Elbert Dounton Wilson Life Story
As remembered by Barbara Jean Wilson Stephens
Elbert Dounton Wilson was born December 30, 1887 or 1888 (we aren’t really sure
which year) in the Chickasaw Nation, Indian Territory, Texas.
Dad was the sixth of seven children born to Katherine Clark Wilson and William Benton
Wilson. He had one brother Earl, and five sisters, Louella, Laura, Josephine (Josey), Alice, Bertha,
and Dovie.
Elbert went to school through the 5th grade, but I don’t know where, probably in Texas. I
have no knowledge of his childhood years.
Dad worked for the Colorado and Southern Railroad as a
fireman when he and Mom were married in 1915 and while they lived
in Trinidad. Walt was conceived while they lived in Trinidad, but the
folks moved back to Denver before he was born.
Dad was a blacksmith
and a mechanic. Mom & Dad
moved to Maxwell, Nebraska
where Dad had a garage with
this brother Earl. Walt
remembers him having a huge
forge, where he did a lot of
blacksmithing, shoed horses,
and made wheels or rims for
wheels. They lived in Nebraska
7 years.
Dad was a good hunter and fisherman. Walt
tells me when they lived in Nebraska Dad loved to go
out to the sand hills north of the North Platte River and hunt for prairie chickens.
They are like a pheasant. He also hunted squirrels. Dad had a .22 and a shotgun.
Walt also tells of when they lived in Nebraska he remembers in the
evenings they would drive out on the North Platte where the river split, and it
meandered down more slowly. The men would set “trot” lines to catch catfish.
The families would take the seats out of the cars and set them on the ground
around a big camp fire and visit and picnic before heading home with their
“catch”. Walt remembers curling up on the car seat and going to sleep while they
adults visited and partied around the big campfire.
Walt also remembers Dad taught him a good lesson at a very early age
that he never forgot. It was “never take more of anything than you can use.” Walt
had gone fishing, and he caught a bunch of “sun fish”, 225 to be exact, and he came home so proud
of his catch. Dad said, “That’s great, but you caught them and now you have to clean all of them.”
Walt did so, and they gave many away, but he learned a very good lesson he said he’s never
forgotten.
Walt also remembers as a child on Saturday
nights, Daddy would drive downtown and park the
car. They would all go shopping and visit with all
their friends and neighbors up and down the street.
After moving back to Denver, Dad worked for
several auto dealers as a mechanic, and then he
opened his own blacksmith shop, but it wasn’t
successful. Dad then went to work for Viner
Chevrolet at 5th and Broadway, where he was
working when I was born. Dad was a strong union
man, and therefore during these times in our country, he was on strike often. During the tough
times of being out of work (this was during the great depression), Uncle Joe and Aunt Katie helped
out with food for our family, as Uncle Joe had a very good job with the railroad.
The fourth of July was a special holiday for us and our extended family (aunts, uncles,
cousins) and friends all pooled their money for fireworks. Uncle August and Aunt Orpha had a big
vacant lot next to their home. The men would take all the fireworks and line them up on a fence
and everyone came to enjoy the show.
Daddy loved to work on cars, and I remember his workshop (shed, as he called it) that he
had in the back yard by our garage. We had what seemed to me when I was young, a BIG backyard,
and I loved to play in it under our black walnut tree.
Dad kept the keys to the garage and shed on a ring attached to a huge piece of lead. (I hear
one time Walt borrowed the keys and forgot to return them to Dad, therefore the huge piece of
lead.) Dad used to hang the keys on a nail outside the shed, just above my reach. One day I tried &
tried to reach these keys, and finally I was successful. KERPLUNK… it hit me right on my forehead,
and oh, did I have a goose egg sized bump. I remember Daddy comforting me, but I never tried
getting into the shed or garage by myself after that.,
A sad memory I have of when I was young…we had been out to the country
(Elbert, CO) to visit Uncle Joe and Aunt Minnie. Uncle Joe had plowed up a burrow
of rabbits. We brought home one of the baby rabbits, and Daddy built a cage for it.
