandfather's name?
MILAZZO: John Street.
PETERSON: And your grandmother's name?
MILAZZO: Susan Street.
PETERSON: Didn't you tell me that they come from California into Nevada?
MILAZZO: Uh-huh.
PETERSON: Do you know approximately what year that was?
MILAZZO: No, I don't. This is what my grandmother told me. It must have been the 1800s. Around the middle part. So, that's how they got here. The brother, Mr. Allen, he says that he's lonesome. "You'd better stay around here a little longer and keep me company for awhile." Instead they stayed here forever. (laughing) Then my mom and her brothers were born here. So they stayed.
MILAZZO: Then on my grandmother's side, her father-in-law was Sam Street. Would be my great-grandfather. He used to help the whites when the old Fallon just started. The beginning, I guess. He used to be their garbage man. He drove the garbage wagon and horses, and then the dump was back here, north of here, and he'd empty their trash every day. During Christmas they'd give him a wagonload of oranges, apples, and candies and all the goodies for the Indian children around here, so that's what he done. They used to call him, "There comes old Street Sam." They called him Street Sam, and then later on it turned to Sam Street. See, he took the name of the street of Fallon, so that's how that went. During 1910, my great-grandfather who was Sam, they acquired 160 acres of land brought back in through here and all down through Stillwater, and his was over here near Sagouspi Dam. His ranch was there, and my grandpa hung along with him. He stayed there, and he died. My great-grandfather. He's buried somewhere back a little bit east of Sagouspi Dam. We never did go out there to look at the grave marker because another grandfather of mine told me that your grandfather's buried over there, and then the whites came along and built ranches and whatnot. Probably destroyed the marker. It may still be out there. I've often wanted to go out there and look around. I don't know just exactly where, but he's still out there.
MILAZZO: Then my grandfather in 1910 they were given other reservation ten-acre piece of land for the trading of the 160 acres of land. So, when my great-grandfather died, my grandfather then started a ranch in Stillwater on the reservation.
PETERSON: Is the land still in the family?
MILAZZO: Yes. In fact, my uncle, Raymond, and I, and his brother's Street family--there's two of them down there. I think there's just the three of us on there. My mom was, but then when she died, she left her share to my sister and I and Raymond. We divided that ten-acre piece into thirds because it's shared by all of us. The only thing we should do is divide it and have ten acres apiece, but it's about three parcels, so that it's about thirty acres. I have little shares on some of the Jack side. Not too much.
MILAZZO: My mom is gone, and my stepdad's gone, too, Charlie Birchum. He was from Reese River, or Austin, Nevada. They were the kind of people, the Shoshones were the kind that they were nomads. They kept coming toward our way, and they pushed us just right into this little spot. I got some of the stories on the Shoshones, too, through my stepfather 'cause he used to tell me a lot of things. How his relatives were from all over Nevada. Kind of make a circle clear around and ended back in Fallon. Got relatives all over. Their side of the story was real interesting, too. Maybe one day I'll get straightened up and stay in one place. I don't know how long I'll live. (laughing) Anyway, I may get things straightened up. If I had a special room, I could put all my Indian arts and stuff.
PETERSON: That would be wonderful.
MILAZZO: It'd be nice. When all of this settles down 'cause I'm taking care of my uncle here. I have a home in Stillwater, too. My husband's over there, but you know how men are. (laughing) So he's taking care of the place, and I'm here.
PETERSON: You mentioned that you would like to make a room for all of your Indian things.
MILAZZO: Uh-huh.
PETERSON: Can you tell me about some of these things that you got?

MILAZZO: Oh, at one time, when my grandfather used to ride horse way out in the Stillwater Sinks, Carson Sinks they'd call it. He used to come home on horseback, and he'd bring all kinds of arrowheads, and he had all kinds of shapes, and, you know, we never took care of them because we didn't think anything that we had was anything. That was just one of the things that we played with when we were little and teenaged, so my mom she buried it. We used to have a cellar that was underground, and I think that's where a lot of our stuff is. It caved in and buried underneath, and I think that's where our arrowheads and stuff went. They were really nice ones. My grandfather said he used to go down in the desert there looking for arrowheads. He'd find the oxen skeleton and a human skeleton which was the Whites. They trekked over this desert. He said he used to go over there because they were out in the open then, and he'd go over and search the skeletons, and he'd dig out those real gold watches and real gold stuff out of their pockets. I don't what he ever done with it, but he dug them out of the pockets. He used the railroad watches for a long time after. After she died I don't know whatever happened to it 'cause they had a lot of relatives, probably went to different hands.
PETERSON: What were railroad watches?
MILAZZO: Railroad watches is pocket watch. A man's pocket watch. Has a little gold chain on it. Yeah, that's what he had. I remember him showing it to me. Oh, poor grandpa. (laughing) He was a full-blooded Paiute. I used to follow him everywhere he went and where he worked out in the field, I was right behind him. Always following him around. And then he'd get tired. He knows I was tired, too, so we'd sit way out in the middle of the field, and he'd tell me some little Indian stories. I didn't know what he was talking about. He was always mentioning the great big--he called in Indian--the sun birds, and he says, "Do you know that they watch over us? At all times they have their eyes open and watching over us, so that must be what they call Sun God or something, so later on when I grew up, I got to thinking of all the things that he told me is true. Now that I'm older, I've found a lot of things along the way, so I think of all those things that what he said was true. I was with him until he died. I was only nine years old at the time.
