Robert Vann or "R.V." Massey was his parents' first son. The family of eight lived in the Bald Prairie area of Robertson County, Texas, when R.V. was growing up, moving to Fort Worth sometime between 1942-1947.
Alas, alcoholism washed away R.V.'s only marriage and relationships with his two sons and daughter just as it erased his friendly nature and notable dexterity with numbers.
"He was like a zombie when he drank," his brother Wilburn would say. "He was gone. No one was there." His ex-wife Frances, whom he met when she was fifteen-years-old and he drove her bus to school each day, agreed.
R.V. allegedly did stint in Huntsville prison, supposedly taking a manslaughter rap for someone else, but that facility has no record of him. His brother was reticent to discuss the details, saying only that it was a misunderstanding that resulted in a charge of grand theft auto.
R.V. drove a truck for several years. His Social Security number was issued in Arizona.
Toward the end of his life, R.V. worked as a ranch hand at the Pitchfork Ranch in Guthrie, Texas. For a long time, the family lore was that he was found dead in a ditch following foul play. His death certificate, however, says that he spent five days in Wichita General Hospital before perishing from acute necrotizing pancreatitis.
After R.V.'s funeral at Bald Prairie Church of Christ, his brothers poured cement to fashion the rough headstone shown here, writing in the name and date by hand.
For his nine grandchildren, thirteen great-grandchildren, and three great-great-grandchildren, there are only the fading memories of the few left who wish that the memorial that could have been, before the drink, is what you were reading today.
Alas, alcoholism washed away R.V.'s only marriage and relationships with his two sons and daughter just as it erased his friendly nature and notable dexterity with numbers.
"He was like a zombie when he drank," his brother Wilburn would say. "He was gone. No one was there." His ex-wife Frances, whom he met when she was fifteen-years-old and he drove her bus to school each day, agreed.
R.V. allegedly did stint in Huntsville prison, supposedly taking a manslaughter rap for someone else, but that facility has no record of him. His brother was reticent to discuss the details, saying only that it was a misunderstanding that resulted in a charge of grand theft auto.
R.V. drove a truck for several years. His Social Security number was issued in Arizona.
Toward the end of his life, R.V. worked as a ranch hand at the Pitchfork Ranch in Guthrie, Texas. For a long time, the family lore was that he was found dead in a ditch following foul play. His death certificate, however, says that he spent five days in Wichita General Hospital before perishing from acute necrotizing pancreatitis.
After R.V.'s funeral at Bald Prairie Church of Christ, his brothers poured cement to fashion the rough headstone shown here, writing in the name and date by hand.
For his nine grandchildren, thirteen great-grandchildren, and three great-great-grandchildren, there are only the fading memories of the few left who wish that the memorial that could have been, before the drink, is what you were reading today.
Robert Vann or "R.V." Massey was his parents' first son. The family of eight lived in the Bald Prairie area of Robertson County, Texas, when R.V. was growing up, moving to Fort Worth sometime between 1942-1947.
Alas, alcoholism washed away R.V.'s only marriage and relationships with his two sons and daughter just as it erased his friendly nature and notable dexterity with numbers.
"He was like a zombie when he drank," his brother Wilburn would say. "He was gone. No one was there." His ex-wife Frances, whom he met when she was fifteen-years-old and he drove her bus to school each day, agreed.
R.V. allegedly did stint in Huntsville prison, supposedly taking a manslaughter rap for someone else, but that facility has no record of him. His brother was reticent to discuss the details, saying only that it was a misunderstanding that resulted in a charge of grand theft auto.
R.V. drove a truck for several years. His Social Security number was issued in Arizona.
Toward the end of his life, R.V. worked as a ranch hand at the Pitchfork Ranch in Guthrie, Texas. For a long time, the family lore was that he was found dead in a ditch following foul play. His death certificate, however, says that he spent five days in Wichita General Hospital before perishing from acute necrotizing pancreatitis.
After R.V.'s funeral at Bald Prairie Church of Christ, his brothers poured cement to fashion the rough headstone shown here, writing in the name and date by hand.
For his nine grandchildren, thirteen great-grandchildren, and three great-great-grandchildren, there are only the fading memories of the few left who wish that the memorial that could have been, before the drink, is what you were reading today.
Alas, alcoholism washed away R.V.'s only marriage and relationships with his two sons and daughter just as it erased his friendly nature and notable dexterity with numbers.
"He was like a zombie when he drank," his brother Wilburn would say. "He was gone. No one was there." His ex-wife Frances, whom he met when she was fifteen-years-old and he drove her bus to school each day, agreed.
R.V. allegedly did stint in Huntsville prison, supposedly taking a manslaughter rap for someone else, but that facility has no record of him. His brother was reticent to discuss the details, saying only that it was a misunderstanding that resulted in a charge of grand theft auto.
R.V. drove a truck for several years. His Social Security number was issued in Arizona.
Toward the end of his life, R.V. worked as a ranch hand at the Pitchfork Ranch in Guthrie, Texas. For a long time, the family lore was that he was found dead in a ditch following foul play. His death certificate, however, says that he spent five days in Wichita General Hospital before perishing from acute necrotizing pancreatitis.
After R.V.'s funeral at Bald Prairie Church of Christ, his brothers poured cement to fashion the rough headstone shown here, writing in the name and date by hand.
For his nine grandchildren, thirteen great-grandchildren, and three great-great-grandchildren, there are only the fading memories of the few left who wish that the memorial that could have been, before the drink, is what you were reading today.
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