Liston Bay Lancaster

It used to be said that getting one’s name in the newspaper was a sign of poor taste. That was during a time when children didn’t grow up hoping to be the next rock star. Our families have seldom been mentioned in anything other than the legal notices of marriages, divorce, and death. One of the exceptions is this article that appeared in the Dallas Morning News in 1921. It’s an article for which I searched for many years never really wanting to find it. Yet I knew that something terrible had happened and felt compelled to find the details. They are here in this clipping and they tell a horrid account of things gone so wrong.
Liston Bay (who was more often known as Bay or L.B. or Doc) came from a well-known Granbury family of some distinction. I have a photograph of him and his two brothers. He is in a kilt suit while his slightly older brothers are in long pants, jackets, and fanciful collars. Kilt suits were considered quite fashionable during the late 1880s for young boys. This photo gives me more information about the social standing of the family than any other document I have. Families with enough money to dress their children in such garments are living better than most. I do think, however, that the boys subjected to such apparel probably would prefer a less stylish choice of dress. The three boys look like they would agree.
I know little more about Bay until he registers for the draft in 1917. He should be in a 1910 census at about 22 years of age, but I have never been able to find him. I have a hunch he was away at school and missed being recorded. Many of his siblings went on to careers in medicine (including a sister) and it wouldn’t be surprising if he too had tried that path. It could explain his nickname Doc that appears on several records.
He came from a long line of men who served the country during war, but he wasn’t going to be one of them. His draft registration indicates he is “crippled,” but I have no idea how or in what way. I do know that his name appears in the newspaper as one of those in a deferred status (Class 2).
This draft notice has two pieces of information that create confusion. All records (other than this one) give his date of birth as 1888. On this one he clearly states 1889. In addition he also indicates that he his married. However, according to the only record I have of his marriage to Pearl the date of marriage happened several months after he filled in the draft registration form. It’s possible he was married to someone else at this time, or that there is an error in my date of marriage.
According to a family genealogy that I have found to be quite trustworthy, they were married 31 October 1917. The only photograph I have of the family is one in which Pearl, L.B. and their son Gordon (my father) are all decked out in their best. She is wearing an exotic hat with tendrils, the young boy is wearing a heavy coat and a furry hat, and Bay is dressed in a suit and top hat. They look like a family moving up in the world. This was probably taken about January 1920, the same time in which the census records them living in Dallas. Bay’s occupation is listed as a shoe salesman just as his draft registration showed three years earlier. Living with the family is Pearl’s brother Allen.
Things deteriorate because within a year, Pearl is filing for divorce. She moves out and into a hotel to live with her aunt (who is actually about her same age). The newspaper clipping gives the rest of the distressing details. Bay comes to the hotel seeking reconciliation, she refuses, and he shoots her and then kills himself. She was not expected to live, but she did.
Her story goes on from there as does my dad’s, but the connection to the Lancasters goes away even though both my brother and I carry the name. Except for a long ago visit with one rather extraordinary aunt (sister to Liston Bay), I have never met anyone who carries my Lancaster genes. The act of desperation by Liston Bay turned us all into surname orphans. Even having my brother’s DNA tested for genealogy purposes has not filled in that gap. It’s the stuff that turns ordinary people into driven genealogists.

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