MILAZZO: I don't know why, but it seemed like I always end up with a person that's sick, and I took care of them, and he told me the last minute--'course I didn't know any different, whether he was going to die or what death mean, so he grabbed my hand, and he held my hand, and he says, "Granddaughter, you know what I see?" I says, "What?" He says, "I see a lot of yellow flowers, gold-looking flowers, and they just cover the hills. It's covered with flowers, and it smells so good." So, he kept on talking like that, and then I couldn't hear no more. That was the story to the end of his life.
PETERSON: Wow! He passed away soon after?
MILAZZO: Yeah. I'm sure we have a little life after we die.
PETERSON: You had a pretty special bond with your grandfather, then?
MILAZZO: Yeah. And then he told me, also, that he saw a gold wire ready to break, so I figured that was the lifeline. I've had real interesting life, religiously and you know, I feel real happy. All my life I've always been that way. Of course, I have lot of sadness, too, you know, but my mom used to say, "Marge, when you go far away, I miss you. I miss you around because when you're around you're always making us feel good." I said, "Really! I didn't know anybody missed me." (laughing) So she said, "When you get back, I get well." She'd be sick, sick at heart. That's the way it's been with me, and my grandpa told me that. But my grandmother she was sick. She had gallstones, and I was with her when she died, too. She had a real pain with it, and she couldn't say too much to me, but she just closed her eyes and died. So that I remember. I didn't even know I had a mother, either, 'cause they raised me.
PETERSON: Your grandparents raised you?
MILAZZO: My grandmother, Raymond's mother, raised me part of the time when I was real tiny. And then later on when I got to be about nine, after they left, my mother came. She was married to this Charlie Birchum, my stepdad, the Shoshone, and they were over there in Austin during the time my grandparents passed away. When she came back, well, between my grandmothers I had another grandmother in Reno, and she wanted me. She wanted me to stay with her. I was about maybe eight years old, and I stayed with her for a little while, and then they got lonesome for me, and my grandpa went and picked me up. My other grandpa in an old Model A Ford. (laughing) I left that night over there, and I guess my grandma cried. I was real happy. I was just happy to get home to my sister. She was alive then.
PETERSON: Which grandparents were these?
MILAZZO: Johnny Street. That's Raymond's dad. And then he had a brother, Hiram Street. Him and Hiram went after me to pick me up over there. They must have known that I was lonesome for my sister. So, they brought me home. It took us all night and all day to come in an old Model A. So, got home, and then it was a little before, maybe I was about seven, my other sister, Florence Jack, she died. She drowned over here in this canal. There was two teenage boys. I don't know how old they were, but they were playing, and they told each other that they wanted to drown her, so they were playing with an old coffeepot with string tied on it. They'd reach for water. Now, there's a big bridge over this canal, a big red bridge, and it had high railings. Then they'd grab the thing and pull up water, so then they says, "Florence, it's your turn, now." She was about five or six. "Your turn to get water," and then they had planned that they were going to let her have it, and that's what they done.
PETERSON: Oh, no. That's awful.
MILAZZO: That is awful. Every time I go down this road, it's kind of sad. I think of my sister going down the river, but I just think good about it. Don't think real sad.
PETERSON: She was younger than you?
MILAZZO: She was one year younger than I was. She'd be seventy-five. So, they found her body down in Stillwater and drug her out. A big old hoop caught her. I remember I was young, and then I remember when they brought her body to this colony here, and the relatives of mine had her body here, I remember. But she was from the real Jack family. They used to treat her real good because they lived here. That's where her body was.
PETERSON: Who were these teenage boys that she was with?
MILAZZO: Oh, It was Charlie Kingston and Clarence Dodd. They were from here, but they were a little older than us. So that’s what happened at that time. My mom she came from Austin, her and her husband, Charlie Birchum, and they came back, and they said--she was real sad, my mom feeling bad, and I told her, "Mom, don't cry, because someday God will punish them." So, she remembered that when the time came. And you know what, those two boys died the same day. One died in Arizona of tuberculosis, and the other boy was going to work from Fallon to Hawthorne, and he got in a wreck and killed himself between here and Fallon. So, then later, I says, "See, Mom, remember what I told you long ago?" So she remembered.
PETERSON: Interesting. What did your parents do for a living?
MILAZZO: In the olden days, I guess they just hunt for food to live on, and then later when they got more modern, why, they had a ranch. My grandfather was a real ambitious old man. He built the thirty acres of brushland, and he plowed and scraped and all that. Where he learned was through these white ranchers, and they knew him real well, too, so they helped him out with equipment and everything and horses, so he got by real good with that.
MILAZZO: I remember he had all kinds of food in the little storage places. They kept sacks of flour, and he ran business with the I.H. Kent Company over here in Fallon, and so he got groceries from them and got all the help he wanted. Then he'd pay them back when they harvested. He'd raise wheat and alfalfa and hay. Well, that's alfalfa. That was what he was doing, and then when he died--he was only about forty-seven, and he worked so hard. He had cancer. So, that left my grandma alone, and she didn't want to live after he died. She grieved for him, and she wanted to be with him, so she left a year later. It was 1932, she died, and he died in 1931. I was about ten years old then.
