ÃÛÌÒÓ°ÏñAV

Not wanting to worry her parents with her life-threatening prognosis, she had told them she was accompanying a sick patient to Arizona.

She knew she had a layover in Ash Fork, west of Flagstaff, and expected a Phoenix ticket to be waiting for her. But there was no ticket and she did not have enough money to purchase one. Josephine picked up her suitcase and started walking along the track. The distance to Phoenix was over 140 miles. Fortunately, the brakeman of a freight train took mercy on the sickly woman and allowed her to ride in the train’s caboose behind the cattle cars all the way to Phoenix.

The year Josephine arrived in Phoenix, 1903, the city outlawed tent camps that cropped up overnight crowded with tuberculosis patients. Josephine settled into a tent city just north of the town of Sunnyslope. Few public services were available, there was little opportunity for work and not much hope of surviving the deadly illness.

But Josephine was one of the lucky ones who recovered.

Soon working as a private nurse to those still suffering from the disease, she is considered one of the first registered nurses in the territory.

Born March 9, 1876, in Bowen, Illinois, Josephine was just a toddler when the family went into farming in York County, Nebraska. Nursing school in Chicago was a big change from country living, but Josephine enjoyed the sights and sounds of the big city.

Always an active woman, once she recovered her health, her social life escalated. Supposedly, several of her patients proposed marriage while they were convalescing but the man who finally caught her eye was Baron Goldwater of the pioneering Goldwater clan.

When she first met Baron, Josephine “thought he was fresh, but he was a charmer.�

The couple married on Jan. 1, 1907, in Prescott, where Baron’s brother, Morris, was presiding as mayor. They had three children: Barry (1909-98), Robert (1910-2006) and Carolyn (1912-99). Baron ran the Goldwater stores in the Prescott and Phoenix areas and the couple became an active part of the Phoenix social scene.

According to son Barry, U.S. senator and 1964 presidential candidate, “My mother … was one of the most memorable personalities of early Phoenix. She was unconventional and adventuresome — an outdoors person who didn’t know the meaning of fear.�

“The very first thing I can remember is Mother taking the flag down and sewing two new stars on it for New Mexico and Arizona,� he said. “My mother had a greater influence on my life than any other individual.�

Josephine also continued with her nursing career, particularly during the influenza epidemic of 1918-20, when she served as regional director of the American Red Cross. Later, she paid for Arizona’s first iron lung for polio victims.

Josephine was an avid athlete. Long before women seriously took up the sport of golf, she was on the course in trousers or knickers even though pants were not yet proper women’s attire. In 1918, she won the Phoenix Country Club women’s golf championship and went on to win the Arizona and Southwest women’s championships.

She also preferred the new scandalous flapper dresses. Her casual attire shocked the social elite of Phoenix.

Josephine smoked, sometimes indulged in a cocktail and could let loose with a barrage of swear words if the occasion called for it.

Every summer, she piled her children into the car and headed for the California beaches. According to Barry, “The trip across the Arizona and California deserts took about a week. Our car was loaded with gear spread across the seats into every corner of the car — bedrolls, tents, other camping equipment, cooking utensils, a first aid kit, a rifle, and a box of shells. The stuff that wouldn’t fit hung from the front and back lights, door handles, even the windshield. This included two spare tires. We had about two dozen flat tires each way. My brother, Bob, and I patched the inner tubes in mostly 120-degree heat.�

“Mun (as her children called her) wore knickers, leggings, and a beat-up old hat that she’d tilt at odd angles to make us laugh,� Barry said. “She was about five feet four inches tall and a hundred pounds of double-barreled action. Mun was a tomboy who loved the outdoors — camping, hunting, fishing, and climbing. She was spunky and spontaneous, and she spoiled us rotten.�

On the beach, she rode the waves with her children.

Baron abhorred anything to do with the outdoors and preferred to stay home while his wife took the children on these desert forays.

Josephine overcame her share of disasters during her lifetime. In 1921, she and Baron were involved in a car accident that killed a passenger in their vehicle. Baron escaped with minor injuries, but Josephine sustained internal injuries and broke all her ribs. It took longer than she expected, but she fully recovered and returned to her active lifestyle.

Baron died in 1929, leaving Josephine to manage their holdings and continue the care of their children.

Diagnosed with cancer in 1936, she took it in stride as she did all her adventures. Heading to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, she was fortunate to take part in a new medical procedure and was eventually proclaimed cancer-free.

In 1961, the town of Show Low opened a new 12-bed hospital dedicated to Josephine, who had contributed generously to its construction.

Five years later, on Dec. 27, 1966, Josephine died at the age of 91. With her work in the nursing field, her forward-thinking ideas and through her children, she made an enormous difference in the new state of Arizona.

“I loved her smile,� said Barry. “It was big, like sunrise over the Grand Canyon.