I loved that little bunny as I had not had any pets growing up. The bunny grew up
and one day we decided to let him run around our big yard. When it came time o
return him to his cage we couldn’t catch him, so Daddy decided to catch him in his
fishing net. He put it over the bunny, but the bunny became so frightened he
jumped and jumped and broke his leg. Daddy had to kill him so he wouldn’t suffer.
I cried and cried and Daddy tried to comfort me, but I think he felt as bad as I did.
Daddy loved to fish, and our neighbors the York’s had a sister and brother-inlaw, Margaret and Otto Linnett, who owned a cabin at Red Feather Lakes near Ft. Collins. We were
invited up there every summer. Some of my happiest memories are of staying at the cabin on the
lake. Daddy taught me to fish for trout on the shore of the lake. I would get so excited when I
caught a fish and would go running up the bank, and Daddy would come take the fish off the hook,
and put new bait on for me. We would also go out trolling in a boat in the late afternoon or evening.
It was so beautiful and peaceful there, and I always felt so safe with Daddy.
Dad worked in the motor pool at Lowry Air Force Base, as a civilian employee, during the
40’s. In 1947 Lowry laid off all civilian employees, so Dad was transferred to the Pueblo Arms
Depot in Pueblo, CO. After living in Denver for so many years it was a difficult move for Dad & Mom.
Carl had recently been discharged from the Army, and he and Wanda moved in with us 223 Fox
Street until they could get settled. When Dad was transferred, Wanda & Carl decided to stay in our
home for awhile, and they said I could stay with them and continue my schooling
at West High School. Dad & Mom found a tiny one room apartment in Pueblo,
way out at the edge of town. So there really wasn’t any room for me at that time.
Later they moved to a one bedroom apartment in town, and finally were able to
buy their cute little home at 820 Jackson St. Mom and Dad had a lot of fun fixing
that home up – just the way they wanted it. They had a pretty yard and nice
garden & flowers. I would spend summers in the Pueblo with them, and we often
went fishing and on picnics in the mountains near Pueblo.
When I was 14 in the summer of 1947 we three (Mom, Dad, and me)
drove to California to see the Kuykendall and Clarke families. We had a wonderful
trip visiting the family, going to the beach and getting to know my
cousins Dixie Jo and Laurie. We went to Knott’s Berry Farm,
Forest Lawn Cemetery to see all the beautiful statues, and to
a drive in where I had my first hamburger and chocolate
malt. Oh, we all thought it was a wonderful treat. We also
went to Yosemite National Park and Mom and Dad
celebrated their 32nd wedding anniversary the day we were
in Yosemite Park. In those days, there was a
huge redwood tree that you could drive
your car through. Dad was an active
member of Broadway Baptist Church and
mechanics union in Denver, and First
Baptist Church and the Masonic Lodge in Pueblo. He loved gardening and fixing
up their new little home in Pueblo. Dad also loved goose and duck hunting.
Dad had a heart attack on a Friday morning and was hospitalized. On the
following Sunday, November 16, 1952, a second heart attack took his life. He
was 63 years old. In those days, they didn’t have the knowledge of bypass
surgery as they do today, so he didn’t have much chance to recover.
Dad only got to meet Jim one time, shortly before he died. I was 19 years old
when he died and I’ve always wished he could have lived to see me marry Jim, and to be a
grandfather to my children. I too have regretted and missed not knowing Daddy when I became an
adult. I’m sure we could have had some good talks. I always remember Dad saying he’d like to have
a “red haired, brown eyed little girl.” At last we have one in our precious Alyssa. How me would
have loved her!
Daddy was a sweet, kind man, and wonderful father. I wish I could have known him longer,
but I feel so blessed to have grown up in such a happy loving home.
Transcribed from handwritten text from Barbara Jean (Wilson) Stephens’ family photo book, December, 2009.