MILAZZO: Then my mom came and I went to Stewart. She says I wanted to go because I heard all the girls talking about Stewart Indian School, and I wanted to go there. My mom said, "No, you're too young." That was when I was nine. She says, "You're too young to go over there. I won't let you go." Oh, I cried, and I told her, "I want to go," 'cause I think I kind of missed my grandparents. She says, "No, I think you'd better stay one more year. Can you take it?" I said, "Yes." So, I stayed till about ten years old, and then I went to Stewart. That was in 1931. I went over there five years, and then I took sick. I had one of these goiters, and it was growing so big that while I was there in Stewart, they sent me to a sanitarium there, and I stayed there, and I couldn't do anything. I was getting weaker and losing weight, and I only weighed about eighty-eight pounds, and Mom and them would come and see me and visit me. It was during this time I got so sick and I fell out of bed in the sanitarium, and the doctor said I only had about four more days to live. I heard him talk to my mom, and my mom says, "What'll we do? I think we'll take her home, and then she'll be near the graves and everything and won't be so far to take the body." I heard them talking about that, and I didn't dwell on it. I was happy to get home. (laughing) I was real happy. I tried to walk, and that's how I fell out of the bed 'cause I knew my mom and them came, so they had to carry me out. I had to be carried all the time. I only weighed about eighty pounds, and I came home. I was sick from 1936, 1937, 1938. I was sick four years in the hospital back and forth, and they thought I was going to die. Well, I guess I did die, and I came back. It was Indian herbs that saved me. This man that brought the herbs, he was a native Nevadan and Californian, I guess, and I come to find out my mom and him were related. [Tape cuts, switching side]
PETERSON: You said he was a medicine doctor. Do you remember his name?
MILAZZO: Ben Lancaster. They call him Chief Gray Horse. He had been to Oklahoma, and that's where he took up this, well, it's a American Native Church is what it was.
PETERSON: Do you remember what kind of herbs it was that he give you?
MILAZZO: Peyote, but that was real good for the Indians, and they were strong enough that they could use it. I've seen some wonderful things that happened during the time I was sick, and then, like I said, I died and then I came back through that. That's when I seen just beautiful things myself. I saw two people that couldn't even walk, bedridden, and so they went to the ceremony, doin's that we had, so they went, and they came out walkin', believe it or not.
MILAZZO: Just before that happened there was a great big old whirlwind that came. Just stood right over us. Oh, everybody was all shook up. We looked at each other, all amazed and astonished. So, after that did that, it was real strong. That thing. It just seemed like we were in a tornado. It was a big one, but we all stood still, and everybody kept quiet. Then, finally, that thing, just like walked off. Took off and went a different direction. There we were. We all felt good. That was one of the good, interesting stories I'm telling you about.
MILAZZO: So, after that I was about sixteen, seventeen, eighteen years old I got well, 'cause I never had wild life like the Indians have. The young Indians? Teenagers. I could have if I was well, I guess. I had a good time, but I missed all the good years in the teenage years, but I used to love to listen to the girls tell about their adventures. (laughing)
PETERSON: Going back to your time at Stewart School, can you tell me some of the memories that you have?
MILAZZO: Oh, that, yeah. I went there ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen. Yeah, I came out about that time. Oh, I had a lot of fun there. We couldn’t talk our own native language, so when I first got there, I felt real strange 'cause I'd never seen a lot of kids before, you know, all over the campus there, and the campus was so beautiful. It just had flowers and sidewalks. The flowers were lined up along the sidewalk. So pretty over there. I thought it was heaven to myself. (laughing) Mr. Snyder, our superintendent, he made that place feel so good. I think it was the wonderfullest time that I had in my life, and not only mine, the other children that did like it. It was a beautiful place, and they had a great big pond there.
MILAZZO: I remember my older uncle, Raymond's brother, Clyde, he took the Fallon children in a bus and drove us over. I was new that time. I really didn't know how to speak White too good. I still don't. (laughing) I met some Schurz girls from Schurz Reservation. They talked to me, but I didn't answer, and I listened to them. Then one of the girls probably knew I was a Paiute, so she talked in Paiute to me, and I talked to her then. (laughing) We all got to talking and laughing and having a good time right there at the swimming pool.
MILAZZO: After that we did a lot of studies, and we went to church every Sunday. We had to dress military style like, and the girls, oh, they used to look so good! Then we had a certain inspector that comes in from, I don't where, Reno or Carson. He was a big shot wearing this whole uniform outfit. He'd march between us when we were lining up for drills or whatever, and we had to present ourselves just perfect. He'd come along, and he'd walk along in front of us all down the line. There was over five hundred children. You could see so many boys and girls all lined up in their own companies, like I was in Company C. They inspected the way we dressed, and we had to stand certain ways. Then we had an officer that took care of us. She was from the building, but she was a mean big shot lady. (laughing) She'd come along with a paddle. If we got out of line, they'd strap us, but we always watched her, so it was really strict. We'd drill and march, and we did all the commands that they hollered to us when we were in line. We had to be about face. After the inspection then we all changed into our everyday clothes and play, whatever. I really enjoyed that 'cause I never had anything like that.
MILAZZO: Of course, we had a big dining room, and they had good food. Every day they'd have to make the same prayer. Everybody in the whole dining room. Boys and girls and big ones and little ones. Then we ate our meals. We'd come out. Sometimes we were always hungry, though, and if we can't eat it all or if there's something left over, we'd make a sandwich or something and sneak it out. (laughing)
PETERSON: Save it for later, huh?
MILAZZO: Save it for later when we got hungry, or we'd eat it up before we got hungry.
PETERSON: You said that you attended church. What kind of church was it?
MILAZZO: That was Baptist church. There was a Baptist church, and there was Episcopalians, and Catholic. See, 'cause all the children weren't all the same. We had differences you know, so when I left them here, we had Baptist church.
PETERSON: How did they designate who went to what church?
MILAZZO: They all just knew what to wear, different kind of costume. Like the girl that went to Catholic, they wore navy blue, and then they had capes. We just dressed. Well, we all dressed alike. We didn't really have fancy stuff. Ordinary church, I guess you'd call it, but we had to dress neat, and we had our government clothes and our black shoes all shined up and black pants and black stockings. (laughing)
PETERSON: You went to a Baptist church, but you weren't raised Baptist by your family, right?
