Silvinia
Williams Thompson Jones
Post Office: Fort Towson, Oklahoma
Birth Place: west of Doaksville, Choctaw Nation, Indian Territory
My father and mother were slaves and were sold to dealers at their old homes in
the old states and brought to the Indian Territory and sold again. A white man
names Jim Dibble owned my father and he was the overseer on the Dr. Henry Folsom
place, about a mile west of Doaksville,
Britt Willis had a daughter named Lizzie, who would be 67 years old if she was
living and I was big enough to tote her around when she was a baby. So I know I
am a lot older than she was. Miss Lizzie married Bob Peeler first then Mr.
George Pritchard.
Mr. Willis had another daughter later, Mrs. George Rosenthal and they lived down
at Doaksville. Mr. Rosenthal was a Jew and had a general merchandise store off
and on at Doaksville for as far back as I can remember, nearly. The store was
close to his house. I used to love to go there and play with their children. I
would run off and go. My mother would take me home and "whup" me and
I'd run off again and go. I'd go to the gin and crawl up in it and hide until
Mama would go to Mr. Rosenthal's looking for me, and then come back past there
going home. Then I'd slip out and go to Mr. Rosenthal's house. Finally mama got
tired of it and jus gave me to Mrs. Rosenthal for a house girl and nursemaid for
the children. I raised them "chillun". I never went to school; all I
know is what the white folks taught me.
I remember that big old double log house on the Dr. Henry Folsom place. The
overseer, Mr. Jim Dibble lived in it, and we lived in the slave quarters. East
of the big house was a tan yard and the cabin of Grandpa Travis, an old slave
who supervised the tanning of the leather and made shoes for all the darkies. I
wore some of the shoes. I remember when they raised wheat on that place, and
ground it in the flour mill out there close to the tan yard. They raised lots of
wheat, too, and sold the flour. People came there for flour, just like going to
a grist mill for corn meal.
They raised cotton on that plantation, too, but I don't know where they ginned
it, because I was a great big girl before there was a cotton gin at Doaksville.
Then by that time the darkies had moved over on the ridge north of town, where
each had a little cabin and a patch of their own to cultivate. And that was a
tough place. "Lawd God!" Especially on Saturday nights. If we'd hear a
gun shooting, we could just say "somebody said", cause nearly sho' it
would be that way.
After Mr. and Mrs. Rosenthal took me for a house-girl they didn't low me out'n
the house, only to go to the sto', or to the well, till I was grown and married.
even then I worked on there for years.
Mr. Rosenthal was a good tailor. Them days, the woman wore tight fitting basques,
with stays in them so they would fit neatly. He made many a one for me. He had a
store and handled good goods. He had them freighted form
I remember Dr. Henry Folsom very well. He lived in a log house in Doaksville
when he stuck a big old long locust thorn through his feet and he died from
that. Those hills were thick with locust trees. After he died, his brother
Colonel Sim Folsom, came to live in that house. He and his wife Oliva. There
their sons Grover
I want to say some more about our clothes. We wore tight fitting jerseys took
with many gored skirts with trains to them. Some called them trails. Our high
collared basques were topped with white lace or embroidered collars and round
covered buttons were down the front as thick as we could put them. For everyday
were, our dresses were mad of
I first married