'SIL'

        Now, I’ve got me a big ol’ blue, hard-backed book sittin' at home on my bookshelf, what lists all the descendants and ancestors of my 5th-great-grandparents Robert B. Jennings, Sr. and his wife Tabitha (Lockhart) Jennings. And some years back, I came across an entry in it, concerning my great-great-grandfather’s eldest brother, which reads “Sylvanus ‘Sil’ Jennings, by unconfirmed report, served time for killing his son-in-law”.

WOW!! A murderer in OUR family??? Now, THAT was a shock! Why, our whole family’s full of nothing but God-fearin’, Bible-thumpin’ church folks.... generations of Baptist preachers, ministers of music, deacons, and missionaries. Now, who would’ve ever thought something like that? A killer.... in our family!

Well, you know me.... I started diggin', bound and determined to find out more about this man-killer of an uncle of mine. The only problem was, there just wasn’t that much out there on ol’ Uncle Sil.

I first found him in the 1900 Census..... and wouldn’t you know.... listed as an inmate in the Paris City Jail, in Paris, Texas. Well, he obviously done something to get himself locked up for, but what?

A bit more lookin’ and I found him in the 1920 Census, as well. Only now, he was 75-years-old and living with a brother, in Chickasaw County, Mississippi. Not only that, but their youngest brother.... my great-great-grandfather Reuben Alexander ‘Dock’ Jennings and his wife were living just two doors down from them. And lo and behold, living in the house between them was Dock’s son.... my great-grandfather Lonnie B. Jennings and his family. Well, now, that set me to wondering if any of my aunts or uncles might know anything about dear old Uncle Sil.

My Aunt Helen

So, the next time my Aunt Helen, the eldest of my Daddy’s brothers and sisters, was up for a visit, I asked if she remembered ever hearing about Pa Jennings’ Uncle Sylvanus. She didn’t. But when I mentioned that he usually went by ‘Sil’, instead of Sylvanus.... now, that name did ring a bell.

        She said that when my Uncle Glen was born, her Daddy... my Papaw Jennings, had wanted to name the baby Sil, and that Mother.... my Mamaw, would not hear of it; not at all. Now, you had to know my Mamaw and Papaw Jennings. Theirs was a traditional marriage of the time. He was the head of the family, and she was the quiet, obedient wife and mother of their children. What he said went; no arguments, decision final. On this occasion, though, Mamaw put her foot down. Aunt Helen said that it was the only time she knew of her Mother and Daddy ever having a disagreement, let alone an argument, but that her Mother refused to allow their son to be named 'Sil'. Aunt Helen also remembered that Papaw, who was always a big cut-up, would, from time to time, refer to Uncle Glen as 'Sil' just to get Mamaw's goat.

My Uncle Glen

According to Uncle Glen, though, he'd always been told that the reason Papaw called him 'Sil' was because he'd been hit on the head by a windowsill as a baby.

When I told Aunt Helen about Sil supposedly having been a killer, though, she herself said that that would've been reason enough for Mamaw to be so against the name Sil for a son of theirs.

I'm thinking that that explanation seems much more likely than the one about a brand-new baby getting hit in the head by a heavy wooden windowsill and surviving.

And so, with that began my quest to find out all I could in regards to my great-great-great-uncle Sil.... to write as much of his life story as I could find out about. Below is a condensed version of what I've come up with, so far.

The eldest of Robert and Mary Amanda (Faulkner) Jennings' 7-sons, Sylvanus C. Jennings was born in Chickasaw County, Mississippi, in 1844. At the start of the Civil War, he was 17-years-old, and as of yet, I've found no record of his having served on either side during the conflict, which is really quite hard to believe.

Typical of his station and time, Sil was a farmer by trade, as his father and his father's father had been before him. He married at age 24, and the next decade-plus saw both his family and finances slowly grow.

Then in 1882, Sil and his wife Eliza lost their 4-year-old daughter Susan, from which Eliza never fully recovered. 2-years later, Sil was a 40-year-old widower left with 3-young children to care for. His first marriage had lasted 17-years.

Later that year, he married a 38-year-old spinster named Josephine Mixon, and soon after picked up and moved his family to Texas, in search of better opportunities. This union lasted 9-years before they parted ways, and Josephine returned, with their son, to Mississippi.

And, now, to the meat & potatoes of this here tale....

The year was 1897, and his children by his first marriage were all grown-up. Sil had recently moved to Tigertown, Texas, where he took work as a farm laborer on the farm of one Andrew Jackson Wiggins, Sr.

Now.... A.J. Wiggins was a prosperous farmer and businessman, known to carry large sums of money on his person. And then, one day in late November, whilst he was hiding some of his money out back of the barn, A.J. was suddenly hit across the back of the head and knocked unconscious.

His family found him laying where he fell, still out cold and badly injured. Wiggins was taken to the house, where he later came to for a bit. And, he did talk some, but never did say who attacked him. The family believed the motive for the assault was robbery, and their prime suspect was Sil.

5-days shy of his 71st birthday, on December the 2nd, 1897, A.J. Wiggins died from his injury, and not long after that, his 46-year-old widow Eliza shocked the family by marrying Sylvanus C. Jennings, who had started coming around the house while Wiggins was bedridden.