MILAZZO: No, not by my family. Well, my grandmother and I, she used to take me to church every Sunday, and that was to the Baptist church. That was our own little church when I left from here. Then up there I went to a better Baptist church, more different from this one. This is just a little place, and that was big
PETERSON: There was a place at Stillwater?
MILAZZO: Uh-huh. Stillwater is the reservation name. Then I went to the Indian day school at Stillwater Reservation.
PETERSON: That was before you got sick?
MILAZZO: Oh, yeah, this was when I didn't know how to talk White. I just spoke Indian.
PETERSON: So you went to the day school first and then to Stewart.
MILAZZO: To the day school first. Then I was going into third when I went Stewart. I was graduating from seven to eight, but that was when I took sick and had to leave school. I just gave up my schooling, but I was asked to go to some kind of school later on, but then I was busy working. I got to working 'cause my mother used to say she went to work when she was young, and I'm going to do the same thing, so that's what I done. I was always busy after I got well around seventeen. And I went to work for this lady, and she wanted to adopt me, and I always called her my White mother. (laughing)
PETERSON: What was her name?
MILAZZO: Tilly Castleton. She was one of the pioneers that came from Coffeeville, Kansas, her and her family, Mr. and Mrs. Benadum. It was funny, too. She told me that some of my ancestors that lived here on this colony, they were little old ladies, and this little old lady called Annie. She was related to my grandfather, so she always used to look after us, too. Then she worked for them. She'd wash by hand, washboard, iron all day long. She only made fifty cents a day. Her name was Annie. I don't know what her last name is, and then she worked for Mrs. Castleton and Mr. and Mrs. Benadum.
MILAZZO: Then down the line, after Annie died, then she hired my mother, and she knew that she was from this family of Annie's, so she hired my mother to work for her and house clean and all that stuff. She says, "Iola, I'm going to hire all your relations 'cause I know you folks real well. You're all good people." So, she hired my mom, and then after my mom quit working, then I started, so I helped her for I don't know how many years. Then I went until I was about twenty, I think. I worked for her when I was seventeen, eighteen. I was still on the verge of getting well.
MILAZZO: So she took me in, and I stayed with her all the time till I was about twenty, and then World War II broke out, so then I wanted to go to work for the Navy. So, I left and went to Hawthorne and worked over there at the Naval Ammunition Depot. So that's where I worked when I was twenty, twenty-one. Then I left there when I was about twenty-three. I worked for the Navy there. I worked two years, and then it got to the point where all that noise and everything where we worked with the bombs and stuff and sent it to Japan. That noise got to my ears, and I couldn't stand it anymore, so I left in 1944 when I was about twenty-one or twenty-two.
MILAZZO: I saved a little money and a friend of mine, my girlfriend, she's a Scandinavian girl. We met there at the ammunition depot, and she says, "Marge, let's take a trip. We've saved enough money." I said, "Are you sure we saved enough?" She says, "Yeah." So we took off, and we went to Texas because she had a boyfriend there. A Mexican boy, and she was older than I was. She had a little girl. She was about five years old. Her daughter's name was Diana, so we all left, and we went to Texas. We stayed with some Mexican family over there for awhile, and then she had to leave. She says, "Marge, can you stay and wait for me?" This is in Port Isabelle, Texas. I said, "Oh, my gosh, I've never been away from home before. I'm lost! I'm scared!" She said, "Well, you can wait for me". We was going to work for the Pan American Airways as mechanics. We was going to work with airplanes. We already had passed our test, and that's what I missed out on. I left from there. I told her I didn't want to stay there by myself. She was going to Michigan with her daughter. She was having a problem with a divorce case, so she says, "I'll be back," but I didn't know, so I left. I stayed with this Mexican family and spoke a little Spanish. She taught us, so she says, "Well, Marge, I'll tell you what. You go to Arizona, and you work in Prescott. There's a lot of jobs for women over there." Said, "Okay." So, I had just enough money. I had about thirty-five dollars left out of my money, and that was enough for a bus fare to Prescott, Arizona, so I stayed there, and I worked September, October, November. I think in November or December I left from there. I found a job right away. I was always lucky. (laughing) I found a little room for just one little lady.
MILAZZO: I met this little old Italian lady. She was about eighty-two years old. She'd sit in a rocking chair, and I'd sit with her in the afternoon after I got home from work. I worked in a hotel. It's a great big hotel there in Prescott, and they told me that was an Indian word meaning trees. It was a place where there was a lot of beautiful trees there. That's where I worked, and then I'd come home and I'd sit with this little old lady. "You know, Marge," and rock back and forth. I'd sit there and visit with her, and she'd say, "You know, Marge,” she says, “I'm old now. You know what, when you get old, you're going to remember the good things that you done in life, and it'll only be memories left after so long, and you'll remember what I told you that you live so long, and you have a wonderful life. But, it's wonderful all the way, your memories will be." I says, "Okay," and I believe it now in going through it. Starting to, anyway.
PETERSON: Right. How soon after that did you meet your husband?
