Last Wednesday evening—too family to movie, while I went to Harbor—A soft warm freshness—talking to the old man who lives I the houseboat—or rather, he talking to me. Once he started there was no stopping him. He chewed tobacco, and must spit at every two or three words—He told me of some of the old days in this particular spot in the harbor—tho I had difficulty in keeping him to that time. He wanted to talk about modern political conditions. He told of the Monarch Elevator once falling into the creek—followed by a long complicated recital of the salvaging of the wheat, machinery lumber, etc—in which he himself was the unappreciated & misjudged hero—
Charles Burchfield, June 4, 1935