copyWrite Mark House
On April 20, 2016, exactly one hundred and five years of God given time will have passed since Oklahoma State Prison Convict #2219 shared "The Convicts Dream" with readers of the Lookeba Index. While working as part of an Oklahoma State Prison road crew, Convict #2219 recorded, in poetic form, his recollection of a previous night's dream.
On April 20, 2016, exactly one hundred and five years of God given time will have passed since Oklahoma State Prison Convict #2219 shared "The Convicts Dream" with readers of the Lookeba Index. While working as part of an Oklahoma State Prison road crew, Convict #2219 recorded, in poetic form, his recollection of a previous night's dream.
This particular dream was evidently deemed by publisher George Goodin as interesting enough to share with the town's newspaper readership in his April 20, 1911, edition of the Lookeba Index.
At this particular time, prisoners from the state penitentiary were in town to help construct about ten miles of road through Lookeba and towards the Sickles area. Convict #2219 was one of one hundred prisoners who arrived by train in 1911 for this particular road construction project.
At this particular time, prisoners from the state penitentiary were in town to help construct about ten miles of road through Lookeba and towards the Sickles area. Convict #2219 was one of one hundred prisoners who arrived by train in 1911 for this particular road construction project.
Convict #2219 lines up with ninety-nine other Oklahoma State Penitentiary road construction crew members as they unload from the train in Lookeba in 1911.
Written from within the confines of a dreary and dusty ole prison camp located just west of Lookeba, Convict #2219 shares The Convicts Dream as typeset and printed by publisher George Goodin …
"Last night as I slumbered I had a strange dream
Which carried me back to the west
I saw my old home and the faces of friends
Who always will love me the best.
I sat by the fire, the dear ones around
Their voices I plainly could hear
And faces I saw in the fire's bright glow
Of the friends to my heart ever dear
I saw the old homestead and church in the wood
Where my father and mother would go
And the preacher who spoke to them of God's word
In a voice that was gentle and low
I saw the old school house that stood on the hill
With its maps all tattered and worn,
And school books were there all scattered about
With their leaves all soiled and torn
I saw the old mill that stood by the stream
And the miller all wrinkled and gray,
I saw the old wheel as it slowly turned 'round
By the waters that soon passed away.
I saw the green fields and the cattle around
And the sheep with their tinkling bells,
And the horses that drank at the big water trough
That stood by the deep rock wells
I saw the old arm chair–my mother in it
Where for hours she often would sew,
And the path-way that came up from the old gate
Through the place where the violets grow.
I saw my old father as often he'd sit
With the bible each evening he read
By the candles dim light that burned in the room
As he sat on the side of the bed
My sisters and brothers all gathered around,
To hear what the father did say.
And when he had finished he'd close the good Book,
And we knelt, while my father would pray.
And I thought of the life that future held out,
And how happy my life was to be
But I 'woke with a start from my dreaming last night
And found I no longer was free,
I rose from my bed with low bowed head
I called on the Father above,
And asked him to guide me and carry me through,
And back to the ones that I love."
As a prisoner of life and of mankind, Convict #2219 called upon his memories of the Bible his father had read and, from within his dire circumstances with a low bowed head, was able to call upon his Father above.
If and when I make it to Heaven,
It is my hope to see
Ole Ben Wilson
Convict #2219
Written from within the confines of a dreary and dusty ole prison camp located just west of Lookeba, Convict #2219 shares The Convicts Dream as typeset and printed by publisher George Goodin …
"Last night as I slumbered I had a strange dream
Which carried me back to the west
I saw my old home and the faces of friends
Who always will love me the best.
I sat by the fire, the dear ones around
Their voices I plainly could hear
And faces I saw in the fire's bright glow
Of the friends to my heart ever dear
I saw the old homestead and church in the wood
Where my father and mother would go
And the preacher who spoke to them of God's word
In a voice that was gentle and low
I saw the old school house that stood on the hill
With its maps all tattered and worn,
And school books were there all scattered about
With their leaves all soiled and torn
I saw the old mill that stood by the stream
And the miller all wrinkled and gray,
I saw the old wheel as it slowly turned 'round
By the waters that soon passed away.
I saw the green fields and the cattle around
And the sheep with their tinkling bells,
And the horses that drank at the big water trough
That stood by the deep rock wells
I saw the old arm chair–my mother in it
Where for hours she often would sew,
And the path-way that came up from the old gate
Through the place where the violets grow.
I saw my old father as often he'd sit
With the bible each evening he read
By the candles dim light that burned in the room
As he sat on the side of the bed
My sisters and brothers all gathered around,
To hear what the father did say.
And when he had finished he'd close the good Book,
And we knelt, while my father would pray.
And I thought of the life that future held out,
And how happy my life was to be
But I 'woke with a start from my dreaming last night
And found I no longer was free,
I rose from my bed with low bowed head
I called on the Father above,
And asked him to guide me and carry me through,
And back to the ones that I love."
As a prisoner of life and of mankind, Convict #2219 called upon his memories of the Bible his father had read and, from within his dire circumstances with a low bowed head, was able to call upon his Father above.
If and when I make it to Heaven,
It is my hope to see
Ole Ben Wilson
Convict #2219
A newspaper ad sold and printed by George Goodin to support the publishing and distribution of the April 20, 1911, edition of the Lookeba Index. Subscription rate for the Index in 1911 was $1.00 per year.