MILAZZO: Oh, my husband! Oh, yes! (laughing) I had the boyfriend when I left from here. Of course, I was only sixteen. Then I went to work, and he followed me over there, and he worked there for awhile. He was one of these Shoshone boys. His name was Jim Street. They called him Chief Running Horse, so his name was Running Horse that I knew him by, but his real name was Jim Street. We got married in 1944. Then he was a construction worker, so here I go following him here and there. We went to different, the whole state, and part of California. He built roads. He built on all the highways throughout Nevada, and there I had a wonderful life there, too. We traveled with a construction company. It was Drumm's Construction Company from here. We stayed with him for I don't know how many years we worked, and Jim became to be a professional engineering man working on the Union Three in California. He was awarded a silver buckle with his name on there. It was a major thing that he won, so he earned that. 'Course I was just his wife at the construction camp, but the boss, Mr. Drumm, and Mr. Gustayson, they'd say, "Marge, come over and help us. We need our trailers cleaned." (laughing) So, everywhere we went I had a job I worked with them. They were nice to me. They paid me, and then Mr. Gustayson, the assistant, he bought me a little radio. I had that for a long time till it wore out. Then, too, Mr. Drumm used to find me jobs with the state workers from the highway. Of course, these state workers followed the construction. Like maybe they worked near a ranch or something, then they'd put me on the ranch to help there. I used to help a lady over in Ely, over in Spring Valley, and I worked there with her, and they were the owner of the Ely airport. That was the Allen airport there in Ely. I worked there for a while for the state.
PETERSON: After you left Prescott, what year did you return to Fallon?
MILAZZO: It was in the year 1944. I didn't stay there very long. I worked for a few months enough to get back home on 'cause I was headed for Fallon.
PETERSON: And what year did you get married?
MILAZZO: Jim and I got married in 1944, I think.
PETERSON: How many kids did you have?
MILAZZO: I didn't have no kids from Jim. I was married to him for twenty-five years, and then after he got wild and he was one of these women men. I forgave him for that. He left. I told him it's was no use that we go on, but I felt real bad to have to leave him. My father-in-law says, "I wish you didn't have to leave him." He wanted me to come back, but I didn't. So, then he found a woman that married him in 1980. We left each other in [19]60. I was single for quite some time. I got married to Mr. Milazzo. (laughing) He's an Italian, by the way. I says, "What a mixture--Indian and Italian."
PETERSON: I thought the name was Italian. What is his full name?
MILAZZO: His name is Philip Milazzo.
PETERSON: And what year did you get remarried?
MILAZZO: In 1967. So, now I've been with him almost the same amount of years. I don't know whether I'll go some more. (laughing) I forget about that.
PETERSON: So, you didn't have any children?
MILAZZO: Yeah, I had one, but it didn't survive, so that was it. I was getting an older age, too. So I ended up with no children, but all my sister's children. She died and she left five boys, and I helped raised them. I'm their second mom, so then I got a lot of grandchildren from them. (laughing) They're all cute.
PETERSON: All nephews?
MILAZZO: All nephews. They're all great nephews, but they always call me their mom. They were just like it. I actually raised them 'cause my sister was the wild type. My mom and I took care of the boys. There's five of them.
PETERSON: When you think back on all the people that you knew in your lifetime, who would you say was the best role model for you? Who would you say taught you the most?
MILAZZO: Taught me the most was my grandfather, Johnny Street. And, oh, my grandmother did, too. Susan. I think I stayed with them the longest 'cause I stayed with them since I was a baby maybe about two or somethin' like that, three. When my mother fell in love with a new man, so she forget about me and my grandma picked me up. I breast fed from her, Raymond's mother.
PETERSON: Is Raymond your uncle?
MILAZZO: Yes. And him and I was raised together. He had to leave when he was about fifteen years old. Went to Sherman Institute, California, Riverside. He went to school there, and then I was left, and I went to Stewart. My grandmother she'd say, "Mo'ah,"--that means my granddaughter, then I called her Moo Moo. To learn the old ways like about pine nuts, I'd sit with her when she was grinding and making it into flour, and I'd sit there, and I'd talk. Ask her crazy questions. I remember asking her, "Grandma, were you real pretty when you were young?" She'd laugh and grin. I said, "Did you wear high heeled shoes and silk dresses?" That was in my mind. "Did you wear makeup? You must have been pretty." (laughing) She'd laugh and she'd never forget me. She wouldn't say anything. She was one of the quiet type. Just grin, and I used to get a big kick out of her. She'd sit there and be grinding on the pine nuts, and I'd be stealing her grinding. (laughing)
PETERSON: Did you gather the pine nuts together?
MILAZZO: No, my grandmother and all my uncles, those three boys, they went with them because they were old enough, and I was too little. They said I'd probably be too much bother out in them hills, so they'd leave me home, and I'd cry and scream. (laughing) So I never got to pine nut with them. Just my uncle did. They'd come back with hundred-pound sacks. So many of them. They'd come up with their harvest. They stayed there for about all the month of September, October, November. When it gets cold they came home, and they took enough hay and a wagon and their horses, and they'd pick pine nuts all those months. They'd get back with a lot of pine nuts.
MILAZZO: That's when I'd be bothering with my grandma. She always had somethin' to say. "Don't do that," she says. "You know what our people says if you steal and eat before you get everything all fixed and all prepared? You're not supposed to taste any of that thing." (laughing) Something she's always saying, she says, "If you eat that--I can see you stealing from me." I said, (laughing) "Tastes good, Grandma," and she'd laugh. She said, "You know what happens to girls when you do that?" I said, "What?" (laughing) She'd say, "Your privates would be soft when you get home." (laughing) And the boys, I don't know what the boys' saying is when they do that. But she was always telling about girls.
PETERSON: That was like a superstition?
MILAZZO: Yeah. Just a belief that they believed in. It might have been true. I don't know. (laughing) And I thought of that, and I'd laugh. We'd have pine nut soup all the time. She made such good pine nut soup. I learned from her. I learned to make pine nut soup. But not the time when we left each other, and I didn't do it until I was about seventy-four. I made a batch of pine nut soup, and the Indians over here on the reservation didn't know I did know how, so I made one for the senior center. We used to have a Thanksgiving dinner, and I promised I would make some pine nut soup. I made a great big bowl and brought it over. You should see them just dive into that thing, and said, "Marge, when are you going to make some more pine nut soup?" I said, "Oh, that's a lot of work." I'm always busy with other things. Every time they see me, they ask me about pine nut soup.