I’m sure you can imagine how that went over with the rest of the Wiggins Family, and Sil didn’t help matters none by forbidding any of them to come around. Tensions between Sil and his wife’s family steadily increased, until in November of 1898, Eliza's 20-year-old half-breed son David, angry over it all, came to the old home place to confront Sil. The two men got into an argument over Eliza. David accused Sil of killing his father. An altercation ensued, and afterwards, threats were made. As David mounted his horse to leave, Sil shot him. Young David Wiggins died as a result of that bullet wound, and hence.... we have a murderer in the family.

After the death of her son, Eliza divorced ol' Sil. A grand jury brought charges against him for murder, and he was promptly arrested. He pled not guilty, but eventually was convicted of Murder in the 2nd Degree, for which he was sentenced to 5-years in the state penitentiary.

Now, folks.... the Texas Prison System of the early 1900’s was brutal enough on those who chose to ‘make no waves’ and quietly ‘do their time’. Sil, however, was no model prisoner; being punished for at least one act of Mutiny while a convict at the Durovant Prison Farm. And punishment in that time and place usually involved flogging with a leather strap. Still, he was able to complete his sentence, and gain his release in November of 1905.

A few years after getting out of prison, Sil married for a 4th and final time. This wife, though, was much younger than he, being 25-years his junior; and it wasn't very long before they, too, went their separate ways.

The Lonnie B. Jennings Family (1912)
(Lamar is the boy on the left)

By January of 1920, penniless, hard of hearing, and getting on up there in age, Sil was back in Chickasaw County, Mississippi, living with his brother John O. and his family. And right next door to them lived 12-year-old Lamar Jennings.... my grandfather. 

        Now, it don't appear that Sil and the boy were around one another for too terribly long a period of time, seeing how Sil passed on later that same year. But it’s obvious that the old man made a memorable impression on the lad. If he hadn't have, then why else would he have later wanted to name a son after him?

        Think about it.... a ‘new’ uncle from ‘out west’ telling wild tales from his storied and checkered past. What young boy wouldn't have been fascinated? 'Killer' or not, I would’ve been! Well.... I guess I actually was.... enough so's that I researched and wrote this short piece on him.

Oh, well.... Congratulations, Uncle Sil, you’re now immortal*.... at least as far as our family’s history is concerned.

* - The information I've gathered on the life of Sylvanus C. Jennings has since been added to my copy of the 'big blue Jennings book' for future generations of my family to someday read.

‘TIL DEATH DO US PART’

SSgt. Lelton H. Pittman, U.S. Army - WWII

            Were they still living, yesterday would have been my grandparents’ ’ 75^th wedding anniversary. Childhood friends, they were both dating other people when he joined the Army, in March of 1943. A year later, while he was back home on emergency leave for his grandmother’s funeral, they saw each other briefly at the service. They each knew that the other had recently broken up with their boyfriend/girlfriend. He asked if he could write her, and she said yes. And then he was back aboard a train headed back to California to finish his training, and then on to the South Pacific to fight the Japanese.

Margaret Clay

        Through their letters, a relationship blossomed, but then.... he’d tell you he had always been head-over-heels for her. By Christmas, he attempted to propose to her in one of his letters, repeatedly saying he had ‘a very important question to ask her’. Finally, on the last line, he chickened out, asking instead ‘did she believe in Santa Claus’? He did follow through in the next letter, and, of course, she said ‘yes’.... but he never quite lived that one down.

        As he was on New Guinea, at that time, he sent money for his parents to go pick out an engagement ring for him and take it to her. Throughout 1945, he was ‘in the thick of it’ overseas, and she was busy teaching school on an emergency teaching certificate; yet they continued to write one another every chance they got. And then suddenly, the War was over.

The week he was mustered out of the Army, his Daddy took the truck down to Birmingham to pick him up, as it was snowing so bad that the buses couldn’t risk the icy road conditions of North Alabama.  She said that they’d honked the horn three times as they passed by her house just so she’d know that they’d made it back safe. Mamaw was a worrier. Over the next week, the young couple had the only ‘dates’ they ever had before their wedding, which consisted of them sitting, surrounded by her many younger siblings, and visiting at her parents’ house each evening.

Our Beloved Mamaw

            That next Wednesday, less than a week after his return home, they stood in his parents' living room and were married.  A second snowstorm had hit the area, again making the roads practically impassable, requiring that his father go out on the tractor to bring the preacher to the house for the ceremony.

They were married for 52-years when the Good Lord called my Papaw home, in February of 1999. Mamaw would live another dozen years without him, but she never stopped missing him or loving him.

Ask any of the family what they remember most about our Mamaw and Papaw and they’ll most likely tell you it was how the two of them constantly bickered and fussed with one another about almost anything and everything imaginable. At times, it was plumb exasperating, and at others, absolutely hilarious.

Our Wonderful Papaw

            As a matter of fact, the two of them once went back and forth during a conversation, in regards to a specific length of time. Mamaw said ’18-months’, and Papaw corrected her, saying ‘no, it was a year and a half’. This went on for several, several minutes, until my Momma finally interrupted them to point out to Mamaw that a year and a half WAS 18-months. Mamaw blustered, and Papaw just grinned with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He loved to ‘get her goat’, and she was bound and determined that he wasn’t ‘always right’. Still.... that they loved one another was obvious. Who knows.... maybe the bickering banter was their ‘love language’.

Regardless, they were shining examples to their children and grandchildren of what devotion to one's spouse should be. They never gave up on one another, and the result was a partner for life. She never 'wanted' for a thing, and he was provided for like a 'king'.