PETERSON: What other Indian traditions do you still do?
MILAZZO: My aunt over in Schurz she used to teach me how to weave baskets from the beginning and how to bead it. But, you know what, I didn't take it as a hobby. I just know how it starts and how to do it, but the Shoshone Indians they knew, and they came around this way when they pushed them further. They made baskets so I helped them make baskets.
PETERSON: What materials did you use?
MILAZZO: We used willows. The seniors, we'd go out together in a bus, and we'd go out toward Coleville and Bridgeport and Sweetwater and get willows over there 'cause they're much stronger. Then they grow right along the river. It's mountain water, so we'd pick the willows from there because they're much stronger. When you separate the willows, they're easier to separate. You've got to have the knack to do that. I'm always breaking mine. I go so far, and then I'd break it, but the longer you work with it, the better you get.
PETERSON: And you were saying that the willows in this area are weaker?
MILAZZO: Yeah. They're alkali. I guess they drink the alkali water, and it's not very good. So that's what we do to get our willows. Over in Austin, too. I was always wanting to learn how to make different things from our Shoshone neighbors 'cause they make it good. Well, Paiutes did, too, but they're all gone. This is why we never learned that much. The Paiutes, it seemed like they just died, kept going, and then we lost our ancestors. I spent little time with my ancestors just to know, but I seem to catch on. 'Course I get stuck I ask someone that knows a little of it and then they show me what to do. Then I used to work with buckskin and beads. Bead them. I made vests, and I made bead belts, but people steals them, and I can't get them back.
PETERSON: How were they stolen?
MILAZZO: Well, like when I was married to Jim, my first husband, why, his sisters used to take them and wear them. They didn't care. They probably just discarded them some where and forget about it. They were young anyway. Yeah, I had a buckskin vest that I made. Had a Indian woman's head in the front with a feather and a bead band, and then in the back it had a bird of paradise. The whole back. I don't know where that ever ended up. I know my brother-in-law was wearing it last time. I asked him, just to be inquisitive, "Where did you get that vest, William?" "Oh, my mom made it." I said, "Oh, no, she didn't. (laughing) I made that." He didn't believe me. Probably felt guilty.
PETERSON: Can you think of any other superstitions that you heard?
MILAZZO: My uncles were hunters. They hunted for pheasants and rabbits and ducks. 'That was our main food here, and then tules. I never really got to know too much about those olden days, but I just had a little taste of different things, and that all disappeared. But, I know, like tules, we used to eat the roots from the bottom. The real tender ones. We used to eat that when we were kids 'cause it looked good to eat, so we'd eat it and chew it. It was good when you were hungry.
PETERSON: Were they sweet?
MILAZZO: Uh-huh. After they go through full bloom, then the tops they have a little green, I guess it's a seed or something, and then they get brown. After they get a little older they have a little yellow powder, and then we used to take that powder and just eat that, too. It tasted good. (laughing) Of course, we know it wasn't poison because they ate it before. That was Tule Indians. That was us, I guess. This Indian candy they used to get up in the mountains, I don't know what they came from. I never got to ask my grandmother 'cause they're gone. There's a lot of things I like to find out, too, but I never did find out where this Indian candy--oh, I know what it was. It was wild sugar cane. They'd grow wild up here on Fox Peak. They must have been something like tule where when they grow, and they take all that sweet stuff, and they put it all together, and it's real sweet, and then it's matted together like a rock. Then they call that candy. It's brownish color, and we used to eat that. We used to like it because it was sweet. (laughing) I got to taste that. That was on the Paiute side.
MILAZZO: Well, we had a lot of rabbits for food. We ate a lot of the rabbits when they had the rabbit dance. They'd tell all the Indians all over wherever there's Indians living and send a message someway somehow. Then they all come to Stillwater, and there's an old Indian camping ground where we used to . . . Every year we move over there, bring our tents, my grandparents, you know, we were just little. They used to make a circle in the tents and all that where people lived, and they'd bring all their stuff to eat, and you'd smell that rabbit cooking from every home. It smelled so good. The men would take their horses and go out for a rabbit drive. So, they'd go out hunting with their guns, and when they'd come home in the evening, they used to be just loaded with rabbits hanging on the side of their horses. The guys they'd come along, and every one of them had a lot of rabbits, and they'd dump it right in the middle on the ceremonial ground. Each family divided all of the pile of rabbits and take an equal amount. Maybe bigger family take more. Of course, they'd get it new every day. Come home with newer stuff, and what they didn't use they'd cut them up and hang them out to dry. Rabbit skins, they save all of that, and they make the rabbit skin blankets and mattings and all that. They never wasted nothing. Everything was used.
MILAZZO: Then the chief at night would make prayers. He would sing some of the beautiful songs, dance songs, and everybody danced all night. Half the night. (laughing) They'd build a big bonfire in the center of the yard where they danced. Everything was in the middle and the tents were out in the circles, so the ladies would all cook there. Clean their rabbits and make a big pot of rabbit stew, and, oh, it was so tasty. Us kids, though, we were just playing in and out raising cain among those adults spinning out of the circle dance and all that. At times we get in and dance for a while, then we'd play again. Then supper time come, Grandma, "Come on and eat. Come on. Come on home." So there we are in the camp hungry. (laughing)
PETERSON: What other kinds of things were put into the rabbit stew?
MILAZZO: They put mostly just potato and onions. If they had other vegetables, they probably put it in, but I only know potatoes and meat. Then they'd make a prayer, and then they'd start the circle dance. Oh, it just felt so good because there was so many Indians, all Indians. No Whites, and it was just a homey feeling. Very good feelings there, and I really enjoyed that. We were just free. We just did our things and played. Of course, we'd get tired, and we'd curl up in the rabbit blanket. (laughing)
PETERSON: I'll bet they were comfortable.
MILAZZO: Yeah. Real comfortable and warm. That was it. Then at night, we'd play with it. We'd play with it. We'd go like this on the fur. Did you see all that light?
MILAZZO: Uh-huh.
PETERSON: You mean the static?
MILAZZO: Uh-huh, and you hear that, too. The noise.
PETERSON: The crackle. That's neat.
MILAZZO: Oh, yeah. We had so much fun. Of course, then raring to slumber.
PETERSON: You mentioned the wild sugar cane on Fox Peak. I'm assuming they called it Fox Peak because you could see kit foxes up there?
PETERSON: Did you ever see any?
PETERSON: What other kinds of animals do you remember seeing?
MILAZZO: That's where the Paiute life started was on Fox Peak. I hear stories about it, but the old people know, but we never did see. Then our people lived, supposed to be the Paiutes lived right on the edge of the tules and the swamp and the lake there, but I never got to see all of that. It seems like I'm a little of both sides I catch. I figured that out for myself. My mind do things.
MILAZZO: As far as I can remember is what my grandmother told me, what my grandfather told me, and theirs was more about the moon. My grandmother told me about the moon and the stars and all that. She used to say, "Marge, did you know that the moon controls our body? When your moon sign is thin and kind of tipped like this [tilted to the side] it's holding water. The moon is holding water, and then when all that water spills out of the moon, and then, too, that is the opening for a woman's womb that it opens the womb with the sharp corners and that's when a woman menstruates, and a pregnancy, too, the same way when the moon is full. She told me all the nice stories like that I just loved. Then she told me about the stars. They call that pah'tosoo. Pah'tosoo is star, and that's a little light. She used to tell me about that, but mostly about the moon and what it does to your body and what it does to the earth and the water that it stirs the waters up at certain times and for the animals. The animals they howl because they're feeding out there. Gonna look out for food for themselves in the moonlight, and they can see to eat. And their animals talked long ago to the Indians. This is true. I've heard it with my own ear. That was a message that God made, I guess, to translate to different relatives to tell what's happening. If there was death the animal would act up and make noise with the wings or whatever. Makes a real sound of accident, what happened, and that's what the owls are the messengers to tell good news or bad news. So this is why the owl is real sacred, and we don't care too much for the owls at times, but they're the ones that's made for that to carry messages.
MILAZZO: My aunt, another aunt of mine, she told me that she had a son, and they went to Virginia City, three of them in a car, and she said that day she was in the house over here at one ranch, Thomas Dolf ranch, and she heard a flapping noise out there by the window. She looked out the door, and there was an owl sitting on the post, and the owl stood and looked at her. The big old eyes, and she said it was flapping its wings making a sound like a car like having a wreck going down the hill. That was a message for her, and she knew it was not going to be very good news 'cause it sounded like it. Then that same day she heard that her son and his wife and cousin got into an accident in Virginia City on the hill.
PETERSON: What was your aunt's name?
MILAZZO: My aunt's name was Carrie Dick, but she married a Mexican. Her name was Carrie Rodriquez. I have a cousin over in Washoe Valley--it was her daughter. She's the only one left now, and her name is Catherine.
PETERSON: You said that your grandmother spoke to you in Paiute?
PETERSON: You can speak Paiute fluently?
MILAZZO: Yes. I'm kind of getting away from it, though, so they wanted me to teach them Paiute languages over here, and I was putting in an application to get in it, and this lady, she says, "You better hurry up and get in there 'cause you're the only one that can speak good anymore." I said, "Well, I don't know. I'll try." So I have my application laying around here somewhere I gotta take down there.
PETERSON: That's great.
MILAZZO: I just do a lot of things that I like to do. People they're all good to me, and I'm good to them.
PETERSON: Can you describe to me how you've seen Fallon change over the years?
MILAZZO: Oh, yeah, Fallon! We used to come from home. Grandma and Grandpa get us up early in the morning about five, and we all rush around there. Grandpa goes and harnesses horse and get our gray horse named Molly. Molly was such a good little horse. She was used to kids, you know. We used to play with her a lot. Run under her and pinch her and do everything, (laughing) and she was used to us, so he'd harness her up and another horse--I forgot her name. But, anyway, he'd harness her up and get the wagon ready and Grandma get us ready to come up town. Dressed us real warm. To get in the buggy, there's room in the front of the buggy. She'd put me in the front and cover me up with some quilt so I'd keep warm when I'm comin' and the boys all in the back. They got their slingshots, and they're huntin' birds. They're jumpin' off and on the wagon and catchin' up with the wagon and shootin' birds back over there with slingshots. Then we reached town about noon. We leave about five or six over there, early anyway, and then we get here to town right at noon. They had rails in the back of the town for horses and wagons. Big long rails where you can tie your horse and park your wagons, so that’s what they do.
MILAZZO: We come into town, and then it’s right at noon hour there was a little street – it was just a small town then, and the street – I don’t remember whether it was paved or gravel. We’d come in and Grandpa’d go in one of the restaurants to the back in the alleyway and order for food. They were Chinese cooks. There were a lot of Chinese working in the restaurant at the time. There was no Whites, hardly. I mean there was Whites, but they didn’t like the Indians at the time. Well, they’re still prejudiced. So, anyway, come to the back and Grandpa ordered what he wants and orders for coffee and meat and gravy and potato and all that good stuff. We thought it was a picnic. [laughs] We didn’t think anything bad to the Whites or anything, but we know they treated us mean once in a while. The Chinese took their orders and says, “We’ll let you know.” “Okay.” We sat out there and waited under the trees. They had grass in the back there. If they didn’t have no grass, grandma used to bring out newspapers and some kind of cloth to put on the ground so we could eat on it. So, then, here comes the Chinese. “Alright, Johnny. Kima, kima, kima!” They spoke Indian to us. I mean, words like that. Kima means come. So he’d always holler. We were always so happy. “Grandpa! Go get it! Hurry!” They’d serve coffee in those big fruit cans. They’d fill that up with coffee and sugar and milk with it, so he’d go over there and get a great big tray and come feed us [Laughs] We were all so happy. After we eat we feel better, and we do what we’re supposed to do.
MILAZZO: Grandpa and them’d bring in their things that they bring to the store, and then they go back with something. Mr. [Ira H.] Kent was always good to all the Indians, so he charges everything up, and then when they do their harvest in the fall, then they pay them with cash. That’s what we done for the day. Then they stayed there in town for a little while, and then Grandpa’d go to his stomping grounds and look around for me not to follow him. He used to get after me because my grandmother was blind and I used to have the job to watch my grandma because she was blind. I had to watch her one the street, but she just sits in one place, so I’d follow my Grandpa. Grandpa’d get after me, “You get and you watch your grandma," but I never listened. It was in one ear and out--there I'm sneaking behind him. I got spanked. He had to haul me back. (laughing) I used to always get in trouble with him, but he made me learn a lot of things, too. But, he had to get a stick after me (laughing) which I don't blame him. I felt good that he did teach me all those things.
PETERSON: What kinds of things would you like to leave for your nephews and their children? Your grandchildren.
MILAZZO: I would like them to live a full life and be educated as much as they can. So far, one of my granddaughters¬-she's going to turn eighteen March 18. She was born in 1980. So, she's going to be eighteen years old this March on the eighteenth, so I got to get her something. I asked her, "What would you like for a present?" She's going to college, so I asked her the other day. She just grinned and smiled at me. I said, "Would you like a hundred dollars so it'll help you through school?" She said, "Yeah! That'd be good. I want money!" I says, "Okay, you do that, and you better use it for that, too." She's going to a college in Susanville, California. I said, "Why Susanville? You could have it at University of Nevada, Reno," because my nephew, Frankie--I call him my son, he went to school here at Churchill County, and he was a real smart boy. He went to school and graduated up here, and after graduation the White boys got together, and he was the only Indian, and they had some kind of test, real hard test, and they went to that. Frankie, my nephew, he was the only one that passed it, and them boys just was, "Well, how come you're so smart and got it all?" He was real good all the way through school. Oh, just somethin' the way I'd like to be, but I never had the chance. He got a letter comin' from Kansas. He was elected to enter school at West Point.
PETERSON: Great! Do you have any special personal Indian items that you would like to pass on to the next generation?
MILAZZO: Oh, yeah. That's what I'm fixin' that for [points to a picture frame containing arrowheads], and then I have a lot of pictures. I got to frame them all and fix them up for them and to divide among all of them. Whoever wanted, for each one something.
PETERSON: Can you describe the collection of arrowheads?
MILAZZO: Oh, I don't know too much about the arrowheads because that was before my time. My stepdad--he's the Shoshone. I never got to talk with my Paiute grandfather too well 'cause I was only ten, but he's the guy that brought in a lot of arrowheads, but we lost them all not thinking it was real good. These big ones, I think, are for big animals. Well, not real big, but what they'd do, I don't know what kind of poison they used to put on the darts and put them in there. They'd soak these in there and then they'd use them. I think these are for bigger animals, and my stepdad told me these little ones are for birds. These little tiny ones for little squirrels and stuff like. Then, of course, they had the bigger kinds for the humans. They had to a long time ago, I guess. They had to use that. A lot of these are for rabbits, and the little ones, like I say, for birds. That's all I can explain. What I was told.
PETERSON: Were these found out in the desert, or were they something that a member of your family made?
MILAZZO: Yeah, they're found in the desert. Then they use, I think, deer horn sharpened some way, and then they chip each one of the arrowheads the shape that they want for certain animals, and that's the way they do it. These are all obsidian, and these here are, I don't know whether that came from quartz or what. That other one they call fire rocks. They're the ones that glows at night. They use that for certain things, too. I don't which one of these are those kind, but these black ones are all obsidians. That's all I can remember. Of course, we used to even have those tomahawk things, and then there's a round rock that was sharp and a hole in the center. I don't know what that was used for. My grandfather used to bring them. They were big ones. I wished I had the nets. He had a whole bunch of them, and these were the ones my stepdad got, and he found a lot of them. Then the other day when that windstorm came along, it took our shed away that I had my stuff stored in, and I lost some more of that stuff.
PETERSON: Oh no! Well, you seem to have so many happy memories and so much that you can leave to your nephews and your grandchildren, I think it's wonderful. That pretty much sums up the interview. I've learned so much. On behalf of the Churchill County Museum Oral History Project, I'd like to thank you for the interview. It was wonderful, and it's going to make a great oral history. Thank you.

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Churchill County Museum Association , “Marge Milazzo Oral History,” Churchill County Museum Digital Archive: Fallon, Nevada, accessed July 1, 2022,